Part 30 (1/2)
His heart pounded as he waited, for if the man were asleep his efforts would be fruitless. Suddenly, however, there came a faint sound to his straining ears, and again he whispered in that sibilant whisper:
”Lord St. Ulmer, _fire_!”
He did not have time to repeat it, for there came the sound as of an extremely agile man leaping from his bed, and another moment he heard the snick of an unfastened lock, then the door opened.
Cleek waited not a second, his foot was in the narrow aperture, and he was through the door and had switched on the light before the other man had realized what had happened. Then he gave vent to a little low laugh of triumph as with his back against the closed door he surveyed the white-faced man who had retreated to the middle of the room.
”Good evening! Citizen Paul, good brother Apache, so it is you, is it?”
he said airily. ”Let us have a quiet little understanding, _mon ami_.
You need not be distressed. There is no fire. It is merely a bluff.
What! You do not know me. But wait! Look!” The serene face writhed suddenly, and it was as if another man took his place. ”Ever see a chap that looked like this, friend Paul, eh?”
”G.o.d! The Cracksman!”
”The identical party!” acknowledged Cleek blandly. ”Come! I want to have a few minutes' talk with you, my friend, and---- Stop! Don't back away!
Stop and face me. By G.o.d! you'll hang for last night's business if you don't!”
CHAPTER THIRTY
NEARING THE TRUTH!
It was one o'clock when Mr. Maverick Narkom, pacing uneasily up and down the narrow strip of turf just outside the boundary wall of Wuthering Grange, saw the door at the wall angle flash open and shut again, and without so much as a murmur of sound looked up to find Cleek standing within a few paces of him.
”My dear fellow! Gad, I never was so glad to see anybody in all my days,” exclaimed the superintendent, swooping down on him in a little whirlwind of excitement. ”Cinnamon! You'll never guess what's happened, Cleek, never! After all my instructions, those blundering idiots of local police were too late to catch Margot and her crew at Wimbledon, the house where young Raynor visited, as you wrote me. I went down myself directly Dollops brought me your note, but it was too late, the police had frightened her in some way----”
”It does not matter,” said Cleek calmly. ”I have come to the end of the riddle.”
”The end?” gasped Mr. Narkom. ”The end! Man alive, tell me who----”
”Patience, my friend; perhaps I ought not to have said that yet, some few things remain to be discovered, but the first thing to do is to carry out the murderer's message before it is too late, or the letters get into the wrong hands.”
”Whose letters?” exclaimed Mr. Narkom, naturally bewildered.
”The woman who lured Count de Louvisan, though that is not his name, to his death, Lady Clavering----”
”Lady Clav---- Heavens, man, what possible motive could she have?”
”We shall see, my friend, if my ideas are right. Call up Lennard and the limousine and let us go down to the cottage. With one more thread in my hand, and then to-night will see the knot unravelled.”
With this Mr. Narkom was fain to be content, and once in the car, the few minutes that elapsed before they reached Gleer Cottage were pa.s.sed in silence. At the gate, when the limousine drew up, Cleek aroused himself from his reverie.
”Mr. Narkom, get the constables stationed on duty near that room out of the way. Put them outside somewhere where they won't be able to see or hear what goes on at the back of the house. Then make an excuse of having to examine the body in reference to some new evidence that's just cropped up. I'll join you there in one minute.”
Mr. Narkom gave a nod of comprehension and vanished up the path, leaving his great ally to carry out his plans in his own inimitable fas.h.i.+on.
That was the last the superintendent saw of him until full twenty minutes later when, with his customary soundlessness, he came up out of the gloom of the neglected garden, entered the rear door of the cottage, and joined him in the room where the body of the dead man still hung, spiked to the wall, with knees bent, head lolling, and the lantern in Narkom's hand splas.h.i.+ng a grotesque shadow of him on the side of the chimney breast.
Cleek walked over to that ghastly human crucifix and regarded the dead man bitterly, his lips puckered, and his whole expression one of unspeakable contempt.