The Hand in the Dark

by Arthur J. Rees

  CHAPTER XVII

  "Lunch is waiting," said the young man. "My aunt thought that you didnot hear the gong, so I came up to tell you."

  "Miss Heredith was right--I did not hear it. I am sorry if I have keptyou waiting. I have been so busy that I forgot the passing of time."

  If Phil felt any curiosity as to the matters which had engaged Colwyn'sattention in the room where his wife had been murdered, he did notexpress it in words.

  "My aunt will show you over the moat-house after lunch, if you wish,"was what he said.

  "I should be glad," returned Colwyn. "But I am reluctant to put MissHeredith to the trouble."

  "Do not think of that," responded Phil. "My aunt desires nothing betterthan to show the old place to anybody she likes. And she has taken aliking to you."

  "It is very good of her. I shall be pleased to accept her offer, for Iwish to see over the house as soon as possible."

  They had started to descend the stairs. Colwyn, happening to glance overthe balusters, saw the motionless figure of Tufnell standing at thebottom of the staircase partly concealed by the group of ornamentalshrubs in the hall. His face was turned upwards with an aspect ofstrained curiosity, but it was immediately withdrawn as his eyesencountered Colwyn's downward gaze. A moment later Colwyn saw him enterthe dining-room.

  When they reached the foot of the staircase, Colwyn, with an explanatoryglance at his soiled hands and dusty clothes, promised to join theluncheon party in a few minutes. He went to his own room for a hastytoilet, and when he descended a few minutes later he again saw Tufnellin the hall. The butler, who was giving a direction to a servant, methis eye calmly, and hastened to open the dining-room door for him.

  There was more conversation at luncheon than at the morning meal. Theweight of senility relaxed from Sir Philip sufficiently to permit him totalk to his guest with some brightness. He told Colwyn a story of aseagoing ancestor of his who had entertained the Royal Family in his ownfrigate at Portsmouth in honour of Sir Horatio Nelson's victory of theNile, and how the occasion had tempted the cupidity of his own fellow tomake a nefarious penny by permitting the rabble of the town to takepeeps at the guests through one of the port-holes. It happened that oneJack Tar, eager to gaze on his idol Nelson, got his head jammed in theport-hole, and broke up the party with a volley of terrible oaths androars for assistance. "The servant's name was Egg--Dick Egg, but he wasa bad egg," chuckled Sir Philip, as he concluded the narrative. Herepeated the poor joke several times in manifest appreciation.

  Miss Heredith did not smile at the story. She deprecated anything whichhad the slightest tendency to cast ridicule on the family name. That wasmade abundantly clear after the meal, when Sir Philip had retired to hisroom for his afternoon nap, and the others went over the old house. Shetook Colwyn under her special charge, and, forgetful of the real objectof the detective's visit, discoursed impressively to him on the pastglories of the Heredith line. She lingered long in each room, all richin memories of the past, pointing out the objects of interest withloving pride. It would have been a disappointment to her if she hadknown that the guest who walked beside her, listening to her stories andlegends of each antique relic and ancient picture, had his thoughtsfixed on far different matters. Colwyn's reasons for seeing themoat-house had little to do with ancient oak, carved ceilings, panelledwalls, and old family portraits.

  It was not until they descended to the gun-room that Colwyn's keenprofessional scrutiny suggested, by force of contrast, that his formerair of interest had been largely feigned. There were several undergroundrooms, entered by a short flight of stone steps, with an oak door at thetop and bottom. The two principal rooms were the armoury, full ofarmour, spears, lances and bows, and the gun-room adjoining. Whatarrested Colwyn's attention in the latter room was the display of gunson the walls. There were many varieties of them: rifled harquebuses,obsolete carbines, flint-lock muskets, and modern rifles; in fact, thewhole evolution of explosive weapons, from the first rude beginningsdown to the breech-loader of the present day.

  "The Herediths have ever been a family of great warriors, Mr. Colwyn,"said Miss Heredith, following his glance along the walls. "Each of thoseweapons has some story of bravery, I might almost say heroism, attachedto it. That sword you are looking at belonged to my grand-uncle, whocommanded the British Army in the Peninsula. He was originally a majorin the 14th Foot."

  "I was under the impression that Wellington commanded in Portugal," saidMusard.

  "My grand-uncle was Sir Arthur Wellesley's senior officer, Vincent,"responded Miss Heredith. "He arrived in Portugal in 1809 to takecommand, but Sir Arthur most culpably failed to have horses ready tocarry him to the field of battle. In consequence of Sir Arthur's neglectmy grand-uncle was compelled to take the next boat back to England.There was a question asked in the Commons of the day about Sir Arthur'sconduct. I do not know what the question was, but the answer was in thenegative, though I am not quite sure what that means. In any case, mygrand-uncle was a greater soldier than Wellington. My mother often heardmy grand-aunt say so."

  "I notice that there are no revolvers or pistols among the weapons onthe walls," said Colwyn.

  "We never had a revolver," replied Phil.

  "There are a pair of horse pistols in that case," said Musard, pointingto an oblong mahogany box with brass corners, resting on a stand in aniche of the wall. He crossed over to the box and fumbled with the brasssnibs, but was unable to open it. "The case is locked," he said.

  "Perhaps it is only jammed," suggested Phil.

  "Oh, no, it is locked fast enough. Do you understand anything aboutlocks, Mr. Colwyn?"

  "You will have to break it open if you have lost the key," said Colwyn,after glancing at the box. "It is an obsolete type of lock."

  "I should have liked to show you those pistols," said Musard. "Theycarry as true as a rifle up to fifty yards. Their only drawback is thatthey are a bit clumsy, and have a heavy recoil."

  "I wonder where the key is?" remarked Miss Heredith. "I must ask Tufnellabout it."

  "Will you tell me where the revolver practice took place thatafternoon?" said Colwyn, turning to Phil.

  "They were firing from behind the bagatelle board at a target fixed overthere," said Phil, pointing to the far wall.

  "Who proposed the game?"

  "Nepcote. It was a very wet afternoon, and everybody had to stayindoors. He suggested after tea that it would be a good way of killingthe time before dinner. Several of the men and two or three of the girlsthought it a capital idea, and a sweepstake was arranged. They asked mefor a revolver, but I told them we had not one. One of the officersoffered his army revolver, but that was objected to as too heavy anddangerous for indoor shooting. Then Nepcote said that he had a lightrevolver in his bag, and he went upstairs to get it. He came downstairswith it in his hand, and those who were taking part in the sport wentdownstairs to the gun-room. I went with them for a while, but I did notstay long."

  "Captain Nepcote's revolver is not an army weapon?"

  "Oh, no. It is a very small and slight weapon, nickel-plated, with sixchambers. It is so light as to resemble a toy."

  "With a correspondingly light report, I presume. The sound of the targetpractice would not be heard upstairs?"

  "It would be an exceedingly loud report that penetrated to the upperregions through that door," interjected Musard, pointing to the oak doorwith iron clamps which gave entrance to the gun-room. "Besides, there isanother door at the top of the steps. If they were both shut you mightfire off every weapon in the place without anybody upstairs hearing asound."

  Colwyn had listened to Phil's account of the target shooting with theclosest attention. He remained silent for some moments, as though hewere pondering over every point in it. Then he said:

  "What makes you feel so sure that Nepcote did not leave his revolver inthis room after the shooting?"

  "He could only have left it on the bagatelle board or one of thechairs," replied Phil earnestly. "If he had done so it would have bee
nseen by somebody."

  "Provided anybody entered the gun-room," put in Musard.

  "Of course there must have been somebody here," rejoined Phil with somewarmth. "The detectives think that Hazel did not find it until thefollowing evening. Do you suppose nobody visited the gun-room fortwenty-four hours?"

  "I think it quite likely with such a poor shooting lot--" Musardcommenced, but broke off as he caught Miss Heredith's warning glance."All right, laddie," he added soothingly; "Perhaps you are right, afterall."

  "I have no doubt I am right," exclaimed Phil excitedly. "Do you notthink I am right, Mr. Colwyn?"

  "I think that what you have said about the likelihood of the revolverhaving been seen is quite feasible," responded the detective. "But thereis nothing to be gained by discussing that possibility at the presentmoment. Shall we go upstairs again, Miss Heredith?" he added, turning toher.

  She turned on him a grateful glance for his tact and forbearance, andhastened to lead the way from the gun-room. The few words between Philand Musard had not only brought sharply back to her all the past horrorand agony of the murder, but had caused a poignant renewal of herapprehensions about her nephew's health. She realized that he was achanged being, moody and irritable, and liable to sudden fits ofexcitement on slight provocation. She felt that Musard had been ratherinconsiderate to forget Phil's illness and cause him to get excited bydiffering from him.

  Her concern was not lessened by intercepting a strange glance which Philcast at Musard when they reached the library. Before she had time toreflect on what it meant, Phil turned to her and asked her where she hadput Violet's jewel-case.

  "I told you yesterday, Phil, that I brought it downstairs and locked itup," replied Miss Heredith, with a glance at the safe in the corner ofthe room. "I have been keeping the keys until you got better."

  "Then you might let me have them now," said the young man. "I shouldlike to see if the jewels are all right."

  "Why, Phil, of course they are all right," his aunt replied. "We foundthe jewel-case locked, and not tampered with in any way."

  "Was Mrs. Heredith's jewel-case in her bedroom the night she wasmurdered?" asked Colwyn.

  "Yes," responded Miss Heredith. "We found it on her toilet-table, whereshe usually kept it."

  "Did it contain valuable jewels?"

  "It contained a necklace of pearls which was given to poor Violet by SirPhilip," was the reply. "It is an old family necklace."

  "Then I agree with Mr. Heredith that the jewel case should be opened."

  "Very well. As you think it necessary, I will go to my room for thekeys."

  Miss Heredith left the library, and returned in a few moments with asmall bunch of keys in her hand. She went to the safe, unlocked it, andreturned to the table bearing an oblong silver box of quaint design,with the portrait of a stout simpering lady in enamel on the cover. MissHeredith directed Colwyn's attention to the portrait, remarking that itwas a likeness of a princess of the reigning house, who had given it andthe box to her great-uncle, Captain Sir Philip Heredith.

  "Her Royal Highness held my great-uncle in much esteem, Mr. Colwyn," sheadded, as she proceeded to fit one of the keys into the box. "He was oneof the most famous of Nelson's captains. When he died the residents ofhis native town erected a memorial to him. It was inscribed withtestimony to his worth in a civic, military, and Christian capacity,together with a text stating that he caused the widow's heart to singfor joy. Beneath the text was commemorated his feat in sinking theFrench frigate _L'Equille_, with every soul on board."

  "That hardly seems like causing the widow's heart to sing for joy,"commented Musard.

  "The reference was to English widows, Vincent," replied Miss Heredith,proceeding to open the box with loving care. "At that period of ourhistory we had not discovered the good qualities of the French people,which have endeared them to--Oh!" Miss Heredith broke off with astartled exclamation as the lid of the silver box fell back, revealingan empty interior.

  It is only in moments of complete surprise that the human face fails tokeep up some semblance of guard over the inmost feelings. At thediscovery that the jewel-case was empty Miss Heredith's dignity droppedfrom her like a falling garment, and she stared at the velvet interiorwith half-open mouth and an air of consternation on her face.

  "Oh!" she cried again, finding voice after a moment's tense silence."The necklace is gone."

  "By heaven, this is amazing," muttered Musard.

  "I thought you said it was safe?" The speaker was Phil. He did not lookat his aunt as he uttered this reproach, but gazed at the empty box withglowing eyes under drawn brows.

  "Phil, Phil, I thought it was safe--oh, I thought it was safe!" criedMiss Heredith almost hysterically. "Where is it gone? Who could havetaken it? The box was locked when we saw it upstairs, and the day afterthe funeral I found Violet's keys at the back of the drawer where shealways kept them."

  "The box may have been locked when you found it, but it seems equallycertain that it was also empty," said Colwyn. He alone of the excitedgroup was cool enough to estimate the awkward possibilities of thisdiscovery. "How was it that the detectives did not open the jewel-caseon the night of the murder, so as to make quite sure that the necklacehad not been stolen?"

  "I took the necklace downstairs and locked it away before the policearrived," said Miss Heredith tearfully. "When Detective Caldew came heasked me if anything was missing from Violet's bedroom, and I told himno. Of course, I did not dream of anything like this. Oh, how I wish nowthat I had opened the jewel-case at the time. But I never thought. Itried the case and found it locked, so I thought it had not beentouched."

  "Really, I am more to blame than Miss Heredith," interposed Musardhurriedly. "I saw the jewel-case first, and I should have thought ofhaving it opened."

  "It is a pity you did not inform the detectives about the case," saidColwyn. His face was grave as he realized how completely the police hadbeen led astray in their original investigations by the misunderstandingwhich had concealed an important fact. "But first let us make sure thatthe jewel-case was empty when it was brought downstairs. How many peoplehave access to this safe, Miss Heredith? Is there more than one key?"

  "There is only one key," she replied. "And that has been in mypossession since the night of the murder."

  "That disposes of that possibility, then. What about Mrs. Heredith'sbunch of keys? Have they also been in your possession since she waskilled?"

  "Yes; I kept them in an upstairs drawer, which was locked."

  "Can you tell me when you last saw the necklace?"

  Miss Heredith reflected for a moment.

  "Not for some time," she said. "Violet did not care for it, and rarelywore it."

  "The necklace was of pink pearls," Musard explained. "Their value wasmore historical than intrinsic, for they had become tarnished with age,and the setting was old-fashioned. It was for that reason Mrs. Heredithdid not like it. I was going to take the pearls to London the followingday to arrange to have them skinned and reset."

  "When I went into poor Violet's room that night to see if she felt wellenough to go to the Weynes' I asked her for the necklace," said MissHeredith. "She replied that she would give it to me in the morning. Ifshe had only given it to me then, she might have been alive to-day."

  "I should like to hear more about this," said Colwyn. "Please tell meeverything."

  In response Miss Heredith related to the detective all that had passedbetween the young wife and herself in the bedroom before dinner on thenight of the murder. Colwyn listened attentively, with a growing senseof hidden complexities in the crime revealed at the eleventh hour. Hesaw that the case took on a new and deeper aspect when considered inconjunction with the facts which had been so innocently ignored. WhenMiss Heredith had finished, he asked her when it was first decided tosend the necklace to London for resetting.

  "It was the night before the murder," Miss Heredith replied. "Sir Philipsuggested that Violet should wear the necklace to the dance on thefollo
wing night, but Violet said that the pearls were really too dull tobe worn. Mr. Musard agreed with her, and offered to take it to Londonand have it cleaned and reset by an expert of his acquaintance. Mr.Musard had to return to London on the morning after the dance, so thatwas the reason why I went into Violet's room before dinner on the nightof the party to ask her for the necklace."

  Colwyn considered this reply in all its bearings before he spoke.

  "The best thing I can do is to return to London without delay and bringthese additional facts before Scotland Yard," he said. "They have beenmisled--unwittingly but gravely misled--and it is only right that theyshould be informed at once. I know Merrington, and I will make a pointof seeing him personally and telling him about the discovery of themissing necklace."

  The little group heard his decision in a silence which suggested morethan words were able to convey. It was Phil who finally uttered thethought which was in all their minds:

  "Are you satisfied that Hazel Rath is innocent?"

  "I cannot say that," responded the detective quickly. "The loss of thenecklace does nothing to lessen the suspicion against her unless it canbe proved that she had nothing to do with its disappearance--perhaps noteven then. But all the facts must be investigated anew. The necklacemust be traced, and the point about the revolver cleared up. But thereis nothing more to be done here at present. The field of theinvestigation now shifts to London. I will get ready for the journey, ifyou will excuse me."

  "I hope you will continue your own investigations, Mr. Colwyn," saidPhil earnestly. "I am more than ever convinced of Hazel Rath'sinnocence, but I have small faith that the police are likely toestablish it--even if they attempt to do so. I was not impressed withthe skill of Detective Caldew, or his attitude when I told him that Ibelieved Hazel Rath to be innocent."

  "I will continue my investigations in conjunction with Scotland Yard, ifit is your wish," the detective replied.