Part 5 (2/2)
”Whew-w! The hostess?”
”Yes. Sir Philip's wife--young Geoff's stepmother; one of the sweetest, gentlest, most womanly women that ever lived. And to suggest that she ... either the fellow must have deliberately lied or his statement was the delusion of a dying man. It couldn't have happened--it simply couldn't, Cleek. Why, man, her ladys.h.i.+p was there--at the Close--when I left. It was she who put that jewel into my hand and asked me to leave it at Wuthering Grange when----”
He stopped, biting his words off short and laying a nervous grip on Cleek's arm; and Cleek, facing about abruptly, leaned forward into the mist and darkness, listening.
For of a sudden, a babble of angry voices, mingled with the sounds of a scuffle, had risen from the road beyond the gates, and hard on the heels of it there now rang forth sharply the shrill tones of Dollops crying out at the top of his voice:
”None o' yer larks, now! Got yer! Gov'ner! Mr. Narkom! This way! Come quick, will yer? I've copped the bounder. Out here in the bushes under this blessed wall!”
CHAPTER SIX
A LITTLE DISCREPANCY
The distance between the gates of Gleer Cottage and the porch wherein lay the body of the dead keeper was by no means a short one, but at the first sound of Dollops's voice the two men sped down the centre of the dark, mist-wrapped drive and out into the lane, their electric pocket torches sending two brilliant streams of light in front of them. The sounds of scuffling feet and of wrangling voices guided them along the broken, irregular line of the crumbling brick wall which encircled the grounds of the cottage, and following the lead of them, they came presently upon an amazing picture.
Close to that identical spot where, earlier in the night, Hammond had found the gap in the wall, two figures struggled together: the one, in a vain endeavour to free himself from the clutches of his captor; the other intent on bringing him to the ground, on which lay scattered all the drawings and paraphernalia with which Dollops had evidently been carrying out his master's instructions. The light of the torches revealed his prisoner to be a st.u.r.dy, fair-haired young man, and a first glance showed Cleek that he was arrayed in a fas.h.i.+onable light-weight overcoat which, torn open in the struggle, showed him also to be in immaculate evening dress. It hardly needed Mr. Narkom's startled exclamation, ”Geoff!” to tell the detective that this was indeed the son and heir of Sir Philip Clavering, the young man whose bitter threats against the dead man in the cottage had been so swiftly carried out.
But the exclamation had a far-reaching effect upon Dollops's prisoner, for he ceased struggling at once and faced round upon the superintendent so that the full glare of the torches could fall upon his features and leave not a shadow of doubt regarding his ident.i.ty.
”Hullo! Mr. Narkom!” he exclaimed. ”This _is_ a stroke of good luck and no mistake! Who and what is this enterprising individual upon my back? I can't see his interesting face, for he pounced upon me in the dark; but if I had known that his yells and cries were likely to bring _you_ upon the scene, I certainly shouldn't have gone to the length of struggling and getting my clothes in this awful mess.”
Cleek made a mental tally of that remark, and set alongside of it the circ.u.mstance that Dollops, when he first called out, had most distinctly mentioned Mr. Narkom by name. He said nothing, however; merely removed the pressure of his thumb from the controlling b.u.t.ton of his torch, slipped that useful article into his pocket, and busied himself with picking up Dollops's effects from the ground.
”Here you, whoever you are! You keep your blessed thievin' irons off them things!” snapped Dollops, with a wink at the superintendent. ”I say, Mr. Narkom, sir, don't let that josser go carryin' off my drorin's--them's for my gov'ner, _you_ know that. And, sir,” he went on earnestly, ”don't you be took in by none of the gammon of this 'ere person. Actin' suspicious and creepin' along in the dark he was when I 'opped up and copped him, sir, and no matter if he _is_ a party as you're acquainted with, sir----”
”He is,” interrupted the superintendent curtly, not, however, without some slight show of agitation at finding this particular young man in the neighbourhood at this particular time. ”The gentleman is Mr.
Geoffrey Clavering, my friend Sir Philip Clavering's son and heir.”
”Well, sir, I can't 'elp that,” began Dollops, but his words were interrupted by the captive himself.
”I shouldn't have blamed you if you had failed to recognize me from the state I'm in through the mistaken ardour of this enterprising youth, Mr.
Narkom,” he said. ”He appears not to have left one inch of my person unmarked with his hands; and if you would oblige me by requesting him to detach himself from me as expeditiously as possible, I shall be unspeakably obliged.”
”Certainly, Geoff. Dollops, let the gentleman go.”
”But, sir-- Mr. Narkom----”
”Stand back, I tell you!”
”But upon my sacred word of honour, sir----”
”You have heard what I said, haven't you? That's enough,” interrupted Narkom, sharply.
Dollops gave a swift glance at Monsieur Georges de Lesparre's face, then sullenly relinquished his hold on his prisoner, and with a knowing wink over his shoulder, busied himself with picking up his scattered and muddied papers.
”A jolly cheeky young beggar that, Mr. Narkom; I wonder you take his impertinences so lightly,” said young Clavering, who seemed, somehow, to have lost a little of his self-possession now that it became evident the matter of his presence must inevitably be the topic of conversation. ”I say, send him away, won't you? And if you would--er--send your friend away, too, I'd be obliged. I'd like to have a little conversation with you in private, if you don't mind.”
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