The Gate House Mystery

Southern Cross, Volume 22, Issue 13, 27 June 1914, Page 13

The Gate House Mystery

CHAPTER X. The position should have heen romantic. A lover beneath the trees in the Garden of Eden, waiting in breathless impatience for the coming of one w ho was to turn Eden into I ai adise. That was what it should have been. Actually Dick Houlden felt his nerves on edge ; they were strung to breaking point. It was very silent in the garden of the Gate "House, but then the w T hole world was silent that night. The signs and sounds of industry which jar somewhat on the seeker after solitude in that once the wildest, loveliest tract of country in all the wild West Riding were hushed and shrouded. The man’s eyes were fixed on the windows of the big ,house. He had chosen his position carefully. From where he stood, he • could see the front of the great sombre dwelling, and he could also see the end before which the flower garden lay. The instructions Dick had received had been all too vague. Nancy Fortune had merely said “the garden,” and the garden was big. What if he should miss her ? If he did he would not be able to give her the key. Did he intend to give it to her in any case ? That morning he had been so proud of the idea of proving his usefulness in this way ; it had seemed such an excellent method of showing Nancy that he was a resourceful friend. Now, with Simeon Greaves’ warnings still sounding in his ears he had come to doubt. What had the fellow said ? Stained with blood. The whole. atmosphere of the place oppressed him, yet it was a. beautiful peaceful garden, and it belonged to the most popular man in the district. Dick actually caught himself glancing round apprehensively. In fancy , he saw Eucien Cawood, tall, yet always so terribly malformed, passing noiselessly amidst the trees. Was it just fancy which painted the benevolent kindly land owner as the spirit of evil ? Before he had time to find an answer something happened to drive away such thoughts for the moment. A gleam of light shone suddenly from where just before it had shown dimly through a curtained window. 'At the end of the house a French window", which led on to the lawn, had been opened, and Dick’s breath came faster as he feasted ;his eyes on a picture ne never forgot. On the first of the low stone steps Nancy Fortune stood. He could see

Thrilling Tale of the West Riding, jjjj

RALPH RODD, ||

Author of “ The Hand on the Strings.” “The Searchlight.” “ The Sneak. “ A Man Beguiled. ” [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] f' w W M M W W ig IJ W W

her slight graceful form against the background of the brightly lighted room. The girl hesitated a moment, he saw her glance behind her, then she drew a light wrap more closely round her ,shoulders, passed down the steps and crossed the lawn. The man began to move lin her direction, he dare not follow her, because all in an instant those many windows had turned into watching eyes, but keeping still in the shadow of the trees, and walking swiftly, he contrived to reach the point to to which she strolled. Nancy was looking about her'"anxiously, perhaps it had struck her as it had done him, that the tryst she had given him had been too vague. The man. moved > forward. They were too far from the house for there, to be any fear of low voices being heard. “I hope I haven’t startled you,” he said. ‘The been waiting ever so long.” It sounded so commonplace ; he would have waited patiently every hour of the night for the chance of this meeting. “I’m sorry,” she faltered. “I mean I daren’t come < before. You have got what you said you would bring ? Please give me them quickly.” The realisation was bitterly disappointing. Anticipation had painted something so different. “The miniature and the broken chain are here. I wrapped them up.” Their fingers touched as she took the little parcel. She hated to think of its contents, the handsome face of the man, who having played the guardian’s part, now sought to play another. “The box of wax,” he went on, “was injured, that is destroyed.” Then, as he heard a little gasp which he took to be one of dismay, he continued, quickly. “I don’t think it matters, because, before it was damaged, T had a key made from the impress.”

She started. Surely she was pleased !

“Here it is,” Dick said, holding it. out to her, and forgetting for the moment Simeon Greaves’ words in his anxiiety to convince her of the thoroughness with which he had done her work.

Instead of taking it the girl suddenly clasped her hands. “The key !” she whispered. “No, no, I daren’t !”

She was actually shrinking from it. He had meant to win her gratitude, instead he seemed to have terrified her.”

“But surely, Miss Fortune——”

And , then he i stopped in amazement. She had met him almost a stranger, had stood at some little - distance ; now she was- close —very close to him, and had seized his arm as she sought to draw, him further back into the shadow. .

“Hush,” she. whispered in his ear. He could feel her warm breath on his cheek. “The window —look !”

The absolute horror In the girl’s tone’ startled Dick. Instinctively he turned his glance upon the house. The window" by which Nancy had left was still open, nor was there anyone on the stone steps, but three windows 1 away a bright light was burning in another room, and between the light. and . the casement stood' a man. His shadow, was shown in bold relief across the blind. There was no mistaking who the man was ; Dick recognised him instantly. “It,is always like that,” she whispered, “he is always close at hand, ready to 'watch, to listen. He said he was. r ,going out.” , They were very close together under the trees that shadow on the blind had made all the difference. Nancy had even forgotten to release Dick’s, arm.

“I must go,” she whispered, forlornly. “I daren’t stay any longer. If he should find me !”

“Well, and if he should?” The man had recovered from the first shock. Of course he did not want Cawood to discover h!im' there, for, though there was nothing to be ashamed of, it would inevitably lead to explanations which would probably bring out the fact of Nancy’s secret visit to The Wanderer.

Instead of answering his question she shivered, and that she should do so made Dick angry. “Miss Fortune,” he expostulated, “you don’t mean that you are actually afraid of him? tie is only vour guardian.” “Only my guardian,” she repeated, tonelessly. “And he is fond of ; you?” It was a question x*ather than a suggestion. “Yes,” she admitted. Then suddenly she woke to life. “That is the hateful part—l do not want his fondness.”

Dick’s spirits rose. “Then if you feel like that,” he said, “I really don’t think you ought to stay here. Why not go to some of your friends ?” “I have no friends.”

“Oh, come, come !” Nancy Fortune no friends ! It seemed so preposterous, and then the story Nicholls Beverley had told him flashed across his mind.

“None,” she repeated, hopelessly ; “I mean none of my own. There are plenty who are kind to me for his sake, but no one would believe ” She stopped abruptly, as though afraid that she had said too much. “I must go. Don’t think me.ungrateful. You have been so kind. Goodnight.” Yes, she was right. To some extent, at any rate, she was Nicholls Beverley had spbken enthusiastically of the magnanimity shown by the man who had made himself the guardian of the child of the man who had robbed him. Told as the inspector had told it, it was a pleasant story ; few men would have been forgiving as Eucien Cawood had been. Not content with merely befriending the fraudulent steward’s daughter, he had adopted her and lavished every luxury bn her. She was a penniless little pauper, and she rode • through the countryside like a young queen. Knowing that, was it likely that Cawood’s friends would accept Nancy’s story ? “Look here,” Dick broke out impetuously. “I can’t let you go like this.” She was afraid of Eucien Cawood ; he distrusted he distrusted him,, that was enough. “Listen to me. ‘I know I’m only a stranger, yet at least I’m on the spot, and more anxious than I can say to be of use to you. Miss Fortune, why shouldn’t we believe that Fate has sent me here for no other purpose ?” At least she iwas listening, and the m'an went on pleadingly. “You know you were going to let that other fellow help you, so* why shouldn’t I.? You can’t have known him very well when you mistook me for him ; mayn’t I take his place ?” “Take his place,” she whispered, and all the horror had come back to her voice. His place—have you forgotten ? , He came here a stranger, as you did,” Her voice was so low that he could only catch the words, “and he was-murdered.” “You know by whom ?” “No, no,” she almost pleaded ; “how should I know ?”

The shadow on the blind moved ; Nancy Fortune covered her face with iher hands.

The man beneath the trees stood for an instant watching the shadow.; It held him with an awful fascination J Then he turned again to Nancy, and greatly daring, he drew her hands from her face.

“You are not to be frightened,” he said. “I won’t have you frightened.; After all, it’s simple enough. You can’t go on living here, so you must let me take a message to someone you can go and stay , with. Can’t you think of someone I can take you to at once, so that you needn’t go back to the Gate House at all ?” Although he was in earnest he expected her quick refusal ; indeed, she seemed actually to be weighing the proposal. Perhaps that fact more than anything else brought home to him the reality of the position. And then Nancy shook her head.. “It would be too dangerous for, you.- Besides, where could I go to ? I tell you, I have nobody who would, side with me against him even if I dare go against him. It’s no good it’s not a bit of good. You had better go away quickly before anything else happens.”

It seemed to Dick .that no man had ever heen in such a difficult position before. He wanted to take the girl in his arms and soothe away her fears, yet he knew that he must not even hint at his personal feelings towards her ;to do' so would be to lose the little ground he had gained. This other man was pestering her with the fondness she did not want. If he should suggest more than friendship she would think that all men were alike. And so he tried a fresh line. “Tell me about the key. What were you going to do with it ?” “Nothing. It was he who was going to use it, not I. My work was simply to obtain the impress for him.” 'Dick Houlden felt his heart sink. This was terrible. What was it Inspector Nicholls Beverley had said when he had built up the theory that the murdered man had in all probability' come to the neighbourhood on a nefarious errand? He had spoken of the assistance such a man might obtain from a dishonest footman or an ambitious housemaid. Suppose if,, instead of either, an unscrupulous rascal had found a readier tool in a very innocent girl who really needed a friend. “Who was the man ?” “I don’t know.” “"Well, but you know his name ?” “No.” “No.” Dick’s ey es opened wider was ever such credulity ? A pause, then : “And after the fellow had made and used his key, what then ? Was that to be the end of the business ?” “Oh, no,” the girl returned, innocently ; “he was going to take me away—help me to escape, you know.” The listener clenched his fists. No harm’ was done, the fellow was dead and out of the way" : it would do no good to revile his memory, only" he had not thought so soon to find out that the fellow had, apparently, met the fate he deserved. And then the lawyer in Dick Houlden made him switch off that line of thought hurriedly". He was ashamed of it because it left too much unexplained. After all, nobody knew for certain that the murdered man had not been an artist, and he had certainly" not been killed for attempting the abduction of Cawood’s ward. “I want to take you away from this place now, this very" moment, but I suppose I mustn’t be too rash for y our own sake. You know, really, there is nothing to he afraid of” —that was true since Cawood loved her —“I want a day" to think it all over and make some plan. Onlv, understand, I won’t let things go on like this.” “You’d ever so much better not interfere,’: she pleaded. “If harm should come of it, I think I should go mad.”

She was overwrought, that was how Dick put it. Besides, any r way, the man who had met with so dreadful a fate had been a total stranger to the district, whereas he,, Dick, had Inspector Nicholls Beverley behind him. That made a difference.

“There isn’t the slightest fear,” Dick said, and he knew that if there had been it would not have stopped him. Now, may" I see you tomorrow, or must I go straight up to the house and tackle Cawood ? It has got to be one or the other—which ?” In spite of all her troubles, Nancy", Fortune smiled, for there was something' very comforting in this new friend’s decisive tone. She needed his help so badly". Difficulties were crowding in upon her. For the moment she let her thoughts travel back a little. A lonely", not unhappy" childhood, then the first realisation of

what' Lucien Cawood’s “fondness meant. His passion had terrified her,, and yet she found it hard to umder- ' stand why. He had always been her best friend ; she. was accustomed to ' hearing his praises sung on every side, and yet an unaccountable dread of him had sprung up in her heart, an aversion which had nothing to do so far as she knew, with his desire to> make her his wife. : It had been at that very point that Simeon Greaves had brought her a letter from one who claimed to be her only living relative—up to that moment she had not known that such! a one existed. The girl’s answer had taken the form of an appeal. She ■ wanted to leave the Gate House and join the one who would surely give her a home until she could find some ' way of supporting herself. Instead of bringing the reply she hoped for, the second letter had -breathed intense hatred of Cawood in every line. It played on the girl's already kindled aversion and her fear, for it told her an awful thing which, for the time being, darkened life itself. The girl was in a frenzy to be free, but now the tone of the lettersrhanged ,a little. There was something she * must do before she left the Gate ■house, something it was her duty to do ; until that task was performed, , there could be no talk of escape for her. And the outcome of it all had been the mysterious appointment which was to take place under the veil of darkness up behind the old church of High Hoyland. The man she was to meet was to come there under the guise .of an artist, touring, gentleman gipsy l fashion through the West Riding. He would tell her more than the fetters ;dare do ; would help her to get away from what had become captivity —‘but not until she had done her part ; not until she had brought as the, price of her freedom the impress of a key. “Well,” Dick urged, and as he spoke, he took Nancy’s hand in his, “can’t iyou manage to trust me even enough to see me somewhere to-mor- ’ row, so that we can discuss' affairs, and find a way out ?” She was trying to read his expression. His very presence there seemed almost a miracle. He had come when everything seemed at its blackest, he was ‘ brave and resourceful, and he did not accept Lucien Cawood at others’ valuation —if those others only knew what she knew ! “To-morrow afternoon,’’ she said, slowly, “I am going to see an old pensioner who lives next to the Pacificators’ Chapel.’’ “I will be there any time you say,” Dick returned quietly. “Promise you won‘t let scruples interfere.” “I shall always have them,” Nancy sighed, and then at his quick movement of protest she went on : “No, no, I won’t begin all over again. I will be there to-morrow between five and six. Oh, I must go, now. Good-bye.” “Then there is nothing to be frightened of,” he whispered back, “ the shadow is stillf on the blind.” Nancy let her hand remain in Dick Houlden's for an instant longer than ' was 1 necessary—there was something so comforting in the firm grasp. It surprised her to realise how reluctant she was to leave this stranger, whose coming had made so much difference to life, flooding, as it had done, her lonely little heart with the sunlight of hope. Dick stood and watched the girl pass across the lawn intersected with rosebeds, and he smiled to see that she made ■ no pretence of having strolled round the Garden. She went straight from where she had left him to the shallow stone steps. _ • But the smile died as the girl passed the window, on the white, blind of which • a shadow still showed. The shadow was on the blind ; Dick told himself that not for long would it rest across Nancy Fortune’s young life. It was to be his work to drive that and every 'other shadow, away. The shadow of a mysterious, sinister man, or so Cawood seemed to Dick Houlden, though no one else would have recognised the master of Gate House from such a description. He saw the slim, girlish figure pass up the steps, and he waited breathlessly for what seemed to him a matter of the supremest moment. He was not disappointed. Onlthe threshold of the room Nancy paused, and she cast one swift glance over her shoulder. From! where she stood tin the full glow of the lamplight across! the. lawn where the moonbeams played, to the man who stood in the dark shade of the tree it carried a message. Dick Houlden' passed noiselessly from the garden, but scarcely as noiselessly as a third figure which after the other two had gone, stole from concealment —the figure, of a man.

• s Unlike Nancy, Lucien Cawood kept tin the shade for a considerable distance before he stepped on to the lawn, his face was heavily clouded, the gay smile had , gone, the finely, pencilled brows were lowering. Only, for an instant did the cloud lift, and that was when his eyes fell on the shadow on the blind. He was (rather proud of his little ruse, only another time Sarah Beck must not allow the shadow to remain motionless so long. CHAPTER XI. “Inspector Beverley would like to see you, sir.” Mr Cawood, a cigar between his teeth, was .strolling in the garden; the footman had caught sight of his master’s tall figure amongst the rosebeds. Lucien Cawood’s passion for flowers was one of his many charips. The master of the Gate House stooped to shake his head over a spray of foliage on which the mildew showed all too plainly. “Is the inspector alone? 'And in the study ? Tell him I’ll be with him in a moimejnt. He shook his head over the spoiled spray regretfully. “Yes, tell him I • shall not be a moment. I must just speak to the gardener. bef.ore I come in. Got a knife on you, George ? Cut this off and take it away anld bum it. Mildew is a sign of decay, and it spreads,, George—when it once j begins, it spreads.” The young footman did as he was bid. All the servants were devoted to their master, and their devotion was made up of admiration and of pity. There was no gentleman in the neighbourhood as handsome or as pleasant-spoken as Mr Cawood, and there was no one as grievously afflicted. “Thank you, George, I shall make a gardener of you yet. Don’t forget to burn that spray, and remember what I say. As soon as ever yon see signs of mildew or decay, 'use the knife. With luck yofi may stop further evil.” 'After the man had gone, his mas ter still lingered. Nicholls Beverley might wait a moment, and his own thoughts were busy. It was just over there under the trees that a man and a maid had stood last night. Nancy and the stranger —the interfering and therefore wholly objectionable stranger. And he—Cawood, had stood a little further back behind that wall of dark brown stems and foliage to listen. He was almost sorry that he had done that. It ,was unlike him to ' wish even for a moment that he had not learned so much of the truth, yet he could almost find it in his heart to do so. He loved the girl, and now he knew with too much certainty how little love she had for him. He could have bowed his ■ head and wept, yet the sense of weakness was short-lived. He might not be able to compel love, yet Nancy should be his wife —partly because he wanted her so, and perhaps more because he needed her. Sarah Beck was growing old ; he must have someone he could depend on, someone to take her place, v Therefore, it was essential that this disastrous partnership between Nancy and .the man, Houlden, should be stopped at once. He had taken certain steps already, but there were others about which he was not quite sure. But when he should „have separated those two effectually, would he have stopped the evil, or had it taken too deep a hold ? His eyes were still on the rose-bush—it was one thing to cut off a mildewed spray in the hope of getting rid of the enemy ; it was another to be certain that even such drastic measures had been successful. Two nights ago danger had threatened the Gate House ; that particular danger was past, but what of the less easily defined possibilities that remained ? Who were the enemies who were in communication with Nancy ? What were the arguments they had used to induce her to side with them against him ? How much did they know ? How much had they told her ?. The interfering stranger certainly knew nothing, but what did he guess ? What were the chances of him trying to find out a way of using the key he 'had manufactured with such startling promptness ? Lucien Cawood left the rose garden and made his way back to the house. He had done so wearily, for the moment suffering under a sense of oppression. But there was no sign of weakness as he pushed open the study door —, it, like every other door in the house, closed with . a spring. It clicked to behind him as he greeted the inspector. “Well, Beverley, got my note ? Sorry I couldn’t come up to the inquest, unexpected business called m’e

away- How did things go ?’’ “It was merely formal, sir, adjourned for a month." “Still making inquiries, eh ? Still trying to find out who the poor chap was ?’’

The inspector smiled. “I know I can trust to your discretion, Mr Cawood. This evening’s paper will give out that the victim’s identity is still a mystery. Bless you, sir, we don’t mind the public saying we’re asleep as long as we are allowed to do our work in our own jvay.” Cawood made no attempt to conceal his interest. He had not the remotest idea himself who the dead man had been. “Meaning that you do know all the time ?” The other nodded. “Herbert Tinsdale Wainwright, that is his name, and in his time he s been one of the smartest cracksmen who ever went to gaol." The other’s astonishment was genuline. A felon, and Nancy in communication with him ! “Yes, there was a time when the police knew Mr Wainwright pretty well," Beverley went on. “He was at all sorts of big jobs, and then he seemed to get tired of it, and dropped out altogether. There’s been nothing against him these last five years. But when we found that outfit of hfis, of course we applied to headquarters, and it wasn’t long before we were able to identify him. Lucien Cawood was more shaken than he had ever been in his life. Whoever his enemy was, he was one to be treated with respect, for if the dead man had been his tool, tjaen that tool had been chosen with extraordinary astuteness. An expert burglar of approved skill ! Lucien Cawood’s eyes /wandered to a certain door just behind the inspector s chair.

“Then, what was he doing down here?" The questioner knew the, answer, but he wanted to hear what the other man had to say.

Beverley took a sheet of paper from his pocket, and. spread it out before his companion.

“I wonder if you could help me to identify this, sir ?” Cawood leaned forward. “It looks like the plan of a house." “Yes, but whose, Mr Cawood ?’’ The other bent lower still. What was before him scarcely caused surprise ; what he was asking himself at that moment was how 7 much the police had already learned, and how much they would learn ? Obviously it would be futile to deny too much at this stage. “Seems to me to be a plan of the Gate House," he said slowly. “Where did you lind it ?’’ “It was stowed away in a secret pocket in the lining of Wainwright’s waistcoat. Now, this is where we want your help, sir. On the face of it) it looks pretty clear that Wainwright had designs on this house. Ome would have expected to find a whole ipacket of plans, to judge from the extensive preparations he made, but this is the only one we can find. The question is, what was Wainwright after ? If we could find out that and who supplied the plan of the house, we should be on the road to clearing up this mystery.” Cawood nodded his agreement, and he wondered at himself at being able to do so with such nonchalance. Yes, when they knew 7 what it had been that his enemies’ tool had come there for, they would not experience much difficulty in unravelling the High Hoyland mystery !

“You see,” the detective went on, “there are bigger houses about here than yours, if' you’ll forgive me saying so, and it is a bit surprising to find such a man as. Wainwright apparently going 1 to all this expense and risk ” “Just to steal the Gate House spoons ! My dear fellow, I qutite agree with you.” The speaker’s tone had suddenly . become I brisker, his manner more buoyant. It had been to meet just such • a position as this that he had laid certain plans years ago. “The Gate House spoons,” ( he repeated, “they certainly sound beneath the notice of such an artist as you describe. Suppose for them we substitute Cawood’s collection of uncut gems ?” The other’s interest was flattering, he never tried to conceal it. “Gems ?” he repeated. “Just a hobby of mine,” the masher of the Gate House said, nonchalantly . “But, Beverley, I think you will understand it is not one I wish talking about. I had thought that nobody knew of it except my old servant, Sarah Beck. Why so much secrecy ?” The speaker glanced in a way he had which was 'infinitely pathetic to where his arms should have been. “Do I look the man to guard

my own property ?” he asked quiet- 1 ly. “Oh, you needn’t spare my feelings ; you know I’m as helpless as an infant ! It’s that which has made me so, plaguey cunning, I have to meet possible force by subtlety ;i d’you see ? It’s not as though I cared to trust my secrets to a confidential male attendant ; I don’t care for servants always hanging about me. Besides, the best man maywish for at change of situation, or he may take a glss too much and babble, or, worst of all, he may marry !” “No married man can keep a secret.” “I dare say you're right, sir, ' but if you’ll excuse me saying it, I should have thought a confidential attendant essential." “Oh, well, there’s Beck," laughed Mr Cawood easily. I’m going to send for her . now 7. She’ll probably be very angry when she hears what I want her for. Beck is to show you what 1 thafj unfortunate Wainwright hoped to steal.” The speaker strolled across to the fireplace. Low against the wall projected a number of knobs, and he pointed to them with his toe. “Number one, the footman, who. valets me ; number two, the coachman ; number three, the excellent Beck.”

He pressed the knob as he spoke, and then he turned to his companion again. “A faithful woman who can. neither read nor write, who is too ugly to have male friends, and too old to wish to better herself, is the best of all confidants for a man in my position. The door opened, and Sarah Beck came in. /As Beverley glanced at her he decided that she was certainly old and hard-featured enough to satisfy some of her master’s requirements. “Well,” she snapped. “I thought a body might have a bit of rest after her dinner. What do you want now, Mr Lucien ?” “Her bark is worse than her bite." the old woman’s master said.'“She’s not a bad old,soul, Sallie." “Aye, it’s Sallie if you w 7 ant owt, but it’s ‘ drat that old hag Beck ’ if things don’t go just so." “Then the old hag must be careful that things always do go just so.” Lucien Cawood remarked calmly,, “But there, Sallie, we mustn’t .quarrel to-day, we’ve got a visitor. A highly honoured visitor he is, Sallie,, for he’s to share our secret.” The swift significant 1 glance with, which the old woman favoured her master did not escape the detective, yet it aroused no question in his mind. If this servant had been Mr' Cawood’s sole confidant for long years it was , only natural that his words should ,startle her.* “Nay/’ she,said, “we don’t want no bobbies to look after vs; we can. mind our own affairs.” Cawood laughed delightedly. “Outspoken, eh ?” This to the detective. “No mincing matters." Then he turned again to the servant. “Get me the key, Sallie ;< get me th© key. It’s not for us to’keep the police waiting.” Again that swift, puzzled look ; then, without speaking, the woman left the room, and when she returned she produced from under her apron a curious iron key of elaborate old .workmanship. It was ; finely wrought, with,'many wards, while the\ cross handle, like a crusader’s sword, was in itself a work of art. “(Mr Houlden wishes to know if you would see him for a moment, sir ?”

As the footman spoke Sarah Beck slipped the key back under her apron.

Lucien Cawood turned slowly ; he rarely showed his feelings, but if he had done at ! that moment his face would have glowed with satisfaction.; He had been about to satisfy Inspector’s curiosity ; it was infinitely more important to show the man. Houlden something of what lay behind the door of which he had obtained the key in so dramatic a fashion. Last night he had pleaded with Nancy to be allowed to take the dead man’s place. Would he still wish to do so when he (Cawood), had furnished the sordid motive which, presumably, had brought Wainwright, the burglar, to High Hoyland ? (To be continued).