She Painted her Face (6 page)

"Perhaps," said Herrick. "It was not committed by us."

The sergeant shrugged his shoulders.

"I shall have to—"

"I think it is clear," said Virgil, "that this gentleman is telling the truth."

The two police stared upon him as though he were out of his mind.

"I mean, if he were guilty, he would scarcely have made an admission which put the rope round his neck."

As soon as he could speak:

"But, sir!" cried the sergeant, "a rope round the neck is harmless unless it is tight. If every rogue was believed because he told such truths as could do him no harm—"

"These gentlemen," said Virgil, "have not the appearance of rogues."

The sergeant put a hand to his head.

"But they were there— in the park— at the hour that the business was done. Why, this map alone would warrant—"

"That is explained," said Virgil. "And what they say is quite true. The foothills conceal the castle except from the bridge which crosses The Vials of Wrath."

"Perhaps. But that does not mean—"

"Enough," said Virgil swiftly. "For me they have cleared themselves. It only remains for you to beg their pardon and make a fresh cast. Good heavens, man, when time is so precious, do you propose to waste it in prying into two strangers' private affairs?"

With a manifest effort, the sergeant controlled his voice.

"Sir," he said, "if you do not wish to wait, you must leave us here. I have a sow by the ear, and until I know it's the wrong one, I will not let go."

With that, he returned to Herrick. "You have said too much or too little. You were at Brief this morning from four until half-past six. Kindly relate what you did there— from first to last."

"With very great pleasure," said Herrick, folding his arms. "We left our car at the mouth of the northern drive— after instructing our chauffeur, first, to seek some petrol, and then to wait in a wood a little way off. You will understand that we did not wish to be seen."

"Is your chauffeur here?" said the sergeant

"He is. It you would like to see him— "

"Proceed if you please."

"Before we had walked very far, we heard a car coming behind us, using the drive. At once we lay down in the bracken until it had passed."

His face like a mask. Virgil took out his case and selected a cigarette; but I saw a bead of sweat fall on to the gold.

"It was not your car?" said the sergeant, plainly impressed

Producing a notebook, his fellow made ready to write

"It was not our car," said Herrick. "Others were abroad this morning— within the confines of Brief."

"Describe this car, if you please."

"It was closed and its blinds were drawn; its number-plate was obscured— I imagine, with oil and dust."

The sergeant turned to his fellow, pencil in hand.

"Have you got that down?"

The other nodded and Herrick resumed his tale, relating how the car had been met and had then been backed down the drive and into the track.

"Three people got out, and the man who had met them came up."

"Would you know them again, sir?"

"I should."

As the answer went down, I saw Virgil wipe his face.

"One of the three," said Herrick, "was a woman. She had a dog on a lead."

"A dog?" cried the police, together.

"A long-haired, black-and-white dog: a mongrel, about that size—"

Struggling with his emotion:

"Sir," cried the sergeant, "I beg that you will forgive me if I have seemed something short. I have to do my duty, and your interest in Brief seemed strange— but now I know that you are telling the truth. The dog you describe was found at large in the park."

Though the moment called for some speech, Virgil said nothing at all— because, I imagine, he dared not trust his voice. Grey-faced, his eyes like slits, he stood a little apart, unconsciously wringing to fragments the cigarette he had taken, but had not lit.

But the police were too much excited to care for these things.

Respectfully thanking Herrick and handing him back our map, the sergeant begged that he would describe "the delinquents you so providentially saw"—and Herrick complied with a gusto which did my heart good. His picture of Percy Virgil was actually taken from life. Lazily surveying his victim he drew a merciless portrait of that unprincipled man; and I find it hard to believe that a rogue was ever so trounced.

Not daring to retire— much less, of course, to protest— he was forced to hear dictated a report of his personal appearance which would have provoked the most forbearing of men and, what was far worse, to endure the utmost apprehension for feat that the police should be struck by the startling resemblance the portrait bore to himself.

Over all, the realisation that his shocking secret was ours must have been like an iron in his soul, which Herrick's careless disdain continually turned.

His tormentor then repeated the horribly damning words which Virgil had said to his creatures before they had entered the wood, and when the sergeant seemed puzzled about the use of "the wire" suggested that it might have been used to trip a galloping horse

Under cover of the flush of excitement which this suggestion induced. Herrick encouraged the impression that we had no more to disclose; this the police were ready enough to accept, because they were eager to broadcast without delay the very full descriptions of the persons they hoped to arrest Protesting their gratitude, the sergeant requested our names, and while Herrick was writing these down, turned and exhorted Virgil to enter and start the car.

"If you'll take us to Gabble, sir, I can get on to Innsbruck from there, and in less than two hours from now every police station in Austria will be alive with orders to search for the people we want."

'Splendid," said Virgil, somehow. He turned to Herrick and bowed. "Please believe that I shall not forget today— and that I am a man who invariably pays his debts."

"Is that a threat?" said Herrick

I saw the police open their eyes, and Virgil in desperation let himself go.

"It's a warning!" he snarled. "I do not believe your tale of the numberless car! That you saw a dog this morning proves nothing at all!"

"Come, come, sir!" said the sergeant. "You said yourself just now—"

"I have changed my mind," spat Virgil.

"I have just remembered," said Herrick, "that one of the men was called Max. Not the leader— the burly man who got out of the car. The leader was sharp with him— as, indeed, with them all. I think that, if you could find them, they might give the leader away."

"And the name of the leader?" sneered Virgil. "Quite sure you didn't hear that?"

Herrick raised his eyebrows before he returned to the police.

'You would not believe me," he said, "if I told you the leader's name. And so I prefer that you should apply to Max. But I'll tell you That I will do. I'll write it down for you and seal it up. And when Max has opened his mouth you may creak the seal. Thus we corroborate each other. Or, better still,. Mr. Exon shall write it down. You will observe that I have not mentioned the name. Yet he will go off and write it, which goes to show that he knows it as well as I."

With that ne turned to me and asked me to do as he said.

When I returned to the drive Virgil was back in his car, beside himself with passion and shouting down the sergeant, who seemed very much surprised

With that he started his engine, let in his clutch, and swung the car violently round. With storming gears it spurted between the chestnuts and on to the road

THE POLICE stared after the fellow with open mouths, then they turned o see Herrick with a hand to his chin

"I gather," he said, "that you find is behaviour strange?"

"I can't understand it,' said the sergeant. "Ten minutes ago—"

"Quite so," said Herrick 'In fact, ten minutes ago he did his very best to get you away— because, when he heard the hour at which we had entered the park, he did not wish you to hear what I might have to tell."

He took the envelope from me and held it out.

"You may open that now, if you please, and read the name of the leader whom Max will betray. After that you shall have some tea, and then well drive you to Gabble to take what action you please."

The sergeant ripped the envelope open, and he and his fellow together peered at the sheet.

"
Percy Elbert Virgil
."

I thought they would never look up. When at last they did, they seemed dazed; and Herrick called for Brenda.

Lady Caroline had overheard the interview.

Mr. Herrick," she said, "you put up a wonderful show. I never knew that a hand could be played so well. But you've 'scotch’s the snake, not kill’s it.' And the sooner the police find Maxwell, the better for your bodily health. Have you any arms, you two?"

"We have two pistols," I said.

"Then carry them, please— from row on. I mean what I say. It may have occurred to you that this countryside favours outrage— of any kind."

With that we sat down to tea, and half an hour later I drove the Rolls to Gabble, with Winter sitting beside me and the police in the back of the car.

It was strange to sit down to supper with Lady Caroline taking the head of the board, but she seemed to glad to be with us, and fell so naturally into the ways we kept, that, for my part. I soon forgot how she came to be there, and began to accept a relation which seemed too fair to be true.

I had scarcely had to do with a woman for three years, and now I was sitting down with one who, Herrick declared, had stepped out of the picture-books.

"I warn you," he said, "she's not real. While you were getting down from that tree, the fauns picked up the Countess and left a nymph in her stead. Look at those eyes. She's heard that exquisite flourish that we have no ears to hear, the fanfare with which the firmament honours the rising sun; and the echo is there in her eyes, a shred of eternity held in a peerless fee. And Percy laid hands upon her. Well, well! What's bred in the bone. Only Percy seems to begin where his father leaves off And if I were either of them. I give you my word I should be afraid to die."

Enough is as good as a feast, and after supper that evening we spoke of the past and present, but left the future alone. My lady told us her story— a grim corroboration of the statement her father had made. She could not remember the time when her cousin had not been at Brief. It was his home as much as hers, and though she was given precedence, he was used as the son of the house. The Count had done much for him but little or nothing for her, and again and again she had had to fight for her rights. But for these, she would have been gone, to make her own life, for the House of Brief was divided against itself. She hated the Count and her cousin: they hated her back: and the Count was afraid of Percy, and Percy despised the Count.

By the terms of her mother's will she received one thousand a year. This income the Count had received until she was twenty-one, and when she had come of age he had done his best to retain the half for himself: but she had gone to the lawyers and forced his hand. Since then he had continually complained that he could not meet the expenses.

Her mother's will also directed that when she was twenty-one she was to be given possession of all of her mother's jewels, and these, she told us frankly, were very valuable.

"And where are they?" said Herrick.

"In England. They were being cleaned and re-set when my mother was killed, and ever since then they've lain in the jewellers' safe. I could have had them out three years ago; but what was the good? Be sides, I was afraid to have them; they might have been stolen— by someone within the house. Times without number they've urged me to have them out. Percy offered to get them at last and actually wrote out a letter for me to sign, authorising the jewellers to hand them over to him.

" 'Thanks very much,' I said, 'but I'd rather they stayed where they were. But I'll lend you five pounds to go on with, if that's any good.' For once he had no answer; he couldn't get round the truth. That was six weeks ago-"

A sudden apprehension stabbed at my mind.

"Oh, my Heaven!" I cried. 'I'll lay a monkey they're gone."

Lady Caroline started, and Herrick frowned.

"Why dye say that?" said the former.

Shamefacedly, I told her of Inskip, the "very big" diamond-merchant, whose company Virgil was keeping when first I had seen his face.

"But he'd never dare," she cried, flushing. "I mean, if he'd forged my hand— "

"He would have," said Herrick, rising, "a very pressing reason for putting you out of the way."

There was a deathly silence, which I employed in cursing my reckless tongue.

Lady Caroline sighed.

"That's right," she said slowly. "That's right. You know, it's painfully clear that he is his father's son."

The next day I drove her to Salzburg, a very long way; but shop any nearer she dared not, because she I was too well known.

For most of the way I drove, and she sat by my side, and before we got back that night I think I had told her all that ever I did. It was a dull enough record, but have it she would, "Because," said she, "for two years you played the part which I should have played— you cared for my poor father, and I cannot know enough of the man who did that."

"Honours were even." said I. "We were both of us down on our luck, and if I befriended him, he befriended me."

"Who paid for his— his funeral?"

"Darn it!" I said. "He'd have done the same for me."

"Did you put a memorial up?"

"Yes." said I "But I'd inherited, then."

"What did you have cut upon the stone?"

"Rudolf Elbert Virgil." She caught her breath.

"I'm so thankful. Anything else?"

"A line from St. Luke: 'But now he is comforted.' "

There was a long silence. Four or five miles went by before she turned from the landscape to speak very low.

"May I call you 'Richard'?" she said. "And will you please drop my style?"

WE HELD our first council the following day, by the stream in the meadows, before eleven o'clock. Nature was blithe about us; the sun, a merry monarch, delighted a radiant sky, and mountain, forest, and pasture lifted up grateful heads

I said what I had to say first, by Caroline's wish.

To my way of thinking we've only one object in view, and that is to expose the man who for twenty-two years has passed as the Count of Brief. If we can bring this about, we shall kill two birds with one stone. We shall not only bring him down but put Caroline up in her proper place

I know nothing of the law of the land, but if I did, I'd advise that we left it alone. We should never get home by that road. And it's no good waiting round, proclaiming the truth, for no one would ever believe us and he might take action against us— for libel or something like that The only way to expose him is to make him expose himself— admit officially that what we allege is true. And that he will never do, unless we can force his hand. If we hold above him some threat sufficiently grim, the man will do as we wish. But it's got to be a terrible threat, to make a man cut his own throat

"What we need is some information from which we can forge a weapon which we can use. And that will be hard to come by. It might not have been so hard twenty years ago; but the sources we might have turned to have almost certainly failed. Still, we're not in the hopeless position of not knowing where to begin, because we have one clue, which, if we can follow it up, may lead us straight to a source which is still alive.

"It is, I think, a promising clue, because it concerns a secret of whose existence the Head of the House should know. And Caroline knows of its existence; but her uncle does not. She knows of its existence, I say: she does not yet know what it is; but she knows where it is— roughly.

" 'The great tower of Brief— the great tower. There is a doorway there which no one would ever... And You must go up, counting your steps. And when you have—'

"I am not disheartened by the words 'which no one would ever find,' because I believe them to mean 'which no one would ever notice, unless she was told where to look'— and we have been told where to look.

"Now how we are to look for a doorway within the great tower of Brief, I have honestly no idea. Caroline only can say whether that can be done, but if it can be done, I suggest that we should do it, before we do anything else— because, to be still more honest, I don't know what else we can do.

"One thing more. Caroline may not like the one I suggest. The secret, whatever it is, has been most jealously guarded for hundreds of years. It may be something that no outsider should know. And if she's the slightest feeling against our doing our utmost to find it out well, she knows that she's only to say so for me to drop this line and never touch it again."

"My dear," said Caroline, quietly, "my father tried to give it to you. It may be that you can use it— those were his words. Do you think I would revoke his request? Why he never even charged you to tell me. Never mind. Of course you're right That doorway's our only chance. I've no idea what is behind it-no more than you. But I think it may lead up something which, as you put it. will give us the weapon we need.

"As for looking for the doorway— we'll have to be careful, of course, but that shouldn't be very hard As a rule Brief sleeps very sound and if I like to return when Brief is asleep— " She held up a Yale key. "That's my key. It will let us into the turret which leads to my rooms. My rooms give to a landing, and the landing will lead to the tower. And nobody lives there now. The rooms are just as they were when my grandfather died; but they are not occupied. It's rather a pity, really; except for the stairs between, they make a delightful suite."

"What does it consist of?" said Herrick. "I never saw it, you know."

"Two sitting-rooms, bedroom and bathroom Why do you ask?"

"I was wondering if they'd suit us," said Herrick. "Just for forty eight hours, you know. I mean, this search will take time. And it would be so very convenient to be on the spot."

I stared at him open-mouthed, but Caroline threw up her head and began to laugh.

"You're true to type," she said "The jester's counsel was nearly always the best. And why shouldn't Brenda come, too? She can look after us all and wait upon me."

Though the tower was unoccupied, its apartments were aired twice a week. Every Monday and Thursday this was done, and since the day was Sunday, we determined to take possession the following night. In this way for fifty-two hours we should have the tower to ourselves We could easily take enough food to last us this time, and since there was water laid on, there seemed to be no reason why Brenda should not make tea whenever we pleased. We could rest in comparative comfort and, thanks to the bathroom, could make our ordinary toilet without any fuss, and, indeed, we should do very well, so far as the flesh is concerned.

Of course the plan had its drawbacks; by spending the day at Brief we were bound to be discovered if anyone entered the tower; then again from dawn to dusk we should be cut off, for we could not leave the castle except by dark; but if we were to find our doorway without being found ourselves, I think we might have tried for a year without picking a better way.

That Sunday afternoon Brenda and Winter were told the most of the truth, for, though I am sure that both would have trusted us blindly and would have done without question whatever we asked, it would have been as unfair as un- wise to make such demands upon such fidelity.

Poor Winter would have given his eyes to go with us into the castle in Brenda's place— if only, I think, on the chance of encountering Percy and laying the fellow out— but I bade him remember that much would depend upon him, for that if we should be surprised or anything else should go wrong, it was he that we should look to to bring us out of our plight.

"You see," I said, "we couldn’t attempt such a show, unless there was someone outside not only who knew where we were, but with whom we could keep in touch. All Tuesday and Wednesday I want you to watch the castle-especially, of course, the great tower. I shall signal to you, if I want you, and what I want you to do Well arrange a code later on.'

Then I told him about the three firs and how, if he steered by them, he would come to the belvedere, and he seemed very much relieved to think he would be within call, instead of, as he had expected, eleven miles off.