TO BEECHCROFT
Thenceforth, as the French say, events marched. Robert Frazer faithfully
recounted Margaret's statement to the barrister and the detective. The
"documents," copies of which Ooma sent to the ill-fated woman whose sudden
accession to wealth had proved so unlucky for her, were evidently those
stolen from the drawer in the writing-desk at Beechcroft.
Here, at last, was the motive of the murder laid bare.
The Japanese, by some inscrutable means, became aware that the young
baronet possessed these papers, and held them _in terrorem_ over his
reputed sister. In the hands of a third person, an outsider, they were
endowed with double powers for mischief. He could threaten the woman with
exposure, the man with the revelation of a discreditable family secret.
He visited the library in order to commit the theft, probably acting with
greater daring because he mistook the sleeping David for his cousin.
Having successfully wrenched open the drawer and secured the papers, still
holding in his hand the instrument used for slipping back the tiny lock,
he turned to leave the room by the open window, and was suddenly
confronted by the real Sir Alan, who recognised him and guessed his object
in being present at that hour.
Brett had gone thus far in his spoken commentary on the affair as it now
presented itself to his mind when Winter asked:
"Why do you say 'recognised' him, Mr. Brett? We have no evidence that Sir
Alan had ever seen Ooma?"
"What, none? Search through your memory. Did not the stationmaster see a
third David Hume leave the station that day when the movements of only two
are known to us. What became of this third personage during the afternoon?
Where did he change into evening dress? Why did Sir Alan leave documents
of such grave importance in so insecure a hiding-place?"
"There is no use in asking me questions I can't answer," snapped the
detective.
"Perhaps not. I think you said that you amused yourself in your Middle
Street lodgings by taking to pieces a small electrical machine fitted
together by your companion?"
"Yes, sir; but what of that?"
"Let us suppose that, instead of a complex machine he built a small arch
of toy bricks, and you were well acquainted with the model whilst each
brick was numbered in rotation, don't you think you could manage to
reconstruct the arch after repeated efforts?"
"I expect so."
"Well, my dear Winter, we have now got together every material stone in
our edifice. Mrs. Capella's yielding to blackmail is the keystone of the
arch. Every loose block fits at once into its proper place. The Japanese,
Ooma, must have met Sir Alan and discussed this very question with him.
The baronet must have unwittingly revealed the family secret, and the Jap
was clever enough to perceive its value. Further, the murder was
unpremeditated, the inspiration of a desperate moment, and the weapon
selected shows a sort of fiendish mandate suggested by family feud. Ooma
is undoubtedly--"
But Smith entered, apologetic, doubtful.
"Mr. Holden is here, sir, and says he wishes to see you immediately."
Holden's news was important. Capella had left Liverpool Street half an
hour ago for Beechcroft, and in the same train travelled Ooma.
"Are you sure of this?" demanded Brett, excitedly springing from his
chair.
"Quite certain, sir. Mr. Winter's mate followed him to the station, and
told me who the Japanese was. Besides, no one could mistake him who had
ever seen either of these two gentlemen."
He indicated Robert and David.
"Quick," shouted the barrister. "We must all catch the next train to
Stowmarket. Winter, have you your handcuffs? This time they may be needed.
Smith, run and call two hansoms."
He rushed to a bureau and produced a couple of revolvers. He handed one to
Holden.
"I can trust you," he said, "not to fire without reason. Do not shoot to
kill. If this man threatens the life of any person, maim him if possible,
but try to avoid hitting him in the head or body."
To the Frazers he handed the heaviest sticks he possessed. He himself
pocketed the second revolver, and picked up the peculiar walking-stick
which Ooma dropped in Northumberland Avenue.
"Now," he said, "let us be off. We have no time to lose, and we must get
to Beechcroft with the utmost speed."
Winter and he entered the same hansom.
"Why are you so anxious to prevent Capella and Ooma meeting, sir?" asked
the detective, as their vehicle sped along Victoria Street.
"I do not care whether they meet or not," was the emphatic reply. "It is
now imperatively necessary that the Japanese should be placed where he can
do no further harm. The man is a human tiger. He must be caged. If all
goes well, Winter, this case will pass out of my hands into yours within
the next three hours."
The detective smiled broadly. At last he saw his way clearly, or thought
he saw it, which is often not quite the same thing. In the present
instance he little dreamed the nature of the path he would follow. But he
was so gratified that he could not long maintain silence, though Brett was
obviously disinclined to talk.
"By Jove," he gurgled, "this will be the case of the year."
The barrister replied not.
"I suppose, Mr. Brett," continued Winter, with well-affected concern, "you
will follow your usual policy, and decide to keep your connection with the
affair hidden?"
"Exactly, and you will follow your usual policy of claiming all the credit
under the magic of the words 'from information received.'"
Winter could afford to be generous.
"Mr. Brett," he cried, "there is no man would be so pleased as I to see
you come out of your shell, and tell the Court all you have done. You
deserve it. It would be the proudest moment of your life."
Then the barrister laughed.
"You have known me for years, Winter," he said, "yet you believe that. Go
to! You are incorrigible!"
The detective did not trouble to extract the exact meaning from this
remark. He understood that Brett would never think of entering the
witness-box. That was all he wanted to know.
"Are you quite certain," he asked, with a last tinge of anxiety in his
voice, "that Ooma will be arrested to-day?"
"Quite certain, if we can accomplish that highly desirable task."
Winter pounded the door of the hansom with his clenched fist
"Then it is done!" he cried. "I'll truss him up like a fowl. If he tries
any tricks I'll borrow the leg-chains from Stowmarket police station."
At Liverpool Street they all made a hasty meal. They caught the last train
from London and passed two weary hours until Stowmarket was reached.
There on the platform stood the station-master. He approached Brett and
whispered:
"A man who came here by the preceding train told me that you and some
other gentlemen might possibly follow on. He intended to telegraph to you,
but he asked me, in case you turned up, to tell you that the Japanese has
gone on foot to Beechcroft, and that Mr. Capella has not arrived."
"Not arrived!" cried Brett. He turned to Holden. "Can you have been
mistaken?"
Holden shook his head. "I saw him with my own eyes," he asseverated, "and
to make sure of his destination I asked the ticket examiner where the
gentleman in the first smoker was going to. It was Stowmarket, right
enough."
"There can be no error, sir," put in the stationmaster. "Mr. Capella's
valet came by the train, and assured me that he left London with his
master. Besides, the carriage is here from the Hall. It was ordered by
telegraph. There is the valet himself. He imagines that Mr. Capella
quitted the train on the way, and will arrive by this one. But there is no
sign of him."
The mention of the carriage brought a look of decision into the
barrister's face.
"One more question," he said to the official. "Did you see the person
described as the Japanese?"
"Yes, sir, I did. As a matter of fact, I thought it was somebody else. It
was not until the stranger who arrived by the train used that name to
distinguish him that I understood I was mistaken."
The stationmaster looked into Brett's eyes that which he did not like to
say in the presence of the Frazers. Of course, he had fallen into the same
error as most people who only obtained a casual glimpse of Ooma.
Brett hurried his companions outside the station. There they found the
Beechcroft carriage, and a puzzled valet holding parley with the coachman
and footman. David Hume's authority was sufficient to secure the use of
the vehicle, and Brett made the position easier for the men by saying
that, in all probability, they would find fresh instructions awaiting them
at the Hall.
Before the party drove off Winter noticed a local sergeant of police
standing near.
"Shall I ask him to come with us, sir?" he said to Brett.
The barrister considered the point for an instant before replying:
"Perhaps it would be better, as we have not got a warrant."
Winter grinned broadly again.
"Oh yes, we have," he cried. "Mr. Ooma's warrant has been in my
breast-pocket for three days."
"What a thoughtful fellow you are," murmured Brett. "In that case we can
dispense with local assistance. We five can surely tackle any man living."
"What can have become of Capella?" said David Hume, when they were all
seated and bowling along the road to Beechcroft.
"It is impossible to say what such a mad ass would be up to," commented
his cousin. "He has probably gone back to London from some wayside
station, and failed to find his servant to tell him before the train moved
on."
"What do you think, Mr. Brett?" inquired Winter.
"I can form no opinion. I only wish Ooma was in gaol. For once, Winter, I
appreciate the strength of your handcuffing policy."