THE PHOTOGRAPH
Weed-on-the-Sands is a quiet little watering-place on the south coast
in the county of Sussex. Round the original fishing-village a
flourishing town of villas and shops has grown, and as it is reached
only by a branch line from the main trunk railway it is rarely
overcrowded. In fact, a select number of invalids and holiday-makers
come to Weed-on-the-Sands every year for cure and enjoyment. The
general public find the place too quiet, as the tiny town has no
bandstand, or esplanade, or entertainments of any kind whatsoever.
There are smooth sands, with seaweed-covered rocks--hence the odd name
of the resort--a rude jetty, which stretches out some little distance
into deep water, and one or two or three crooked streets, which are
united with the wider and straighter thoroughfares of the new town. A
prettier or quieter or more agreeable place could scarcely be found in
England, and certainly not on the south coast.
To this miniature Eden Mr. and Mrs. Shawe came to pass their
honeymoon, and took rooms at an old-fashioned inn, called the Three
Fishers. The landlady was a buxom widow belonging to the Dickens era,
and having a sympathy with lovers, or, rather, with newly-married
couples, she made them extremely comfortable. Audrey and her husband
greatly enjoyed the peace after the exciting events in which they had
so lately taken part. They wandered on the sands and drove about the
surrounding country, and found, more than ever, that they were all in
all to one another. After a week of this dwelling in Paradise the
doings of the last few months became more dreamlike and endurable. To
poor Audrey this atmosphere of peace and sympathy and love was like a
forecast of heaven.
"I wish it would last for ever," she said, when they sat one morning
on the rocks at the far end of the sandy beach.
"It will last all our lives," murmured the happy husband, who was
lying at her feet with his head on her lap.
Mrs. Shawe looked doubtful. "I don't think so," she said seriously.
"We must go back to the world, Ralph, and then our troubles will begin
again."
"Well, we can bear them, dearest, so long as we have one another.
Besides, I don't see why we should have further trouble. We shan't be
rich, certainly, but I daresay we'll manage to keep a tiny flat and
one servant. Then while I am working you can stay at home and look
after the house. Lady Sanby, as the fairy godmother, will take us into
what society we need."
"I don't think we'll need any," replied Audrey, gazing at the bright
blue sea that sparkled in the sunshine. "I would rather stay at home
night after night with you."
"But, my dear, you would weary of such tame domesticity."
"No I wouldn't, Ralph. All my life I have wanted real sympathy and
love, and I have never had any, save from my poor dear mother, who was
always kind. It will be a joy to feel that I am at peace, safe in the
shelter of your arms."
"Dear," said Ralph, kissing the wrist of the arm which lay round his
neck, "I shall do all a man can do to make you really happy. Then, I
take it," he added, with some hesitation, "that you have given up all
idea of searching into the mystery of your mother's death?"
"I think so," rejoined Audrey, slowly. "Because I am afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"That I may find papa is the criminal. After what you have told me, it
seems to me--but I may be quite wrong--that either papa or Rosy Pearl
is responsible for the death. Oh!"--she shuddered--"it's too
horrible."
"I don't agree with you, Audrey. To my mind Eddy Vail is the assassin.
However, Perry Toat has no doubt seen him by this time, and when we
return to London she will have some news for us."
Mrs. Shawe frowned and hugged her knees as she stared at the sea-line.
"I really think that it would be best to leave the whole thing alone."
"As I said in my anonymous letter?"
"Yes, you were right in saying what you did. If my father is proved to
be guilty it will indeed be the greatest grief of my life. I have no
reason to love him, but it seems terrible that he should be a--"
"My darling, you have no proof that he committed the deed. I tell you
that Eddy Vail, if anyone, is the guilty person. He altered the time
of the still-room clock, and that in itself says volumes."
"All the same, I wish the case to be stopped," said Audrey, doggedly;
and from this decision Ralph could not move her. Privately he was
pleased, as he was weary of the whole sordid business, and did not
wish his early married life to be encumbered with criminal cases.
"I shall see Perry Toat when I return to London and tell her not to
bother any more about the matter," he said, sitting up.
It was just at this moment, by one of those odd coincidences not
uncommon in life, that Miss Perry Toat made her appearance from behind
the rocks. She appeared so pat to the moment, and so suddenly upon the
mention of her name, that Ralph almost believed she had been listening
behind the rocks for the dramatic moment of appearance. But it seemed
from her very first speech that this was not the case.
"Good-day, Mr. Shawe--good-morning, Mrs. Shawe," said Perry Toat,
looking more like a sharp little rat than ever. "I just came down this
morning from London by the early train, and guessing that you would be
on the beach, I came in search of you. Your voices attracted me as I
was poking about the rocks, so here I am."
"Yes, here you are," said Ralph, rather glumly.
"You don't seem pleased to see me," said Miss Toat, drily.
"Would any man on his honeymoon be pleased to see a detective?"
he retorted; then he laughed, and looked at his wife. "What do you
say, Audrey?"
The girl flushed. "I say now what I said before, that I wish the whole
case to drop," she said, with a frown.
"It is impossible to drop it now, Mrs. Shawe," replied Perry Toat, in
a quiet voice. "In your own interests it is necessary that the matter
should be gone into. I am sorry to interrupt your honeymoon, but what
I have found out left me no alternative but to come down and report
progress."
"What have you discovered?" asked Ralph, eagerly. And even Audrey, in
spite of her late speech, seemed anxious to hear what the little woman
had to say.
But Miss Toat did not seem very ready to satisfy their curiosity.
Sitting down on the rocks she tucked her feet under her, and produced
a cigarette. When this was lighted she began to smoke and went on
talking, as if the barrister had not asked a pertinent question.
"Besides, I am too anxious to earn that thousand pounds to drop the
case," she said quietly. "I am in love as well as you are, Mrs. Shawe,
and I can only marry if I get this money."
Audrey shuddered. "I should not like a dowry earned in that way," she
said.
"Why not? I am on the side of justice, and it is right to hunt down
criminals who vex law-abiding citizens. My profession is a glorious
one, although it is looked at askance. However, when I marry Edwin--he
is a purser on a liner--I shall give up hunting for criminals. The
arrest of Lady Branwin's murderer will be my last achievement in this
line."
Ralph glanced at Audrey, and she looked down at her husband. The same
thought was in the minds of both. It was Shawe who put it into words.
"Can you expect a man to supply a reward for his own capture?"
asked the young man.
Perry Toat raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean? Oh, I see," and she
laughed softly. "Set your mind at rest, Mrs. Shawe. I do not believe
that your father is guilty." She paused for effect, then added,
calmly: "I have seen Miss Rosy Pearl."
Ralph threw away his cigarette with an ejaculation. "Oh! and did she
tell you the truth?"
"She told me a great deal which I shall impart to you gradually.
Her--"
"One moment," interrupted Ralph, hurriedly, "tell me your opinion of
her. Is she really a stupid woman, or is that stupidity feigned?"
"You ask me a hard question," said the little woman, gravely. "She is
stupid in many ways; but she has a cunning, protective instinct, like
that of many animals with small brain power. And this cunning is
cleverly masked by her apparent simplicity."
"Ah!" said the barrister, significantly, "then she was really in the
passage on that night?"
"Yes, she was; but she wore a long rough cloak of Harris tweed which
Sir Joseph had presented to her. She was therefore right when she
denied to you, Mr. Shawe, that she had worn the dress."
"A kind of half truth and half lie?"
"Quite so. But I threatened to set Inspector Lanton to question her
unless she was frank with me. She is in deadly terror of publicity,
lest it should harm the spotless reputation she is so proud of. For
this reason, and because I said that I would not make her confidence
too public, she told me what she knew."
"Then I understand," said Shawe, quietly, "that she is not guilty? If
she were you would not have given such a promise."
"She is certainly not guilty, to my mind," said Perry Toat, after a
pause; "although other people might think different. Judge for
yourself, Mr. Shawe."
"Tell us what she said, and then we can judge," remarked Audrey,
quickly.
Perry Toat nodded. "Rosy Pearl was sleeping in an upstairs bedroom on
that night. She was there for treatment, but found it impossible to
sleep because the night was so warm. She therefore sat at the open
window, which looks out on to the court, and for the sake of keeping
the draught away--this is an important point--she concealed herself
behind the curtain. The night was luminous, as it was summer, so in
the half gloom she saw the outer door set in the wall of the court
open and a man come in."
Audrey and Ralph both uttered an exclamation simultaneously. "Who was
the man?" asked the barrister, hurriedly.
"Miss Pearl could not tell me, as it was too dark to see the man's
face. She saw him steal round the court, apparently coming to the door
which gave admission into the house. She naturally did not know of the
door; but as the man disappeared from her gaze she thought that he
must have entered the house. For the moment she thought it strange;
but not knowing that the door of the court was kept locked she
concluded that someone connected with the Pink Shop had simply entered
the house."
Ralph nodded. "It was natural that she should not suspect anything. A
man's entrance in that commonplace way would not look suspicious to a
woman who was ignorant of the constantly-locked door. Well--"
"Well," pursued the detective, slowly, "Miss Pearl grew tired of
sitting at the window, and went to bed. Here, according to her story,
she fell asleep "--Perry Toat looked queerly at the young couple as
she said this--"but later she awakened, thinking something was wrong."
"What did she mean by that, exactly?" asked Ralph, bluntly.
"She simply said that she had a feeling that something was wrong. It
was about nine o'clock, or shortly after. She could not--so she
said--be quite sure of the exact hour. However, she flung on the
Harris tweed cloak and went down in the darkness. On hearing Parizade
descend--although she did not know it was Parizade--she ran to the
farthest end of the passage and crouched on the floor. Parizade, who,
being blind, moved easily in the darkness, then went up the stairs
again."
"But why should Miss Pearl hesitate to address her?" demanded Audrey.
"And why should she think anything was wrong?" asked Ralph.
Perry Toat hesitated. "I shall answer those questions later," she
said, after a reflective pause. "You must let me tell my story in my
own way, as it is not an easy one to tell."
Ralph nodded. "Go on. We are at your disposal."
"Miss Pearl," pursued the detective, "thinking the man might have no
right to be in the house, went along the passage and looked into every
bedroom. She had a box of matches with her, and struck a light in each
room. Thus she found Lady Branwin dead, and, assured of this stole up
the stairs again."
"Without giving the alarm?" cried Ralph, astonished.
"Ask yourself," said Perry Toat, vehemently, "what you would have done
under the circumstances. Sir Joseph admired Miss Pearl, and wished his
wife out of the way so that he could marry her. Miss Pearl recognised
Lady Branwin at once, as she had often seen her in the Park and other
places. She guessed if she gave the alarm, and was called as a
witness, how she might be suspected of encompassing the death. Can't
you see?"
"I can see," said Audrey, grasping the position quicker than her
husband. "I think, considering the circumstances, she acted wisely.
What did she do then?"
"Went back to bed, and told Lanton next morning that she had been
asleep all the time. So that is her story, in a way. Other portions of
it I shall tell you later, but not just now."
"Why not?" asked Shawe, suspiciously.
"That explanation comes later also," said Miss Toat, with an odd
little smile. "But to go on. I left Miss Pearl and sought out Eddy
Vail."
"Why did you do that?" demanded Audrey, quickly.
"Because I guessed that only he could have had a key manufactured to
fit the court door. He was in a terrible state of mind when, I
questioned him, and admitted that he had such a key."
"Then he is the criminal!" cried Shawe, triumphantly.
"He denies that he is," replied Perry Toat, quietly. "He told me that
he got the key made as he wanted to enter the Pink Shop when he could
without his wife knowing that he was under her roof. Badoura admitted
him sometimes by the inner door, as she easily got the key from the
nail in the still-room."
"But why should there be secrecy?" asked Ralph, puzzled.
"Well," said Perry Toat, after a pause, "if you ask me, I think Mr.
Edmund Vail was in the habit of robbing his wife when he could, with
the connivance of Badoura. I don't blame the girl over much, as she
was crazy, and is crazy, about the scamp. But we can discuss this
later. Meanwhile you must understand that Eddy Vail had the skeleton
key made for the purpose I told you of. His story is that he entered
the court about a quarter to eight o'clock, and as the window of the
bedroom wherein Madame Coralie and Lady Branwin were talking was open,
he saw the one display the diamonds to the other. Immediately he
resolved to steal them, and, as Badoura had left the inner door
unlocked, he ran upstairs at five minutes to eight to put the
still-room clock back half an hour and prove an alibi. He intended
later to steal out again into the court, and climb through the window
to take the jewels."
"And he did?" said Ralph, quickly.
"Not immediately. Madame came up, and he secured his alibi. Then she
turned him out by the front door. He went round by the back and
entered the court. The window was still open. He got in and found Lady
Branwin dead--"
"And the diamonds gone?"
"According to his story he was too terrified to wait and see. He
scrambled out of the window again, and fairly ran away. In his hurry
he left the key in the lock of the court door, after turning it."
"But the inner door was found locked also, and the key was on the nail
in the still-room next day," said Shawe, quickly.
"Of course. When Madame turned Eddy out by the front, Badoura locked
the inner door and restored the key to its nail. However, Eddy swears
that Lady Branwin was dead when he entered, and he does not know who
killed her."
"What is to be done now?" asked Audrey, in dismay.
Perry Toat replied promptly. "You and Mr. Shawe must come with me to
London by the midday train. I have arranged a meeting with Madame
Coralie and Eddy Vail in my office. Then when you, Mrs. Shawe, and
you, Mr. Shawe, are face to face with them we may arrive at the
truth."
"Why not arrange to have Sir Joseph and Miss Pearl present also?"
"Oh, you will probably see them down here to-morrow," said Perry Toat,
drily. "Miss Pearl assured me that she would do her best to induce Sir
Joseph to come down and be reconciled. More than that, she intends to
come down with Sir Joseph herself. 'Blessed are the peace-makers,'"
ended Miss Toat, grinning.
"Never mind this peacemaking," said Ralph, briskly; "let us go to
London and get this particular matter threshed out. Come, Audrey."
"One moment," said Perry Toat, bringing a photograph out of her
pocket. "Do you remember how I told you that I was hunting for the
hospital nurse who stole Colonel Ilse's child?"
"Yes; but what has that case to do with the matter?" asked Ralph, with
considerable impatience, as he wished to do one thing at a time.
"Look at the photograph, Mrs. Shawe, and see," said the detective.
Audrey took the photograph and looked at it hard. Then she started
back with a cry of amazement. "It is a picture of my mother!" she
gasped.
"Oh, no," said Miss Toat, easily; "you are misled by the resemblance
and by the absence of the birthmark, which does not show in the
photograph."
"I see," said Ralph, examining the picture. "This is Madame Coralie?"
"Exactly--as a hospital nurse and kidnapper!"