The Lost Million Part 17

"Yes," he said, with a light laugh. "I didn't feel over grand--a bad headache, just as I used to have years ago. But it was nothing. It didn't arise from anything I ate or drank. I knew that, and for that reason did not 'phone to Redwood. Yes," he added, "I spent a rather poor night. Asta became quite alarmed."

"Well," I exclaimed, "what is your theory regarding the poor fellow's death?"

"Theory! Well, after the medical evidence and the verdict of the jury, what can one think?" he asked. "There are certainly many curious points in the affair, and the chief one, to my mind, is the fact that he was found locked in the room."

"That's just my point. He could not have locked himself in."

"Yet, remember that we only have the evidence of the girl Hayes that he was locked in. In her hurry to enter the room she seems to have fumbled at the lock, and, of course, in her alarm at the discovery, may have been deceived, and thought the key had been turned."

I had not before regarded her statement from that point of view, and his suggestion caused me to ponder. But next second I asked--

"If the door was not locked, then why should he have hammered to get out?"

"But did he hammer?" queried Shaw. "Sounds in the night are always distorted, remember."

"Please don't discuss the horrible affair further, Dad," cried Asta, appealingly.

"My dear, I beg your pardon," he exclaimed, turning to her hastily. "I know I ought not to have mentioned the matter. Both Kemball and myself deeply condole with you in your grief. You never mentioned to me your affection for Guy, but I had guessed it long ago. I told Kemball about it, didn't I?" and he glanced across at me.

"Yes, you did," I said.

"Ah, poor Guy!" he sighed. "He was such a thorough sterling fellow, and I had hoped, Asta, that you would marry and be happy. But, alas! the Fates have willed it otherwise."

"I--I feel bewildered, Dad," exclaimed the girl. "I can't believe that he is really dead," and rising suddenly, she again burst into tears, and with uneven steps left the room.

"Poor child!" remarked Shaw in a low voice, when she had gone. "It is indeed a terrible blow for her. I had no idea that she was so devoted to him. She had many admirers in the neighbourhood, but he was evidently the one to whom she was most attached. And, between ourselves, Kemball," he added, in a low voice, his winegla.s.s poised between his white fingers, "he was one of the most eligible young fellows in the whole county--eight thousand a year, as well as a half-share in Nicholson Brothers of Sheffield. I had dreams of seeing Asta mistress of t.i.tmarsh Court. But, of course, I never told her so.

I believe in allowing a girl to make her own choice in life. Love affairs, if interfered with by elders, invariably turn out badly."

And so he chatted on as we smoked our cigarettes; and as I gazed into those small queer eyes of his, I became more and more convinced that my suspicions of the previous day had been unfounded. He could not possibly have had any hand in the poor fellow's untimely end.

He could not know of Guy's secret intention to make certain revelations to me--and even if he did, he knew quite well that I was already aware that he was leading a double life. No; when I carefully weighed over the whole of the facts, I came to the conclusion that the man before me--mysterious though he might be--had every motive that Guy Nicholson should live. I do not think my intelligence was much above that of the ordinary man, yet I felt that if he were an adventurer, as already seemed proved, then what more natural than that he should secure Nicholson as husband for Asta, and afterwards judiciously bleed him. It certainly was not to his interest that the fellow should die.

The circ.u.mstances were full of suspicion, I admit; but the hard facts certainly disproved that Harvey Shaw had had any hand in the strange affair.

Still, what was the Something which had held poor Guy horror-stricken, and which had produced symptoms so near akin to the affection of the brain that the doctors had been deceived by it and the Coroner and jury misled?

The opinion I still held was that Guy Nicholson did not die a natural death. Therefore I intended to leave no stone unturned in my endeavour to probe the extraordinary mystery, and to ascertain the truth of what had actually occurred in that long old room during the silent watches of that fateful night.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

CONTAINS ANOTHER SUGGESTION.

A week went by--a breathless, anxious week.

I had attended poor Guy's burial in the pretty churchyard of t.i.tmarsh village, and as I turned from the grave I could not help wondering about what he had intended to tell me, had he but lived to speak.

Yet his lips were sealed. Some one had known of his intentions, and had forced silence upon him.

My mind was ever full of dark thoughts and black suspicions, and yet I had so clearly proved that Harvey Shaw, against whom his intention was to speak, had had no hand in the matter. Of one thing, however, I was convinced: poor Nicholson had been cruelly murdered.

About eight days after the funeral, Shaw, one hot afternoon, drove over alone in his car, and found me smoking in a deck-chair beneath a tree.

The object of his visit was to tell me of Guy's will. It had been found, he said, that the young man had bequeathed the sum of ten thousand pounds to Asta.

"He was infatuated with her, poor fellow," Shaw declared, in a tone of slight annoyance. "Of course she will not touch a penny of it. How could she? Ah! when he made that will, only two months ago, he never dreamt that he would meet with such a sudden end."

"No," I sighed, my mind full of wonder. At that moment many strange things flitted across my brain. "We all of us foolishly believe that we have many years to live."

"As soon as Asta heard of the legacy, she declared that she would not accept it," he remarked, "But I suppose she must, even though she transfers it to some charity, as is her intention."

"I can quite understand her reluctance to take the dead man's present,"

I said. "It is only natural. Is she still very upset?"

"Very. I scarcely know what to do with her. She suffers from insomnia, and sits for hours moping and sobbing. I've been wondering if a trip abroad would bring about forgetfulness. But she declared that she's had enough travelling, and prefers her own home. Therefore I'm half afraid to take her away. Redwood advises a journey through Hungary and Roumania, which would be fresh ground for her. But at present I'm undecided."

He remained with me for a couple of hours, and afterwards left, when that same evening I was called by telephone up to London to see my lawyer regarding the pending action concerning a portion of my land.

Fortunately, at the inquest, I had met the dead man's solicitor, Mr Sewell, and in order to ascertain whether Shaw's statement was correct, I called upon him in Lincoln's Inn Fields. From what I gathered it seemed that the bulk of the property had pa.s.sed to a cousin, and that Asta had declined to accept her legacy, and had given instructions for it to be divided between three London hospitals.

The solicitor, like myself, disagreed with the finding of the Coroner's jury. Yet he could form no theory as to the manner in which his client had met with his untimely end.

On the afternoon of my return to Upton End, four days later, I was in the library scribbling a letter to catch the post, when a card was brought to me bearing the name, "Mrs Charles Olliffe."

"The lady has come by car, sir, and wishes very particular to see you,"

the girl said.

I was not over-pleased to have a visitor at that moment; nevertheless, I ordered her to be shown in, and in a few moments found myself confronted by a tall, well-built, good-looking, well-dressed woman of about forty-five, wearing a smart motor-bonnet and dust-coat. The latter was open, revealing a fine diamond brooch in her white silk blouse.

As our eyes met, I held my breath; but next moment I managed to recover myself, and bowing, offered her a chair.

"I hope, Mr Kemball, that you will pardon my intrusion. I am a stranger to you, but I wished to see you upon a matter of the greatest importance to myself."

"There is no necessity for apology," I a.s.sured her. "I am at your service."

My eyes were fixed upon her in wonder, for I had, on the instant I had seen her, recognised her as the original of the newspaper photograph I had locked away in my safe--the picture of Lady Lettice Lancaster!

She certainly had the air and manner of a lady, and surely none would have suspected her to be a convicted criminal. Notwithstanding her age, she was extremely well-preserved. She spoke low and with refinement, whilst her bearing was that of a well-bred woman. Her smile, too, as she spoke to me, was good-humoured, almost fascinating.

"The fact is, Mr Kemball," she said, as I seated myself and bent towards her in attention, resolved not to betray my knowledge of her ident.i.ty, "I believe you were a friend of a very great friend of mine."

"Who is that?" I asked quickly.

"Mr Melvill Arnold."

Across my mind there flashed the recollection of that threatening letter through which I had discovered the truth concerning the ingenious Lady Lettice.

"Yes. It is true that I knew Mr Arnold," I said slowly.

"It is about him that I have ventured to call. I live near Bath, but I motored over to-day in the hope of seeing you," she said. "I heard from a mutual friend that you were present at Mr Arnold's death, and that he entrusted you with certain matters concerning his estate. It was an honour, I a.s.sure you, for he trusted n.o.body."