Cleek of Scotland Yard Part 29

Then he pinched up his chin and sat silent for a moment, watching the green fields and the pleasant farmlands as the limousine went pelting steadily on.

CHAPTER XXVII

"Suppose, now, that you have succeeded in putting the cart before the horse, Mr. Narkom," Cleek said suddenly, "you proceed to give me, not the ramifications of the case, but the case itself. You have repeatedly spoken of the murder having taken place in some place which is difficult of access and under most mystifying circ.u.mstances. Now, if you don't mind, I should like to hear what those circ.u.mstances are."

"All right, old chap, I'll give you the details as briefly as possible. In the first place, you must know that Heatherington Hall is a very ancient place, dating back, indeed, to those pleasant times when a n.o.bleman's home had to be something of a fortress as well, if he didn't want to wake up some fine morning and find his place 'sacked,' his roof burnt over his head, and himself and his lady either held for ransom or freed from any possibility of having 'headaches' thereafter. Now, a round tower with only one door by which to enter, and no windows other than narrow slits, through which the bowmen could discharge their shafts at an attacking party without exposing themselves to the dangers of a return fire, was the usual means of defence adopted--you'll see dozens of them in Suffolk, dear chap, but whether for reasons of economy or merely to carry out some theory of his own, the first lord of Heatherington Hall did not stick to the general plan.

"In brief, instead of building a tall tower rising from the ground itself, he chose to erect upon the roof of the west wing of the building a lower but more commodious one than was customary. That is to say, that while his tower was less than half the height of any other in the country, its circ.u.mference was twice as great, and, by reason of the double supply of bowman's slits, equally as effective in withstanding a siege; and, indeed, doubly difficult to a.s.sault, as before an invading force could get to the door of the place it would have to fight its way up through the main building to reach the level of it.

"Now, owing to the peculiarity of its construction--it is not more than eighteen feet high--the fact that it contained but one circular room, and all those bowman slits in the walls of it, this unusual 'tower' gained an equally unusual name for itself, and became known everywhere as the 'Stone Drum of Heatherington,' and is even mentioned by that name in the _Inquisitio Eliensis_ of the "Domesday Book," which, as you doubtless know, is the particular volume of that remarkable work which records the survey, et cetera, of the counties of Cambridge, Hertford, Ess.e.x, Norfolk, Suffolk, and Huntingdon."

"I see," said Cleek, with an amused twinkle in his eye. "You are getting on, Mr. Narkom. We shall have you lecturing on archaeology one of these fine days. But to return to our mutton--or, rather, our stone drum--was it in that place, then, that the murder was committed?"

"Yes. It is one of the few, very few, parts of the building to which Mr. Jefferson P. Drake did nothing in the way of modernizing, and added nothing in the way of 'improvements.' That, probably, was because, as it stood, it offered him a quiet, secluded, and exclusive retreat for the carrying on of his experiments; for wealth had brought with it no inclination to retire, and he remained to the last in the lists of the world's active forces. As a general thing, he did not do much in the way of burning the midnight oil, but conducted most of his experiments in the daytime. But last night was an exception. It may be that the news of his son's appeal to the lodgekeeper that afternoon had upset him, for he was restless and preoccupied all the evening, Lord Fallowfield says--or, at least, so young Drake reports him as having said--and instead of retiring with the rest of the house party when bedtime came and his j.a.panese valet carried up his customary carafe of ice-water----"

"Oh, he has a j.a.panese valet, has he? But, of course, in these days no American gentleman with any pretence to distinction whatsoever would be without one. Go on, please. His j.a.panese valet carried up the ice-water, and--then what?"

"Then he suddenly announced his intention of going into the Stone Drum and working for a few hours. Lord Fallowfield, it appears, tried his best to dissuade him, but to no purpose."

"Why did he do that? Or don't you know?"

"Yes. I asked that very question myself. I was told that it was because his lordship saw very plainly that he was labouring under strong mental excitement, and he thought that rest would be the best thing for him in the circ.u.mstances. Then, too, his lordship and he are warmly attached to each other. In fact, the earl was as fond of him as if he had been a brother. As well he ought to be, by James! when you recollect that before he got the idea into his head of marrying his son to Lady Marjorie he added a codicil to his will bequeathing the place to Lord Fallowfield, together with all the acres and acres of land he had added to it, and all the art treasures he had collected, absolutely free from death duties."

"Oho!" said Cleek, then smiled and pinched his chin and said no more.

"Well, it appears that when his lordship found that he couldn't make the stubborn old johnnie change his mind, he accompanied him to the Stone Drum, together with the valet, to see that everything was as it should be, and that nothing was wanting that might tend to the comfort and convenience of a night worker. When there was nothing more that could be done, the valet was dismissed, his lordship said good-night to his friend and left him there alone, hearing, as he pa.s.sed along the railed walk over the roof of the wing to the building proper (a matter of some twenty-odd feet) the sound of the bolt being shot, the bar put on, and the key being turned as Mr. Drake locked himself in.

"What happened from that moment, Cleek, n.o.body knows. At seven o'clock this morning the valet, going to his master's room with his shaving-water, found that he had never gone to bed at all, and, on hastening to the Stone Drum, found that a light was still burning within and faintly illuminating the bowman's slits; but although he knocked on the door and called again and again to his master, he could get no answer. Alarmed, he aroused the entire household; but despite the fact that a dozen persons endeavoured to get word from the man within, not so much as a whisper rewarded them. The bolt was still 'shot,' the bar still on, the key still turned on the inner side of the door, so they could force no entry to the place; and it was never until the village blacksmith had been called in and his sledge had battered down the age-weakened masonry in which that door was set that any man knew for certain what that burning light and that unbroken silence portended. When, however, they finally got into the place there lay the once famous inventor at full length on the oaken floor close to the barred door, as dead as George Washington, and with never a sign of what killed him either on the body or in any part of the place. Yet the first look at his distorted features was sufficient to prove that he had died in agony, and the position of the corpse showed clearly that when the end came he was endeavouring to get to the door."

"Heart failure, possibly," said Cleek.

"Not a hope of it," replied Narkom. "A doctor was sent for immediately; fortunately one of the most famous surgeons in England happened to be in the neighbourhood at the time--called down from town to perform an operation. He is willing, so young Mr. Drake tells me, to stake his professional reputation that the man's heart was as sound as a guinea; that he had not imbibed one drop of anything poisonous; that he had not been asphyxiated, as, of course, he couldn't have been, for the bowman's slits in the wall gave free ventilation to the place, if nothing more; that he had not been shot, stabbed, or bludgeoned, but, nevertheless, he had died by violence, and that violence was not, and could not be, attributed to suicide, for there was everything to prove to the contrary. In short, that whatever had attacked him had done so unexpectedly and while he was busy at his work-table, for there was the chair lying on its back before it, just as it had fallen over when he jumped up from his seat, and there on the 'working plan'

he was drawing up was the pen lying on a blob of India ink, just as it had dropped from his hand when he was stricken. Some murderous force had entered that room, and pa.s.sed out of it again, leaving the door barred, bolted, and locked upon the inside. Some weapon had been used, and yet no weapon was there and no trace upon the body to indicate what its character might be.

Indeed, everything in the room was precisely as it had been when Lord Fallowfield walked out last night and left him, beyond the fact of the overturned chair and a little puddle of clear water lying about a yard or so from the work-table and, owing to the waxing and polishing, not yet absorbed by the wood of the floor. As no one could account for the presence of that, and as it was the only thing there which might offer a possible clue to the mystery, the doctor took a small sample of that water and a.n.a.lyzed it. It was simply plain, everyday, common, or garden pure water, and nothing more, without the slightest trace of any foreign matter or of any poisonous substance in it whatsoever. There, old chap, that's the 'case'--that's the little riddle you're asked to come down and solve. What do you make of it, eh?"

"Tell you better when I've seen Mr. James Drake and Lord Fallowfield and--the doctor," said Cleek, and would say no more than that for the present.

CHAPTER XXVIII

It was somewhere in the neighbourhood of half-past three when the opportunity to interview those three persons was finally vouchsafed him; and it may be recorded at once that the meeting did some violence to his emotions. In short, he found Mr. James Drake (far from being the frank-faced, impulsive, lovable young pepper-pot which his actions and words would seem to stand sponsor for) a rather retiring young man of the "pale and studious" order, absolutely lacking in personal magnetism, and about the last person in the world one would expect to do the "all for love" business of the average hero in the manner he had done. On the other hand, he found the Earl of Fallowfield an exceedingly frank, pleasant-mannered, rather boyish-looking gentleman, whose many attractions rendered it easy to understand why the late Mr. Jefferson P. Drake had conceived such a warm affection for him, and was at such pains to have him ever by his side. It seemed, indeed, difficult to believe that he could possibly be the father of Lady Marjorie Wynde, for his manner and appearance were so youthful as to make him appear to be nothing closer than an elder brother. The doctor--that eminent Harley Street light, Mr. John Strangeways Hague--he found to be full of Harley Street manners and Harley Street ideas, eminently polite, eminently cold, and about as pleased to meet a detective police officer as he would be to find an organ-grinder sitting on his doorstep.

"Have you come to any conclusions as to the means of death, Doctor?"

asked Cleek after he had been shown into the Stone Drum, where the body of the dead man still lay and where the local coroner and the local J. P. were conducting a sort of preliminary examination prior to the regulation inquest, which must, of course, follow. "The general appearance would suggest asphyxia, if asphyxia were possible."

"Which it is not," volunteered Doctor Hague, with the geniality of a s...o...b..ll. "You have probably observed that the many slits in the wall permit of free ventilation; and asphyxia with free ventilation is an impossibility."

"Quite so," agreed Cleek placidly. "But if by any chance those slits could have been closed from the outside--I observe that at some period and for some purpose Mr. Drake has made use of a charcoal furnace"--indicating it by a wave of the hand--"and apparently with no other vent to carry off the fumes than that supplied by the slits. Now if they were closed and the charcoal left burning, the result would be an atmosphere charged with carbon monoxide gas, and a little more than one per cent. of that in the air of a room deprived of ventilation would, in a short time, prove fatal to any person breathing that air."

The doctor twitched round an inquiring eye, and looked him over from head to foot.

"Yes," he said, remembering that, after all, there were Board Schools, and even the humblest might sometimes learn, parrot-like, to repeat the "things that are in books." "But we happen to know that the slits were not closed and that neither carbon oxide nor carbon monoxide was the cause of death."

"You have taken samples of the blood, of course, to establish that fact beyond question, as one could so readily do?" ventured Cleek suavely. "The test for carbon monoxide is so simple and so very certain that error is impossible. It combines so tensely, if one may put it that way, with the blood, that the colouring of the red corpuscles is utterly overcome and destroyed."

"My good sir, those are elementary facts of which I do not stand in need of a reminder."

"Quite so, quite so. But in my profession, Doctor, one stands in constant need of 'reminders.' A speck, a spot, a pin-p.r.i.c.k--each and all are significant, and----But is this not a slight abrasion on the temple here?" bending over and, with his gla.s.s, examining a minute reddish speck upon the dead man's face. "Hum-m-m! I see, I see! Have you investigated this thing, Doctor? It is interesting."

"I fail to see the point of interest, then," replied Doctor Hague, bending over and examining the spot. "The skin is scarcely more than abraded--evidently by the finger nail scratching off the head of some infinitesimal pustule."

"Possibly," agreed Cleek, "but on the other hand, it may be something of a totally different character--for one thing, the possible point at which contact was established between the man's blood and something of a poisonous character. An injection of cyanide of pota.s.sium, for instance, would cause death, and account in a measure for this suggestion of asphyxia conveyed by the expression of the features."

"True, my good sir; but have the goodness to ask yourself who could get into the place to administer such hypodermic? And, if self-administered, what can have become of the syringe? If thrown from one of the bowman's slits, it could only have fallen upon the roof of the wing, and I a.s.sure you that was searched most thoroughly long before your arrival. I don't think you will go so far as to suggest that it was shot in, attached to some steel missile capable of making a wound; for no such missile is, as you see, embedded in the flesh nor was one lying anywhere about the floor. The cyanide of pota.s.sium theory is ingenious, but I'm afraid it won't hold water."

"Hold water!" The phrase brought Cleek's thoughts harking back to what he had been told regarding the little puddle of water lying on the floor, and of a sudden his eyes narrowed, and the curious one-sided smile travelled up his cheek.

"No, I suppose not," he said, replying to the doctor's remark.

"Besides, your test tubes would have settled that when it settled the carbon monoxide question. Had cyanide been present, the specimens of blood would have been clotted and blue."

Of a sudden it seemed to dawn upon the doctor that this didn't smack quite so much of Board School intelligence as he had fancied, and, facing round, he looked at Cleek with a new-born interest.

"I beg your pardon," he said, "but I don't think I caught your name, Mr.--er--er----"

"Cleek, Doctor; Hamilton Cleek, at your service."

"Good Lord! That is, I--er--er--my dear sir, my dear Mr. Cleek, if there is any intelligence I can possibly supply, pray command me."

"With pleasure, Doctor, and thank you very much indeed for the kind offer. I have been told that there was a little puddle of water on the floor at the time the murder was discovered, also that you took a sample of it for a.n.a.lysis. As I don't see any sign of that puddle now, would you mind telling me what that a.n.a.lysis established. I have heard, I may tell you, that you found the water to contain no poisonous substance; but I should be obliged if you can tell me if it was water drawn from a well or such as might have been taken from a river or pond."

"As a matter of fact, my dear Mr. Cleek, I don't think it came from any of the three."

"Hum-m-m! A manufactured mineral water, then?"

"No, not that, either. If it had been raining and there was any hole or leak in this roof, I should have said it was rainwater that had dripped in and formed a little puddle on the floor. If it had been winter, I should have said it was the result of melted snow.

As a matter of fact, I incline more to the latter theory than to any other, although it is absurd, of course, to think of snow being obtainable anywhere in England in the month of July."

"Quite so, quite so--unless--it doesn't matter. That's all, thank you, Doctor, and very many thanks."

"A word, please, Mr. Cleek," interposed the doctor as he turned to move away and leave him. "I am afraid I was not very communicative nor very cordial when you asked me if I had any idea of the means employed to bring about the unfortunate man's death; may I hope that you will be better mannered than I, Mr. Cleek, if I ask you if you have? Thanks, very much. Then, have you?"

"Yes," said Cleek. "And so, too, will you, if you will make a second blood test, with the specimens you have, at a period of about forty-eight hours after the time of decease. It will take quite that before the presence of the thing manifests itself under the influence of any known process or responds to any known test. And even then it will only be detected by a faintly alcoholic odour and excessively bitter taste. The man has been murdered--done to death by that devil's drug woorali, if I am not mistaken. But who administered it and _how_ it was administered are things I can't tell you yet."