CHAPTER X
THE TWO FRENCHMEN
"You must be mad, Cyril! No sane man could have got into such a mess!"cried Guy Campbell, excitedly pounding his fat knee with his podgy hand.
Cyril had been so disturbed by the finding of the Wilmersley jewels thathe had at last decided that he must confide his troubles to some one. Herealised that the time had come when he needed not only advice butassistance. He was now so convinced that he was being watched that hehad fled to his club for safety. There, at all events, he feltcomparatively safe from prying eyes, and it was there in a secludedcorner that he poured his tale of woe into his friend's astonished ears.
"You must be mad," the latter repeated.
"If that is all you can find to say, I am sorry I told you," exclaimedCyril irritably.
"It's a jolly good thing you did! Why, you are no more fit to take careof yourself than a new-born baby." Guy's chubby face expressed suchgenuine concern that Cyril relaxed a little.
"Perhaps I've been a bit of an ass, but really I don't see what else Icould have done."
"No, don't suppose you do," said Guy, regarding Cyril with pityingadmiration.
"Oh, don't rub it in! The question now is not what I ought to have done,but what am I to do now?"
"What do you intend to do?"
"I haven't the slightest idea. I want your advice."
"Oh, no, you don't! Why, you wouldn't even listen to a sensiblesuggestion."
"What do you call a sensible suggestion?" Cyril cautiously inquired.
"To get the girl out of the nursing home and lose her. And it ought tobe done P. D. Q., as the Americans say."
"I shall certainly do nothing of the sort."
"Exactly," cried Campbell triumphantly. "I know you, Lord Quixote; youhave some crazy plan in your head. Out with it."
"I haven't a plan, I tell you. Now as I am being followed----"
"I can't believe you are," interrupted Guy.
"I feel sure that that beggar I told you about was a detective."
"Why?"
"He was evidently waiting for me and I couldn't shake him off till hehad had a good look at the jewels."
"It is much more likely that he was waiting for a penny than for you,and beggars are usually persistent. I see no possible reason why thepolice should be shadowing you. It is your guilty conscience that makesyou so suspicious."
"You may be right; I certainly hope you are, but till I am sure of it, Idon't dare to run the risk of being seen with Miss Prentice. As she isin no condition to go about alone, I have been worrying a good deal asto how to get her out of the Home; so I thought--it occurred tome--that--you are the person to do it."
"Thanks, awfully! So you leave me the pleasant task of running off witha servant-girl who is 'wanted' by the police! You are really toounselfish!"
"Miss Prentice is a lady," Cyril angrily asserted.
"H'm," Campbell ejaculated skeptically. "That she is a beauty I do notdoubt, and she has certainly played her cards very skilfully."
"Don't you dare to speak of her like that," cried Cyril, clenching hisfists and half starting to his feet.
"By Jove, old man! You're smitten with her," exclaimed Campbell, staringaghast at his friend.
Cyril flushed darkly under his tan.
"Certainly not, but I have the greatest respect for this unfortunateyoung woman, and don't you forget it again."
Campbell smiled incredulously.
"Oh, very well! Believe what you like, but I didn't think you were thesort of man who never credits a fellow with disinterested motives, if hebehaves half-way decently to a woman."
"Steady now, Cyril. Don't let's quarrel. You mustn't take offence soeasily. I have never seen the young lady, remember. And you know I willhelp you even against my better judgment."
"You're a good chap, Guy."
"Thanks! Now let us first of all consider Miss Prentice's casedispassionately. I want to be sure of my facts; then I may be able toform some conjecture as to why Wilmersley was murdered and how thejewels came into Miss Prentice's possession. You tell me that it hasbeen proved that she really left Geralton on the afternoon before themurder?"
"Yes; the carrier swears he drove her into Newhaven and put her downnear the station. Further than that they have luckily not been able totrace her."
"Now your idea is that Miss Prentice, having in some way managed tosecure a car, returned to Geralton that evening and got into the castlethrough the library window?"
"No, I doubt if she entered the castle. I can think of no reason why sheshould have done so," said Cyril.
"In that case, how do you account for her injuries? Who could haveflogged her except your charming cousin?"
"I hadn't thought of that!" exclaimed Cyril.
"Granting that she is Priscilla Prentice, the only hypothesis I canthink of which explains her predicament is this: Having planned torescue her mistress, she was only waiting for a favourable opportunityto present itself. The doctor's visit determined her to act at once. Iagree with you that to re-enter Geralton was not her original intention,but while waiting under the library window for Lady Wilmersley to joinher, she hears Wilmersley ill-treating his wife, so she climbs in andrushes to the latter's assistance."
"Yes, yes," assented Cyril with shining eyes.
"But she is overpowered by Wilmersley," continued Campbell, warming tohis theme, "who, insane with rage, flogs her unmercifully. Then LadyWilmersley, fearing the girl will be killed, seizes the pistol, which islying on the desk, and fires at her husband----"
"I am convinced that that is just what happened," cried Cyril.
"Don't be too sure of it; still, it seems to me that that theory hangstogether pretty well," Campbell complacently agreed. "Of course, neitherwoman contemplated murder. Wilmersley's death completely unnerved them.If the gardener's wife heard a cry coming from the car, it is possiblethat one or the other had an attack of hysterics. Now about thejewels--I believe Miss Prentice took charge of them, either because LadyWilmersley was unfit to assume such a responsibility or because theyagreed that she could the more easily dispose of them. I think that MissPrentice's hurried trip to town was undertaken not in order to avoidarrest, but primarily to raise money, of which they must have had greatneed, and possibly also to rejoin her mistress, who, now that we knowthat she made her escape in a car, is probably hiding somewhere eitherin London itself or in its vicinity."
"Guy, you are a wonder. You have thought of everything," cried Cyriladmiringly.
"Of course, I may be quite wrong. These are only suppositions,remember," Campbell modestly reminded him. "By the way, what have youdone with the jewels? I can't believe that you are in any danger ofarrest, but if there is the remotest chance of such a thing, it wouldn'tlook very well if they were found in your possession."
"I had thought of that. I was even afraid that my rooms might besearched in my absence, so I took them with me."
"They are here?"
"Yes, in my pocket. I have hidden the bag and to-night I mean to burnit."
"Your pocket is not a very safe repository."
"Exactly. That is why I want you to take charge of them," said Cyril.
"Oh, very well," sighed Campbell, with mock resignation. "In for apenny, in for a pound. I shall probably end by being arrested as areceiver of stolen property! But now we must consider what we had betterdo with Miss Prentice."
"I think I shall hire a cottage in the country for her."
"If you did that, the police would find her immediately. The only safehiding-place is a crowd."
"You think so?" Cyril looked doubtful.
"I am sure of it. Now let me see: Where is she least likely to attractattention? It must be a place where you could manage to see her withoutbeing compromised, and, if possible, without being observed. I have it!A hotel. The Hotel George is the very place. In a huge caravansary likethat all sorts and conditions of people jostle each other withoutexciting comment. Besides, the police are less likely to look among th
eguests of such an expensive hotel for a poor maid servant or in such apublic resort for a fugitive from justice."
"You are right!" cried Cyril enthusiastically.
"But in her present condition," continued Campbell, "I don't see how shecould remain there alone."
"Certainly not. She must have some woman with her."
"Exactly. But what trustworthy woman could you get to undertake such atask? Perhaps one of the nurses----"
"No," Cyril hastily interrupted him. "When she leaves the nursing home,all trace of her must be lost. At any moment the police may discoverthat a woman whom I have represented to be my wife has been a patientthere. That will naturally arouse their suspicions and they will dotheir utmost to discover who it is that I am protecting with my name.No, a nurse would never do. For one thing, she would feel called upon toreport to the doctor."
"You might bribe her not to do so," suggested Guy.
"I shouldn't dare to trust to an absolutely unknown quantity. Oh, if Ionly knew a respectable woman on whom I could rely! I would pay her asmall fortune for her services."
"I know somebody who might do," said Campbell. "Her name is Miss Trevorand she used to be my sister's governess. She is too old to teach nowand I fancy has a hard time to make both ends meet. The only trouble isthat she is so conscientious that she would rather starve than be mixedup in anything she did not consider perfectly honourable and aboveboard. If I told her that she was to chaperon a young lady whom thepolice were looking for, she would be so indignant that I doubt if shewould ever speak to me again."
"Why tell her?" insinuated Cyril.
"It doesn't seem decent to inveigle her by false representations intotaking a position which she would never dream of accepting if she knewthe truth."
"I will pay her L200 a year as long as she lives, if she will look afterMiss Prentice till this trouble is over. Even if the worst happens andthe girl is discovered, she can truthfully plead ignorance of thelatter's identity," urged Cyril.
"True, and two hundred a year is good pay even for unpleasant notoriety.Yes, on the whole I think I am justified in accepting the offer for her.But now we must consider what fairy tale we are going to concoct for herbenefit."
"Oh, I don't know," sighed Cyril wearily.
"Imagination giving out, or conscience awakening--which is it?" askedGuy.
"Don't chaff!"
"Sorry, old man; but joking aside, we must really decide what we are totell Miss Trevor. You can no longer pose as Miss Prentice's husband----"
"Why not?" interrupted Cyril sharply.
"What possible excuse have you for doing so, now that she is to leavethe doctor's care?"
"I am sure it would have a very bad effect on Miss Prentice's health, ifI were to tell her that she is not my wife."
"H'm, h'm!" Campbell regarded his friend quizzically.
"Remember, she is completely cut off from the past," urged Cyril; "shehas neither friend nor relation to cling to. I am the one person in theworld she believes she has a claim on. I can't undeceive her. Besides,the doctor's orders are that she shall not be in any way agitated."
"Well, that settles that question. Now what explanation will you giveMiss Trevor for not living with your wife?"
"I shall say that her state of health renders it inadvisable for thepresent."
"What shall she be called?" asked Campbell.
"I think we had better stick to Thompkins. She is accustomed to that.Only we will spell it Tomkyns and change the Christian name to John."
"But won't she confide what she believes to be her real name to MissTrevor?" asked Guy anxiously.
"I think not--not if I tell her I don't wish her to do so. She has agreat idea of wifely obedience, I assure you."
"Well," laughed Guy, "that is a virtue which so few real wives possessthat it seems a pity it should be wasted on a temporary one. And now,Cyril, we must decide on the best way and the best time for transferringMiss Prentice to the hotel."
"Unless something unexpected occurs to change our plans, I think she hadbetter be moved the day after to-morrow. I advise your starting as earlyas possible before the world is well awake. But I leave all details toyou. You are quite capable of managing the situation. Only be sure youare not followed, that is all I ask."
"I don't expect we shall be, but if we are, I think I can promise tooutwit them," Campbell assured him.
"I shall never forget what you are doing for me, Guy."
"You had better not. I expect you to erect a monument commemorating myvirtues and my folly. Now I must be off. Where are those stolen goods ofwhich I am to become the custodian?"
"Here they are. I have done them up in several parcels, so that they arenot too bulky to carry. As I don't want the police to know how intimatewe are, it is better that we should not be seen together in public forthe present."
"I think you are over-cautious. But perhaps," agreed Campbell, "we mightas well meet here till all danger is over."
A few minutes later Cyril also left the club. His talk with Campbell hadbeen a great relief to him. As he walked briskly along, he feltcalm--almost cheerful.
"Isn't this Lord Wilmersley?" inquired a deep voice at his elbow.
Turning quickly Cyril recognised Inspector Griggs.
For a moment Cyril was too startled to speak. Then, pulling himselftogether, he exclaimed with an attempt at heartiness:
"Why, Inspector! I thought you were in Newhaven. What has brought you totown?"
"I only left Newhaven this afternoon, but I think my work there isfinished--for the present at least."
"Really? Have you already solved the mystery?"
"No indeed, but the clue now leads away from Geralton."
"Clue? What clue?" Cyril found it difficult to control the tremor in hisvoice.
"If you'll excuse me, my lord, I had better keep my suppositions tomyself till I am able to verify them."
The man suspected him! But why? What had he discovered? Cyril felt hecould not let him go before he had ascertained exactly what he had tofear. It was so awful, this fighting in the dark.
"If you have half an hour to spare, come to my rooms. They are only afew doors away." Cyril was convinced that the Inspector knew where hewas staying and had been lying in wait for him. He thought it best topretend that he felt above suspicion.
"Thank you, my lord."
A few minutes later they were sitting before a blazing fire, theInspector puffing luxuriously at a cigar and sipping from time to time aglass of whiskey and soda which Peter had reluctantly placed at hiselbow. Peter, as he himself would have put it, "did not hold with thepolice," and thought his master was sadly demeaning himself byfraternising with a member of that calling.
"I quite understand your reluctance to talk about a case," said Cyril,reverting at once to the subject he had in mind; "but as this one sonearly concerns my family and consequently myself, I think I have aright to your confidence. I am most anxious to know what you havediscovered. This mystery is weighing on me. I assure you, you can relyon my discretion."
"Well, my lord, it's a bit unprofessional, but seeing it's you, I don'tmind if I do. It's the newspaper men, I am afraid of."
"I shall not mention what you tell me to any one except possibly to onefriend," Cyril hastily assured him.
"Thank you, my lord. You see I may be all wrong, so I don't want to saytoo much till I can prove my case."
"I understand that," said Cyril; "and this clue that you arefollowing--what is it?" he inquired with breathless impatience.
"The car, my lord," answered the Inspector, settling himself deeper inhis chair, while his eyes began to gleam with suppressed excitement.
"You have found the car in which her ladyship made her escape?"
"I don't know about that yet, but I have found the car that stood at thefoot of the long lane on the night of the murder."
"Remarkable!"
"Oh, that's not so very wonderful," protested the Inspector with anattempt at modesty, but he was evident
ly bursting with pride in hisachievement.
"How did you do it? What had you to go on?" asked Cyril with genuineamazement.
"I began my search by trying to find out what cars had been seen in theneighbourhood of Geralton on the night of the murder--by neighbourhood Imean a radius of twenty-five miles. I found, as I expected, thathalf-past eleven not being a favourite hour for motoring, comparativelyfew had been seen or heard. Most of these turned out to be the propertyof gentlemen who had no difficulty in proving that they had been usedonly for perfectly legitimate purposes. There remained, however, twocars of which I failed to get a satisfactory account. One belongs to aMr. Benedict, a young man who owns a place about ten miles fromGeralton, and who seems to have spent the evening motoring wildly overthe country. He pretends he had no particular object, and as he is a bitqueer, it may be true. The other car is the property of the landlord ofthe Red Lion Inn, a very respectable hotel in Newhaven. I then sent twoof my men to examine these cars and report if either of them has a newtire, for the gardener's wife swore that the car she heard had burstone. Mr. Benedict's tires all showed signs of wear, but the Red Lion carhas a brand new one!"
"Bravo! That is a fine piece of work."
"Oh, that is nothing," replied the Inspector, vainly trying to suppressa self-satisfied smile.
"Did you find any further evidence against this hotel-keeper? Whatconnection had he with the castle?" inquired Cyril.
"He knew Lord Wilmersley slightly, but says he has never even seen herLadyship. And I am inclined to believe him."
"In that case what part does he play in the affair?"
"None, I fancy. You see he keeps the car for the convenience of hisguests and on the day in question it had been hired by two youngFrenchmen, who were out in it from two o'clock till midnight."
"Frenchmen! But how could they have had anything to do with thetragedy?"
"That remains to be seen. So far all I have been able to find out aboutthese two men is that they landed in Newhaven ten days before themurder. They professed to be brothers and called themselves Joseph andPaul Durand. They seemed to be amply provided with money and wanted thebest the hotel had to offer. Joseph Durand appeared a decent sort offellow, but the younger one drank. The waiters fancy that the elder manused to remonstrate with him occasionally, but the youngster paid verylittle attention to him."
"You say they _professed_ to be brothers. Why do you doubt theirrelationship?"
"For one reason, the elder one did not understand a word of English,while the young one spoke it quite easily, although with a strongaccent. That is, he spoke it with a strong accent when he was sober, butwhen under the influence of liquor this accent disappeared."
"And what has become of the pair?"
"They left Newhaven the morning after the murder. Their departure wasvery hurried, and the landlord is sure that the day before they had nointention of leaving."
"Where did they go to?"
"They took the boat to Dieppe. The porter saw them off."
"Have you been able to trace them farther?"
"Not yet, my lord, but I have sent one of my men to try and follow themup, and I have notified the continental police to be on the look-out forthem. It's a pity that they have three days' start of us."
"But as you have an accurate description of both, I should imagine thatthey will soon be found."
"It's through the young 'un they'll be caught, if they are caught."
"Why, is he deformed in any way?"
"No, my lord, but they tell me he is abnormally small for a man of hisage, for he must be twenty-two or three at the very least. The landlordbelieves that he is a jockey who had got into bad habits, and that theelder man is his trainer or backer. Of course, he may be right, but thewaiters pooh-pooh the idea. They insist that the boy is a gentleman-bornand servants are pretty good judges of such things, though you mightn'tthink it, my lord."
"I can quite believe it," assented Cyril. "But then there are manygentlemen jockeys."
"So there are. I only wish I had seen the little fellow, for they allagree that there was something about him which would make it impossiblefor any one who had once met him ever to forget him again."
"That certainly is a most unusual quality."
"So it is, my lord. They also tell me that if his eyes had not been sobloodshot, and if he had not looked so drawn and haggard, he'd have beenan extraordinarily good-looking chap."
"Really?"
"Yes. It seems that he has large blue eyes, a fine little nose, not abit red as you would expect, and as pretty a mouth as ever you'd see.His hair is auburn and he wears it rather long, which I don't think he'ddo if he were a jockey. Besides, his skin is as fine as a baby's, thoughits colour is a grey-white with only a spot of red in the middle of eachcheek."
"He must be a queer-looking beggar!"
"That's just it. That's why I think we shall soon spot him."
"What did the elder Durand look like?"
"The ordinary type of Frenchman. He is about twenty-eight years old,medium height, and inclined to be stout. He has dark hair, a little thinat the temples, dark moustache, and dark eyes. His features arenondescript."
"On the night of the murder you say they returned to the hotel at aboutmidnight?"
"Somewhere around then."
"Was their behaviour in any way noticeable?"
"The porter was so sleepy that he can't remember much about it. He hadan impression that they came in arm in arm and went quietly upstairs."
"They were alone?"
"Certainly."
"But what do you think they had done with Lady Wilmersley?"
"But, my lord, you didn't expect that they would bring her to the hotel,did you? If they were her friends, their first care would be for hersafety. If they were not--well, we will have to look for another victim,that is all."
"You think that there is that possibility?" inquired Cyril eagerly.
"I do, my lord." The Inspector rose ponderously to his feet. "I mustn'tkeep you any longer." He hesitated a moment, eyeing Cyril doubtfully.There was evidently still something he wished to say.
Cyril had also risen to his feet and stood leaning against themantelpiece, idly wondering at the man's embarrassment.
"I trust her Ladyship has quite recovered?" the Inspector finallyblurted out.
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