The Motor Pirate Part 20

"That's precisely the reason why I paid no attention to it," said my companion. "Can you take me to the place?"

I led the way through the French window, Forrest putting out the light before he followed me, and carefully closing the cas.e.m.e.nt behind him as he stepped on to the verandah. A clock, somewhere in St. Albans, struck the half after two as we crossed the lawn in the direction of the workshop.

"We have only a short time at our disposal," whispered Forrest. "The darkness is lifting, and our friend will soon be returning."

We pa.s.sed through a side door, which we found unlocked, into what had once been the stable-yard. But we could get no further. The two doors which gave admission to the building were firmly fastened, and there was no available window by which we might gain entrance. We retraced our steps, and, pa.s.sing out of the door, approached the stables from the road. By this time the dawn had made such progress that we knew our chances of getting inside before Mannering's return were dwindling rapidly. We found no more likelihood of obtaining admission from this side than the other.

"I cannot arrest a man on the evidence of a few grains of tobacco dust, and an empty phial," declared Forrest, savagely, as he shook the tightly locked door. "Listen!" I said.

Borne on the wind came the throb of a motor. So still was the air that when the sound first reached our ears it must have been a mile away. The sound drew nearer and nearer, and while it was still a quarter of a mile distant, I recognized the familiar noise of Mannering's car, a sound as dissimilar to the hum of the Pirate car as it was possible to conceive.

"Forrest," I cried, turning to my companion, "we must be mad to think that Mannering could play the part of the Motor Pirate on that old car of his."

There was something so irresistibly ludicrous in the idea, that we both indulged in a hearty fit of laughter, and with one accord we turned and walked down the road.

"He may keep his fast car elsewhere," remarked the detective, when his mirth had subsided.

"It would be difficult to bring the guilt home to him if we failed to discover the car," I replied.

A few seconds later we met the man whom we had so lately suspected. I felt a tinge of shame at the thought that, a few minutes previously, I had been sneaking into his house in the hope that I should find evidence to convict him of a crime. By this time dawn was sufficiently advanced to allow of recognition, and as he came level with us Mannering pulled up.

"Hullo, Sutgrove!" he shouted. "You're about betimes. Been on the same job as myself?"

"What's that, Mr. Mannering?" asked Forrest

"Looking for an opportunity to pay back this little debt," was the light answer, as the speaker tapped his shoulder gently.

"Any luck?" said Forrest, dryly.

"Not a sc.r.a.p," was the ready reply. "You see I'm a bit handicapped with this old car, for unless the fellow happens to take the same road as myself, there's precious little chance of my picking him up. Still, if you do not soon succeed in catching him, I think I shall have a good try myself."

"I suppose by that you know who he is," I remarked, more in order to see what he would say than in the hope of eliciting anything.

"Not the slightest idea on the subject," he responded promptly. "I am merely hoping that in a few days I shall be in possession of a new motor from which even the Pirate will be unable to escape."

I made a gesture of surprise.

"Fact," he continued. "My experiments have proved successful at last. In a week I shall have delivered to me the new motor I have designed, and then the Pirate had better look out. Good night."

Waving an adieu, he set his car in motion, and jogged along until he reached the door of his coach-house. We watched him dismount, unlock the door, and disappear inside.

"It beats me," remarked Forrest.

"Surely you do not still harbour any suspicion concerning him?" I inquired in amazement.

Forrest made no reply. His head was bent, his brow knitted deeply, his hands clasped behind him as we turned and walked back to my place. He did not speak until we stopped on my doorstep.

"I wish he had not seen us," my companion then remarked. "He will be bound to tumble to the conclusion that we suspect him, and will be on his guard."

"Then you do still suspect him," I cried again.

"If I had one sc.r.a.p of direct evidence," replied the detective, emphatically, "I would have him under arrest within half an hour. Only one little sc.r.a.p," he almost groaned. "But, as it is, my reputation would not survive if I made a mistake."

"Why, you don't imagine that he would go so far as to shoot himself just to avert suspicion," I asked, still incredulous.

Forrest drew himself up smartly. "Good Lord! What a fool I am!

What--a--blind--dunderheaded--jacka.s.s!" he cried.

"What's the matter now?" I inquired smiling, for the detective was groping in his pockets. "Have you lost anything?"

From his waistcoat pocket he produced a small leaden bullet, and he held it outstretched in the palm of his hand.

"Here have I been wasting weeks on the continent, while with this I might have settled the matter once and for all."

"How?" I asked.

"I needed but to compare this with the bullet the surgeon extracted from Mannering's shoulder. This is the one which killed the poor fellow near Towcester. If Mannering's bullet is identical with this, I should have nothing more to say; but," he continued meaningly, "both your revolver and mine are of a different calibre to the weapon which fired this. If the bullet which hit Mannering should prove to fit either of our weapons, there would be no need to seek for further evidence. I must see that surgeon at once."

He started off rapidly down the garden path. I hurried after him and laid my hand on his arm.

"Steady, old man," I remarked. "You can hardly knock up a hardworked medical man at 3.30 a.m. just to ask him a question."

Forrest stopped and gave a short laugh. "Upon my word, I had entirely forgotten what the time was. No, you are quite right. There is no need for such excessive hurry. Mannering is safe enough for the present."

"At least, for the next eighteen hours," I observed, after glancing at my watch. "Meanwhile, your room has been kept ready for you."

"A little sleep will not come amiss," he answered, yawning; "though it seems almost a pity to go to bed on such a morning."

He was right. By this time dawn was breaking with a splendour I have never seen equalled before nor since. From east to west the sky was stained and flecked with crimson and gold, and our faces glowed ruddily in the reflected light. We both fell to silence, as with our faces to the east we watched the uprising of the sun; and, until the sky paled as the sun made its appearance above the line of the horizon, we did not stir.

Then Forrest drew a deep breath. "There's been the beauty of destruction in the sunrise," he remarked. "We shall have a storm before nightfall."

He followed me indoors, and, leaving him at the door of his room, I went to my own. I got into my pyjamas, but I did not feel inclined to sleep for the sunbeams were glancing in at my window, and all about were the sound and movement of the awakening earth-creatures. I wheeled an easy chair to the window, and wrapping a blanket about me, took a novel I had been reading and strove to fix my attention on the pages. I could not do so. Whether it was the reflex action of the brain from the excitement of the evening or not, but the fact was I felt unaccountably depressed. I fought against the feeling as best I could. But I could not get out of my head the idea that some great danger was threatening, not myself, but the one dearest to me in the world. From my window I could see her home, and I drew the chair into a position where my eyes might rest upon the roof which sheltered her. There was some consolation in this, and I watched until I eventually fell into an uneasy slumber, from which I awakened unrefreshed and ill at ease.

CHAPTER XVII

STORM

MY tub pulled me together to some extent, but I still felt restless when I went downstairs. Forrest had already gone out, leaving word that he expected to be back to breakfast at the usual hour. I went into the garden, but the sun was s.h.i.+ning in a cloudless sky and there was not a breath of air stirring. It was insufferably hot and I was glad to return into the shade of the house.

The detective came in panting, a little later, with disappointment plainly written in his face.

"The surgeon out?" I inquired.

"No," he answered. "But he was not much use though. Mannering kept the bullet. He wanted to retain it, so he said, as a memento of his adventure."