HERITAGE IS WILLING
Bell's sanguine expectation that Van Sneck would be ready for an
immediate operation was not quite correct. As the day wore on the man
seemed more feverish and restless, which feverishness was followed by a
certain want of strength. After due deliberation Dr. Cross suggested that
the operation should be postponed for a day or two.
"The man is out of our hands," he said. "You have identified him, and
you desire that he should remain here. It is pretty irregular
altogether. And I hope I shan't get into trouble over it. Still, in such
capable hands as yours--"
Bell acknowledged the compliment with a smile.
"Between Heritage and myself," he said, "we shall pull him through, eh,
Heritage?"
The other doctor nodded brightly. For some little time he had been
directly under Bell's influence, and that had meant a marvellous change
for the better, he had lost a deal of his hesitating manner, and was
looking forward to the operation with the keenest interest.
"However, I will put you all right," Bell said. "I fancy the time has
come when we can confide to a certain extent in Marley. And if the police
approve of Van Sneck being here, I don't see that you can say any more."
Cross was emphatically of the same opinion. Later on, in the course of a
long interview with Marley, Bell and Steel opened the latter's eyes to a
considerable extent.
"Well, I must congratulate you, sir," he said to Steel. "I'm bound to
confess that things looked pretty black against you at one time. Indeed,
I should have been fully justified in arresting you for the attempted
murder of Van Sneck."
"But you never deemed me guilty, Marley?"
"No, I didn't," Marley said, thoughtfully. "I argued in your favour
against my better judgment. I gather even now that there is a great deal
for me to know."
"And which you are not going to learn," Bell said, drily. "When we have
Van Sneck all right again, and ready to swear to the author of the
mischief, you will have to be satisfied."
"That would satisfy me, sir. And I'm glad that cigar-case mystery is
settled. You'll let me know how the operation goes on?"
Steel promised to do so, and the two returned to Downend Terrace
together. They found Heritage a little excited and disturbed.
"Do you know I have had a visitor?" he exclaimed.
Bell started slightly. He looked just a little anxious.
"I'm going to guess it at once," he said. "Reginald Henson has
been here."
"You are certainly a wonderful fellow," Heritage said, admiringly.
"Nobody else could possibly have guessed that. He came to see me,
of course."
"Oh, of course," Bell said, drily. "Naturally, he would have no
ulterior motive. Did he happen to know that we had a kind of patient
under the roof?"
Heritage explained that Henson seemed to know something about it. Also,
by singular coincidence, he had met Van Sneck abroad. He expressed a
desire to see the patient, but Heritage's professional caution had got
the better of his friendship for once. Henson had given way finally,
saying that he hoped to call again later in the day.
"It's a good thing you were firm," Bell said, grimly. "Otherwise there
would have been no need for an operation on Van Sneck. My dear Heritage,
it's quite time your eyes were opened to the true nature of your friend.
Henson watched Steel and myself out of the house He wanted to see Van
Sneck; he has probably known from the first that the latter was here."
"Matter of philanthropy, perhaps," Heritage suggested.
"A matter of murder," Bell said, sternly. "My dear fellow, Van Sneck was
nearly done to death in yonder conservatory, and his would-be assassin
was Reginald Henson."
"I was never more astounded in my life," gasped Heritage. "I have always
looked upon Henson as the soul of honour and integrity. And he has always
been so kind to me."
"For his own purposes, no doubt. You say that he found you a home after
your misfortunes came upon you. He came to see you frequently. And yet he
always harped upon that wretched hallucination of yours. Why? Because you
were the Carfax family doctor for a time, and at any moment you might
have given valuable information concerning the suicide of Claire Carfax.
Tell Heritage the story of Prince Rupert's ring, Steel."
David proceeded to do so at some length. Heritage appeared to be deeply
interested. And gradually many long-forgotten things came back to him.
"I recollect it all perfectly well," he said. "Miss Carfax and myself
were friends. Like most people with badly balanced intellects, she had
her brilliant moments. Why, she showed me that ring with a great deal of
pride, but she did not tell me its history. She was very strange in her
manner that morning; indeed, I warned her father that she wanted to be
most carefully looked after."
"Did she say how she got the ring?" Steel asked.
Heritage did not answer for a moment.
"Oh, yes," he said, presently, "She said it was a present from a good
boy, and that Reginald Henson had given it her in an envelope. I met
Henson close by, but I didn't mention the ring."
"And there you have the whole thing in a nutshell!" Bell exclaimed.
"Nothing of this came out at the inquest, because the ring story was
hushed up, and Heritage was not called because he had nothing to do with
the suicide. But Henson probably saw poor Claire Carfax show you the
ring, and he got a bit frightened, and he kept an eye upon you
afterwards. When you broke down he looked after you, and he took precious
good care to keep your hallucination always before your eyes. Whenever he
came to see you he always did that."
"You are quite right there," Heritage admitted. "He mentioned it this
afternoon when I said I was going to take part in the operation on Van
Sneck. He asked me if I thought it wise to try my nerves so soon again
with the electric light."
"And I hope you told him he was talking nonsense," Bell said, hastily.
"There, let us change the subject. The mere mention of that man's name
stifles me."
Morning brought a long letter from Chris Henson to David, giving him in
detail the result of her recent interview with John Rawlins. There was a
postscript to the letter which David showed to Bell with a certain
malicious glee.
"A nasty one for our friend Henson," he said. "What a sweet surprise it
will be for that picturesque gentleman the next time he goes blackmailing
to Longdean Grange."
Bell chuckled in his turn. The net was drawing very close about Henson.
"How is Van Sneck to-day?" David asked.
"Much better," Bell replied. "I propose to operate to-night. I'm glad to
hear that your mother is going to be away a day or two longer."
Heritage appeared to be ready and eager for the work before him. A
specially powerful electric light had been rigged up in connection with
the study lamp, and an operating table improvised from the kitchen. More
than once Bell looked eagerly at Heritage, but the latter stood the
scrutiny bravely. Once the operation was successfully through. Heritage
would never suffer from hallucinations again.
"I fancy everything is ready now," Bell said, at length. "After dinner
to-night and this thing will be done. Then the story will be told--"
"Mr. Reginald Henson to see you, sir."
A servant looked in with this information and a card on a tray. There was
a slight commotion outside, the vision of a partially-wrecked bicycle on
the path, and a dusty figure in the hall with his head in his hand.
"The gentleman has met with an accident, sir," the parlourmaid said.
Henson seemed to be knocked about a great deal. He was riding down the
terrace, he said, when suddenly he ran over a dog, and--
"What sort of a dog?" Bell snapped out. "What colour and size?"
Henson was utterly taken aback by the suddenness of the question. He
gasped and stammered. He could not have told Bell more plainly that the
"accident" was an artistic fake.
"You must stay here till you feel all right again," David suggested.
"Stay here for the night," Bell growled, _sotto voce._ "Stay here till
to-morrow morning and hear something from Van Sneck's lips that will
finish his interesting career for some time. Medical treatment be hanged.
A clothes-brush and some soap and water are all the physic that he
requires."
Presently Henson professed himself to be better. His superficial injuries
he bore with a manly fortitude quite worthy of his high reputation. He
could afford to smile at them. But he feared that there was something
internal of a sufficiently serious nature. Every time he moved he
suffered exquisite agony. He smiled in a faint kind of way. Bell watched
him as a cat watches a mouse. And he could read a deeper purpose behind
that soft, caressing manner. What it was he did not know, but he meant to
find out before the day was passed.
"Hadn't we better send him to the hospital?" David suggested.
"What for?" was Bell's brutal response. "There's nothing whatever the
matter with the man."
"But he has every appearance of great pain."
"To you, perhaps, but not to me. The man is shamming. He has come here
for some purpose, which will be pretty sure to transpire presently. The
knave never dreams that we are watching him, and he hugs himself with the
delusion that we take his story for gospel. Fancy a man in the state that
he pretends to be in sending his card to you! Let him stay where we can
keep an eye upon the chap. So long as he is under our observation he
can't do any mischief outside."
There was wisdom in what Bell suggested, and David agreed. Despite his
injuries, Henson made a fair tea, and his dinner, partaken of on the
dining-room sofa, was an excellent one.
"And now, do not let me detain you, as you have business," he smiled. "I
shall be quite comfortable here if you will place a glass of water by my
side. The pain makes me thirsty. No, you need not have any further
consideration for me."
He smiled with patient resignation, the smile that he had found so
effective on platforms. He lay back with his eyes half closed. He seemed
to be asleep.
"I fancy we can leave him now," Bell said, with deep sarcasm. "We need
have no further anxiety. Perfect rest is all that he requires."
Henson nodded in a sleepy fashion; his eyes were closed now till the
others had left the room. Once he was alone he was alert and
vigorous again.
"Ten minutes," he muttered, "say, a quarter of an hour. A touch, a spot
of water, and the thing is done. And I can never be found out."