THE PUZZLING OF HENSON
Chris smiled with the air of one who is perfectly satisfied with her
work.
"For the present I fancy we have done enough," she said. "I want to go to
bed now, and I want you both to do the same. Also I shall be glad if you
will come down in the morning as if nothing had happened. Tell Reginald
Henson casually that you have been convinced that you have done Dr. Bell
a grave injustice, and give no kind of particulars. And please treat Mr.
Henson in the same fashion as before. There is only one other thing."
"Name it, and it is yours," Littimer cried.
"Well, cut the margin off that print, or at any rate turn the margin
down, fit it into the frame, and hang it up as if nothing had happened."
Littimer looked at Chris with a puzzled expression for a moment, and then
his features relaxed into a satyr-like grin.
"Capital," he said, "I quite understand what you mean. And I must be
there to see it, eh?--yes, I must be there to see. I would not miss it
for strawberry leaves."
The thing was done and the picture restored to its place. Bell drew Chris
aside for a moment.
"Do you rise early in the morning?" he asked, meaningly.
"Always," Chris replied, demurely. "I find the terrace charming before
breakfast. Good-night."
Bell was down betimes despite the fact that it had been daylight before
he was in bed. Along the terrace, looking over the cliffs, Chris was
already walking, a great cluster of red and yellow roses in her hand. She
looked as fresh and bright as if she and excitement were strangers. All
the same she seemed to avoid Bell's eyes.
"Isn't it lovely here?" she exclaimed. "And these roses with the dew
still upon them. Well, Dr. Bell, have you made fresh discoveries?"
"I have discovered that Henson is going to take his breakfast in bed,"
Bell said gravely. "Also that he requires a valet at half-past ten. At
that time I hope to be in the corridor with Lord Littimer and yourself.
Also I have made a further discovery."
"And what is that, Dr. Bell?"
"That you and I have met before--once before when I attended you in a
kind of official capacity, and when I behaved in a distinctly
discreditable professional manner. Dr. Walker was present. Dr. Walker
seems to have been singularly short-sighted."
The roses fell from Chris's hands on to the path. Her face had grown very
pale indeed; there was a frightened, appealing look in her eyes.
"Dr. Bell," she gasped, "do you suppose that anybody else knows--Henson,
for instance? And I imagined that I had utterly deceived him!"
Bell smiled meaningly.
"I don't think you need have the slightest anxiety on that score," he
said. "You see, Henson is comfortably assured that you are dead and
buried. Whereas I know all about it. Fortunately for me, I became mixed
up in this strange business on behalf of my friend, David Steel;
indeed, but for Steel, I should probably have given you away to our
friend Walker."
"But surely you guessed that--"
"Not for the moment. You see, it was only a few minutes before that a
flood of interesting light had been let in upon Henson's character by
your sister to me, and my first idea was that Henson was poisoning you
for some purpose of his own. Subsequently Steel told me all about that
side of the story on our way back to Brighton."
"How did you penetrate my disguise?"
"My dear young lady, I have not penetrated your disguise. Your disguise
is perfect--so quaint and daringly original--and would deceive even
Henson's eyes. I guessed who you were directly I found that you were
taking a philanthropic interest in our friend. It came to me by a kind of
intuition, the knack that stood me in such good stead in my professional
days. When you said that you had been warned of Henson's coming by
telegram I was certain."
"Then perhaps you guessed that Enid sent me the telegram?"
"That was obvious. Also it was obvious that Henson brought Frank
Littimer along."
"Oh, he did. It was Frank's mission to steal the picture. I confronted
him with a revolver and locked him in one of the bedrooms. It took all my
courage and good resolutions to prevent me from betraying myself to the
poor fellow."
"Rather cruel of you, wasn't it?"
"Well, yes. But I wanted to make the exposure as complete as possible.
When the time comes to strip Reginald Henson of his pretentions and flog
him from the family, the more evidence we can pile up the better. But
Frank is not bad; he is merely weak and utterly in the power of that
man. If we can only break the bonds, Frank will be a powerful factor on
our side."
"I daresay. But how was the Rembrandt stolen? Littimer's, I mean."
"It was worked through an accomplice," Chris explained. "It had to be
done before you arrived. And there was no better time than night for the
operation. I guessed that when Henson drew the fact from me that I liked
the terrace after dinner. By a bit of good luck I found the accomplice
and himself together in the day; in fact, I forced Reginald's hand so
that he had to introduce me to the man."
"In which case you would know him again?"
"Of course. Presently I am going to show you a little more of the comedy.
Well, I was on the terrace pretty late when I heard dear Reginald down
the cliff calling for assistance. He pretended that he had slipped down
the cliff and could not get up again. By the aid of a rope that
fortunately happened to be close at hand I saved our dear friend's life.
I have learnt from one of the gardeners just now that Reginald placed the
rope there himself--a most effective touch, you must admit."
"Very," Bell said, drily. "But I quite fail to see why--"
"I am coming to that. Don't you see that if anything happened Reginald
could prove that he was not near the house at the time? But just before
that I saw his accomplice come up the cliff; indeed, he passed quite
close to me on his way to the house. Reginald quite overlooked this fact
in his heed for his own safety. When I had effected my gallant rescue I
heard an owl hoot. Now, there are no owls about here.
"I guessed what that meant--it was a signal of success. Then I went back
to the corridor and the Rembrandt was gone. The stays had been cut away.
At first I was dreadfully upset, but the more I thought of it the more
sure I was that it was all for the best."
"But you might have raised an alarm and caught the thief, who--"
"Who would have been promptly disclaimed by Reginald. Let me tell you,
sir, that I have the thief and the lost Rembrandt in the hollow of my
hands. Before the day is out I shall make good my boast. And there's the
breakfast bell."
It looked quite natural some time later for the three conspirators to be
lounging about the gallery when Henson emerged from his bedroom. He
appeared bright and smiling, and most of the bandages had been removed
from his throat. All the same he was not pleased to see Bell there; he
gazed uneasily at the doctor and from him to Littimer.
"You know Bell," the latter said, carelessly. "Fact is, there's been a
great mistake."
Bell offered him his hand heartily. It cost him a huge effort, but the
slimy scoundrel had to be fought with his own weapons. Henson shook his
head with the air of a man extending a large and generous meed of
forgiveness. He sought in vain to read Bell's eyes, but there was a
steady, almost boyish, smile in them.
"I indeed rejoice," he said, unctuously. "I indeed
rejoice--rejoice--rejoice!"
He repeated the last word helplessly; he seemed to have lost all his
backbone, and lapsed into a flabby, jellified mass of quivering white
humanity. His vacant, fishy eyes were fixed upon the Rembrandt in a kind
of dull, sleepy terror.
"I'm not well," he gasped. "Not so strong as I imagined. I'll--I'll go
and lie down again. Later on I shall want a dogcart to drive me to
Moreton Wells. I--"
He paused again, glanced at the picture, and passed heavily to his room.
Littimer smiled.
"Splendid," he said. "It was worth thousands just to see his face."
"All the same," Chris said, quietly; "all the same, that man is not to
leave for Moreton Wells till I've had a clear hour's start of him. Dr.
Bell will you accompany me?"