The Riddle of the Purple Emperor

"That's all right," said Cleek, quietly. "But now what about the second murder? How did you come to go to Cheyne Court again? That wants explaining away, too."

"And it can easily be explained," retorted Sir Edgar, rapidly. "I was trying to find Lady Margaret, and I caught a glimpse, or thought I did, of a woman's figure in the grounds and followed it right into the house. There again I found the body of Miss Cheyne, as naturally I took it to be, and felt I must have gone out of my senses. There was something queer and supernatural in finding her again in the same spot. Like a donkey I took to my heels, and ran straight into Dr. Verrall half-way down the lane."

Cleek twitched up an enquiring eyebrow.

"Met Dr. Verrall in the lane, did you?"

"Yes. He told me he had come from Miss Wynne's house, he had been to borrow some drug from the old doctor's surgery or something. Anyway, I tell you I was tempted to blurt out the truth, but again I was afraid, for, as a matter of fact, we are not usually the best of friends – you see, well – " He broke off, finding this position rather more awkward than the others had been.

A little one-sided smile crept up Cleek's face and he put his hand upon the young man's shoulder.

"I know," he said, quietly, "he was jealous of you and Miss Wynne, wasn't he? She – er – entertains somewhat of a liking for you, doesn't she?"

"Yes, that's just it. Not that there was any cause, for though I have known Jenny all my life, I have never dreamt of marrying her. And after I met Margaret, she was the only girl in the world!"

"I know, I know," Cleek said, quietly. "But to return to our muttons, Sir Edgar. Didn't you meet any one else at all? Just think a moment. No woman at all – eh?"

For a moment Sir Edgar hesitated. Then his honest eyes met Cleek's, and read the knowledge in their keen depths.

"Yes," he said in a broken, choked voice, "you seem to know everything, Mr. Headland. I met my mother. She was doing what I know now she often had done, when perturbed or upset – walking in her sleep. God knows why she had chosen that particular part to wander in. But asleep she certainly was, for she failed to recognize me at all, and I managed to lead her gently back until she was once more in her bedroom."

Cleek looked at the young man sharply for a moment, as though questioning the verity of this statement.

Walking in her sleep, eh? That would account for many things. He remembered that Ailsa had told him about the sound of footsteps in Lady Brenton's room… Walking in her sleep, eh? So that was the explanation, was it? Or was it not likely to have been a case of hypnotism? Then remembering Lady Brenton's headaches Cleek began to see daylight at last. So Gunga Dall had not been lying after all when he said he saw her ladyship, and she had not lied either in replying that she knew she wasn't there. For if she were walking in her sleep, Lady Brenton certainly did not know of the fact. And that cleared a good many things in Cleek's mind.

"You know I'm speaking the truth, Mr. Headland, you do believe me, don't you?" put in Sir Edgar, suddenly, with a little anxious note in his voice. "I'd take my oath on it, you know."

"No need for that, my friend," responded Cleek, with a smile, "your word is enough. But if you want to help me, keep your eye on our young friend Bobby Wynne when you get to town. His movements will possibly be somewhat interesting, and I'd like to keep posted regarding them – So she was walking in her sleep then, eh? I begin to see light."

"Well, I'm hanged if I do," responded Sir Edgar, with a little shrug of the shoulders, "still, I'll do my part. And if only you'll find my Margaret – God! Mr. Headland, I'll do anything in the world to show my gratitude!"

Their hands met and clasped for a moment in the grip of friendship and in the next, Sir Edgar was striding away with new hope.

Cleek watched him go from the room and swing down the long path that lay by the window. Then he faced round suddenly and took up his stand once more by the broad window-sill to reconsider the changed aspect of things. Lady Brenton was clearly out of the case now, for it was not possible that she could have committed the actual murder, even in her sleep, so the case had narrowed down once more. What was worse, it was centring on the girl who had worn that gold scarf – Lady Margaret herself! And yet he would not believe that even desperate as she might have been made, she could deliberately kill her enemy. Yet if it were not she, who, then, had worn the scarf in her place? Not Miss Jennifer, for her scarf had been gold, it is true, but of a different colour and texture. The thought of her appearance recalled Dr. Verrall and again Cleek frowned heavily.

Dr. Verrall knew more than he had revealed at the inquest. Instinctively Cleek realized that the doctor was trying to shield Jennifer Wynne from discovery, shield the girl he loved despite everything. Jennifer had access to the old doctor's surgery, and someone had undoubtedly tampered with the bottle of prussic acid, as he knew already. Dr. Verrall himself might have climbed up – but the shreds of cloth which Cleek had found clinging to the ivy were not like any suit Dr. Verrall had worn. Certainly not like the black broadcloth which he had on the night of the murder when fetched from the lane where he had lurked so opportunely. True, he might have changed quickly, but not so quickly as that.

Cleek was still bent on the problem, but not so absorbed that he did not hear yet another light footfall outside, one that seemed to be approaching the window where he still sat. It stopped right under the window, and Cleek did not dare so much as move a finger lest he betray his presence. Backward and forward paced the light steps, and the rustle of a skirt told him it was a woman. Two, three, five minutes passed, and Cleek sat hunched and motionless, unable to see who this new visitor to the house of mystery might be.

That it was someone keeping a tryst was only too evident; waiting, too, for someone who had been delayed past an agreed time, as was indicated by the impatient tapping of one foot on the path. Well, Cleek was prepared to wait all night if necessary.

A sound came suddenly across the night, the sound of a cuckoo. With a little cry of relief, the woman outside answered the cry, softly and clearly.

"Quick! I am here," Cleek heard the words almost gasped out. Then there came the sound of snapping twigs as if a man were forcing his way through the dense shrubberies, followed by the sharp crunch of feet on the gravel. With these came the soft whisper of a man's voice warning the woman to keep silence as she rushed toward him, in a state bordering on absolute hysteria.

"Quick!" she said again. "If I am discovered here, or my absence noticed, all is lost! You don't know what horrors of suspense I have endured. I was afraid you would think better of your promise and go to the police, after all. All through the inquest I dreaded every opening of the door! Tell me you won't give him up. He is so young. Oh, I shall scream in a minute."

Again came the man's whispered "Hush!" and then he broke forth suddenly in an excited undertone.

"I tell you I saw him," he said in a voice which was quite unfamiliar to Cleek. "If you've got the money, all right, if not – "

He let the rest go by default, and Cleek heard a little moan of distress come from the woman. "All I've got left is here. I can't give you another penny," she cried, and Cleek heard her fumbling as in a bag.

But now he scarcely noticed her movements. Other and more startling thoughts were in his mind. A scent of jasmine was in his nostrils.

He did not need to move or see now, he knew that the unseen speaker was Jennifer Wynne, and that the boy she was trying to save was none other than the lad she had mothered and watched over – her idle young scamp of a brother. It was all as plain as a pikestaff. The lad, in the power of the tipster Blake, had seen through his disguise, and in the quarrel that must have followed had murdered him!

But with what? The prussic acid had been taken from his father's dispensary. Had he then gone prepared to kill him? Or was it not Bobby, after all, for whom Jennifer was allowing herself to be blackmailed. Could it be Sir Edgar? And who was this man who had discovered her secret, this man who was keeping back in the shadow of the bushes? What part was his in this grim tragedy of death?

It was Jennifer herself who gave the answer.

"I tell you this is the last I can give you or get from anywhere or any one," she said in a low, tense tone. "I knew you were both out for something, directly I recognized the imposture, but you must be content and leave me alone. How do I know that you didn't kill him yourself for that matter? Oh, if I only knew, if I only knew the truth, that it were not my boy!" Here her voice stopped and for a reason which made Cleek groan inwardly.

Down at the end of the path there came the sound of feet. He knew and understood what was happening, what an unkind blow Fate had dealt him.

Dollops was returning to be near his master, lest anything unforeseen should occur. There was just one little rustle like the sound of notes crackling. Then Jennifer sped forward along the path that led away from the house. The bushes crackled and snapped again, and the sound of a man's running feet echoed faintly from the other side of the hedge. Cleek was on his feet and over the window-sill like a flash. He ran down the lane openly, without so much as a look toward Dollops, struck through the ground, and cut into the meadows adjoining. Yes! – there was the figure of his quarry. Cleek bent his head and ran on.

It was but a brief second, then he looked up, to find his man again. He stopped short, as though struck by some invisible force.

Far as eye could see were the smooth green meadows dotted here and there in the distance with slumbering sheep, but of sign of human being there was none. The man had disappeared as though the ground or the sky had opened and swallowed him up. Cleek was alone in that expanse of green pasture, utterly and entirely alone!

CHAPTER XXII

THE TRAP

For the space of ten minutes after that staggering discovery Dollops, who had followed closely on his "Gov'nor's" heels, stood watching him trot round and round that field, not unlike one of the colts on the other side of the hedge.

Presently, as Cleek stood by a clump of golden gorse, Dollops saw him throw back his head and give a little laugh of triumph.

"Dollops," he called to the watching lad, "cut back to the Inn, and tell Mr. Narkom to send Lennard up to Cheyne Court with the car. I'm going back to nose around again, and may need them both."

"Yes, sir," said Dollops, obediently, "and shall I come back?"

"Please yourself," was the laughing reply. "I shall want you to keep an eye on the Wynnes, though. There's something there I'm not quite sure of – "

Dollops showed a sudden outburst of joy.

"You trust 'em to me," he said, excitedly. "I always did say as 'ow that young party was up to no good, but I'll look after 'em all right. You leave 'er to me."

With a little nod, Cleek turned back and Dollops sped off on his errand. At the beginning of the lane, however, his mind always on the alert, he looked back, and like his master a few minutes before, he had the surprise of his life. The field was one unbroken seat of grass and gorse bushes. Cleek, too, had disappeared!

For a moment Dollops stood stunned by the shock. Then he moved as if to turn back, but he had had his orders and as there had been neither sight nor sound of anything suspicious he turned once more, and ran as hard as he could in the direction of the village.

It was some half an hour later when the limousine drew up outside the door of Cheyne Court, and Dollops hopped out of it.

"Gawd send 'e's safe," said he, his teeth chattering like a monkey's.

"It gave me the fair 'ump, Mr. Narkom, when I looks back and 'e was gone, vanished clean off the map, so to speak. Wot if 'e ain't 'ere, after all? S'pose those devils, Pentacle gangers they was fer sure, nipped 'im? I ought never to 'ave left 'im! That's wot I oughtn't to 'ave done. An' if anything 'appens to 'im it'll be all my blooming fault!"