The Grey Room

by Eden Phillpotts

  CHAPTER V. THE UNSEEN MOVES

  Before ten o'clock on the following morning Peter Hardcastle, who hadtravelled by the night train from Paddington, was at Chadlands. A carhad gone into Newton Abbot to meet him, as no train ran on the branchline until a later hour.

  The history of the detective was one of hard work, crowned at last bya very remarkable success. His opportunity had come, and he had graspedit. The accident of the war and the immense publicity given to hiscapture of a German secret agent had brought him into fame, and raisedhim to the heights of his profession. Moreover, the extraordinaryhistrionic means taken to achieve his purpose, and the picturesquenessof the details, captured that latent love of romance common to allminds. Hardcastle had become a lion; women were foolish about him;he might have made a great match and retired into private life hadhe desired to do so. At the present time an American heiress ardentlywished to wed the man.

  But he was not fond of women, and only in love with his business. A hardlife in the seamy places of the world had made him something of a cynic.He had always appreciated his own singular powers, and consciousness ofability, combined with a steadfast patience and unconquerable devotionto his "art," as he called it, had brought him through twenty years inthe police force. He began at the bottom and reached the top. He was theson of a small shopkeeper, and now that his father was dead his motherstill ran a little eating-house for her own satisfaction and occupation.

  Peter Hardcastle was forty. He had already made arrangements to leaveScotland Yard and set up, single-handed, as a private inquiry agent.The mystery of Chadlands would be the last case to occupy him as aGovernment servant. In a measure he regretted the fact, for the death ofCaptain Thomas May, concerning which every known particular was now inhis possession, attracted him, and he knew the incident had been widelypublished. It was a popular mystery, and, as a man of business, he wellunderstood the professional value of such sensations to the man whoresolves the puzzle. His attitude toward the case appeared at theoutset, and Sir Walter, who had been deeply impressed by the opinionsof the dead man's father, and even unconsciously influenced by them, nowfound himself in the presence of a very different intellect. There wasnothing in the least superstitious about Peter Hardcastle. He utteredthe views of a remorseless realist, and at the outset committed himselfto certain definite assumptions. The inhabitants of the manor house wereinformed that a friend of Sir Walter's had come to visit Chadlands, andthey saw nothing to make them doubt it. For Peter was a great actor.He had mixed with all classes, and the detective had the imitativecleverness to adapt himself in speech and attire to every society. Heeven claimed that he could think with the brains of anybody and adapthis inner mind, as well as his outer shape, to the changing environmentof his activities. He appreciated the histrionics that operate out ofsight, and would adopt the blank purview of the ignorant, the deeperattitude of the cultured, or the solid posture of that class whoseeducation and inherent opinions is based upon tradition. He had made astudy of the superficial etiquette and manners and customs of what iscalled "the best" society, and knew its ways as a naturalist patientlymasters the habits of a species.

  Chadlands saw a small, fair man with scanty hair, a clean-shaven face, arather feminine cast of features, a broad forehead, slate-grey eyes,and a narrow, lipless mouth which revealed very fine white teeth when hespoke. It was a colorless face and challenged no attention; but it was aface that served as an excellent canvas, and few professional actors hadever surpassed Peter in the art of making up their features.

  Similarly he could disguise his voice, the natural tones of which werelow, monotonous, and of no arrestive quality. Mr. Hardcastle surprisedSir Walter by his commonplace appearance and seeming youth, for helooked ten years younger than the forty he had lived. A being soundistinguished rather disappointed his elder, for the master ofChadlands had imagined that any man of such wide celebrity must offersuperficial marks of greatness.

  But here was one so insignificant and so undersized that it seemedimpossible to imagine him a famous Englishman. His very voice, in itslevel, matter-of-fact tones, added to the suggestion of mediocrity.

  Sir Walter found, however, that the detective did not undervaluehimself. He was not arrogant, but revealed decision and immense willpower. From the first he imposed his personality, and made people forgetthe accidents of his physical constitution. He said very little duringbreakfast, but listened with attention to the conversation.

  He observed that Henry Lennox spoke seldom, but studied himunobtrusively, as a man concerning whom he specially desired to knowmore. Hardcastle proved himself well educated; indeed, his reading,studiously pursued, and his intellectual attainments, developed by hardwork and ambition, far exceeded those of any present.

  The clergyman returned to his own ground, and expressed his formeropinions, to which Hardcastle listened without a shadow of the secretsurprise they awoke in him.

  "The Witchcraft Act assumes that there can be no possible communicationbetween living men and spirits," he said in answer to an assertion;whereon Septimus May instantly took up the challenge.

  "A fatuous, archaic assumption, and long since destroyed by actual,human experience," he replied. "It is time such blasphemous folly shouldbe banished from the Statute Book. I say 'blasphemous' because such anAct takes no cognizance of the Word of God. Outworn Acts of Parliamentare responsible for a great deal of needless misery in this world, andit is high time these ordinances of another generation were sent to thedust heap."

  "In that last opinion I heartily agree with you," declared thedetective.

  Henry ventured a quotation. He was much interested to learn whetherHardcastle had any views on the ghost theory.

  "Goethe says that matter cannot exist without spirit, or spirit withoutmatter. Would you sub-scribe to that, Mr. Hardcastle?"

  "Partially. Matter can exist without spirit, which you may prove bygetting under an avalanche; but I do most emphatically agree that spiritcannot exist without matter. 'Divorced from matter, where is life?' asksTyndall, and nobody can answer him."

  "You misunderstand Goethe," declared Mr. May. "In metaphysics--"

  "I have no use for metaphysics. Believe me, the solemn humbug ofmetaphysics doesn't take in a policeman for a moment. Juggling withwords never advanced the world's welfare or helped the cause of truth.What, for any practical purpose, does it matter how subjectively true astatement may be if it is objectively false? Life is just as real as Iam myself--no more and no less--and all the metaphysical jargon in theworld won't prevent my shins from bleeding wet, red blood when I barkthem against a stone."

  "You don't believe in the supernatural then?" asked Mr. May.

  "Most emphatically not."

  "How extraordinary! And how, if I may ask, do you fill the terriblevacuum in your life that such a denial must create?"

  "I have never been conscious of such a vacuum. I was a sceptic from myyouth up. No doubt those who were nurtured in superstition, when reasonat last conquers and they break away, may experience a temporary blank;but the wonders of nature and the achievements of man and the demandsof the suffering world--these should be enough to fill any blank for areasonable creature."

  "If such are your opinions, you will fail here," declared the clergymanpositively.

  "Why do you feel so sure of that?"

  "Because you are faced with facts that have no material explanation.They are supernatural, or supernormal, if you prefer the word."

  "'One world at a time,' is a very good motto in my judgment," repliedHardcastle. "We will exhaust the possibilities of this world first,sir."

  "They have already been exhausted. Only a simple, straightforwardquestion awaits your reply. Do you believe in another world or do younot?"

  "In the endless punishment or the endless happiness of men and womenafter they are dead?"

  "If you like to confuse the issue in that way you are at liberty, ofcourse, to do so. As a Christian, I cannot demur. The problem for therationalist is this: How does he ig
nore the deeply rooted and universalconviction that there is a life to come? Is such a sanguine assuranceplanted in the mind of even the lowest savage for nothing? Where did theaborigines win that expectation?"

  "My answer embraces the whole question from my own point of view,"replied Hardcastle. "The savages got their idea of dual personalityfrom phenomena of nature which they were unable to explain--from theirdreams, from their own shadows on the earth and reflections in water,from the stroke of the lightning and the crash of the thunder, from theecho of their own voices, thrown back to them from crags and cliffs.These things created their superstitions. Ignorance bred terror, andterror bred gods and demons--first out of the forces of nature. Thatis the appalling mental legacy handed down in varying shapes to all thechildren of men. We labor under them to this day."

  "You would dare to say our most sacred verities have sprung from thedreams of savages?"

  Hardcastle smiled.

  "It is true. And dreams, we further know, are often the result ofindigestion. Early man didn't understand the art of cookery, andtherefore no doubt his stomach had a great deal to put up with. Wehave to thank his bear steaks and wolf chops for a great deal of ourcherished nonsense, no doubt."

  Sir Walter, marking the clergyman's flashing eyes, changed the subject,and Septimus May, who observed his concern, restrained a bitter answer.But he despaired of the detective from that moment, and proposedto himself a future assault on such detested modern opinions whenopportunity occurred.

  After breakfast Mr. Hardcastle begged for a private interview with themaster of Chadlands, and for two hours sat in his study and took himthrough the case from the beginning.

  He put various questions concerning the members of the recent houseparty, and presently begged that Henry Lennox might join them.

  "I should like to hear the account of what passed on the night betweenhim and Captain May," he said.

  Henry joined them, and detailed his experience. While he talked,Hardcastle appraised him, and perceived that certain nebulous opinions,which had begun to crystallize in his own mind, could have no realfoundation. The detective believed that he was confronted with a commonmurder, and on hearing Henry's history, as part of Sir Walter's storywith the rest, perceived that the old lover of Mary Lennox had last seenher husband alive, had drunk with him, and been the first to find himdead. Might not Henry have found an eastern poison in Mesopotamia? Buthis conversation with the young man, and the unconscious revelation ofHenry himself, shattered the idea. Lennox was innocent enough.

  For a moment, the information of uncle and nephew exhausted, Hardcastlereturned to the matter of the breakfast discussion.

  "You will, of course, understand that I am quite satisfied a materialand physical explanation exists for this unfortunate event," he said. "Ineed hardly tell you that I am unprepared to entertain any supernaturaltheory of the business. I don't believe myself in ghosts, because in myexperience, and it is pretty wide, ghost stories break down badly underanything like skilled and independent examination. There is a naturalreason for what has happened, as there is a natural reason foreverything that happens. We talk of unnatural things happening, but thatis a contradiction in terms. Nothing can happen that is not natural.What we call Nature embraces every conceivable action or event orpossibility. We may fail to fathom a mystery, and we know that athousand things happen every day and night that seem beyond the powerof our wits to explain; but that is only to say our wits are limited.I hold, however, that very few things happen which do not yield anexplanation, sooner or later, if approached by those best trained toexamine them without predisposition or prejudice. And I earnestly hopethat this tragic business will give up its secret."

  "May you prove the correctness of your opinions, Mr. Hardcastle,"answered Sir Walter. "Would you like to see the Grey Room now?"

  "I should; though I tell you frankly it is not in the Grey Room that Ishall find what I seek. It does not particularly interest me, and forthis reason. I do not associate Captain May's death in any way with theearlier tragedy--that of the hospital nurse, Mrs. Forrester. It is acoincidence, in my opinion, and probably, if physiology were a moreperfect science than, in my experience of post-mortem examinations, ithas proved to be, the reason for the lady's death would have appeared.And, for that matter, the reason for Captain May's death also. To saythere was no reason is, of course, absurd. Nothing ever yet happened, orcould happen, without a reason. The springs of action were arrested andthe machine instantly ran down. But a man is not a clock, which can bestopped and reveal no sign of the thing that stopped it. Life is a farmore complex matter than a watch-spring, and if we knew more we mightnot be faced with so many worthless post-mortem reports. But Sir HowardFellowes is not often beaten. I repeat, however, I do not associate thetwo deaths in the Grey Room or connect them as the result of one and thesame cause. I do not state this as a fact beyond dispute, but that, forthe present, is my assumption. The gap in time seems too considerable.I suspect other causes, and shall have to make researches into the deadman's past life. I should wish also to examine all his property. Hehas been in foreign countries, and may have brought back somethingconcerning the nature of which he was ignorant. He may possess enemies,of whom neither you nor Mrs. May have heard anything. Your knowledge ofhim, recollect, extends over only a short time--eight or ten months, Isuppose. I shall visit his ship and his cabin in H. M. S. Indomitablealso, and learn all that his fellow officers can tell me."

  Sir Walter looked at his watch.

  "It is now nearly one o'clock," he said, "and at two we usually takeluncheon. What would you wish to do between now and then? None here butourselves and my butler--an old friend in all my secrets--knows you havecome professionally. I concealed the fact and called you 'Forbes,' atyour wish, though they cannot fail to suspect, I fear."

  "Thank you. I will see the room, then, and look round the place. Perhapsafter luncheon, if she feels equal to the task, Mrs. May will give me aprivate interview. I want to learn everything possible concerning yourlate son-in-law--his career before Jutland, his philosophy of life, hishabits and his friends."

  "She will very gladly tell you everything she can."

  They ascended to the Grey Room.

  "Not the traditional haunt of spooks, certainly," said Peter Hardcastleas they entered the bright and cheerful chamber. The day was clear, andfrom the southern window unclouded sunshine came.

  "Nothing is changed?" he asked.

  "Nothing. The room remains as it has been for many years."

  "Kindly describe exactly where Captain May was found. Perhaps Mr. Lennoxwill imitate his posture, if he remembers it?"

  "Remember it! I shall never forget it," said Henry. "I first saw himfrom below. He was looking out of the open window and kneeling here onthis seat."

  "Let us open the window then."

  The situation and attitude of the dead on discovery were imitated, andHardcastle examined the spot. Then he himself occupied the position andlooked out.

  "I will ask for a ladder presently, and examine the face of the wall.Ivy, I see. Ivy has told me some very interesting secrets before to-day,Sir Walter."

  "I dare say it has."

  "If you will remind me at luncheon, I can tell you a truly amazing storyabout ivy--a story of life and death. A man could easily go and come bythis window."

  "Not easily I think," said Henry. "It is rather more than thirty-fivefeet to the ground."

  "How do you know that?"

  "The police, who made the original inquiry and were stopped, as youwill remember, from Scotland Yard, measured it the second morningafterwards--on Monday."

  "But they did not examine the face of the wall?"

  "I think not. They dropped a measure from the window."

  The other pursued his examination of the room. "Old furniture," he said;"very old evidently."

  "It was collected in Spain by my grandfather many years ago."

  "Valuable, no doubt?"

  "I understand so."

  "Wonderf
ul carving. And this door?"

  "It is not a door, but a cupboard in the solid wall."

  Sir Walter opened the receptacle as he spoke. The cupboard--some six anda half feet high--was empty. At the back of it appeared a row of pegsfor clothes.

  "I can finish with the room for the present at any rate, in an hour,gentlemen," said Hardcastle. "I'll spend the time here till luncheon.Had your son-in-law any interest in old furniture, Sir Walter?"

  "None whatever to my knowledge. He was interested, poor fellow, not inthe contents, but in the evil reputation of the room. Its bad name datedback far beyond the occupation of my family. Captain May laughed at mymistrust, and, as you know, he came here, contrary to my express wishes,in order that he might chaff me next morning over my superstition. Hewanted 'to clear its character,' as he said."

  Hardcastle was turning over the stack of old oil-paintings in tarnishedframes.

  "Family portraits?"

  "Yes."

  "You mistrusted the room yourself, Sir Walter?"

  "After Nurse Forrester's death I did. Not before. But while attaching noimportance myself to the tradition, I respected it."

  "Nobody else ever spent a night here after the lady's death?"

  "Nobody. Of that I am quite certain."

  "Have you not left the house since?"

  "Frequently. I generally spend March, April, and May on theContinent--in France or Italy. But the house is never closed, and mypeople are responsible to me. The room is always locked, and when I amnot in residence Abraham Masters, my butler, keeps the key. He shares myown feelings so far as the Grey Room is concerned."

  The detective nodded. He was standing in the middle of the room with hishands in his pockets.

  "A strange fact--the force of superstition," he said. "It seems to feedon night, where ghosts are involved. What, I suppose, credulous peoplecall 'the powers of darkness.' But have you ever asked yourself why thespiritualists must work in the dark?"

  "To simplify their operations, no doubt, and make it easier for thespirits."

  "And themselves! But why is the night sacred to apparitions andsupernatural phenomena generally?"

  "Tradition associates them with those hours. Spiritualists say it iseasier for spectres to appear in the dark by reason of their materialcomposition. It is then that we find the most authentic accounts oftheir manifestations."

  "Yes; because at that time human vitality is lowest and human reasonweakest. Darkness itself has a curious and depressing effect on theminds of many people. I have won my advantage from that more thanonce. I once proved a very notorious crime by the crude expedient ofimpersonating the criminal's victim--a murdered woman--and appearingto him at night before a concealed witness. But spirits are doomed. Thepresent extraordinary wave of superstition and the immense prosperityof the dealers in the 'occult' is a direct result of the war. They areprofiteers--every one of them--crystal gazers, mediums, fortune tellers,and the rest. They are reaping a rare harvest for the moment. We punishthe humbler rogues, but we don't punish the fools who go to see them.If I had my way, the man or woman who visited the modern witch or wizardshould get six months in the second division. Fools should be punishedoftener for their folly. But education will sweep these things into thelimbo of man's ignorance and mental infancy. Ghosts cannot stand thelight of knowledge any better than they can operate in the light ofday."

  "You are very positive, Mr. Hardcastle."

  "Not often--on this subject--yes, Sir Walter Lennox. I have seen toomuch of the practitioners. Metaphysics is largely to blame. Physics, thestrong, you will find far too merciful to metaphysics, the weak."

  Sir Walter found himself regarding Hardcastle with dislike. He spokequietly, yet there was something mocking and annoying in his dogmatism.

  "You must discuss the subject with Mr. May, who breakfasted with us. Hewill, I think, have no difficulty in maintaining the contrary opinion."

  "They never have any difficulty--clergymen I mean--and argument withthem is vain, because we cannot find common ground to start from. Whatis the reverend gentleman's theory?"

  "He believes that the room holds an invisible and conscious presencepermitted to exercise powers of a physical character antagonistic tohuman life. He is guarded, you see, and will not go so far as to saywhether this being is working for good or evil."

  "But it has done evil, surely?"

  "Evil from our standpoint. But since the Supreme Creator made thiscreature as well as He made us, therefore Mr. May holds that we arenot justified in declaring its operations are evil--save from a humanstandpoint."

  "How was he related to Captain Thomas May?"

  "His father."

  Peter Hardcastle remained silent for a moment; then he spoke again.

  "Have you observed how many of the sons of the clergy go into the Navyor Merchant Marine?"

  "I have not."

  "They do, however."

  Sir Walter began to dislike the detective more than before.

  "We will leave you now," he said. "You will find me in my study if youwant me. That bell communicates with the servants. The lock of the doorwas broken when we forced our way in, and has not been mended; but youcan close the door if you wish to do so. It has been kept open since andthe electric light always turned on at night."

  "Many thanks. I will consider a point or two here and rejoin you. Wasthe chimney examined?"

  "No. It would not admit a human being."

  Then Sir Walter and his nephew left the room, and Hardcastle, waitinguntil they were out of earshot, shut the door and thrust a heavy chairagainst it.

  They heard no more of him for an hour, and joined Mary and Septimus May,who were walking on the terrace together. The former was eager to learnthe detective's opinions, but her husband's father had already warnedher that Peter Hardcastle was doomed to fail.

  The four walked up and down together, and Prince, Sir Walter's ancientspaniel, went beside them.

  Henry told his cousin the nature of their conversation and the directionin which the professional inquiry seemed to turn.

  "He wants to see you and hear everything you can tell him about dearTom's past," he said.

  "Of course I will tell him everything; and what I do not know, Mr. Maywill remember."

  "He is very quiet and very open-minded about some things, but jollypositive about others. Your father-in-law won't get far with him. Hescoffs at any supernatural explanation of our terrible loss."

  Mr. May overheard this remark.

  "As I have already told Mary, his failure is assured. He is wasting histime, and I knew he probably would do so before he came. Not to sucha man, however clever he may be, will an explanation be vouchsafed. Iwould rather trust an innocent child to discover these things than sucha person. He is lost in his own conceit and harbors vain ideas."

  "There is something about him I cordially dislike already," confessedSir Walter. "And yet it is a most unreasonable dislike on my part, forhe is exceedingly well mannered, speaks and conducts himself like agentleman, and does nothing that can offend the most sensitive."

  "A prejudice, Uncle Walter."

  "Perhaps it is, Henry; yet I rarely feel prejudice."

  "Call it rather an intuition," said the clergyman. "What yourantipathetic attitude means is that you already unconsciously know thisman is not going to avail, and that his assumption of superiority in thematter of knowledge--his opinions and lack of faith--will defeat him ifnothing else does. He approaches his problem in an infidel spirit, andconsequently the problem will evade his skill; because such skill is notmerely futile in this matter, but actually destructive."

  Mary left them, and they discussed the probable chances of the detectivewithout convincing each other. Henry, who had been much impressed byHardcastle, argued in his favor; but Septimus May was obdurate, and SirWalter evidently inclined to agree with him.

  "The young men think the old men fools, and the old men know the youngones are," said Sir Walter.

  "But he is not young, uncle
; he's forty. He told me so."

  "I thought him ten years less, and he spoke with the dogmatism ofyouth."

  "Only on that subject."

  "Which happens to be the one subject of all others on which we have aright to demand an open and reverent mind," said the clergyman.

  Henry noticed that Sir Walter spoke almost spitefully.

  "Well, at any rate, he thought rather small beer of the Grey Room. Hefelt quite sure that the secret lay outside it. He was going to exhaustthe possibilities of the place in no time."

  As he spoke the gong sounded, and Prince, pricking his ears, led the wayto the open French window of the dining-room.

  "Call our friend, Henry," said his uncle. And young Lennox, glad of theopportunity, entered the house. He desired a word with Hardcastle inprivate, and ascended to join him.

  The door of the Grey Room was still closed, and Henry found someobstacle within that prevented it from yielding to his hand. At oncedisturbed by this incident, he did not stand upon ceremony. He pushedthe door, which gave before him, and he perceived that a heavy chair hadbeen thrust against it. His noisy entrance challenged no response, and,looking round, it appeared for an instant that the room was empty;but, lowering his eyes, he saw first the detective's open notebook andstylograph lying upon the ground, then he discovered Peter Hardcastlehimself upon his face with his arms stretched out before him. He laybeside the hearth, motionless.

  Lennox stooped, supported, and turned him over. He was still warm andrelaxed in every limb, but quite unconscious and apparently dead. Anexpression of surprise marked his face, and the corner of each open eyehad not yet lost its lustre, but the pupil was much dilated.