suitable pause. "I am,I repeat, very busy, very busy indeed, but I will see whether I can't doas you ask. Naylor, take off those wristlets, and go out of the roomfor a few minutes; and you, Mr Zouche, come here quite close to us sothat we can be quite certain that the terms of our understanding are notoverheard by any of the other detectives we brought down from ScotlandYard to Shrewsbury last night." The detective disappeared with thehandcuffs, and the hunchback went close to the table and engaged inconfidential conversation with the Foreign Secretary and the earl fornearly a quarter of an hour.
In vain Casteno and I worked and edged and wriggled. All of the menround the table spoke so low and so earnestly that we could not catch asingle word of what they were saying, and we might just as well havegone back to the hotel, and there awaited the hunchback's return, ashave prowled so uneasily on the far side of those doors for all the goodwe did to our cause, until I had an idea which I put immediately intoeffect.
"Look here," I whispered suddenly to my companion, "you come hereinstead of me and take a turn at peeping through the keyhole!"
"Why?" he queried in a thin, complaining voice. "Your eyes are betterthan mine, and your ears. You hear things twice as quickly as I do!"
"That isn't it," I returned. "I don't want you to listen at all on thisoccasion."
"Well, my back is tired. I am sick of stooping down."
"But it won't be for long," I persisted. "Just take this turn at thekeyhole to oblige me, will you? Directly you have discovered what Iwant you to find--and, mark! only you can find it out--we need not waitanother minute. We can get off to the Green Dragon and eat our dinnerin peace."
"Well, what is it?" he asked, bending down in front of the door, hiscuriosity at last faintly excited. "Don't you see that the old man ison the point of selling us and that in a few minutes bothCooper-Nassington and I will be done as brown as the proverbialberries?"
"That's just it," I replied. "I want you to study your father's facevery carefully whilst he is talking to Cuthbertson. Examine everyfeature in it, every turn, every line, in the light of all your previousexperience of him, and see whether or not he is telling those men thetruth."
"By George! what a stupid I was not to think of that before? What asplendid idea! Of course, he has no love for them. It would be themost natural thing in the world for him to trick them. Look whatcareful preparations he made with Paul just before he left and how hehid those forged manuscripts in that steel box to throw every manner ofinquiry off the scent! Why, he is the last man in the wurld not to burnto pay anybody out who gets the best of him. And yes!" he whispered, "Iam certain he is lying to them. I can see it," and the Spaniard draggedme down level with the keyhole so that I, too, could follow what washappening in the interior of the chapel. "Don't you observe that verycurious trick he is doing quite unconsciously--standing first on onefoot and then on another and then rubbing the ankle of one with the toeof the other? Well, he always did that to customers in the old dayswhen we were poor and he had not got such a fine sense of honour aboutthe sale of a spurious antique as he had when times became moreprosperous for us!"
"Well, if you are satisfied, so am I," I returned. "We need not spyabout this creepy old mansion any longer. We have discovered all wehave set out to find, and now I propose we get back to the Green DragonHotel, whither, doubtless, he and Captain Sparhawk will return."
"And how about Miss Napier?" queried Casteno slyly.
"Oh! Miss Napier will probably come back with her uncle to the sameplace. He, doubtless, to keep up the deception that he is goingstraight now for England and English interests, will forgive her thatpiece of trickery which landed him right into Cuthbertson's net; andshe, to see that he does keep straight, will let herself be deceived byhim, and will watch him as far as she dare without exciting hissuspicions. At all events, it is useless for me to think of making anymove with regard to her just at this moment. In the first place, shehas her hands full watching her prisoner, Sparhawk, and if I showed upnow in this disguise she might put a bullet through the pair of us.Certainly she would raise an alarm, and there would be endless troubleand difficulties before we managed to explain, at all satisfactorily,what we were doing here without an invitation when so many vitalnational issues were being settled. In the second place, I can't makeout her ignorance of the death of her father. Is it real, or assumed?Something very odd must have happened to make her behave like this atthis mournful crisis in the family fortunes. Now, what can that be? Sofar as I can see there is only one source here in Shrewsbury which canpossibly supply any sort of key to the mystery without asking the girlherself. That is, a Sunday special edition of one of the Sundaypapers--the _People, Lloyd's_, or some journal like that. The onlyplace where we can find that with any degree of certainty is the GreenDragon, so, naturally, I am all eagerness to hasten back there and tolook over its columns!"
"I see you're right," replied Casteno, as, springing to his feet, hesnatched up his boots and hastened as rapidly as he could down thestairs, with the result that in a few seconds we had crossed the lawnand reached the shelter of the belt of trees near the boundary wall bywhich we had effected our entrance. Here we set to work, and quicklyremoved all traces of our adventures; then, hoisting ourselves over thewall that divided us from the side lane, we raced back as hard as wecould in the direction of the town.
"We must eat," he argued; "eat to live. Everything just now depends onus keeping in the pink of condition. To do that we must never neglectour food."
Happily, after moments that seemed as long as hours, the paper I soughtdid materialise at last. It was a newly-arrived copy of the _WeeklyDispatch_, I remember, and no sooner did I glance at the first page thanI saw from the headlines that some startling developments in the casehad occurred since I turned my face from London towards the west. As amatter of fact, quite a new complexion had been put on the tragedy, andthe latest report now ran as follows:--
THE MYSTERY OF WHITEHALL COURT
WHO IS THE DEAD MAN?
STRANGE STORY OF A VALET
"Quite a new turn has been given to the tragedy in Embankment Mansions,full particulars of the discovery of which appear on an inside page.Firstly, the valet Richardson has now had time to examine the body whichwas found in Colonel Napier's bedroom, and he says unhesitatingly thatit is _not that of his master_ at all but of a stranger who at firstsight resembles him strongly. This view is borne out by two old friendsof Colonel Napier who have also seen the corpse--the Rev RichardJennings, the vicar of St Helen's, Palace Street, Westminster, andColonel Goring-Richmond, who some years ago was on the most intimateterms with the deceased and spent the summer with him in the AustrianTyrol. Secondly, if this be true, there is no doubt that not onlyColonel Napier, but also his daughter Doris, have suddenly andmysteriously disappeared. All their affairs, it seems, have been leftin the uttermost confusion, and it looks as though, if there has notbeen foul play in their lives in one direction, there has been inanother. Close inquiries amongst their friends reveal no intention ontheir part to be absent from home. Their servants also are astounded attheir disappearance, and all the machinery of their social life has beenbrought suddenly to a standstill; while letters and telegrams of inquiryand visits from friends, who have read accounts which purport to explainColonel's Napier's sudden demise, plunge their departure into a mingledatmosphere of tragedy and mystery, which it seems impossible to-night tobreak through. Meanwhile, everybody is asking: Who is the man who hasbeen found stabbed to death in Colonel Napier's bed? The police arecertainly powerless to explain; while common people dare not suggest amost terrible answer which will occur to everybody who reads these linesfor fear of the law of libel."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
IN SEARCH OF THE SECRET.
For once Casteno was full of sympathy with me.
No sooner did I explain to him the extraordinary development of thatmystery at Whitehall Court than he was all eagerness, all attention, allresource to prove to me that I must thin
k the best and not the worst ofColonel Napier's disappearance.
At first, I own, I was not at all inclined to take help from such aquarter; I had not forgotten those suspicious circumstances in which heleft my office at the time the murder was committed. Nevertheless,before we had finished our dinner in that quaint old Shrewsbury hotel hehad practically won me over to his way of looking at the occurrence.
"After all," said he, as he drained his last glass of wine, "you cancertainly rely on the impression that Colonel Napier has come to noharm. If he had, Miss Doris would not be here at all as she is, asbright and gay as a lark, and as keen as a hawk on getting the benefitof those manuscripts for Lord Cuthbertson. Neither he nor
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