Scarhaven Keep

by J. S. Fletcher

  CHAPTER VII

  LEFT ON GUARD

  Stafford was back at Scarhaven before breakfast time next morning,bringing with him a roll of copies of the _Norcaster Daily Chronicle_,one of which he immediately displayed to Copplestone and Mrs. Wooler, whomet him at the inn door. He pointed with great pride to certain staringheadlines.

  "I engineered that!" he exclaimed. "Went round to the newspaper officelast night and put them up to everything. Nothing like publicity in thesecases. There you are!

  MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF FAMOUS ACTOR! BASSETT OLIVER MISSING! INTERVIEW WITH MAN WHO SAW HIM LAST!

  That's the style, Copplestone!--every human being along this coast'll bereading that by now!"

  "So there was no news of him last night?" asked Copplestone.

  "Neither last night nor this morning, my boy," replied Stafford. "Ofcourse not! No--he never left here, not he! Now then, let Mrs. Woolerserve us that nice breakfast which I'm sure she has in readiness, andthen we're going to plunge into business, hot and strong. There's acouple of detectives coming on by the nine o'clock train, and we're goingto do the whole thing thoroughly."

  "What about his brother?" inquired Copplestone.

  "I wired him last night to his London address, and got a reply firstthing this morning," said Stafford. "He's coming along by the 5:15 A.M.from King's Cross--he'll be here before noon. I want to get things towork before he arrives, though. And the first thing to do, of course, isto make sympathetic inquiry, and to search the shore, and the cliffs, andthese woods--and that Keep. All that we'll attend to at once."

  But on going round to the village police-station they found thatStafford's ideas had already been largely anticipated. The news of thestrange gentleman's mysterious disappearance had spread like wild-firethrough Scarhaven and the immediate district during the previous evening,and at daybreak parties of fisher-folk had begun a systematic search.These parties kept coming in to report progress all the morning: by noonthey had all returned. They had searched the famous rocks, the woods, thepark, the Keep, and its adjacent ruins, and the cliffs and shore for someconsiderable distance north and south of the bay, and there was noresult. Not a trace, not a sign of the missing man was to be foundanywhere. And when, at one o'clock, Stafford and Copplestone walked up tothe little station to meet Sir Cresswell Oliver, it was with thedisappointing consciousness that they had no news to give him.

  Copplestone, who nourished a natural taste for celebrities of any sort,born of his artistic leanings and tendencies, had looked forward withinterest to meeting Sir Cresswell Oliver, who, only a few monthspreviously, had made himself famous by a remarkable feat of seamanship inwhich great personal bravery and courage had been displayed. He had avague expectation of seeing a bluff, stalwart, sea-dog type of man;instead, he presently found himself shaking hands with a veryquiet-looking, elderly gentleman, who might have been a barrister or adoctor, of pleasant and kindly manners. With him was another gentleman ofa similar type, and of about the same age, whom he introduced as thefamily solicitor, Mr. Petherton. And to these two, in a privatesitting-room at the "Admiral's Arms," Stafford, as Bassett Oliver'sbusiness representative, and Copplestone, as having remained on the spotsince the day before, told all and every detail of what had transpiredsince it was definitely established that the famous actor was missing.Both listened in silence and with deep attention; when all the facts hadbeen put before them, they went aside and talked together; then theyreturned and Sir Cresswell besought Stafford and Copplestone's attention.

  "I want to tell you young gentlemen precisely what Mr. Petherton and Ithink it best to do," he said in the mild and bland accents which had somuch astonished Copplestone. "We have listened, as you will admit, withour best attention. Mr. Petherton, as you know, is a man of law; Imyself, when I have the good luck to be ashore, am a Chairman ofQuarter Sessions, so I'm accustomed to hearing and weighing evidence. Wedon't think there's any doubt that my poor brother has met with somecurious mishap which has resulted in his death. It seems impossible,going on what you tell us from the evidence you've collected, that hecould ever have approached that Devil's Spout place unseen; it alsoseems impossible that he could have had a fatal fall over the cliffs,since his body has not been found. No--we think something befell him inthe neighbourhood of Scarhaven Keep. But what? Foul play? Possibly! Ifit was--why? And there are three people Mr. Petherton and I would liketo speak to, privately--the fisherman, Ewbank, Mr. Marston Greyle, andMrs. Valentine Greyle. We should like to hear Ewbank's story forourselves; we certainly want to see the Squire; and I, personally, wishto see Mrs. Greyle because, from what Mr. Copplestone there has told us,I am quite sure that I, too, knew her a good many years ago, when shewas acquainted with my brother Bassett. So we propose, Mr. Stafford, togo and see these three people--and when we have seen them, I will tellyou and Mr. Copplestone exactly what I, as my brother's representative,wish to be done."

  The two younger men waited impatiently in and about the hotel while theirelders went on their self-appointed mission. Stafford, essentially a manof activity, speculated on their reasons for seeing the three people whomSir Cresswell Oliver had specifically mentioned: Copplestone wasmeanwhile wondering if he could with propriety pay another visit to Mrs.Greyle's cottage that night. It was drawing near to dusk when the twoquiet-looking, elderly gentlemen returned and summoned the younger onesto another conference. Both looked as reserved and bland as when they hadset out, and the old seaman's voice was just as suave as ever when headdressed them.

  "Well, gentlemen," he said, "we have paid our visits, and I suppose I hadbetter tell you at once that we are no wiser as to actual facts than wewere when we left you earlier in the afternoon. The man Ewbank standsemphatically by his story; Mr. Marston Greyle says that he cannotremember any meeting with my brother in America, and that he certainlydid not call on him here on Sunday: Mrs. Valentine Greyle has not metBassett for a great many years. Now--there the matter stands. Of course,it cannot rest there. Further inquiries will have to be made. Mr.Petherton and I are going on to Norcaster this evening, and we shall havea very substantial reward offered to any person who can give anyinformation about my brother. That may result in something--or innothing. As to my brother's business arrangements, I will go fully intothat matter with you, Mr. Stafford, at Norcaster, tomorrow. Now, Mr.Copplestone, will you have a word or two with me in private?"

  Copplestone followed the old seaman into a quiet corner of the room,where Sir Cresswell turned on him with a smile.

  "I take it," he said, "that you are a young gentleman of leisure, andthat you can abide wherever you like, eh?"

  "Yes, you may take that as granted," answered Copplestone, wondering whatwas coming.

  "Doesn't much matter if you write your plays in Jermyn Streetor--anywhere else, eh?" questioned Sir Cresswell with a humorous smile.

  "Practically, no," replied Copplestone.

  Sir Cresswell tapped him on the shoulder.

  "I want you to do me a favour," he said. "I shall take it as a kindnessif you will. I don't want to talk about certain ideas which Petherton andI have about this affair, yet, anyway--not even to you--but we _have_formed some ideas this afternoon. Now, do you think you could manage tostay where you are for a week or two?"

  "Here?" exclaimed Copplestone.

  "This seems very comfortable," said Sir Cresswell, looking round. "Thelandlady is a nice, motherly person; she gave me a very well-cookedlunch; this is a quiet room in which to do your writing, eh?"

  "Of course I can stay here," answered Copplestone, who was a good dealbewildered. "But--mayn't I know why--and in what capacity?"

  "Just to keep your eyes and your ears open," said Sir Cresswell. "Don'tseem to make inquiries--in fact, don't make any inquiry--do nothing. Idon't want you to do any private detective work--not I! Just stop herea bit--amuse yourself--write--read--and watch things quietly. And--don'tbe cross--I've an elderly man's privilege, you know--you'll send yourbills to me."

  "Oh, that's all right, thanks
!" said Copplestone, hurriedly. "I'm prettywell off as regards this world's goods."

  "So I guessed when I found that you lived in the expensive atmosphere ofJermyn Street," said Sir Cresswell, with a sly laugh. "But all the same,you'll let me be paymaster here, you know--that's only fair."

  "All right--certainly, if you wish it," agreed Copplestone. "But lookhere--won't you trust me? I assure you I'm to be trusted. You suspectsomebody! Hadn't you better give me your confidence? I won't tell asoul--and when I say that, I mean it literally. I won't tell onesingle soul!"

  Sir Cresswell waited a moment or two, looking quietly at Copplestone.Then he clapped a hand on the young man's shoulder.

  "All right, my lad," he said. "Yes!--we do suspect somebody. MarstonGreyle! Now you know it."

  "I expected that," answered Copplestone. "All right, sir. And my ordersare--just what you said."

  "Just what I said," agreed Sir Cresswell. "Carry on at that--eyes andears open; no fuss; everything quiet, unobtrusive, silent.Meanwhile--Petherton will be at work. And I say--if you want company,you know--I think you'll find it across the bay there at Mrs.Greyle's--eh?"

  "I was there last night," said Copplestone. "I liked both of themvery much. You knew Mrs. Greyle once upon a time, I think; you andyour brother?"

  "We did!" replied Sir Cresswell, with a sigh. "Um!--the fact is, bothBassett and I were in love with her at that time. She married another maninstead. That's all!"

  He gave Copplestone a squeeze of the elbow, laughed, and went across tothe solicitor, who was chatting to Stafford in one of the bow windows.Ten minutes later all three were off to Norcaster, and Copplestone wasalone, ruminating over this sudden and extraordinary change in thehitherto even tenor of his life. Little more than twenty-four hourspreviously, all he had been concerned about was the production of hisplay by Bassett Oliver--here he was now, mixed up in a drama of reallife, with Bassett Oliver as its main figure, and the plot as yetunrevealed. And he himself was already committed to play in it--butwhat part?

  Now that the others had gone, Copplestone began to feel strangely alone.He had accepted Sir Cresswell Oliver's commission readily, feelinggenuinely interested in the affair, and being secretly conscious that hewould be glad of the opportunity of further improving his acquaintancewith Audrey Greyle. But now that he considered things quietly, he beganto see that his position was a somewhat curious and possibly invidiousone. He was to watch--and to seem not to watch. He was to listen--andappear not to listen. The task would be difficult--and perhapsunpleasant. For he was very certain that Marston Greyle would resent hispresence in the village, and that Chatfield would be suspicious of it.What reason could he, an utter stranger, have for taking up his quartersat the "Admiral's Arms?" The tourist season was over: Autumn was well setin; with Autumn, on that coast, came weather which would send mostsoutherners flying homewards. Of course, these people would say that hewas left there to peep and pry--and they would all know that the Squirewas the object of suspicion. It was all very well, his telling Mrs.Wooler that being an idle man he had taken a fancy to Scarhaven, andwould stay in her inn for a few weeks, but Mrs. Wooler, like everybodyelse, would see through that. However, the promise had been given, and hewould keep it--literally. He would do nothing in the way of activedetective work--he would just wait and see what, if anything, turned up.

  But upon one thing Copplestone had made up his mind determinedly beforethat second evening came--he would make no pretence to Audrey Greyle andher mother. And availing himself of their permission to call again, hewent round to the cottage, and before he had been in it five minutes toldthem bluntly that he was going to stay at Scarhaven awhile, on thechance of learning any further news of Bassett Oliver.

  "Which," he added, with a grim smile, "seems about as likely as thatI should hear that I am to be Lord Chancellor when the Woolsack isnext vacant!"

  "You don't know," remarked Mrs. Greyle. "A reward for information is tobe offered, isn't it?"

  "Do you think that will do much good?" asked Copplestone.

  "It depends upon the amount," replied Mrs. Greyle. "We know these people.They are close and reserved--no people could keep secrets better. For allone knows, somebody in this village may know something, and may atpresent feel it wisest to keep the knowledge to himself. But ifmoney--what would seem a lot of money--comes into question--ah!"

  "Especially if the information could be given in secret," said Audrey."Scarhaven folk love secrecy--it's the salt of life to them: it's intheir very blood. Chatfield is an excellent specimen. He'll watch you asa cat watches a mouse when he finds you're going to stay here."

  "I shall be quite open," said Copplestone. "I'm not going to indulge inany secret investigations. But I mean to have a thorough look round theplace. That Keep, now?--may one look round that?"

  "There's a path which leads close by the Keep, from which you can get agood outside view of it," replied Audrey. "But the Keep itself, and therest of the ruins round about it are in private ground."

  "But you have a key, Audrey, and you can take Mr. Copplestone in there,"said Mrs. Greyle. "And you would show him more than he would find out forhimself--Audrey," she continued, turning to Copplestone, "knows everyinch of the place and every stone of the walls."

  Copplestone made no attempt to conceal his delight at this suggestion. Heturned to the girl with almost boyish eagerness.

  "Will you?" he exclaimed. "Do! When?"

  "Tomorrow morning, if you like," replied Audrey. "Meet me on the southquay, soon after ten."

  Copplestone was down on the quay by ten o'clock. He became aware as hedescended the road from the inn that the fisher-folk, who were alwayslounging about the sea-front, were being keenly interested in somethingthat was going on there. Drawing nearer he found that an energeticbill-poster was attaching his bills to various walls and doors. SirCresswell and his solicitor had evidently lost no time, and had set aNorcaster printer to work immediately on their arrival the previousevening. And there the bill was, and it offered a thousand pounds rewardto any person who should give information which would lead to the findingof Bassett Oliver, alive or dead.

  Copplestone purposely refrained from mingling with the groups of men andlads who thronged about the bills, eagerly discussing the great affair ofthe moment. He sauntered along the quay, waiting for Audrey. She came atlast with an enigmatic smile on her lips.

  "Our particular excursion is off, Mr. Copplestone," she said."Extraordinary events seem to be happening. Mr. Chatfield called on us anhour ago, took my key away from me, and solemnly informed us thatScarhaven Keep is strictly closed until further notice!"