Part 7 (1/2)

But on reflection I determined to hold my tongue and abide my time.

For anything I knew, Mr. Cazalette might have cut one of his feet on the sharp stones on the beach, used his handkerchief to staunch the wound, thrown it away into the hedge, and then, with a touch of native parsimony, have returned to recover the discarded article. Again, he might be in possession of some clue, to which his tobacco-box investigations were ancillary--altogether, it was best to leave him alone. He was clearly deeply interested in the murder of Salter Quick, and I had gathered from his behaviour and remarks that this sort of thing--investigation of crime--had a curious fascination for him. Let him, then, go his way; something, perhaps, might come of it. One thing was very sure, and the old man had grasped it readily--this crime was no ordinary one.

As the twilight approached, making my work in the library impossible, and having no wish to go on with it by artificial light, I went out for a walk. The fascination which is invariably exercised on any of us by such affairs led me, half-unconsciously, to the scene of the murder. The tide, which had been up in the morning, was now out, though just beginning to turn again, and the beach, with its ma.s.ses of bare rock and wide-spreading deposits of sea-weed, looked bleak and desolate in the uncertain grey light. But it was not without life--two men were standing near the place where I had come upon Salter Quick's dead body. Going nearer to them, I recognized one as Claigue, the landlord of the Mariner's Joy. He recognized me at the same time, and touched his cap with a look that was alike knowing and confidential.

”So it came about as I'd warned him, sir!” he said, without preface.

”I told him how it would be. You heard me! A man carrying gold about him like that!--and showing it to all and sundry. Why, he was asking for trouble!”

”The gold was found on him,” I answered. ”And his watch and other things. He wasn't murdered for his property.”

Claigue uttered a sharp exclamation. He was evidently taken aback.

”You hadn't heard that, then?” I suggested.

”No,” he replied. ”I hadn't heard that, sir. Bless me! his money and valuables found on him. No! we've heard naught except that he was found murdered, here, early this morning. Of course, I concluded that it had been for the sake of his money--that he'd been pulling it out in some public-house or other, and had been followed. Dear me! that puts a different complexion on things. Now, what's the meaning of it, in your opinion, sir?”

”I have none,” I answered. ”The whole thing's a mystery--so far. But, as you live hereabouts, perhaps you can suggest something. The doctors are of the opinion that he was murdered--here--yesterday evening: that his body had been lying here, just above high-water mark, since, probably, eight or nine o'clock last night. Now, what could he be doing down at this lonely spot? He went inland when he left your house.”

The man who was with Claigue offered an explanation. There was, he said, a coast village or two further along the headlands; it would be a short cut to them to follow the beach.

”Yes,” said I, ”but that would argue that he knew the lie of the land.

And, according to his own account, he was a complete stranger.”

”Aye!” broke in Claigue. ”But he wasn't alone, sir, when he came here!

He'd fallen in with somebody, somewhere, that brought him down here--and left him, dead. And--who was it?”

There was no answering that question, and presently we parted, Claigue and his companion going back towards his inn, and I to Ravensdene Court. The dusk had fallen by that time, and the house was lighted when I came back. Entering by the big hall, I saw Mr. Raven, Mr.

Cazalette, and the police-inspector standing in close conversation by the hearth. Mr. Raven beckoned me to approach.

”Here's some most extraordinary news from Devonport--where Quick came from,” he said. ”The inspector wired to the police there this morning, telling them to communicate with his brother, whose name, you know, was found on him. He's had a wire from them this afternoon--read it!”

He turned to the inspector, who placed a telegram in my hand. It ran thus:

”Noah Quick was found murdered at lonely spot on riverside near Saltash at an early hour this morning. So far no clue whatever to murderer.”

CHAPTER VI

SECRET THEFT

I handed the telegram back to the police-inspector with a glance that took in the faces of all three men. It was evident that they were thinking the same thought that had flashed into my own mind. The inspector put it into words.

”This,” he said in a low voice, tapping the bit of flimsy paper with his finger, ”this throws a light on the affair of this morning. No ordinary crime, that, gentlemen! When two brothers are murdered on the same night, at places hundreds of miles apart, it signifies something out of the common. Somebody has had an interest in getting rid of both men!”

”Wasn't this Noah Quick mentioned in some paper you found on Salter Quick?” I asked.

”An envelope,” replied the inspector. ”We have it, of course.

Landlord--so I took it to mean--of the Admiral Parker, Haulaway Street, Devonport. I wired to the police authorities there, telling them of Salter Quick's death and asking them to communicate at once with Noah. Their answer is--this!”

”It'll be at Devonport that the secret lies,” observed Mr. Cazalette suddenly. ”Aye--that's where you'll be seeking for news!”