The Riddle of the Purple Emperor

"Come on," said he, through clenched teeth, "not a sound if you can help it, and look if there are any strange footprints."

"The place is alive with footprints!" ejaculated Constable Roberts, as he turned the light of his bull's-eye downward and it revealed unmistakable traces on the soft, yielding earth. They led right up to the edge of the marble terrace. "Look, sir, this is the way he come down the lane, up this path and straight ahead. Come on!"

Straight down the narrow path they went without break or interruption, shielded by the overshadowing trees, their eyes bent on the countless footprints which followed each other down the centre in one long unbroken line leading right to the house.

Suddenly at the front steps they stopped short, and Cleek and Narkom stopped also, for from the steps they took another direction altogether, wheeling about sharply and leading toward the terrace where they seemed to terminate.

But Constable Roberts was keenly on the look-out, being a dutiful policeman if a trifle slow.

"Here they are again, sir," he whispered, pointing to the left along the terrace where, since the previous night's rain, the thick dust had evidently been laid. "See, 'ere's where 'e went, right over this blessed wall. Ten chances to one but what 'e's cut 'isself with all that broken glass at the top. Fancy finding broken glass on a marble bannister!" He snorted under his breath as he lifted himself over the low balustrade after pushing the glass aside. "Mind 'ow you come, gents. Fair copped him out, as sure as guns is guns. Better let me go first, 'e's in there right enough. You can see the light moving about."

A single look was enough to convince Cleek and Mr. Narkom of the truth of the constable's words, and in an instant they had sprung up, gripped the edge of the wall, scrambled over it and dropped down on the marble terrace beneath. In the room, of which Sir Edgar had acknowledged breaking the glass of the window, thin, wavering lines of constantly shifting light could be seen through the chinks of the wooden shutters. But so well had the wooden barriers been nailed up, that it was impossible to see anything more than this shifting streak of light, and Cleek, abandoning the attempt, led a swift flight round to the back of the building. To the intense astonishment of them all they found a small side door, not only unlocked, but ajar. Through this they made their way down a passage and up into the hall to the dining room. The thin streak of light beneath the door told them that their quarry was still there, run to earth at last. They stopped for a moment, their nerves strung to breaking point, their hearts beating wildly as they thought of what lay before them.

Only for a brief second they paused, then Cleek's head went up.

"Now," he whispered, and in they went, with a rush that sent the old panelled door crashing back on its hinges with a queer sort of groan.

But again, as on the previous day, no figure at bay rose to fight them. Once more only the squeal and rustle of countless mice behind the oak-panelled walls came to their listening ears.

To all appearances the dining room was exactly in the same condition as when Cleek had first entered it with the girl they now were seeking so strenuously. The room was empty. A guttering candle contrasted strangely with the rich polished mahogany of the table on which it had been placed, but its faint light revealed no living thing.

They stared at one another in mute astonishment, then Cleek switched on his electric torch and swept it from ceiling to floor.

It swung around like a miniature searchlight, then stopped abruptly, and ejaculations of horror fell from the lips of the watching men.

On the hearth-rug on the opposite side of the room from where they stood, half hidden by the great divan chair, lay the figure of a woman. The life-blood was oozing from a gun-wound above the breast and it needed only one brief glance to tell them that she was already past their aid! Blankly they stared into each other's faces as recognition came.

"Miss Cheyne!"

Hideous fact though it was, there could be no doubt as to her identity. The golden, curled hair, the beringed hands were identically the same as Cleek had seen, and it seemed to his almost dazed senses, seen in the same position – just a month ago in the ballroom! It was the same woman who had driven the constable and himself away, barely an hour after that dreadful discovery and certainly the same who had glared at them so threateningly on the previous day!

Yet here she was in an apparently empty house.

For a moment all three men stood staring in appalled silence.

Then Constable Roberts backed shudderingly away.

"The Lord deliver us," he said in a quaking whisper. "It's Miss Cheyne herself, sir, and dead just as the young officer said a month ago."

At any other time Cleek would have noted this compliment paid to his disguise, but now he stood staring down at the grimly grotesque figure, all the colour drained from his lips and cheeks.

"How and when did she come back? Where did she hide herself yesterday?" said Constable Roberts, in hushed, awed tones. Nobody answered him. Nobody seemed to have heard. For Cleek and Mr. Narkom the discovery threatened to possess an even more tragic importance. In the finding of this woman shot to the heart they recognized that the deed threatened by Sir Edgar Brenton but a few short hours ago had now indeed been committed.

"Good Heavens!" gasped out Mr. Narkom at last, his lips dry, his voice tense and strained, "and so we came too late. No wonder we waited in vain. Poor boy, poor boy, the mystery is at an end."

"On the contrary, my friend," flung back Cleek sharply, a bright spot of colour showing in each cheek, "I venture to think it has only just begun. Constable Roberts, search this house first, then mount guard. Don't let any one enter or leave it. If any living man or woman comes near, arrest them, no matter who they are. But don't leave the place unguarded for a single instant. A doctor must be fetched and Dollops must find him.

"Thank goodness Sir Edgar is in London and can supply an alibi," he added, almost under his breath.

But Constable Roberts turned on his heel as he caught the words, the ruddy colour deserting his face, leaving it white and strained.

"Beggin' your pardon, sir, but that's just what 'e ain't. I passed the station on my way here, and there was Sir Edgar 'imself on top of the steps. 'E must 'ave come in by the 9:10 train and 'e didn't see me, but I see 'im as plain as life. Lord pray someone else saw 'im, too!"

Speaking, he turned and left the room, and as Mr. Narkom gazed at Cleek, their mutual feeling showed only too visibly on their white, tense faces.

So the unhappy boy had taken matters into his own hands after all. That matter was only too clear. He might have gone to town, true enough, but only waited there long enough for it to get dark, that he might be free and undisturbed in his task of revenge.

"There's no help for it, Cleek," said the Superintendent with a little shrug of despair. "I would have given one hundred pounds to have prevented it, but – "

His voice trailed off and he let the rest of the sentence go by default. Without further comment he turned and hurried out of the room. Already he could hear Constable Roberts tramping from floor to floor in a vain search for something in the nature of a murderer, and could not help thinking once more as he went out into the blackness of the night of the tragedy that this hot-headed boy had brought upon his house.

Cleek followed slowly. It took him but a second to get back into the lane, but there was no sign of Dollops, nor did the familiar hoot of a night-owl, Cleek's favourite signal, bring forth any reply. Dollops indeed had vanished as if the earth had opened and swallowed him up.

CHAPTER XI

A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY

Meanwhile Dollops, obedient to Cleek's behest, had been patrolling round Cheyne Court, and was getting exceedingly tired of that proceeding.

He had been two or three times round the building when he saw the figure of Constable Roberts travelling swiftly away from the house, but receiving no signal, like the faithful watchdog he was, he remained at his post, facing the back of the house. Five minutes passed, and there was no sound of any kind save the rustling of the branches swayed by the wind, and the soft drip of moisture from the trees. Still he stood there, watchful, keen, with every nerve alert for sight or sound.

Five minutes became ten – fifteen – twenty, then, of a sudden, Dollops' nerves gave a sort of jump and a swift prickle flashed down through the soft down of hair upon his neck. For a sound had come at last, a quick, grating sound as of a window being opened. He stood on tiptoe and flashed the light of his latest and most treasured possession, a powerful electric torch, all round him.

As the light streamed forth and he flung a shifting circle before him, there moved across it the figure of a woman, clad in scarlet, her hair floating over her shoulders and over the intervening space there stole a strange sweet smell of jasmine.

A woman here, at this hour, and under such strange circumstances! The thing was so startling that it was little wonder Dollops stood as if turned to stone. She was gone so soon, just glimmering across the circle of light and then vanishing into the darkness as suddenly as she had appeared, that for a brief second he lost his nerve, believing that he had seen the apparition said by the superstitious villagers to haunt the grounds. Indeed, as if to make this illusion even more real, there came an unearthly wailing moan from the earth beneath his feet, a sound that would have chilled even stronger nerves than Dollops', tired with the strain of waiting.

With a yell the lad turned and fled down the lane in pursuit of the speeding figure.

At the end of the path, however, winded and spent, he stopped short, and as his eyes pierced the gloom in search of his prey, for the second time that night, his limbs shook beneath him. Looking in all directions he had turned back and had caught a glimpse of the windows of Cheyne Court. Here he saw a sight that caused his strained nerves to tremble like live wires. Something was happening in the old house at last! Over the low-lying porch half covered with ivy was a great landing window, one of those which had been kept religiously closed, but was now wide open, and on the sill of it there appeared the startlingly clear figure of a woman. She was young, fair-haired, and clad in white with a gold lace scarf round her head. Lightly and cautiously she balanced herself on the sill and as lightly let herself down till she reached the ground.

But the terrible sound of a few minutes before had startled others besides poor Dollops. Mr. Narkom, unable to find him, had returned to Cleek, whereupon Constable Roberts, who had found the house empty as regards any human being, had been duly dispatched to the village in the opposite direction to find Dr. Verrall.

Left to themselves once more, Cleek and Mr. Narkom proceeded to investigate. The Constable had been gone about ten minutes or so when the sound of that unearthly wail caused both men to falter in their work.

"What, in Heaven's name, is it? Supernatural or human?" exclaimed the Superintendent.

"Neither," rapped out Cleek. "I'll look into that next, but at present I – " he threw up his head and sniffed violently at the air. "Yes, it's as I thought. That woman's been here again."

Switching on his heel, he walked over to the dead woman, made a thorough examination, and the queer little smile fluttered for a moment up his cheek. Suddenly he bent down and sniffed at her dress, the lace ruffles on her sleeves, even the dead fingertips, all of which he subjected also to the closest scrutiny.

Suddenly, too, he rose to his feet, and stood looking down, first at the body itself, and then at a little shining object that lay near by.

"Hmn," he said musingly, "as I thought, two people at least and one of them a woman at that – "

"Cleek, my dear fellow!" murmured Mr. Narkom, who had at last succeeded in lighting a couple of lamps and some wax candles which made the room a little less gloomy.

"The scent first," flung back that gentleman quickly. "The place reeks of Huile de jasmin, while this," he pointed to the silent figure, "is a speaking witness, even though dead." A grim smile flickered over his mobile features as he stood, his lower lip sucked in, his chin pinched hard between his finger and thumb. "If there isn't a very great surprise in store for the good people of Hampton shortly I'll miss my guess."