MR. NARKOM VOICES AN OPINION

"_Bloodstains?_"

Three pairs of feminine lips voiced that sinister word simultaneously: Lady Paula's, Cynthia's, and Maud Duggan's.

"But how, Mr. Deland?-- But why?-- And upon Cynthia's dress, too!"

"Well, I'll swear I never had anything to do with it, anyhow!" threw in Cynthia emphatically and in a voice of astonishment. "How _could_ they be bloodstains, Mr. Deland? and how could they possibly get on _my_ frock? Solve that question, if you please, first of all."

"Quite a simple one, Miss Debenham. Just this: The murderer--or one of them, as the case may be--entered this room by that middle window, stabbed Sir Andrew with the stiletto, stolen for the purpose, of course--then, in a frenzy lest he be discovered, caught hold of the nearest thing and wiped the bloodstained instrument upon it, and then made off as quickly as possible. You happened to be the nearest, no doubt. So you were the person chosen. Did you not feel anything at all of the action?"

She shook her head.

"Nothing that I remember. We were all so astonished when the light failed that I don't remember anything at all about it. If it was done, it was done gently--and my skirt is wide."

"And you think the murderer, the perpetrator of this wicked crime, was a man, then, Mr. Deland?" put in the soft voice of Lady Paula at this juncture.

Cleek spun around toward her, nodding emphatically.

"I do, indeed. No woman could have arranged the thing like this, Lady Paula. The electricity would have been too difficult a problem for her, in the first place, and then the shooting----"

"And how do you account for _that_, Mr. Deland?"

"Ah, that is a more difficult matter. How? By whose hand? We will get back to our stage rehearsal for that, I think. Mr. Narkom, would you sit down again in the chair? Thanks very much. It's only just for a moment.

Now, if you ladies would take up your positions again as they were, I'd be very much obliged. Let me see. The shot entered the temple here above the left eye and pa.s.sed clean through the head into the wall of the room beyond. An acute angle of fifty degrees. H'm. That would bring it to about over there and to a level with the top of that wood-panelling.

Then the bullet must be located somewhere in that vicinity, from all logical reasonings. But where? Come, Mr. Narkom, just a moment. Lend me your keen eyes, will you? And we'll have a look together. It'll want careful looking, I'll warrant. But the panelling's in fine condition and shows every mark. I-- Gad! and here it is too!"

His finger paused upon a slight, dark puncture in the darkness of the wood, and he whirled round and faced them all, eyes alight, face aglow, and marking the spot with his finger-nail. "Here, lend me your knife, my friend, and we'll dig it out. That will establish a pretty good clue, I can promise you. And a soundless pistol-shot--an air-gun. It ought to be easy to trace the owner of _that_, in desolate parts like this. Well, here goes!"

A moment's careful prodding with the point of the knife, and the thing was done. The bullet--an infinitesimal thing--fell out into the palm of his hand. Then, of a sudden, he swung around in his tracks toward them.

His face was grim.

"Look here," he said, in the sharp staccato of excitement, "what I want to know is, who of this company possesses an air-gun? For that someone does I am certain. That shot must have been fired at close range--by the depth to which it was embedded in this wood. Mr. Duggan, do you happen to own an air-pistol?"

The last remnant of colour drained itself out of Ross Duggan's already pale cheeks. His eyes narrowed down to pin-points in the frame of his face. Then his chin went up.

"I do, Mr. Deland."

"H'm. I thought as much. And if you were standing there, opposite your father, and with no one at the right side of you, and only the s.p.a.ce of the bow-window between you and the outside world--taking into consideration the enormous amount of misguided reason which you might have to commit such a terrible crime--as I said before, if you moved quickly over there, side stepping, so that the shot might miss any of the ladies opposite after pa.s.sing through Sir Andrew's brain, and--if the lights failed at a given and arranged moment, and you whipped out your revolver and fired, it _might_ bring about just this identical result."

"I ... my G.o.d! man, you're not accusing me of murdering my own father, are you? You're daft--insane--idiotic!"

Cleek held up a silencing hand.

"I'm not accusing anybody, Mr. Duggan; simply reconstructing matters for the purpose of finding out the true a.s.sa.s.sins. And, as I told you last night, every one, according to English law, may be considered guilty until he be proved innocent. Suspicions seem to point heavily to you, I must say. But we've got to have more facts, of course.

"He didn't do it, Mr. Deland! Of course he didn't do it!"

Cynthia shrilled out these words suddenly, rushing toward Cleek and fastening her hands about his arm. "You're mad to suggest such a thing, to even think it! My Ross wouldn't stoop to _murder_ for a beastly inheritance! You don't know him as I do--as all these others do. It's incredible."

"Quite true, Miss Debenham. But let's ask Mr. Narkom what he thinks of it. He's kept his peace during this session, proving himself, no doubt, a wiser man than I. Mr. Narkom, give us your views, please. Who do _you_ think has committed this crime, according to present evidence?"

"That man!" Mr. Narkom pointed excitedly in Ross's direction, his fat face red with excitement, his forehead perspiring with the heat of his excitement. "_He_ fired the shot. But the stiletto--that is a more difficult question."

"And you think Mr. Duggan actually did kill his father, then? No, no, sir, I beg of you, let us finish this discussion before you interrupt.

It might lead to something really enlightening. You think that, Mr.

Narkom? Considering the position in which the shot was fired, and the position in which Mr. Duggan himself stood last night?"

"Decidedly I do."

"H'm. I'm sorry. But I'm inclined to agree. But the evidence, I admit, is at present slight--the actual circ.u.mstantial evidence, I mean. You're not going to--arrest--him on that, I hope?"

Arrest! The fateful word fell upon that a.s.semblage with truly sinister meaning. Arrest Ross! Arrest him! Impossible! Upon every face these thoughts might be read--except upon Lady Paula's, where, indeed, a sort of secret and hidden triumph seemed to glow like a light lit from within. Cleek flashed his eyes over every face. He paused at Lady Paula's for one moment, and then went on to Ross's--and ended up at length upon Catherine Dowd's. It was transfigured! Transfigured with hate of himself, with love of Ross: the two most intense feelings in human nature warring with each other upon it to be uppermost. That look of hatred made him positively shiver. If the woman had had any real reason for the crime, could she not have been the perpetrator of the stabbing episode? But she hadn't any reason, at least none that could be at present discovered. One would have to go deeper than that for motive.

"Well, Mr. Narkom?"

The Superintendent was looking frankly uncomfortable. Cleek's direct action in front of them all had somewhat winded him. He was not used to such out-and-out tactics, even in the methods of a man who was the most amazing beggar he had ever struck.

"I--I--well, hardly that, my dear chap," he responded awkwardly. "We've got to have more proof than that, you know. A judge won't hang a man upon the evidence of his possible position in a room when the light went out. It--it isn't feasible!"

"Well done, well done!" Cleek laughed the words softly into his ear.

"So, Mr. Duggan, you are free--for the present. But understand, you are on parole and must not leave this house unaccompanied by a constable or plain-clothes man. This thing's got to be sifted to the bottom, and, what's more, it's going to be, too. And whoever has murdered that poor old man will swing for it, so help me G.o.d!"

CHAPTER XIV

IN WHICH RHEA TAKES A HAND

The silence that followed this last solemn remark of Cleek's was fraught with unknown, tremendous issues. One could have heard a pin drop in the still room. Then at last Lady Paula stirred.

"You have finished, Mr. Deland-- Mr. Narkom? I may go now?"

"In one more moment, Lady Paula. There is simply the matter of the will now to be thrashed out before you disperse and leave us to work out the problem as best we may. You have, no doubt, put it away, Mr. Duggan? I didn't see it here when I investigated early this morning."

"I've done nothing of the sort, Mr. Deland."

"Oh!---is that so? I beg you pardon. Then perhaps you, Miss Duggan?"

"Certainly not. I've never laid a finger upon it!" returned she, with a shake of the head and amazement written all over her countenance. "I've never thought about it again from that moment to this! Why, of course it must have been upon the table when--when poor Father met his--death. He was just about to alter the name when the light went out."

"Then you were using the electric switch last night instead of the customary lamp, I take it?"

"Yes. Father did use it at intervals, and I suppose in this case he thought it better for seeing with. For it was certainly on. A lamp could never have failed as that light did, Mr. Deland. No doubt it would have been better if we had not used the electricity, for the dreadful thing could never have taken place then, could it?"