Cleek of Scotland Yard Part 15

"Singular time to choose for such a proceeding, wasn't it, Major?

After half-past nine o'clock at night."

"It would be if it were any other man and under any other circ.u.mstances. But remember! It is but three weeks to Derby Day and every hour of daylight is worth so much gold to us. Farrow knew that he could not spare a moment of it for any purpose; and he is most particular over the shoeing. Will see it done himself and direct the operation personally. Sort of mania with him. Wouldn't let the best man that ever lived take one of the horses over for him. Go himself, no matter what inconvenience it put him to. Farrier at Shepperton Old Cross knows his little 'fads and fancies' and humours them at all times. Would open the forge and fire up for him if it were two o'clock in the morning."

"I see. And did he take Chocolate Maid over there on that night, after all?"

"Yes. Lady Mary and I attended a whist drive at Farmingdale Priory that evening; but her ladyship was taken with a violent headache and we had to excuse ourselves and leave early. It would be about a quarter to eleven o'clock when we returned to the Abbey and met Farrow riding out through the gates on Chocolate Maid. We stopped and spoke to him. He was then going over to the sh.o.e.r's with the mare."

"How long would it take him to make the journey?"

"Oh, about five-and-twenty minutes--maybe half an hour: certainly not more."

"So then it would be about quarter-past eleven when he arrived at the farrier's? I see. Any idea at what time he got back?"

"Not the ghost of one. In fact, we should never have known that he ever did get back--for n.o.body heard a sound of his return the whole night long--were it not that when Captain MacTavish crossed the stable-yard at five o'clock in the morning and, seeing the door ajar, looked in, he found Chocolate Maid standing in her stall, the dog dead, and Highland La.s.sie gone. Of course, Chocolate Maid being there after we had pa.s.sed Farrow on the road with her was proof that he did return at some hour of the night, you know: though when it was, or why he should have gone out again, heaven alone knows.

Personally, you know, I am of the opinion that Highland La.s.sie was stolen while he was absent; that, on returning he discovered the robbery and, following the trail, went out after the robbers, and, coming up with them, got his terrible injuries that way."

"H'm! Yes! I don't think! What 'trail' was he to find, please, when you just now told me that there wasn't so much as a hoofprint to tell the tale? Or was that an error?"

"No, it wasn't. The entire stable-yard is paved with red tiles, and we've had such an uncommon spell of dry weather lately that the earth of the surrounding country is baked as hard as a brickbat.

An elephant couldn't make a footmark upon it, much less a horse.

But, gravy, man! instead of making the thing clearer, I'm blest if you're not adding gloom to darkness, and rendering it more mysterious than ever. What under the four corners of heaven could Farrow have followed, then, if the 'trail' is to be eliminated entirely?"

"Maybe his own inclination, Major--maybe nothing at all," said Cleek, enigmatically. "If your little theory of his returning and finding Highland La.s.sie stolen were a thing that would hold water I am inclined to think that Mr. Tom Farrow would have raised an alarm that you could hear for half a mile, and that if he had started out after the robbers he would have done so with a goodly force of followers at his heels and with all the lanterns and torches that could be raked and sc.r.a.ped together."

"Good lud, yes! of course he would. I never thought of that. Did you, Mary? His whole heart and soul were bound up in the animal. If he had thought that anything had happened to her, if he had known that she was gone, a pitful of raging devils would have been spirits of meekness beside him. Man alive, you make my head whiz. For him to go off over the moor without word or cry at such a time----I say, Mr. Cleek! For G.o.d's sake, what do you make of such a thing as that at such a time, eh?"

"Well, Major," replied Cleek, "I hate to destroy any man's illusions and to besmirch any man's reputation, but--_que voulez vous_? If Mr.

Tom Farrow went out upon that moor after the mare was stolen, and went without giving an alarm or saying a word to anybody, then in my private opinion your precious trainer is nothing in the world but a precious double-faced, double-dealing, dishonourable blackguard, who treacherously sold you to the enemy and got just what he deserved by way of payment."

Major Norcross made no reply. He simply screwed up his lips until they were a mere pucker of little creases, and looked round at his wife with something of the pain and hopeless bewilderment of an unjustly scolded child.

"You know, Seton, it was what Captain MacTavish suggested," ventured she, gently and regretfully. "And when two men of intellect----" Then she sighed and let the rest go by default.

"Demmit, Mary, you don't mean to suggest that I haven't any, do you?"

"No, dear; but----"

"Buts be blowed! Don't you think I know a man when I run foul of him? And if ever there was a square-dealing, honest chap on this earth----Look here, Mr. Cleek. Gad! you may be a bright chap and all that, but you'll have to give me something a blessed sight stronger than mere suspicion before you can make me believe a thing like that about Tom Farrow."

"I am not endeavouring to make you believe it, Major. I am merely showing you what would certainly be the absolute truth of the matter _if_ Tom Farrow had done what you suggested, and gone out on that moor alone and without a word or a cry when he discovered that the animal was stolen. But, my dear sir, I incline to the belief that he never did go out there after any person or any living thing whatsoever."

"Then, dash it, sir, how in thunder are you going to explain his being there at all?"

"By the simple process, Major, of suggesting that he was on his way back to the Abbey at the time he encountered his unknown a.s.sailant.

In other words, that he had not only never returned to the place after you and her ladyship saw him leaving it at a quarter to eleven, but was never permitted to do so."

"Oh, come, I say! That's laying it on too thick. How the d.i.c.kens can you be sure of such a thing as that?"

"I'm not. I am merely laying before you the only two things possible to explain his presence there. One or the other of them is the plain and absolute truth. If the man went out there _after_ the filly was stolen he is a scoundrel and a liar. If he is innocent, he met with his injuries on the way back to his quarters above Highland La.s.sie's stall."

"But the other animal? But Chocolate Maid? How could she have got back to the stable, then? She couldn't have found her way back alone after Farrow was a.s.saulted--at least, she could, of course, but not in the condition she was in when found next morning. She had no harness of any sort upon her. Her saddle was on its peg. She was in her box--tied up, b'gad! and the door of the box was closed and bolted; so that if by any chance----Hullo! I say! What on earth are you smiling in that queer way for? Hang it, man! do you believe that I don't know what I'm talking about?"

"Oh, yes, Major. It isn't that kind of a smile. I have just discovered that four and four make eight when you add them up properly; and the smile is one of consequent satisfaction. A last question, please. At what time in the morning was Farrow found lying unconscious upon the moor?"

"Somewhere between six and seven o'clock. Why?"----

"Oh, nothing in particular. Who found him? Captain MacTavish?"

"No. Maggie McFarland. She was just coming back from milking when----Hang it, man! I wish you wouldn't smile all up one side of your face in that confounded manner. It makes me think that you must have something up your sleeve."

"Well, if I have, Major, suppose you drive me over to the stables and give me a chance to take it out?" suggested Cleek, serenely. "A little 'poking about' sometimes does wonders, and a half hour in Highland La.s.sie's quarters may pick the puzzle to pieces a great deal sooner than you'd believe. Or, stop! Perhaps, on second thought, it will be better for you and her ladyship to go on ahead, as I shall want to have a look at Tom Farrow's injuries as well, so it will be best to have everything prepared in advance, in order to save time.

No doubt Mr. Narkom and I can get a conveyance of some sort here.

At any rate--h'm! it is now a quarter to three, I see--at any rate, you may certainly expect us at quarter-past five. You and her ladyship may go back quite openly, Major. There will be no need to attempt to throw dust in Sir Gregory Dawson-Blake's eyes any longer by keeping the disappearance of the animal a secret.

If he's had a hand in her spiriting away, he knows, of course, that she's gone; but if he hasn't--oh, well, I fancy I know who did, and that she will be in the running on Derby Day after all. A few minutes in Highland La.s.sie's stable will settle that, I feel sure.

Your ladyship, my compliments. Major, good afternoon. I hope if night overtakes us before we get at the bottom of the thing you can manage to put us up at the Abbey until to-morrow that we may be on the spot to the last?"

"With pleasure, Mr. Cleek," said Lady Mary; and bowed him out of the room.

CHAPTER XIII

It was precisely ten minutes past five o'clock and the long-lingering May twilight was but just beginning to gather when the spring cart of the Rose and Thistle arrived at the Abbey stables, and Cleek and Mr. Narkom descending therefrom found themselves the centre of an interested group composed of the major and Lady Mary, the countryside doctor, and Captain MacTavish.

The captain, who had nothing Scottish about him but his name, was a smiling, debonnaire gentleman with flaxen hair and a curling, fair moustache; and Cleek, catching sight of him as he stood leaning, in a carefully studied pose, against the stable door-post with one foot crossed over the other, one hand in his trousers pocket and the other swinging a hunting crop whose crook was a greyhound's head wrought in solid silver, concluded that here was, perhaps, the handsomest man of his day, and that, in certain sections of society, he might be guaranteed to break hearts by the hundred. It must be said of him, however, that he carried his manifold charms of person with smooth serenity and perfect poise; that, if he realized his own beauty, he gave no outward evidences of it. He was calm, serene, well-bred, and had nothing of the "Doll" or the "Johnny"

element in either his bearing or his deportment. He was at once splendidly composed and almost insolently bland.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cleek. Read a great deal about you one way and another," he said, when the major made the introduction--a performance which the captain evidently considered superfluous as between an army officer and a police detective. "Sorry I shan't be able to remain and study your interesting methods, however. Should have been rather pleased to do so, otherwise."

"And I for my part should have been pleased to have you do so, Captain, I a.s.sure you," replied Cleek, the first intonation of his voice causing the captain to twitch up his head and stare at him as if he were a monstrosity. "Shall you be leaving us, then, before the investigation is concluded?"

"Well, I'm blest! Why, how in the world--oh--er--yes. Obliged to go. Wire from London this afternoon. Regiment sails for India in two days. Beastly nuisance. Shall miss the Derby and all that. By the way, Norcross, if this chap succeeds in finding the filly in time for the race, that little bet of ours stands, of course?"

"Of course," agreed the major. "Ready are you, Mr. Cleek? Right you are--come along." And he forthwith led the way into the stable where Chocolate Maid, like a perfect horse in French bronze, stood munching hay in her box as contentedly as if there were no such things in the world as touts and swindlers and horse thieves, and her companion of two days ago still shared the quarters with her.

"Gad! but she's a beauty and no mistake, Major," said Cleek as he went over and, leaning across the low barrier of the enclosure, patted the mare's shoulder and smoothed her glossy neck. "I don't wonder that you and her ladyship have such high hopes for her future.

The creature seems well nigh perfect."

"Yes, she is a pretty good bit of horseflesh," replied he, "but not to be compared with Highland La.s.sie in speed, wind, or anything.

There _she_ is, Mr. Cleek; and it's as natural as life, the beauty!"

Speaking, he waved his hand toward a framed picture of the missing animal--a coloured gift plate which had been given away with the Easter number of _The Horseman_, and which Farrow had had glazed and hung just over her box. Cleek, following the direction of the indicating hand, looked up and saw the counterfeit presentment of a splendidly proportioned sorrel with a splash of white on the flank and a white "stocking" on the left forefoot.

"A beauty, as you say, Major," agreed he, "but do you know that I, for my part, prefer the charms of Chocolate Maid? May be bad judgment upon my part but--there you are. What a coat! What a colour! What splendid legs, the beauty! Mind if I step in for a moment and have a look at her?"

The major did not, so he went in forthwith and proceeded to look over the animal's points--feeling her legs, stroking her flanks, examining her hoofs. And it was then and then only that the major remembered about the visit to the farrier's over at Shepperton Old Cross and began to understand that it was not all simple admiration of the animal, this close examination of her.