THE HOUSE WITH THE SHUTTERED WINDOWS
Cleek, accompanied by the faithful Dollops, did go down to Hampton that
very day, and put up as arranged at the Hampton Arms. He travelled as
Mr. George Headland, a commercial traveller for beer, from London, with
an inveterate taste for gossip. He speedily learned that since the
return of Lady Margaret to Cheyne Court the house had been shut up
"worse than ever," for hardly anybody had seen Miss Cheyne, and no one
would go near the estate because of the noise.
"What noise?" Cleek's ears pricked up.
"A queer moaning noise, sir. It fair beats me to describe it, but it
just lifts the 'air off yer 'ead. You go down the lane past the gates,
one dark night, and 'ear that sound. I'll wager yer'd make for the
railway station as fast as yer legs could carry yer."
"Hum! now what can that noise be?" Cleek mused. "An old trick to
frighten away the superstitious peasants? Old as the hills, that is.
I'll hear that noise for myself before I'm many hours older, or I've
lost my sense since the Vanishing Cracksman days."
But it was not until the next day that his desire was granted, for
Dollops, having been left to himself for a few hours, contrived to get a
"scratch meal." This had apparently consisted of pickled walnuts,
sheep's feet, steak-and-kidney pudding, and some jam puffs, with an
additional helping of nuts as dessert. The effect of this startling
combination may be imagined. The result was a fit of indigestion which
sent Cleek pounding down the lane at ten o'clock that night to find the
nearest doctor. It was not until he was well within sight of Cheyne
Court, standing shuttered and dark, that he remembered the innkeeper's
words of the morning before. He slackened speed a moment in the dark and
all at once, as if from the ground beneath his feet, there issued one of
the most horrible and inexplicable sounds that could be imagined. It was
neither human nor animal though it contained something of both. No
instrument or mechanical thing could possibly have emitted it, and Cleek
stood stock still, the very hairs on his head quivering at the sudden
unearthly wail. It ceased as quickly as it had begun, and brought back
to the immediate needs of his protégé, he went on his way, the memory of
that horror-haunting sound still ringing in his ears.
Half an hour later he was back with Dr. Verrall, a stiff and unyielding
young man, who evidently held the House of Cheyne and all its ways in
the greatest reverence. He refused to discuss the subject of the queer
sounds, and as he very soon concocted a nauseous dose that had the
desired effect on Dollops, there was nothing else to do but to allow him
to proceed on his way home.
On the following day Mr. Narkom arrived at the Hampton Arms. The
presence of the great inspector brought Mr. Roberts, bursting with pride
to be allowed to speak on any terms with the great official. He clearly
had no recollection of ever having seen Mr. George Headland before, and
had any one told him that he was in the presence of the very man who had
fetched him on a wild-goose chase that night nearly a month before, he
would absolutely have refused to believe the evidence of his own senses.
Mr. Narkom, however, listened to all he had to say on the subject of
that escapade and commended him for his promptness in obeying the
summons.
Another visitor came also to the little inn, and that was Sir Edgar
Brenton.
"I am thankful you've come," he said, addressing Mr. Narkom, though he
had greeted Mr. Headland civilly beforehand.
"I cannot fathom the mystery at all. I returned to Cheyne Court to make
another attempt on the place, but found that the broken window is now
barred and shuttered, so there is evidently still someone in the place.
Don't you think you could take the law into your own hands and force an
entry? Mr. Narkom, when I think that my dear girl may be kept there a
prisoner, I go nearly mad with terror of what they may do to her--the
devils!"
Mr. Narkom nodded sympathetically, and stole a side glance at Cleek's
impassive face.
"I don't doubt it, Sir Edgar," he replied, "but it's a dangerous thing
to break into a house, you know. Still, there is the excuse of a
forcible abduction of the young lady perhaps, and if it is Miss Cheyne
who is at the bottom of it, I don't mind trying to bluff her about
burglars being in the neighbourhood, etc. We could say how unsafe it was
with those jewels about."
He looked across at his ally for approval and Cleek, with a little smile
hovering round his lips, nodded.
"Yes, why not?" he said. "I'd like to have another look at Cheyne Court
by daylight and locate that abominable row----"
"Have you heard it, then?" broke in Sir Edgar hastily. "I was beginning
to think my brain was giving way, and that the old superstition was
right, after all."
"What superstition is that?" asked Cleek.
"Why, Cheyne Court has always been supposed to be haunted by a wailing
lady who presages death to the owner, and for the past week nearly
everyone seems to have heard her. I refused to believe it till last
night, when I couldn't keep away from the place. 'Pon my word, the sound
fairly made my blood run cold. What do you think about it, Mr.
Headland?"
"A good deal, sir, and that's the truth," responded Cleek. "There's some
villainy on foot and I don't take heed of any wailing ladies till I see
how it's done. Now if you're ready, sir."
Sir Edgar _was_ ready and the three, with Dollops hovering in the
background, made their way to the ill-fated abode. Silent and
grim-looking, with its lower windows shuttered, an oppressive silence
seemed to overhang it. This was speedily broken by their sending peal
after peal from the door-bell ringing through the building.
But no answer came. There was no sound of approaching footsteps and Sir
Edgar, pale and despairing, stepped back into the gravelled path and
gazed up into the windows. As he did so, he gave a cry and pointed
upward. Cleek and Narkom sprang to his side just in time to see the
wrinkled and malevolent face of Miss Cheyne looking down on them. That
she was bitterly angry they could see, for though they could only guess
at the stream of invective pouring from her shaking lips, a frenzied
fist shaken in their direction warned them that any liberties taken with
her abode would be bitterly resented. She disappeared suddenly from view
and Sir Edgar turned upon his companions.
"Help me break the door down," he cried, forgetting all caution. "My
dear girl is in there with that harridan, who has perhaps killed her for
the sake of those accursed jewels! Some women would sell their very soul
for diamonds, and she is one of them."
Cleek pursed up his lips and gave forth a low whistle.
"That's a fact," he assented. "Let's try the back." Recognizing that at
least one emissary of the law was on his side, Sir Edgar darted along
the terrace and on his way to the rear of the house. All the windows
were shuttered and barred but a handy brick smashed the glass of one and
their combined assaults on the time-worn shutters behind soon gave them
an entry.
Cleek left Dollops on guard outside.
"Don't let a single person escape, Dollops," he said. "Whistle if
anybody attempts to come out, but don't let them go."
"Righto, guv'nor," was the cheerful answer. "Don't you worrit; I'll put
some of my 'tickle tootsies' along here as I follows yer, an' it'll be a
downy old bird wot escapes me and _them_ as well; wot?"
Cleek smiled approvingly and followed his two companions into the house,
perfectly content to leave the care of the outside to Dollops. Already
he could hear Sir Edgar impetuously racing from floor to floor, making
the oak rafters ring with Lady Margaret's name. But no sight or sound of
her rewarded his efforts.
Mr. Narkom, pulling down shutter after shutter, let in the gorgeous
light of day, but it was soon evident that the house was empty. Neither
servants nor mistress rewarded their search. Neither did subsequent
tapping and close scrutiny reveal a panel or trap-door. No cornered
criminal was to be found; no gagged and bound figure of the girl they
sought. There was nothing but the scamper of frightened mice behind the
wainscoting. Miss Cheyne had disappeared before their very eyes,
mysteriously, inexplicably, but disappeared nevertheless!
As they stood in the empty ballroom, its walls lined with age-old
portraits, the furniture dusty and moth-eaten, there came a sound that
made even Cleek, to whom it was no stranger, shudder. It was a low,
horrible moaning which seemed to permeate the whole house.
For a moment they stood rooted to the spot in horrified silence, then
Sir Edgar spoke in a quaking whisper:
"Heavens above! what is it?"
Nobody answered him, for it was a question impossible to answer. All
they could do was to search the house again from garret to basement, but
Miss Cheyne had apparently disappeared as mysteriously as her niece.
Whether by her own will or not, it was impossible to say.
Back once more on the terrace they were compelled to own themselves
beaten, and Cleek and Mr. Narkom looked at one another in sympathetic
dismay at this set-back to their plans. They both had counted on coming
face to face with the eccentric guardian of the girl whose life was in
such evident danger. Suddenly Sir Edgar gave a little startled
exclamation and turning in the direction of his gaze they saw the figure
of a fair and slender woman running toward them.
As she drew near, Cleek's heart gave a little leap of delight, for it
was the woman who meant more to him than all the world. A second later
he quickened his steps to meet her.
"Oh, I am so worried!" Ailsa said swiftly. "I am thankful I have found
you at last. It is that poor girl you drove home that night, Lady
Margaret Cheyne, you know. I have tried so many times to see her. I have
called and called, but have always been refused admittance. Now this
morning I was in the lane when I saw Lady Margaret at a window and she
dropped this scrap of paper. See!" She handed Cleek a little screwed-up
piece of paper on which was scrawled "Miss Lorne, save me! Margaret."
"She was snatched away before I could call to her. What does it mean?"
asked Ailsa, wistfully looking from one face to the other.
"I should not be surprised if that dangerous stone, the Purple Emperor,
is at the bottom of it all," said Cleek.
Sir Edgar took the scrap of paper from Ailsa's fingers, and read it
slowly through. Then he cried vehemently:
"I'll save her, if I commit murder fifty times over."
As he spoke, he plunged along the lane, the ill-fated words lingering in
their minds long after he had disappeared.
"It's an absolute mystery at present," said Cleek softly, his chin
pinched up in his hand. "There must be some way of getting in and out of
that house which we haven't yet fathomed, and I'd like to have a shot at
finding it. I think, too, we shall have to keep an eye on our young
friend, Sir Edgar, or he will be getting into trouble. Never fear,
Ailsa," he added, gently, "I will save the little girl somehow, but I
mean to give myself the pleasure of walking back with you first."
The walk was but a brief one, and Cleek on his return to the inn sent an
urgent message to the Towers asking Sir Edgar to come down to him. He
meant to keep a watchful eye on his movements and prevent further
trouble if possible.
Dollops returned half an hour later with the disconcerting news that the
master had gone up to town.
Cleek switched on his heel, alert and surprised.
"Gone!" he said excitedly "What does that mean? Does he think he is
going to find Lady Margaret wandering about Piccadilly Circus? Well,
anyhow, he is safe up there out of reach of doing any mad tricks. Ah, if
I could only find the secret of that house I'd go a long way toward
restoring that child."
"Well, if _you_ don't find it I'll bet a tanner to a fresh herrin' no
one will, guv'nor," exclaimed Dollops indignantly. "There ain't no one
in the world wot's got your kind o' brains, and that's a fact. You'll
find the secret out all right, sir, if yer only has patience. And in the
meantime, if yer don't want me any more, I'll just pop along to the
restaurant and have a sandwich, for I'm that empty you can hear me ribs
rattle!"
He left the room, and Cleek sat alone, trying to puzzle out the whole
awful affair. But it was like some jig-saw puzzle in which all the
pieces were odd, and he did not hold the key to the solution.