Who Killed Charmian Karslake? (17 page)

Her father laid his rough hand on her.

“What was it you had in your hand that you were looking at, child?”

“It was just a box – a little tin box,” Sadie said faintly. “I found it up there at the side of the pool. I asked for it when I came to myself and Nurse said there was nothing found near me, not even my little handbag, so then I knew why –”

“Nobody would knock you down for the sake of a little tin box, Sadie,” her father said. “What was in the box?”

“Stoop nearer,” Sadie said faintly. “Come right up to me, both of you. I am frightened. We don't know how near he may be.”

“He – who?” Mr. Juggs caught his breath. “Who is it, Sadie?”

“I don't know,” the girl said, looking up at him with big, frightened eyes. “But I – I am sure he is not far away.”

“He had better not let me get hold of him, wherever he is,” Mr. Juggs said grimly. “What was in that box, Sadie? Get it off your chest whatever it is.”

Sadie's weak hands pulled his grizzled head down nearly to her mouth. She glanced round in a terrified fashion.

“It – it was Charmian Karslake's sapphire ball. Oh! what was that?”

That was a faint, rustling sound outside the door made by the unseen hearers. Dicky uttered a short, incredulous exclamation. Mr. Juggs drew in his breath.

“Charmian Karslake's sapphire ball! I thought as much to myself. And you found it by the Monk's Pool and put it in the tin box?”

“No, I didn't put it in the box,” Sadie said more clearly. “It was there when I found it. When we were all looking down into the pool, and guessing about the old monks and what they felt like, I saw it there among the stones at the side. And when the car had gone I went back and got it out. And then I opened it and looked at it. And – and that's all. Except that I think I must have been guided there.”

“Then I wish to Heaven you had been guided some-where else, Sadie,” the millionaire said heartily. “Now I'm just going to sound this bell” – touching it as he spoke – “and Nurse will give you your drink – brandy or what not. And I will go off and find out the nasty, murdering brute and lodge him safely in gaol. You needn't be frightened – he will never come near you.”

“Sadie, sweetheart, I will hold you!” Dicky slipped on the bed beside her as the nurse came into the room, and took his wife in his arms. “There, now, you feel safe, don't you?” he said fondly, though there was a curious, far-away look in his eyes.

The nurse held a cup of some restorative to Sadie's lips. “You must not stay any longer, Mr. Moreton. She has done more than she ought already.”

For one moment Dicky looked inclined to dispute the point, but a glance at the nurse's face deterred him and he laid Sadie gently back on her pillows.

Mr. Juggs tiptoed his way out of the room and to the spot at the end of the corridor where now were gathered Inspector Stoddart, Dr. Spencer, Harbord and Superintendent Bower. Dicky followed him quickly.

The millionaire stopped before the group, blowing his nose noisily.

“This is a nice state of things, gentlemen,” he began, looking round at them all. “And I hold each of you” – with a wave of his hand at the two detectives and the superintendent – “responsible. It don't reflect any credit on what you Britishers call your detective system. One of our sleuths from the States would have fathomed all this mystery while you have been walking around thinking about it. What do you say, son-in-law?”

Thus directly appealed to, Dicky hesitated and for a moment seemed at a loss what to answer.

“Oh, well, Mr. Juggs, I think it would take a clever detective to knock spots off Inspector Stoddart. He couldn't know that Sadie had got hold of the sapphire ball.”

“He ought to have known, then,” Mr. Juggs said aggressively. “I am just reckoning to say to your face, inspector, what other folks will be saying behind your back. You ought to have surmised what it was my daughter was looking at.”

Inspector Stoddart smiled wryly. “In this country, sir, we do not work on surmises.”

Dicky gave him an approving slap on the shoulder.

“Of course we don't. Lay you evens, Mr. Juggs, that now they do know what happened they won't be long before they lodge the villain in quod.”

“Well, I reckon you have more faith in the methods of your country than I have. I have offered a reward of five thousand pounds to anybody who can give information that will lead to the discovery of the man who attacked my daughter.”

“You did, sir,” the inspector acquiesced. “I told you it was too much in my opinion.”

“Well, it hasn't been enough to tempt anybody to tell,” Mr. Juggs said shrewdly, as he stuck his hands under his coat-tails. “Now I am going to double that, Mr. Inspector. I will give ten thousand to anybody that will find the sapphire ball. Ten thousand English pounds. What do you say to that?”

“I say it is a good deal too much, Mr. Juggs. I don't think money will find the blue sapphire for us.”

“Well! But I didn't fancy you Britishers worked on thinking or surmising,” the millionaire remarked. “Anyhow, if ten thousand don't do the trick, there's another ten thousand at the back, or fifty thousand if it's wanted.”

“Good for you!” Dicky tapped Mr. Juggs approvingly on the arm. “But it's a tidy old sleuth too,” he added with a glance at Stoddart. “Been doing a lot of nosing about, don't you know. Poking in my drawers and trying on my boots. What? You didn't try 'em on? There, you see I was giving you credit for more than you are worth. But come along, Papa-in-law. I think we'll find our way to old Brook and get a spot of something to buck us up. Give you my word, it took it out of me no end to find the poor kid all bowled over like that.”

“You're a good lad,” the millionaire said brokenly.

As they went downstairs they saw Brook in the hall. He was talking to one of the footmen. The younger man disappeared. The butler waited, looking at them. Dicky greeted him hilariously.

“Just the man we wanted to see. You are a good old thing, Brook. Like Homocea, always on the spot, don't you know. Now it's just a tot of whisky and soda that we are after.”

“Yes, sir.” Brook still lingered. “We have all been so thankful, all of us in the house, to hear that the poor young lady is better. I trust you found her as well as you expected, sir.”

He addressed himself to Dicky, but his glance wandered beyond him to Mr. Juggs. Dicky, however, took the answer on himself:

“Well, no, she wasn't. I thought her looking awfully bad myself. And she couldn't tell us who did her in.”

Brook took a long breath.

“I am sorry for that, sir. We hoped, all of us, that she would have been able to say what happened. It – it isn't pleasant to live in an atmosphere of suspicion, sir.”

“Well, old boy, you will have to put up with it like everybody else,” said Dicky, patting his arm. “Where's the whisky – tantalus unlocked? Then we will help ourselves. Come along, Mr. Juggs. We will drink Sadie's health, unless you have gone dry like your delightful country.”

“No, that I have not!” Mr. Juggs said with emphasis. “Soup isn't canned on water, let me tell you that. It is the only mistake we ever made in the States in my opinion – prohibition. It stands to reason a man can't do his bit without something to put life into him.”

“Good for you, old dear,” Dicky said as he took the whisky from the tantalus and poured some into each of the two glasses that Brook brought. “You are talking like a book. Now, here's to Sadie's health and her recovery,” as he added the soda to his portion and tossed it off.

Upstairs Dr. Spencer went back to his patient's room; the two detectives came down to the library, Superintendent Bower accompanying them. Inspector Stoddart closed the door and looked round at the other two.

“Well!”

“Well!” the superintendent echoed, while Harbord met his superior's eyes in silence.

The inspector walked up to the fire-place and took up a position with his back to it. He helped himself to a cigar and then held out his case to the others.

“Another snag,” he said, glancing at Harbord.

Superintendent Bower took the reply upon himself.

Pretty much what I expected, sir. I always thought the man that knocked her down would take care she didn't see him.”

“And you were right. But the great question to my mind is” – Stoddart did not look at either of his companions as he spoke – “would she have recognized her assailant if she had seen him?”

Harbord did not answer. The superintendent said: “Well, after hearing Mrs. Richard's account of her attack, I am of the opinion that she probably would. What do you say, inspector?”

“Oh, I am of the same opinion as I have been all along,” Stoddart returned with a strange, inscrutable smile.

“And that?” Bower questioned.

“That undoubtedly she would have known him if she could have seen him,” the inspector finished.

“The marriage arranged between Mr. John Larpent and the Hon. Paula Galbraith will not take place.”

“H'm!” said the inspector, reading the foregoing paragraph aloud. “So that's that! I wonder just how much it means?”

“I wonder!” said Harbord. “I suppose she has left the Abbey?”

“Went away yesterday morning,” the inspector assented. “Of course Larpent hasn't been there for some time, as you know.”

“I'm not surprised. Personally I don't believe Larpent had anything to say to the murder, but whenever I saw them they always seemed to be quarrelling, and they never behaved like an engaged couple. I wonder the affair lasted as long as it did.”

“So do I!” the inspector agreed. “Paula Galbraith is a good-looking girl enough as girls go nowadays, not as much powder and paint as some of ‘em stick on, perhaps. But she has got a temper, if I am not mistaken, and I should say John Larpent has the devil of a temper too when he is roused. However, we must let the young couple alone for a bit. I have some work to do this morning. You remember Mrs. Walker speaking to us of her old nurse, Ruth Heddle, who was still living in Hepton – the one who didn't or couldn't write much?”

“I remember I didn't think much of Mrs. William Walker,” Harbord said at once. “I don't know what her nurse is like.”

“Well, this morning I think we will take a little walk and see. I have run the old lady to earth, not without some difficulty. She lives in a little thatched cottage on the Bourton Road, past Mary Gwender's shop. It stands a bit back from the road on the way to Whitlocks of the Marsh Farm, I was told. And my informant added that we should find it without any difficulty.”

The pair were in Stoddart's sitting-room at the Raven Hotel – a hostelry favoured by the inspector on account of the excellent view of the Abbey gates and the Bull Ring to be obtained from its first floor windows.

“On second thoughts, Alfred,” the inspector went on after a minute, “I will leave you here and interview Miss Ruth Heddle by myself. You keep a good look out for the inhabitants of the Abbey and their visitors. The worst of it is, it is a beastly place to watch. There's the gate into the churchyard and, though we keep that locked now, it would be perfectly easy to get over it, or the wall either. Bower vouches for the two men we have watching there, but bar the superintendent I wouldn't give much for the brains of any Heptonian I have encountered. Sir Arthur has ordered everybody in the Abbey to use the Bull Ring entrance. But if Dicky Moreton comes out, try and see where he goes, keeping out of sight yourself.”

“Ay. That will be a bit of work after my own heart,” Harbord responded.

“Well, well!” The inspector glanced at him and seemed about to speak. Then he checked himself, caught up his hat and went out. “So long, Alfred.”

You could walk pretty nearly over the whole of Hepton in ten minutes, and so the inspector very soon found himself out on the Bourton Road and gazing at Ruth Heddle's thatched cottage with the Marsh Farm on the right side. He walked sharply up to it. By this time people in Hepton knew that he was a fine London detective come down to find out who killed the poor lady at the Abbey. There was no longer any use in trying to deceive them with regard to his profession. So that when a pleasant-looking, elderly woman came to the door he said quietly:

“I am Inspector Stoddart. I saw Mrs. William Walker in London the other day. She spoke to me of you, and I thought it was possible that you might be able to help me.”

Ruth Heddle shook her head.

“I don't know as I can, sir. 'Twas a terrible thing to kill that poor young lady, but I don't think as I can do anything to find out who the man was. I would willingly if I could.”

“Well, if you will just answer a few questions, it may help more than you think.”

“I'll do my best, sir, if you will be pleased to walk in.”

She stood aside and the inspector, as he bared his head, thought that the long, low kitchen was one of the pleasantest into which he had ever looked. The day was cold, but coals were comparatively cheap at Hepton with its proximity to the colliery district, and a bright fire burned on the hearth. The floor was of red brick and a round deal table stood near the fire-place, and it and the floor were as clean as scrubbing could make them. The stone walls were thick, as all the walls were at Hepton, and on the wide window ledge there were plants in pots – primulas, sweet-smelling hyacinths, anemones. A big bunch of daffodils stood in a jug on the table. The arm-chairs were both of the Windsor variety; evidently Ruth Heddle was not inclined to yield to the comfort-loving tendencies of the age. She drew forward one of the chairs.

“If you will be pleased to take a seat, sir –”

The inspector sat down with alacrity. Ruth Heddle stood over by the fire-place.

“I hear you have always lived in Hepton, Miss Heddle. But if you don't sit down I certainly cannot.” Ruth Heddle put out her hand.