QUESTIONS--AND ANSWERS
A murmur of amazement went round the room, like the sound of rising wind.
The coroner held up his hand for silence.
"You say it is yours, Miss Brellier? This--this is really most
remarkable--most remarkable! The revolver is of French make, is it not?
You bought it abroad?"
"I did. Just before I first came to England. I had been travelling
through Tunis before that, and--well, one doesn't like to be without
these things. Sir Nigel's revolver came from India, I believe--through
the agents of a French firm, the makers."
"But--" The coroner's voice was low-pitched, incredulous, "are you trying
to tell us you fired a shot that night, Miss Brellier?"
She shook her head, smiling.
"No--that would be impossible. But my revolver has always lain in that
little secrétaire, and I have never had cause to use it since I have been
on this side of the Channel. I was in bed early that night, with a
headache. My uncle will tell you that. He took me to my room and spent
the rest of the evening in his study, as you have already heard from him.
No, I cannot say I murdered Dacre Wynne. Though I would say that or
anything to save Nigel. But I didn't discover that this little revolver
of mine had ever been fired until yesterday, when I happened to go to my
secrétaire for a letter which I had locked away in that particular
drawer. Then I took it up and chanced to examine it--I don't know why.
Perhaps because it was the same as Nigel's, I--" she choked suddenly, and
bit at her lips for control. "Is there not a loophole _here_, sir, by
which Sir Nigel might be saved? Surely it must be traced who used this
revolver, who fired the shot from it?"
Her voice had risen to a piteous note that brought the tears to many eyes
in that crowded room. The coroner coughed. Then he glanced enquiringly
over at Brellier, who had risen from his seat.
"You have something to say about this, Mr. Brellier?"
Brellier made a clicking sound with his tongue.
"I'm afraid my niece has been wasting your time, sir," he said quietly,
"because I happen to have used that little instrument myself five months
ago. We had a dog who was hurt--you remember Franco, 'Toinette? And if
you carry your mind back you will also recollect that he had eventually
to be shot, and that I was forced to perform that unpleasant operation
myself. He was dear to me, that dog; he was--how do you call it?--a true
'pal'. It hurt me to do this thing, but I did it. And with that revolver
also. It was light. 'Toinette must have forgotten that I mentioned the
matter to her.
"I am afraid this can have no bearing upon the case--though the dear God
knows that I would do all I could to bring this terrible thing to an end,
if it lay in my power. That's is all, I think."
He bowed, and sat down again, beckoning his niece back to her seat with
a little frown. She cast a piteous look up into the coroner's face.
"I'm sorry," she said brokenly; "I had forgotten about that. Of course,
it is true, as my uncle said. But I was so anxious--so anxious! And there
seemed just a chance. You understand?"
"I do, Miss Brellier. And I am sorry that the evidence in this case is
of no use to us. Constable, take the prisoner away to await higher
justice. I must say that I think no other verdict upon the evidence
brought forward could possibly be passed upon the prisoner than I have
passed to-day. I'm sorry, Sir Nigel, but--one must do one's duty, you
know.... We'll be getting back to the office, Mr. Murkford." He beckoned
to his clerk, who rose instantly and followed him. "Good afternoon,
gentlemen."
... And so the whole wearisome proceedings were at an end--and Cleek had
spoken no word of that would-be assassin who had come upon him in the
dark watches of the night and sought his life. He noted that Borkins
looked at him in some surprise, but held his counsel. Borkins knew more
than he had said upon his oath _this_ day; of that Cleek was certain.
Well, he would bide his time. There were other ways to work besides the
open-handed fashion of the coroner's court and the policeman's uniform.
He was due to meet Borkins that night and discuss the possibilities of
being taken on to work at the electrical factory. Something might come
out of that--something _must_ come of that. It was impossible that the
thing should be left as it was, and an innocent boy--he was certain of
Merriton's innocence, in spite of the evidence against him--should be
hanged.
As he stepped out into the growing twilight Cleek touched Mr. Narkom on
the arm and then ran over to the van into which the prisoner was
stepping, his guardians of the law upon either side of him, his face
white, his shoulders bowed. 'Toinette stood a few steps distant, the
tears chasing themselves down her face and the sobs drowning her broken
words of comfort to him. He seemed barely to notice her, but at sight of
Cleek he flung himself round, and gave a harsh laugh.
"And a damn lot of good _you've_ done me, for all your fine reputation!"
he said sneeringly, his face reddening. "God! that there should be such
fools allowed to hold the law in their hands! You've made a mistake this
time, Mr. Cl--"
"One moment!" Cleek held up a silencing hand as the name almost escaped
Merriton's lips. "Officer, I'm from Scotland Yard. I'd like a word with
the prisoner alone, if you don't mind, before you take him away. I'll
answer for his safety, I promise.... Keep your heart up, boy; I've not
done yet!" This in a low-pitched voice, as the two men dropped away from
either side. "I've not done by a long shot. But evidence has been so
confoundly against you. I'd hopes of that I.O.U., but the whole thing was
so simply explained--and there were the proofs, you know. Still, there
was no telling how the story would come out. But it was so obviously
true.... Only, keep up your heart, lad; that's what I wanted to tell you.
I'd swear on my oath you weren't guilty. And I'll prove it yet!"
Something like a sob broke in Merriton's voice. He held out an impetuous
hand.
"I'm sorry, sir," he said jerkily, "but it's a devilish ordeal. What a
life I've led this past week! If you only knew--could only realize! It
tears a man's nerves to atoms. I've almost given up hope--"
Cleek took the hand and held it.
"Never do that, Merriton, never do that," he said softly. "I've been
through the mill myself once--years ago now, but the scar still
stays--and it'll be a bit more red hell for the present. But if there's
any saving you, any proving this thing right up to the hilt, I'll do it.
That's all I wanted to say. Good-bye, and--buck up. I'm going to speak to
the little girl now, and cheer her up, too. You'll hear everything as it
comes along."
He squeezed the hand, manacled so grimly to the other, and smiled a smile
brimming over with hope and promise.
"God bless you, Mr.--Headland," Merriton replied, and as Cleek beckoned
to the two policemen, took his stand between them and entered the closed
vehicle. The door shut, the engine purred, and the car shot away up the
road toward the local police-station, leaving the man and the girl
staring after it, the same mute sorrow and sympathy shining in both pairs
of eyes.
As it disappeared round a corner, 'Toinette turned to Cleek, her whole
agonized heart in her eyes.
"Mr. Headland!" she broke out with a gush of tears. "Oh, m'sieur, if you
did but know--could but understand all that my poor heart suffers for
that innocent boy! It is breaking every minute, every hour. Is there
nothing, nothing that can be done to save him? I'd stake my very life on
his innocence!"
Cleek let his hand rest for a moment upon the fragile shoulder, and
looked down into the pallid face.
"I know you would," he said softly, "for even I know and understand what
the love of a good woman may do to a man. But, tell me. That story of the
revolver--_your_ revolver. You can vouch for it? Your uncle _did_ kill
the dog Franco with it? You can remember? Forgive me for asking, or
questioning for a moment the evidence which Mr. Brellier has given, but
I am anxious to save that boy from the hands of the law, and for that
reason no stone must be left unturned, no secret kept silent. Carry your
mind back to that time, and tell me if that is true."
She puckered her brows together as if in perplexity and tapped one slim,
perfectly-manicured finger against her white teeth.
"Yes," she said at last; "yes, it was every bit of it true--every bit,
Mr. Headland. For the moment, in that room of terror, I had forgotten
poor Franco's death. But now--yes, I can remember it all fully. My uncle
spoke the truth, Mr. Headland--I can promise you that."
Cleek sighed. Then:
"But it was _your_ revolver he used, Miss Brellier? Try to remember. He
said that he told you of it at the time. Can you recollect your uncle
telling you that he used your revolver to shoot the dog with, or not?
That is what I want to know."
She shrugged her shoulders and spread out her hands.
"It is so _difficile_. I am trying to remember, and the matter seemed
then so trivial! But there is no reason to doubt my uncle, Mr. Headland,
for he loves Nigel dearly, and if there was any way in which he could
help to unravel this so terrible plot against him--Oh! I am _sure_ he
must have told me so, _sure_! There would be no point in his telling an
untruth over that."
"And yet you can not recall the actual remark that your uncle made, Miss
Brellier?"
"No. But I am sure, sure that what he said was true."
Cleek shrugged his shoulders.
"Then, of course, you must know best. Well, we must try and find some
other loophole. I promised Merriton I'd speak a few words to you, Miss
Brellier, just to tell you to keep up heart--though it's a difficult
task. But everything that can be done, _will_ be done. And--if you should
happen to hear that I have thrown up the case, and gone back to London,
don't be a bit surprised. There are other ways, other means of helping
than the average person dreams of. Don't mention anything I have said to
you to _anybody_. Keep you own counsel, please, and as a token of my
regard for that I will give you my word that everything that _can_ be
done for Merriton will be. Good-bye."
He put out his hand and she laid her slim one in it. For a moment her
eyes measured him, scanning his face as though to trace therein anything
of treachery to the cause which she held so dear. Then her face broke
into a wintry smile.
"I have a feeling, Mr. Headland," she said softly, "that you are going
to be a good friend to us, Nigel and me. It is a woman's intuition that
tells me, and it helps me to bear the too dreadful suspense under which
we are all now labouring. You have my word of honour never to speak of
this talk together, and to keep a guard on my tongue for the future, if
it is to help Nigel. You will let me know how things go on, Mr.
Headland?"
"That I cannot for the present tell. It will depend entirely upon how
events shape themselves, Miss Brellier. You may hear soon--you may not
hear at all. But I believe in his innocence as deeply as you do.
Therefore you must be content that I shall do my best, _whatever_
happens. Good-bye."
He gave her fingers a soft squeeze, held them a moment and then, dropping
them, bowed and swung upon his heel to join Mr. Narkom, who was standing
near by, the last of the group of interested spectators of that
afternoon's ghastly business. Dollops stood a little back from them,
awaiting his orders.
"We'll have some supper at the village 'pub,' my dear Lake," said Cleek
in a loud, clear voice that carried to every corner of the deserted
garden, "and then come back to the Towers long enough to pack up our
traps and clear out of this haunted house altogether. The case is one too
many for me, and I'm chucking it." Mr. Narkom opened his mouth to speak,
but his colleague gave him no opportunity. "It's a bit too fishy for my
liking," he went on, "when the only clues a man's got to go on are a
dancing flame and a patch of charred grass--which, by the way, never
struck me as particularly interesting at the best of times--and when
evidence points so strongly toward young Merriton's guilt. All I can
say is, let's go. That's the ticket for me."
"And for me also, old man!" agreed Mr. Narkom, emphatically, following
Cleek's lead though rather in the dark. "It's back to London for me,
whenever you're ready."
"And that'll be as soon as Dollops can pack my things and get 'em off to
the station."