SARAH NEOBARD SPEAKS OUT
When I returned to Montague Street to lunch, my host was still out, and
I had to sit down to the meal without him. No uncommon incident this,
in the case of any member of the medical profession, and especially
one liable to be summoned at any moment to cases of the most desperate
nature. Yet I was uneasy at losing sight of the great man for so
long just then. The investigation had reached a point at which I was
desperately anxious to follow his every move, in order that I might
guard the threatened girl towards whom so many signs already seemed to
point.
My lunch was nearly over when I was summoned to the telephone. I
answered the call with the expectation that Captain Charles had
obtained the information he had been asked for; and I was not
disappointed.
“You can tell Sir Frank that Lady Violet Bredwardine is down in
Herefordshire at her father’s seat, Tyberton Castle. She left London
for the Castle the day before yesterday by the noon train, so that she
can’t have been present at the Domino Club.”
I was careful to receive this intelligence as though it were news to
me. I even asked the Inspector if he was perfectly sure that his
informants were to be trusted.
“I’m perfectly sure as far as this end is concerned,” he answered in
a tone of surprise. “There is no doubt that she left by that train,
and that she hasn’t returned. And her letters are being forwarded to
Tyberton Castle. But, of course, I can’t answer for her being there
without sending someone down to make inquiries on the spot. Would Sir
Frank like me to do that?”
I hesitated. I had no reason to fear the result of such inquiries, but
I distrusted the tact of Charles and his men, and felt afraid lest
their proceedings should come to Lady Violet’s ears and frighten her.
On the whole, I thought it best to apply the brake.
“Sir Frank is out just now. I will let him have your report as soon as
he comes in, and let you know what he says. I shouldn’t think he would
want you to do anything more. It looks as though Lady Violet had a
complete alibi.”
“Oh, but----” the voice through the wire objected, “but Sir Frank’s
instructions were that I was to follow up Lady Violet. The police
were to follow up everyone on the list you sent me, and find out all
they could about them. I have a man detailed for each already. We
have ascertained that Julia Sebright is dead. Sir George Castleton is
abroad; he was last heard of in Naples, in very queer company....”
This was the sort of thing I had dreaded. At all risks I must try to
call the hounds off the trail of Violet Bredwardine’s past.
“That’s all right, so far,” I interrupted. “Of course, Sir Frank wishes
you to follow them all up as long as there is any possibility of their
being involved in the case. But when they are clearly out of it I
feel sure he wouldn’t think it right to pry into their private lives
for nothing. It would be taking an improper advantage of information
obtained from the books of their doctor. Medical etiquette is very
strict on that point, I can assure you. Sir Frank Tarleton himself
might get into trouble if it were known that he had made use of Dr.
Weathered’s books for such a purpose.”
“What is that about Sir Frank Tarleton getting into trouble?” said a
voice in my ear.
The receiver fell from my hand. I looked round to see my chief standing
at my elbow. I am a poor dissembler, I fear. I was conscious of a deep
flush as I lowered my eyes before the reproachful look in those keen
gray ones beneath their frowning brows.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” I stammered. “I was trying to explain to
Inspector Charles that it wouldn’t do to annoy Weathered’s patients
with inquiries into their private lives unless there were some grounds
for suspicion against them.”
Tarleton stepped to the telephone.
“You have heard what Dr. Cassilis said? He is perfectly right. We have
no concern with any patient of Weathered’s who is not implicated in
the murder. The moment we can dismiss them from the case they must be
let alone.”
I hardly know whether I was more astonished or delighted at this
handsome endorsement of my words. But I was not yet out of the wood. My
chief made the Inspector repeat the information he had just given to
me, and Charles naturally took the opportunity to defend himself.
Apparently the Inspector explained to Tarleton that I had not seemed
satisfied at first with his report about Lady Violet having gone to
Herefordshire before the night of the dance.
It was the physician’s turn to show surprise.
“Why did you question Lady Violet Bredwardine’s alibi, Cassilis?”
It gratified me to feel that the Inspector had done me a good turn
unawares.
“I merely thought it right to ask Captain Charles if he was quite
satisfied before I took the responsibility of reporting the alibi to
you. He offered to send a man down to make inquiries at Lord Ledbury’s
seat, and I asked him to take no further steps without your sanction.”
My chief smiled with the utmost amiability.
“Dr. Cassilis has exactly understood my views,” he said through the
telephone. “There is not the least necessity for you to trouble
yourself further about Lady Violet for the present. The person in whom
I am interested just now is Captain Armstrong, R.A. He is a Fellow
of the Royal Geographical Society, and a well-known traveller and
explorer. I shall be glad if you can let me have his present address.”
There was a brief pause. It was evident that the Inspector had been
consulting his note-book, for his reply, which I failed to catch,
provoked Tarleton to say testily, “I know, I know. He is not on the
books of the Club. I want to get in touch with him for another reason.
I think he may be of help in enabling me to decide on the cause of
death.”
As soon as Captain Charles had been disposed of, the physician came
to the luncheon table and made a hasty meal. I reported my failure to
obtain any definite proof of the existence of leopards in Sumatra, and
found that the point had lost its importance in his eyes.
“I have been to the British Museum Reading Room,” he told me. “I met
Captain Armstrong about two years ago, after reading his book on
Sumatra, but I had forgotten his name, and I had to look through the
subject index under the head of Sumatra to find it. Then I got out his
book, _Across Sumatra_, and saw from the title-page that he had also
written a book on West Africa, where everyone knows there are leopards,
so that he had plenty of opportunities of procuring skins and claws.”
The situation was becoming clearer and clearer. There was no need for
me to ask the specialist where he had procured the contents of the
glass bottle. I could see what must have happened. The explorer’s
narrative must have contained some account of an unknown poison
peculiar to the Island of Sumatra; the expert’s attention had been
drawn to it; he had approached the author, found that he had some of
the poison in his possession, and induced him to part with it. His
object now must be to find out whether Armstrong had kept any himself,
or allowed it to get into other hands.
I was so relieved at the turn the investigation was taking that I had
ceased to worry about my own connection with the tragedy. It gave me a
disagreeable shock to be reminded that there were other points to be
cleared up, when my chief spoke again.
“I think our next step now must be to interview Sarah Neobard. I
doubt if she has told us all she knows about Weathered and his woman
patients. She may be able to throw some light on the mysterious
numbers.”
The numbers in the appointment-book were as mysterious to me as
they were to him. I had been able to form no theory as to their
significance; nevertheless, I felt that danger lay in that direction.
I could not forget that a number had been attached to Violet
Bredwardine’s name, and I dreaded to learn why.
The physician was provided with a good excuse for presenting himself
again at the house in Warwick Street. It was necessary to make
arrangements for the interment of the body. He had decided, he told me,
to give a certificate that would dispense with the necessity for an
inquest, and permit of the funeral taking place without delay. For that
purpose the body was to be conveyed to the house in the small hours
when nobody was likely to be about.
It was a strong thing to do before it had yet been determined whether
the murder was to be made the subject of a public prosecution, and the
murderer brought to justice. So far as I could see, the authorities
both of the Home Office and the Foreign Office were placing entire
confidence in my chief, and had given him a free hand. I hoped
accordingly that his decision to let the funeral proceed quietly meant
that he had made up his mind against any public exposure. But on that
point he had been careful not to commit himself, and I was afraid to
show too much curiosity.
He took me round with him in the car to Warwick Street, and asked
to see Mrs. Weathered. The youthful butler eyed us with the utmost
apprehension, and showed us into the patients’ waiting-room. There we
were joined presently by the widow and her daughter.
Mrs. Weathered was in deep black. Her manner showed that she was
resigned to her husband’s fate by this time, but she was evidently
in a state of extreme nervousness, as she well might be while the
mystery was unsolved. Sarah, on the other hand, at the beginning of the
interview, was as cold and self-possessed as though her part was over,
and she had ceased to feel any personal interest in the sequel.
“I have called on you,” Tarleton explained, “to let you know officially
that I have examined into the cause of Dr. Weathered’s death, and am
prepared to certify that it was due to heart failure.”
I stared. In one sense, of course, almost every death may be said to
be due to heart failure. The question generally is what has caused the
heart to fail; and I knew perfectly well that the burial certificate
would have to be more explicit. But Mrs. Weathered showed herself quite
satisfied.
“Then it was a natural death, after all?” she exclaimed in relief.
“There is no reason why you shouldn’t regard it so,” was the answer. “I
should advise you to accept that view, and refrain from discussing the
matter with anyone. I wish to spare you the trouble and unpleasantness
of an inquest, if possible. I propose to have the body brought round
here some time to-night, or rather in the early morning; and you can
then make your own arrangements for the funeral.”
The widow clasped her hands in gratification.
“That is good of you, Sir Frank. I don’t know how to thank you.” She
looked up at her daughter, whose face was overcast. “My dear, we
couldn’t have asked for anything better. I have been dreading the
inquest more than I can say.”
Sarah’s expression was troubled. She tried to return her mother’s
pleading look with one of sympathy. Then she lifted her head, and let
her eyes rest on the consultant with quiet scorn.
“My mother has every reason to be grateful to you, Sir Frank,” she said
ungraciously. “But you haven’t told us what caused the heart to fail.”
Tarleton returned her gaze with quiet forbearance. It was in his power
to crush her with an allusion to her presence at the Domino Club in the
character of Salome, but he generously refrained from doing so in her
mother’s hearing. Already the poor woman’s face was downcast again, and
she glanced anxiously from her daughter to us.
“That is a question which Mrs. Weathered is entitled to raise if she
pleases,” the doctor said gravely. “You have just heard me advise
her not to do so. At the same time if you would like to go into the
question with me privately I am quite willing.”
“Oh, no, no!” The protest broke from the widow’s lips. She caught hold
of her daughter’s hand. “Don’t say anything more, dear. I’m sure Sir
Frank Tarleton knows best. We must do what he tells us.”
The girl compressed her lips with a strong effort. Her eye sought
Tarleton’s and I thought a signal was exchanged between them. Then he
rose to his feet.
“Very well, ma’am. I think you are acting wisely. By the way, there is
one question which you may be able to answer. In looking through Dr.
Weathered’s diary of appointments with his patients I have noticed that
some of their names are followed by numbers, and I should like to know
what that means.”
The widow received the question with an air of complete surprise.
It was impossible to doubt her declaration that she had no idea of
the existence of the curious ciphers, much less of their use. But
Sarah gave the questioner a quick look, and again I thought a secret
understanding was established between them.
The first words uttered by my chief, when we were in the car driving
away, told me what the understanding was.
“That girl means to come and see me. She isn’t satisfied; and she won’t
be without vengeance on the woman she hates.”
The prediction was promptly fulfilled. The girl must have found some
excuse for leaving the house within a few minutes after us. We had been
back less than half an hour when she was announced. She burst in upon
us like a fury.
“Sir Frank Tarleton, what does this mean? My step-father was murdered,
and you know it. You are trying to hush up the case, I suppose, because
some of the people involved in it are so high up that the police want
to let them off. There seems to be one law for the rich and another for
the poor. It’s the high-up people, the people with titles, who are the
worst. I’ve seen those numbers in the diary, and I can guess pretty
well what they mean. They’re the guilty patients, the ones who were in
his power, and had the greatest motive to murder him. If you want to
know more you had better apply to Lady Violet Bredwardine.”
It was an appalling shock. Just as I had reached the comforting
conclusion that Lady Violet’s alibi had put an end to the investigation
as far as she was concerned, this passionate girl had launched a
denunciation that threatened to drag everything to light. I turned in
consternation to my chief.
He had taken out his gold repeater and begun to swing it to and fro at
the end of its scrap of ribbon in a way that told me he was pondering
deeply on this new development of the case. He made a motion with his
hand towards me.
“Dr. Cassilis, here, can tell you that you are mistaken in thinking
that the police are trying to hush up the case, or to screen anyone
connected with it. Tell Miss Neobard what they reported to you.”
The indignant Sarah faced me in some surprise. My own surprise was
greater than hers. I was at a loss to understand Tarleton’s motive for
handing over the vindication of the police to me. Did he expect my word
to carry more weight with the excited girl than his own? Or was he
simply testing my ability to deal with a critical situation? And if so,
how far did he mean me to go? Was I to let the accuser know that the
police had been on her track as well as Lady Violet’s? I spoke in some
confusion.
“The police have made full inquiries about Lady Violet Bredwardine.
She was a patient of Dr. Weathered’s and a member of the Domino Club,
apparently. But they have ascertained that she wasn’t in London on the
night when he met his death. She was down at her father’s place in
Herefordshire.”
“I don’t believe it,” was the angry reply. “I don’t mean that you are
trying to deceive me, but the police haven’t told you the truth. I am
as certain that she was there that night as I am that I am in this
room. She was with him in the very alcove where he was found dead.”
In her wrath she had given herself away. Her statement almost amounted
to saying that she had seen them together. I looked at my chief in the
hope that he would pounce on the admission, but he contented himself
with nodding to me to go on.
“You speak very positively, Miss Neobard. May I ask you how you know
that?”
The question plainly disconcerted her. It must have opened her eyes to
the fact that she was saying too much.
“I don’t see what that has to do with it,” she answered stubbornly.
“You can ask anyone who was there. Ask them if they saw someone wearing
a Roman helmet and breastplate with a skirt underneath. That was her
disguise.”
I was staggered. The girl’s persistence irritated me, and I spoke
sharply.
“You can’t possibly know that, when she was more than a hundred miles
away at the time. Did you speak to her--to whoever it was that was
wearing that costume?”
It appeared that I had let myself go too far this time. I saw Tarleton
frown disapprovingly. Sarah Neobard gazed at me in alarm.
“I speak to her?” she echoed. “What do you mean? I wasn’t--I’m not a
member of the Club.”
A warning glance from my chief stopped the retort that was on my lips.
I was longing to tell the accuser that she had been under suspicion
herself, but I saw that in Tarleton’s opinion I was taking the wrong
line. My indignation on Violet Bredwardine’s behalf had betrayed me
into showing our cards too soon.
The girl herself seemed to feel that some explanation was needed for
her confident assertions.
“If you want to know who was wearing that disguise, ask Madame Bonnell.
She is the manager of the Club, and she can tell you everything that
went on there.”
A swift movement of the physician’s eyebrows told me that this was the
sort of admission he had been watching for. He intervened, I had little
doubt, to prevent my drawing attention to it.
“I think Miss Neobard ought to be told that the wearer of the Zenobia
costume was not the only one whose movements attracted attention on
that night.”
I was eager to take the cue. It was time to give Lady Violet’s enemy a
taste of her own medicine.
“Yes,” I said sternly, “the dancer who was seen oftenest in company
with Dr. Weathered that night wore the costume of Salome. Can you tell
us anything about her?”
For an instant Salome blanched. She was quite intelligent enough to
see the red light. She didn’t need to be told that if her movements
had attracted the notice of the police her identity could hardly fail
to come out before very long, if it hadn’t come out already. Yet she
struggled against what was coming.
“She had nothing to do with the crime. She was a friend of Dr.
Weathered’s. Her only motive for being there was to protect him from
the other women.” She spoke almost in a whisper.
“To protect him from being poisoned, do you mean? Or do you mean that
she was jealous, and wanted to prevent him from dancing with anyone but
herself?”
At last Tarleton had fired the shot which he had had in preparation.
Its effect was startling indeed. A dark red flood overspread the girl’s
face; for a moment she fought with her emotions, and the next she broke
down in a flood of tears.
“You know it was I,” she sobbed out. “You have been playing with me.
You think I am a bad woman, I suppose. But I’m not. I take Heaven to
witness that I only meant to do what was right. I never dreamed that
I had any feeling for him that--that wasn’t--that wasn’t right. I was
angry with him for the way he treated my mother. When he began to
neglect her and go after other women, pretending that they were only
his patients, I hated them. I never thought of anything else. I thought
I was doing my duty to my mother in watching him. But he found me out.
He knew everything about women. He saw that I was jealous on my own
account as well; and he set himself to soothe me. He could fascinate
any woman if he tried. He pretended to confide in me. He told me about
his patients, and complained that they wouldn’t leave him alone.
Sometimes I believed him, and thought it was their fault, and then I
thought it was his. I didn’t know what to think at last. I went there
that night to see if I could find out....”
The broken utterance ended in a wail of grief.