Who? Part 22

"Oh, that's not so very wonderful," protested the Inspector with an attempt at modesty, but he was evidently bursting with pride in his achievement.

"How did you do it? What had you to go on?" asked Cyril with genuine amazement.

"I began my search by trying to find out what cars had been seen in the neighbourhood of Geralton on the night of the murder--by neighbourhood I mean a radius of twenty-five miles. I found, as I expected, that half-past eleven not being a favourite hour for motoring, comparatively few had been seen or heard. Most of these turned out to be the property of gentlemen who had no difficulty in proving that they had been used only for perfectly legitimate purposes. There remained, however, two cars of which I failed to get a satisfactory account. One belongs to a Mr. Benedict, a young man who owns a place about ten miles from Geralton, and who seems to have spent the evening motoring wildly over the country. He pretends he had no particular object, and as he is a bit queer, it may be true. The other car is the property of the landlord of the Red Lion Inn, a very respectable hotel in Newhaven. I then sent two of my men to examine these cars and report if either of them has a new tire, for the gardener's wife swore that the car she heard had burst one. Mr. Benedict's tires all showed signs of wear, but the Red Lion car has a brand new one!"

"Bravo! That is a fine piece of work."

"Oh, that is nothing," replied the Inspector, vainly trying to suppress a self-satisfied smile.

"Did you find any further evidence against this hotel-keeper? What connection had he with the castle?" inquired Cyril.

"He knew Lord Wilmersley slightly, but says he has never even seen her Ladys.h.i.+p. And I am inclined to believe him."

"In that case what part does he play in the affair?"

"None, I fancy. You see he keeps the car for the convenience of his guests and on the day in question it had been hired by two young Frenchmen, who were out in it from two o'clock till midnight."

"Frenchmen! But how could they have had anything to do with the tragedy?"

"That remains to be seen. So far all I have been able to find out about these two men is that they landed in Newhaven ten days before the murder. They professed to be brothers and called themselves Joseph and Paul Durand. They seemed to be amply provided with money and wanted the best the hotel had to offer. Joseph Durand appeared a decent sort of fellow, but the younger one drank. The waiters fancy that the elder man used to remonstrate with him occasionally, but the youngster paid very little attention to him."

"You say they _professed_ to be brothers. Why do you doubt their relations.h.i.+p?"

"For one reason, the elder one did not understand a word of English, while the young one spoke it quite easily, although with a strong accent. That is, he spoke it with a strong accent when he was sober, but when under the influence of liquor this accent disappeared."

"And what has become of the pair?"

"They left Newhaven the morning after the murder. Their departure was very hurried, and the landlord is sure that the day before they had no intention of leaving."

"Where did they go to?"

"They took the boat to Dieppe. The porter saw them off."

"Have you been able to trace them farther?"

"Not yet, my lord, but I have sent one of my men to try and follow them up, and I have notified the continental police to be on the look-out for them. It's a pity that they have three days' start of us."

"But as you have an accurate description of both, I should imagine that they will soon be found."

"It's through the young 'un they'll be caught, if they are caught."

"Why, is he deformed in any way?"

"No, my lord, but they tell me he is abnormally small for a man of his age, for he must be twenty-two or three at the very least. The landlord believes that he is a jockey who had got into bad habits, and that the elder man is his trainer or backer. Of course, he may be right, but the waiters pooh-pooh the idea. They insist that the boy is a gentleman-born and servants are pretty good judges of such things, though you mightn't think it, my lord."

"I can quite believe it," a.s.sented Cyril. "But then there are many gentlemen jockeys."

"So there are. I only wish I had seen the little fellow, for they all agree that there was something about him which would make it impossible for any one who had once met him ever to forget him again."

"That certainly is a most unusual quality."

"So it is, my lord. They also tell me that if his eyes had not been so bloodshot, and if he had not looked so drawn and haggard, he'd have been an extraordinarily good-looking chap."

"Really?"

"Yes. It seems that he has large blue eyes, a fine little nose, not a bit red as you would expect, and as pretty a mouth as ever you'd see.

His hair is auburn and he wears it rather long, which I don't think he'd do if he were a jockey. Besides, his skin is as fine as a baby's, though its colour is a grey-white with only a spot of red in the middle of each cheek."

"He must be a queer-looking beggar!"

"That's just it. That's why I think we shall soon spot him."

"What did the elder Durand look like?"

"The ordinary type of Frenchman. He is about twenty-eight years old, medium height, and inclined to be stout. He has dark hair, a little thin at the temples, dark moustache, and dark eyes. His features are nondescript."

"On the night of the murder you say they returned to the hotel at about midnight?"

"Somewhere around then."

"Was their behaviour in any way noticeable?"

"The porter was so sleepy that he can't remember much about it. He had an impression that they came in arm in arm and went quietly upstairs."

"They were alone?"

"Certainly."

"But what do you think they had done with Lady Wilmersley?"

"But, my lord, you didn't expect that they would bring her to the hotel, did you? If they were her friends, their first care would be for her safety. If they were not--well, we will have to look for another victim, that is all."

"You think that there is that possibility?" inquired Cyril eagerly.

"I do, my lord." The Inspector rose ponderously to his feet. "I mustn't keep you any longer." He hesitated a moment, eyeing Cyril doubtfully.

There was evidently still something he wished to say.

Cyril had also risen to his feet and stood leaning against the mantelpiece, idly wondering at the man's embarra.s.sment.

"I trust her Ladys.h.i.+p has quite recovered?" the Inspector finally blurted out.

CHAPTER XI

THE INSPECTOR INTERVIEWS CYRIL