from Arthur. We comparedthe two accounts word for word, and weighed statement with statement,but I could not determine from anything Lyle said which of the twoversions he had decided to believe.
"'We are trying to build a house of blocks,' he exclaimed, 'with half ofthe blocks missing. We have been considering two theories,' he went on:'one that Lord Arthur is responsible for both murders, and the otherthat the dead woman in there is responsible for one of them, and hascommitted suicide; but, until the Russian servant is ready to talk, Ishall refuse to believe in the guilt of either.'
"'What can you prove by him!' I asked. 'He was drunk and asleep. He sawnothing.'
"Lyle hesitated, and then, as though he had made up his mind to be quitefrank with me, spoke freely.
"'I do not know that he was either drunk or asleep,' he answered.'Lieutenant Sears describes him as a stupid boor. I am not satisfiedthat he is not a clever actor. What was his position in this house! Whatwas his real duty here? Suppose it was not to guard this woman, but towatch her. Let us imagine that it was not the woman he served, but amaster, and see where that leads us. For this house has a master, amysterious, absentee landlord, who lives in St. Petersburg, the unknownRussian who came between Chetney and Zichy, and because of whom Chetneyleft her. He is the man who bought this house for Madame Zichy, who sentthese rugs and curtains from St. Petersburg to furnish it for her afterhis own tastes, and, I believe, it was he also who placed the Russianservant here, ostensibly to serve the Princess, but in reality to spyupon her. At Scotland Yard we do not know who this gentleman is; theRussian police confess to equal ignorance concerning him. When LordChetney went to Africa, Madame Zichy lived in St. Petersburg; but thereher receptions and dinners were so crowded with members of the nobilityand of the army and diplomats, that among so many visitors the policecould not learn which was the one for whom she most greatly cared.'
"Lyle pointed at the modern French paintings and the heavy silk rugswhich hung upon the walls.
"'The unknown is a man of taste and of some fortune,' he said, 'not thesort of man to send a stupid peasant to guard the woman he loves. So Iam not content to believe, with Mr. Sears, that the servant is a boor. Ibelieve him instead to be a very clever ruffian. I believe him to bethe protector of his master's honor, or, let us say, of his master'sproperty, whether that property be silver plate or the woman his masterloves. Last night, after Lord Arthur had gone away, the servant was leftalone in this house with Lord Chetney and Madame Zichy. From where hesat in the hall he could hear Lord Chetney bidding her farewell; for, ifmy idea of him is correct, he understands English quite as well as youor I. Let us imagine that he heard her entreating Chetney not to leaveher, reminding him of his former wish to marry her, and let us supposethat he hears Chetney denounce her, and tell her that at Cairo he haslearned of this Russian admirer--the servant's master. He hears thewoman declare that she has had no admirer but himself, that this unknownRussian was, and is, nothing to her, that there is no man she loves buthim, and that she cannot live, knowing that he is alive, without hislove. Suppose Chetney believed her, suppose his former infatuation forher returned, and that in a moment of weakness he forgave her and tookher in his arms. That is the moment the Russian master has feared. It isto guard against it that he has placed his watchdog over the Princess,and how do we know but that, when the moment came, the watchdog servedhis master, as he saw his duty, and killed them both? What do youthink?' Lyle demanded. 'Would not that explain both murders?'
15 Entreating Chetney not to leave her]
"I was only too willing to hear any theory which pointed to any oneelse as the criminal than Arthur, but Lyle's explanation was too utterlyfantastic. I told him that he certainly showed imagination, but that hecould not hang a man for what he imagined he had done.
"'No,' Lyle answered, 'but I can frighten him by telling him what Ithink he has done, and now when I again question the Russian servantI will make it quite clear to him that I believe he is the murderer.I think that will open his mouth. A man will at least talk to defendhimself. Come,' he said, 'we must return at once to Scotland Yard andsee him. There is nothing more to do here.'
"He arose, and I followed him into the hall, and in another minute wewould have been on our way to Scotland Yard. But just as he openedthe street door a postman halted at the gate of the garden, and beganfumbling with the latch.
"Lyle stopped, with an exclamation of chagrin.
"'How stupid of me!' he exclaimed. He turned quickly and pointed to anarrow slit cut in the brass plate of the front door. 'The house has aprivate letter-box,' he said, 'and I had not thought to look in it! Ifwe had gone out as we came in, by the window, I would never have seenit. The moment I entered the house I should have thought of securingthe letters which came this morning. I have been grossly careless.' Hestepped back into the hall and pulled at the lid of the letterbox, whichhung on the inside of the door, but it was tightly locked. At the samemoment the postman came up the steps holding a letter. Without a wordLyle took it from his hand and began to examine it. It was addressed tothe Princess Zichy, and on the back of the envelope was the name of aWest End dressmaker.
"'That is of no use to me,' Lyle said. He took out his card and showedit to the postman. 'I am Inspector Lyle from Scotland Yard,' he said.'The people in this house are under arrest. Everything it contains isnow in my keeping. Did you deliver any other letters here this morning!'
"The man looked frightened, but answered promptly that he was now uponhis third round. He had made one postal delivery at seven that morningand another at eleven.
"'How many letters did you leave here!' Lyle asked.
"'About six altogether,' the man answered.
"'Did you put them through the door into the letter-box!'
"The postman said, 'Yes, I always slip them into the box, and ring andgo away. The servants collect them from the inside.'
"'Have you noticed if any of the letters you leave here bear a Russianpostage stamp!' Lyle asked.
"The man answered, 'Oh, yes, sir, a great many.'
"'From the same person, would you say!'
"'The writing seems to be the same,' the man answered. 'They comeregularly about once a week--one of those I delivered this morning had aRussian postmark.'
"'That will do,' said Lyle eagerly. 'Thank you, thank you very much.'
"He ran back into the hall, and, pulling out his penknife, began to pickat the lock of the letter-box.
"'I have been supremely careless,' he said in great excitement. 'Twicebefore when people I wanted had flown from a house I have been able tofollow them by putting a guard over their mail-box. These letters, whicharrive regularly every week from Russia in the same handwriting, theycan come but from one person. At least, we shall now know the name ofthe master of this house. Undoubtedly it is one of his letters that theman placed here this morning. We may make a most important discovery.'
"As he was talking he was picking at the lock with his knife, but hewas so impatient to reach the letters that he pressed too heavily on theblade and it broke in his hand. I took a step backward and drove myheel into the lock, and burst it open. The lid flew back, and we pressedforward, and each ran his hand down into the letterbox. For a moment wewere both too startled to move. The box was empty.
"I do not know how long we stood staring stupidly at each other, butit was Lyle who was the first to recover. He seized me by the arm andpointed excitedly into the empty box.
"'Do you appreciate what that means?' he cried. 'It means that some onehas been here ahead of us. Some one has entered this house not threehours before we came, since eleven o'clock this morning.'
"'It was the Russian servant!' I exclaimed.
"'The Russian servant has been under arrest at Scotland Yard,' Lylecried. 'He could not have taken the letters. Lord Arthur has been in hiscot at the hospital. That is his alibi. There is some one else, some onewe do not suspect, and that some one is the murderer. He came back hereeither to obtain those letters because he knew they would convic
t him,or to remove something he had left here at the time of the murder,something incriminating,--the weapon, perhaps, or some personal article;a cigarette-case, a handkerchief with his name upon it, or a pair ofgloves. Whatever it was it must have been damning evidence against himto have made him take so desperate a chance.'
"'How do we know,' I whispered, 'that he is not hidden here now?'
"'No, I'll swear he is not,' Lyle answered. 'I may have bungled in somethings, but I have searched this house thoroughly. Nevertheless,' headded, 'we must go
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