Witness to the Deed Part 59

"Yes," he said, "been open once, but closed, I should say, for many years."

"Want it opened, pardner?" said his companion.

"Not that one," said the sergeant meaningly; and he went to the door on the left, Stratton watching him fixedly the while, and Guest, in turn, watching his friend, with a sense of some great trouble looming over him, as he wondered what was about to happen.

"Hah! yes," said the sergeant, who began to show no little excitement now; "fellow door sealed up, too."

Guest started and glanced quickly at his friend, who remained drawn up, silent and stern, as a man would look who was submitting to a scrutiny to which he has objected.

The sergeant shook the door, but it was perfectly fast, and the handle immovable.

"Some time since there was a way through here," he said confidently; and, as he spoke, Guest again gazed at Stratton, and thought of how short a time it was since he had been in the habit of going to that closet to fetch out soda water, spirits, and cigars.

What did it mean? What could it mean, and why did not Stratton speak out and say: "The closet belongs to this side of the suite."

But no; he was silent and rigid, while the sense of a coming calamity loomed broader to mingle with a cloud of regrets.

He was trying to think out some means of retiring from the scrutiny, as the sergeant turned to his companion and said a few words in a low tone--words which Guest felt certain meant orders to force open the closet door, which, for some reason, Stratton had fastened up, when the sergeant spoke out:

"Now, gentlemen, please, we'll go back to the other chambers."

Guest drew a deep breath, full of relief, for the tension was, for the moment, at an end.

He followed with Stratton, whose eyes now met his; and there was such a look of helplessness and despair in the gaze that Guest caught his friend's arm.

"What is it, old fellow?" he whispered; but there was no reply, and, after closing the door, they followed into Brettison's room, where the sergeant stood ready for them with his companion.

As they entered, the man closed the door and said sharply:

"You're right, gentlemen; there has been foul play."

A cold sweat burst out over Guest's brow, and his hair began to cling to his temples. He once more glanced at Stratton, but he did not move a muscle; merely stood listening, as if surprised at the man's a.s.sertion.

"There have always been two cupboards here, made out of these two old pa.s.sages, and this one has been lately fastened up."

"No, no," said Stratton, in a low, deep tone.

"What, sir! Look here," cried the man, and he shook one of the great panels low down in the door, and the other higher. "What do you say to that? Both those have been out quite lately."

Stratton bent forward, looking startled, and then stepped close up to the door, to see for himself if the man was correct.

The lower panel was certainly loose, and could be shaken about a quarter of an inch each way, but that seemed to be all; and looking relieved he drew back.

"Nonsense!" he said. "Absurd!"

Guest looked at him sharply, for the voice seemed to be that of a stranger.

"Not very absurd, sir," replied the sergeant. "This door was made two or three hundred years ago, I should say, and the old oak is shrunken and worm-eaten. I could easily shove that panel out, but there's no need. Here, Jem, try and open the lock the regular way."

Stratton's lips parted, but he said no word; and, as the second man strode up to the door with his tools, the sergeant went on:

"I thought it was a mare's nest, sir, and even now I don't like to speak too fast; but it looks to me as if the poor gentleman had been robbed and murdered, and whoever did it has hidden the body in here."

A curious cry escaped from Stratton's lips, and he gazed fiercely at the officer.

"That's it, sir," said the man. "It's a startler for you, I know, living so close, but I'm afraid it's true. Well, Jem, what do you make of it?"

Guest looked as if he had received a mental blow, as idea after idea flashed through his mind. Stratton's manner suggested it--his acts of late, the disappearance of Brettison on the wedding day, the large sum of money on the table, the mad horror and despair of the man ever since--it must be so; and he felt that here was the real key to all his friend's strange behaviour.

He wiped the cold moisture from his brow, and stared at Stratton, but his friend was standing rigid and determined, watching the actions of the two men, and Guest had hard work to suppress a groan, as he felt that his companion would owe to him the discovery and the punishment that would follow.

Just then Stratton turned and saw that he was being watched; but, as if all attempts at concealment were hopeless, he smiled faintly at his friend and then turned away.

The workman had not made any reply, and the sergeant spoke again as a large picklock was thrust into the keyhole again and again.

"Rusted up?"

"Ay, and eaten away; there hasn't been a key used in that lock in our time, pardner. But stop a minute; more ways of killing a cat than hanging of her. Let's have a look."

He began to examine the edge of the door, and then turned sharply round.

"Look here," he said; and then taking hold of the antique door k.n.o.b, he lifted it and the whole of the front bar or rail came away--a piece of narrow wood six feet long.

"Split away from the tenons," he said; and the sergeant uttered an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, full of eager satisfaction.

"There, gentleman," he said, pointing. "One--two--three--four bright new screws. What do you say now?"

There they were plain enough, close to the door frame, and Guest uttered a low sigh as he supported himself by the back of a chair.

"Out with 'em, Jem," cried the sergeant excitedly, and, a large screw-driver being produced from the tool bag, the screws were attacked, and turned easily, the man rapidly withdrawing them and laying them one by one on the mantel-shelf.

"They haven't been in very long," he muttered, raising one to his nose.

"Been rubbed in paraffin candle, I should say."

He began turning another, while the sergeant gave Guest the lantern to hold while he went and picked up the piece of candle they had found at first.

"Not all teeth marks, gentlemen," he said; "the candle was used to ease those screws."

There was a pause then, for the man was at work on the last screw, and as he turned, Guest arrived at the course he should pursue. Stratton was ignoring the fact that the closet belonged to his room; he must, for his own sake, do the same. He could not give evidence against his friend; for there it was plain enough now, and if Stratton had been guilty of Brettison's death, he was being bitterly punished for his crime.

The last screw fell on the floor, and was picked up and placed with the others. Then the man stood with his screw-driver in his hand.

"Prize it open?" he said. The sergeant nodded, and on forcing the edge of the screw-driver in the crack between the inner half of the bar and the jamb, it acted as a lever, and the door gave with a faint creak, but as soon as it was a couple of inches open the man drew back.

"Your job now," he said.

The sergeant stepped forward; Stratton stood firm, as if carved in stone, and Guest closed his eyes, feeling sick, and as if the room was turning round, till a sharp e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n made him open his eyes again to see that the sergeant had entered with his lantern, and was making it play over the panels of the inner side of the farther door.