The Sign of the Stranger Part 29

"Ah! Then you didn't recognise the voice?"

"How could I recognise the voice of a person unknown to me?" I asked.

"I mean that the cry was a man's?"

"No--a woman's."

"What?" he exclaimed, taking his cigar from his lips, and staring at me with a hardness at the corners of his mouth. "Are you quite sure of that? It isn't in the evidence I've read."

"I know it isn't," I said. "There are several things known to me that are not in the depositions."

"And what are they?"

"Matters which concern only myself," I replied. "I'm endeavouring to obtain a solution of the mystery. The police have failed, so I am making independent inquiries on my own account."

His brows again contracted slightly, and I saw that what I said was to him the reverse of welcome.

"And what have you discovered?" he asked with a dark look which struck me as curious. "You have surely good scope for your efforts in such an affair. Lord Stanchester is exceedingly anxious that the truth should be revealed. He asked me my opinion--knowing my keen interest in mysteries of all sorts."

"And what is your opinion?"

"Shall I tell you, Mr Woodhouse?" he asked with a mysterious smile, bending earnestly towards me and lowering his voice. "Well, my own opinion is that you yourself know more about it than any one."

"Me!" I cried, looking at the fellow. "You don't imply that I'm guilty of the murder, do you?"

"Oh!--not at all--not at all?" he hastened to a.s.sure me. "I intended to convey that you are in possession of certain facts unknown to the police. Do you understand me?"

"Not exactly," I replied. "If you suggest that I know the dead man's real name, then I admit it. His name was Wingfield--Hugh Wingfield."

"What!" he gasped, his sinister countenance turning pale, as he stood aghast. "You know that! Who told you?"

"I found out for myself," I answered, looking him full in the face. "I discovered it by the same means as I discovered other things--that the dead man wore on his finger the portrait of Lady Lolita, and--"

"And what else?" he asked breathlessly. "Be frank with me as I will, in a moment, be frank with you. Did you discover anything in his pockets-- any letter--or anything written in numbers--a cipher?"

"I did."

"Then show it to me," he urged quickly. "Let me see it."

"I shall do nothing of the sort!" was my firm response. "What is written there is my own affair."

"Of course. But you can't read it without the key," he declared with a defiant laugh.

"I desire no a.s.sistance," I said briefly.

"But if I mistake not, Mr Woodhouse, you entertain affection towards Lady Lolita--and--well, your affection is reciprocated--at least so she tells me," he added with a slight sneer, I thought.

"And what, pray, does that concern the paper found in the dead man's pocket?" I inquired resentfully. "I know rather more of the affair than you conjecture," I added. "And as you wish me to speak plainly I may as well remark that I have certainly no confidence in the person who is guest in this house under the name of Smeeton, and whose real name is Richard Keene."

The man drew back with a start and stood glaring at me blankly, open-mouthed, his eyes starting from his head.

I smiled when I saw the effect upon him of my sudden accusation.

But next moment my smile of triumph died from my lips, and I it was who stood bewildered.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

REFERS TO CERTAIN UGLY FACTS.

Richard Keene placed his cue upon the floor, and leaning upon it, looked straight at me and said--

"Yes. It is quite true that I'm in this house under false colours. But do you think it will be to your advantage, Mr Woodhouse, to quarrel with me?"

"I only know that your presence here is unwelcome to certain members of Lord Stanchester's household," I exclaimed. "And I should consider it a very wise course if you excused yourself and left."

"Why should I?" he asked triumphantly. "I'm really enjoying myself here very much. The Earl gives his guests plenty of sport."

"And you, on your part, are making sport of an innocent woman!" I said, with rising anger at the fellow's defiance.

"I suppose Lady Lolita has told you something, then?" he remarked.

"Lady Lolita has told me of your merciless att.i.tude towards her," I said. "I am quite well aware of your secret communications with Lady Stanchester," I added. "And it is plain to me in what direction your efforts are directed."

He started again, looking at me as though uncertain how far my knowledge of his past extended. Then he slowly stroked his short-cropped beard.

"In other words then the two women have betrayed me--eh?" he observed thoughtfully in a harsh mechanical voice, as though speaking to himself.

"Not in the least," was my answer. "They dare not betray you--that you know quite well. But my affection for Lady Lolita, to which you referred just now, has caused me to make certain inquiries with somewhat curious results. Therefore, I tell you plainly, Mr Keene, that if you are not desirous of exposure you had better leave Sibberton before noon to-morrow."

"And if not?" he inquired, raising his eyebrows.

"If not, I shall go to his lords.h.i.+p and tell him your real name."

He laughed in my face.

"Well, that's exactly what would bring matters to a head," he declared.

"Perhaps, after all, it would be best if he did know--for I could then reveal to him, and to the world, a truth that would be both ugly and startling. Tell him who I am, if you wish, but before doing so, is it not better to carefully consider all the eventualities?"

At that instant Lolita's maid Weston opened the door, apparently looking for her mistress. Her eyes met Keene's, and I saw a look of mutual recognition. But in an instant the young woman closed the door again.

Keene made no remark, but I saw surprise and apprehension written upon his sun-bronzed features.

"Then, in a word, you refuse to relieve these ladies of your presence?"

I said in a firm tone.

"I refuse to obey any paid servant of Lord Stanchester," was his insulting response.

"But if you recollect the manner in which you first visited Sibberton-- as a hungry tramp who drank beer at the _Stanchester Arms_--you must admit that your presence here is, to say the least, suspicious. You entrusted to Warr a letter to Lady Lolita--and village publicans will gossip, you know."