Part 15 (2/2)
”I'm not. I am merely laying before you the only two things possible to explain his presence there. One or the other of them is the plain and absolute truth. If the man went out there _after_ the filly was stolen he is a scoundrel and a liar. If he is innocent, he met with his injuries on the way back to his quarters above Highland La.s.sie's stall.”
”But the other animal? But Chocolate Maid? How could she have got back to the stable, then? She couldn't have found her way back alone after Farrow was a.s.saulted--at least, she could, of course, but not in the condition she was in when found next morning. She had no harness of any sort upon her. Her saddle was on its peg. She was in her box--tied up, b'gad! and the door of the box was closed and bolted; so that if by any chance----Hullo! I say! What on earth are you smiling in that queer way for? Hang it, man! do you believe that I don't know what I'm talking about?”
”Oh, yes, Major. It isn't that kind of a smile. I have just discovered that four and four make eight when you add them up properly; and the smile is one of consequent satisfaction. A last question, please. At what time in the morning was Farrow found lying unconscious upon the moor?”
”Somewhere between six and seven o'clock. Why?”----
”Oh, nothing in particular. Who found him? Captain MacTavish?”
”No. Maggie McFarland. She was just coming back from milking when----Hang it, man! I wish you wouldn't smile all up one side of your face in that confounded manner. It makes me think that you must have something up your sleeve.”
”Well, if I have, Major, suppose you drive me over to the stables and give me a chance to take it out?” suggested Cleek, serenely. ”A little 'poking about' sometimes does wonders, and a half hour in Highland La.s.sie's quarters may pick the puzzle to pieces a great deal sooner than you'd believe. Or, stop! Perhaps, on second thought, it will be better for you and her ladys.h.i.+p to go on ahead, as I shall want to have a look at Tom Farrow's injuries as well, so it will be best to have everything prepared in advance, in order to save time.
No doubt Mr. Narkom and I can get a conveyance of some sort here.
At any rate--h'm! it is now a quarter to three, I see--at any rate, you may certainly expect us at quarter-past five. You and her ladys.h.i.+p may go back quite openly, Major. There will be no need to attempt to throw dust in Sir Gregory Dawson-Blake's eyes any longer by keeping the disappearance of the animal a secret.
If he's had a hand in her spiriting away, he knows, of course, that she's gone; but if he hasn't--oh, well, I fancy I know who did, and that she will be in the running on Derby Day after all. A few minutes in Highland La.s.sie's stable will settle that, I feel sure.
Your ladys.h.i.+p, my compliments. Major, good afternoon. I hope if night overtakes us before we get at the bottom of the thing you can manage to put us up at the Abbey until to-morrow that we may be on the spot to the last?”
”With pleasure, Mr. Cleek,” said Lady Mary; and bowed him out of the room.
CHAPTER XIII
It was precisely ten minutes past five o'clock and the long-lingering May twilight was but just beginning to gather when the spring cart of the Rose and Thistle arrived at the Abbey stables, and Cleek and Mr. Narkom descending therefrom found themselves the centre of an interested group composed of the major and Lady Mary, the countryside doctor, and Captain MacTavish.
The captain, who had nothing Scottish about him but his name, was a smiling, debonnaire gentleman with flaxen hair and a curling, fair moustache; and Cleek, catching sight of him as he stood leaning, in a carefully studied pose, against the stable door-post with one foot crossed over the other, one hand in his trousers pocket and the other swinging a hunting crop whose crook was a greyhound's head wrought in solid silver, concluded that here was, perhaps, the handsomest man of his day, and that, in certain sections of society, he might be guaranteed to break hearts by the hundred. It must be said of him, however, that he carried his manifold charms of person with smooth serenity and perfect poise; that, if he realized his own beauty, he gave no outward evidences of it. He was calm, serene, well-bred, and had nothing of the ”Doll” or the ”Johnny”
element in either his bearing or his deportment. He was at once splendidly composed and almost insolently bland.
”Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cleek. Read a great deal about you one way and another,” he said, when the major made the introduction--a performance which the captain evidently considered superfluous as between an army officer and a police detective. ”Sorry I shan't be able to remain and study your interesting methods, however. Should have been rather pleased to do so, otherwise.”
”And I for my part should have been pleased to have you do so, Captain, I a.s.sure you,” replied Cleek, the first intonation of his voice causing the captain to twitch up his head and stare at him as if he were a monstrosity. ”Shall you be leaving us, then, before the investigation is concluded?”
”Well, I'm blest! Why, how in the world--oh--er--yes. Obliged to go. Wire from London this afternoon. Regiment sails for India in two days. Beastly nuisance. Shall miss the Derby and all that. By the way, Norcross, if this chap succeeds in finding the filly in time for the race, that little bet of ours stands, of course?”
”Of course,” agreed the major. ”Ready are you, Mr. Cleek? Right you are--come along.” And he forthwith led the way into the stable where Chocolate Maid, like a perfect horse in French bronze, stood munching hay in her box as contentedly as if there were no such things in the world as touts and swindlers and horse thieves, and her companion of two days ago still shared the quarters with her.
”Gad! but she's a beauty and no mistake, Major,” said Cleek as he went over and, leaning across the low barrier of the enclosure, patted the mare's shoulder and smoothed her glossy neck. ”I don't wonder that you and her ladys.h.i.+p have such high hopes for her future.
The creature seems well nigh perfect.”
”Yes, she is a pretty good bit of horseflesh,” replied he, ”but not to be compared with Highland La.s.sie in speed, wind, or anything.
There _she_ is, Mr. Cleek; and it's as natural as life, the beauty!”
Speaking, he waved his hand toward a framed picture of the missing animal--a coloured gift plate which had been given away with the Easter number of _The Horseman_, and which Farrow had had glazed and hung just over her box. Cleek, following the direction of the indicating hand, looked up and saw the counterfeit presentment of a splendidly proportioned sorrel with a splash of white on the flank and a white ”stocking” on the left forefoot.
”A beauty, as you say, Major,” agreed he, ”but do you know that I, for my part, prefer the charms of Chocolate Maid? May be bad judgment upon my part but--there you are. What a coat! What a colour! What splendid legs, the beauty! Mind if I step in for a moment and have a look at her?”
The major did not, so he went in forthwith and proceeded to look over the animal's points--feeling her legs, stroking her flanks, examining her hoofs. And it was then and then only that the major remembered about the visit to the farrier's over at Shepperton Old Cross and began to understand that it was not all simple admiration of the animal, this close examination of her.
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