THE Flambards Mystery

Sun (Christchurch), Volume I, Issue 178, 2 September 1914, Page 2

THE Flambards Mystery

By Sir William Magnay, Bt.

[COPtRIGHT.]

r CHAPTEK IV. (Continued.) AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. "We proceeded'thereupon to give jointly an account of all we had seen of JJixon on the previous morning. An important point, indeed the only fact -which -bore upon the crime; was the dead man's statement of his appoint--Bient to receive a presumably considerable sum of money that afternoon; but fceyorid that bare piece of information we could none the payer of . the money, or anything else. '' That,'' : observed the officer, "can no doubt be ascertained without much difficulty. As -• your evidence may .be of im r portance, gentlemen," he continued, "I'll just ask Mr Trunch, the detective from Great Rossington, who is on : the premises, to step this way, and per- '- laps you will be good enough to repeat '■'■ it'"' In a few moments he returned with Mr Trunch, and, after an .explanatory introduction, proceeded to read out' the notes be had taken of our statement,, to which the detective listened with an air of suspended judgment. When the reading had come to an end he began to question us on his own account. ■ After a. more or less unsatisfactory • attempt- to arrive at the exact time of our interview with Bison, he -. came to the more pertinent question of the hour • at wMch he was expecting the party to - call and pay, him the ,money. This we wqre of us .able, to state. , "I take it,' * Mr Trunch observed, *'that it is important to establish the . time when the crime was committed. It Appears that the last time the-deceased -was seen aliv© was at or about 4.15 p.m. The_crime was discovered at or about f8.30. As to what happened,' '* he add"between those hours we have at dprdsent or no information. It ap*peara;;tha# of the three servants kept ,! ny life deceased, the two females had jgone out to spend the afternoon in the toWn, and Oram, tlie man, was irking in ,the garden." "With occasional visits> to "The '"Wbeatsheaf,' " the sergeant put in • with a-restrained touch of the human. "Then," pursued Mr Trunch, "there ..is, another party who may be able to teli something—the deceased's niece, - Miss Archer." ''Miss Archer is now, as you are probably aware, at my house, '{ Jurby said. "She dined with us last evening; and in view of this terrible affair Mrs, Jurby kept her at .Morningford Place for the night. The sad news was broken to her only this morning. She", is naturally much upset, and I should be glad if -the neeessary interview..'wjth

Author of "The Heiress of the Season," The Red Chancellor," "The Master Spirit." etc,

her could, be put off as long as possible." "Quite so, Mr Jurby," the detective responded sympathetically. "Of course, we should wish to spare the young lady's feelings as mrf as possible, although it is, I take it, to her we, must look for important evidence, since it is probable that she was the last person to see the deceased. In the meantime' '—he ; re-opened his notebook- —"perhaps you will inform me at what hour Miss "Archer arrived at Morningford Place." Jurby glanced at me a little dubiously. J ' It. was shortly after eight," he answered, with a slight hesitating reluctance. "Eight o'clock was our dinner hour, and Miss Archer was a little late.'' - It seemed to me that the characteristic suspiciousness in Mr Trunch's'eyes became intensified. "A little late," he echoed. "Can you fix the time?" Jurby's answer was guarded. '' I can hardly take upon myself to fix the exact time.'' . The detective looked from him to me. "Can you tell us, Mr Crofton?" I shook my head. '' No. that it-was a little after eight." Mr Trunch considered. "Would you say it was as much as a quarter past?" he ■demauded. " Jurby answered, "I. would not like to say positively one way or the other." "The young lady was the last of your guests to arrive?" was the next question. "Practically,'yes. "But most of our guests were staying in the house." For/a moment or two the, detective was silent. Then he asked, * '"Did you notice anything peculiar about Miss Archer's appearance, o* manner when she. arrived?" wTurby looked surprised, and I "began to : feel .uncomfortable. "Why, IVJsr Trunch, you don't im-.u to suggest —" he began. ~ "I, suggest nothing, sir," was the uncompromising retort. "Would you mind answering my question? " Jurby seemed to pull himself together as i the seriousness of the position dawned upon him. "No, nothing peculiar in her manner. beyond the natural embarrassment at keeping the party waiting," he answered.' As I rather anticipated,'* Mr -Triinch repeated his, question to jrrie. .■/■f]j scarcely noticed Miss Archer-when shot came in," was all I reared to tell him. i. jjdx Trunch made a, note, and considerably* to my- relief, shiit up his; book. •-. " '. -n think we need pursuer-the' matter fafther just now,-" he- •■ ob-j served drily. " Unless, of course, there;' should be any statement either, of.'.you:, gentlemen should:wish/Ho make."

We both disclaimed any such desire, and with that Mr Trunch left us.

"Who discovered the body, sergeant?" Jurby asked when the detective had gone. '' Mrs Oram, sir. The deceased had been missed, and, according to her statement, they searched for him for nearly an hour before Oram had to go but with the carriage. Just' as he returned, his wife discovered the body lying under the dining room table." "Where it would be practically hidden,'' I observed. ; "\i r es, sir," the sergeant assented. Oram says she caught sight of it bv chance."

" " Then we may suppose,'' I added, '' that Miss Archer would be quite unconscious of what had happened even if she had gone into the room." i "That might be so," the sergeant agreed in a non-committal tone. , "What is being done about the relatives?" Jurby enquired. "There is a nephew, I believe." "Yes, sir. Mr Wallace Bixdn. We have wired to him.", ! '' He was down here yesterday morning," I said unguardedly, and nexfr moment regretted my want of reticence. '' Was he ? " Jurby exclaimed. '' Dowp here?"

'-'ls that so>¥" The sergeant's question came sharply. ; • "I have no knowledge of it," I replied. "Only I think TVIr Eixon mentioned that his nephew had been down here to see him." What at the moment made me unwilling to give more information to the police than could be helped I don't know. Perhaps it was the recollection of Miss Archer's troubled nigh;fc before. And once- more I found myself wondering whether it was a monstrous impossibility that she could have known anything of the crime. '' The wholG affair is, as you say!, sergeant, most mysterious," I became in my abstraction aware Jurby was saying. "Well, as ,you have sent for Mr Wallace Eixon, I don't suppose we can be of any use. If we cam you will know where to find us; Now, my dear, Crofton, you will come back with me to luncheon. I want you to come and help us in" our rather delicate position with regard to that poor Miss Arched. We'll have luncheon early, and- you can go down to the church afterwards if you wi^slx. ,, I accepted with rather more, willingness than was apparent, for I somehow had begun to feel a strange interest in the girl and her position in regard to the crime. *,.'•'

On our way to Morningford Place Jurby told me that his house-party .had all gone over to a meet of hounds some five miles away. To my rather blunt suggestion that they did not give:'one the impression of being hunting men, he repudiated any such intention on their part. ''lt will be'a pretty sight for them; the ladies Have gone too." "They are business connections of yours f" I remarked. "Yes," he replied frankly, "and very clever fellows. De la Cour is a great ' concessionaire,' a wonderfully {able' negotiator", persona grata in all;the 'big financial centres of Europe;- Little Errington possesses one of the finest heads; far business in the City of ;Lon J don. He is the man to, carry through; ibig speculations and to grapple withl conijilicated firiaricial problems.'' .'£ '. I agreed that he seemed smart enough for anything. # ' •„-.' v ■. "Fitz-RiekaraV Jurby continued,

"is a capitalist. A good fellow, who likes his club and prefers a social to a business life, but at the same time is always ready, to assist at a promising financial operation. A man of large means, but who makes no parade of them, and is quite content with the quiet enjoyment his wealth brings him."

"Enviable mortal," was my not altogether heartfelt comment. "Old friends of mine," Jurby proceeded. "We have risen together from comparatively small beginnings and have done remarkably well in cooperation." "And Sir Albert Woodville?" Jurby's tone changed to tine of patronage. .. I '' Ah, poor Sir Albert. He is a very good fellow. He is our figure-head, our nominal chairman, but we don't let too much of the work fall on his shoulders.; Nice fellow, isn't he? Pity he hasn't twenty thousand a year. He would know the-right thing to do with it,", •Recalling'. Sir Albert's rather "brain-less-looking: head, I wondered whether the suggested right,thing would . not_ have been.to put;the fprtune into some 1 " of his patron's financial schemes;, or whether, indeed, his present condition, might not be the result.o£ his,having already done so." .' . : On .reaching the house we found the party had just- returned. Jurby anxiously enquired after Miss Areher. We were told that she had recovered from the first shock, but was still in a state of great distress, and would, of course, not come in to luncheon. "Poor girl, I am terribly sorry foilier, ' \ Jurby said to me when we found ourselves alone. Then he added in a confidential tone, "I don't know how it ; strikes you; Crofton, : but somehow I can't help -wondering whether she does not know something more of this affair ; than would appear." "It is hardly possible," I replied,;, unwilling to bring .into hotch-pot any of my vague suspicions. '"How could s"he have come here to dinner last night if that was the ease?"

Jurby's face was Set in a .knowing simile. /'Womeh are'puzzles,'' he de.elafed jocularly. '.'" We don't : half. understand them. You remember she was very late and • looked disturbed wherj she came'in;" : !

"The natural result of finding her: self behind • time," I argued. " Why, you can't mean to suggest that she was in any way privy to the crime." "It, is inconceivable," Jurby said in a. tone of agreement. "Quite ceivable, and yet——... Well, we must wait .for, developments, ;■ and then one will no doubt find how absurd one's ideas have been. But such a mysterious affair quite at one's door is quite enough to. blind one's common sense 1 and .to make: one suspicious of anything."

The luncheon was, to my thinking, a very stupid affair. Jurby's city friends seemed peculiarly out of place in the country; indeed, they made. t*o attempt jto appear otherwise. When' luncheon was over there seemed k? disposition to sit on indefinitely, drinking champagne and iSmoMng cigars; both , I must allow, of a very fine brand: With an idea that I was rather blocking the business conversation into which J'here* seemed a /tendency to lapse, "I rose and took my deparfeurei /-'^v-' 1 •"' : -'- •'■"'■""'■"; \. It was gettmg late; for' work "in the church, but I was glad to get out into the fresh air away; from that unromantic atmosphere of the rather unpleasant side of.'Oti* strained civilisation. 'So I the drive smoking; my enough. Suddenly, there was.«a rustling '[ in the tall laurel bushes which lined the road, and someone came quickly from between them and ,stood before me. It was the girl who was tfcen much'in my mind, Rose Archer. CHAPTER V. ROSE ARCHER NEEDS A FRIEND. It, was evident the girl was there with^the-Intention of waylaying me, and her first words made that certain. ''.Mr Croftori, tell. me. what is happening about this terrible affair at home. Have they found out anything!" ';■'■-■'■' „' ;V She looked handsome as she stood there facing ine, her .colour heightened by . the Ixeitement. which, showed in her eyes, and the gold in her,hair touched and deepened; by. the glow of the westering sun.;,. , /,-.,..,■ "Nothing- had been found out when I left Flambards,' ' I answered. ' < They seemed to regard the affair* as a complete mystegy." Her eyes were eagerly fixed on my face as I spoke, and behind them there seemed to be a lively fear. "They have no idea as to who committed the erime?" ''No; none that I am aware of.'' And then an impulse, perhaps something in her manner, made me add, "Have you?" I had studiously refrained from putting the question pointedly. Nevertheless, the colour left the'girl's cheek as, with an - obvious, effort to steady her voiee, she replied: "If No; I know nothing." '.'l should riot for a moment imagine you did," I said gently; "All you might be able to suggest is-someone whom your uncle 1 might have had cause to fear; someone who might possibly have nursed a grudge against him; someone who had perhaps roused your suspicions." < , ■ .• "No, no; none," she declared promptly. "Your uncle appears to have had no visitors yesterday, with the exception of a man who came to pay him moneys'.' he suspected!" she asked with a curiously painful eagerness. "I should say not. The police are at present unaware, of the person's identity." "I should have thoxight Oram would know,"-she said unsteadily. "It is awful this, uncertainty—my poor uncle; to have died like that.' • There was a break in her voice, and she turned a little aside to hide the tears in her eyes. I murmured a sympathetic remark, and waited till she should speak. " When she faced me again it was with the appeararice of self-mastery. "Mr Crof ton," she said in a voice that carried a note of pleading, "you have been in these last days my uncle's friend. He liked you, and there were few people whom he liked. And so : we had few friends. I want to ask you—" She paused as though hesitating how to frame her request! "You won't think it very extraordinary and impertinent of me to ask you to be our friend in the trying business and enquiry which must follow what has happened. I feel I have no right to make this request, but if you refuse, there is no one to whom I can turn. I don't care for these people"—she nodded towards the house—"kind as they mean to be; and —-there is no one else." ■ l ' '

Naturally, I promised; even had I been unwilling, I could have done no less. The girl held out her hand with a simple, '' Thank you. ' > But her tone made the two words more eloquent than the most effusive acknowledgment.

When you say there is no one on whom you can rely, are you not overlooking your cousin, Mr Wallace Rixon" I suggested. It seemed as though a flash of pain | contracted her face for an instant as the name was mentioned. But she quickly recovered her composure. "Yes, there is my cousin Wallace,'' she answered quietly, '' but I must have someone besides him to rely upon. He will need a friend as well as I." I must confess 1 to being rather puzzled at the urgency of her entreaty. Still, I was nothing loth to engage in the business so far as need might be. The mystery, with its certain indefinable threat of a terrible scandal, piqued my curiosity, and then, .as a man", I could not refuse, could not indeed but feel flattered at, the appeal of this handsome girl in her distress. So I renewed my promise to do and be what was so vaguely indicated. "You are going to stay here for the present?". I enquired to cut short her thanks. "No," she answered, with a slight gesture of distaste. "I cannot stay here, nor go back to Flambards yet. I wonder if you would mind calling, at the Rectory and asking Mrs Paynton if she would let me stay there for a day or two." "Of course I will. I'll go there at once, and am sure they will be only too glad to put you up. And after that, is there anything I can do for you at Flambards?'' "No, thank you," she answered. "I have seen Mrs Oram. and. told her all I want. You will be going to Flambards?" "Not unless there is anything for me to do. Weifelt rather in "the way there this morning. No doubt Mr Wallace Rixon will soon have arrived." • Again at the mentiqn of her cousin the look of pain and almost of terror came into the girl's eyes. "You will see him if he comes," she said- quietly, and then with "a touch of earnestness added, "you have promised to be our friend through this." I reiterated my assurance, and we parted, Miss Archer hurrying back to the house. As T walked on towards the town my mind was exercised by the girl's strange desire for my support and help in the business! Up to a point it was,, perhaps, natural ; enough/ Wjrit gave.jne food for speculation was-the appearance of. intense urgency and anxiety in her request. V '■■ Then Wallace. Rixon; fwhy had her manner been so constrained when he was mentioned? I had gathered that they were lovers; old-Rixon had hinted as much at pur last.interview. Had this young fellow had" anything to do with the crime It wa* a monstrous idea, and yet to an imaginative mind Miss! Archer fs manner almost suggested it. Then there was David Gelston's unac J countable behaviour; his strange quesl tions about the dead man.and Miss Arch-; er.Hbw in the name of all. that waß mysterious could this, threefold connection have come about? For' that Gelstomand the g|rl had each some secret knowledge seemed, pertain. " It was in a/. state of increasing perplexity over this.horrible enigma that: l arrived -, at the. Reefepry and - gave Miss Archer's- message. As I had anticipated, the rector and his wife ve*y readily undertook to receive her, and a ;', note of invitation was forthwith dispatched to Morningford Place. "It will be better for her to stay here,'' Mr Paynton said. .''The Jurbys are very hospitable folk, but their society cannot be exactlycongenial., in the sad circumstances'. Poor Rixon. • A, terrible end; I hear there is so far no clue to the perpetrator. Of course, you will be going on with your work in the chapel as usual. Yon know that the sum for the estimated cost' has been already paid and is safe at our bankers'. Poor fellow, it almost looks as though he had some premonition of his sudden end, and was the good work should be completed." "He never suggested anything of the sort to me." "No? Well, as. a level-headed man he would realise that life is uncertain, j and it was less trouble to pay the cost ; down than provide for it in his will. 1 suppose his money goes to ; his : nephew | and niece?" ■• I "I have no knowledge. What sort of a man is Wallace Rixon ?" - . .1 "6h, a decent enough young fellow,": the. rector answered, in a qualified tone.' "Too idle to please his uncle—-fonder of sport than work, but no particular vice in him." "Was there an engagement between him and his cousin?" Mr Paynton shrugged and smiled. "We always have thought so. No doubt they were fond of each other, .but I fancy the old man did his best to keep them apart." As the worthy rector's information seemed too vague to promise any elucidation of the mystery, I asked no more questions, and soon took my leave. It was dark now, and work in the chapel was out of the question. After a stroll, I turned into my quarters. An unusual feeling of loneliness was upon me. The atmosphere of the dull hotel in the humdrum little town seemed hor* i ribly depressing. I ; wished the long evening and night would pass, that I could find-occupation and distraction in my work. If only Gelston could have stayed; it would not have been so bad. I should: have had someone to chat to. I read j the day's, paper, and then ordered dinner earlier than;usual. - When I had finished the meal and smoked a pipe it was still much too soon to think'*" of turning in. Also it occurred to me that a good brisk walk might ward off the sleepless night which my uneasy brain seemed to promise. Accordingly I wont out and up the" High Street, where, behind curtained windows,! lights and laughter spoke of New Year's i night festivities, and made me picture j in contrast that old man lying dead in his dark, lonely home. (To be Continued.)