Ashton-Kirk, Investigator Part 46

Pendleton jumped down, and without another word to Dr. Mercer, they set off toward the slate-roofed house by the roadside. However, after they had gone about fifty yards, Pendleton turned and looked back. He saw the small horse jogging away, while behind it, helplessly fat and hopelessly befogged, sat Dr. Mercer, swaying dispiritedly from side to side.

As Ashton-Kirk and Pendleton advanced upon the house, they bore in mind the possibility of Locke being on the watch; so they kept out of sight as much as possible.

"It's rather odd, I think, that he hangs on here, knowing that his part in the murder of Hume must now be known," said Pendleton. "I rather expected an attempt at escape."

"That may come later," said the investigator, grimly. "The finish of a thing of this sort is always a matter for speculation. I have seen desperate criminals who surrendered like lambs; and I've seen the other sort give a platoon of police a good day's work in their taking."

"Do you think it possible that Locke is one of this latter type?"

"There is no knowing. But I am inclined to believe that he is."

Pendleton shook his head. It seemed impossible that this dapper little man with his peering, short-sighted eyes could be capable of any determined effort to escape the police when once driven into a corner. However, Pendleton had ample reason to respect Ashton-Kirk's judgment; and so when the latter deemed it necessary to approach with caution, he acted accordingly.

They paused in front of the house.

It was now past ten o'clock and the sun was s.h.i.+ning brightly; a little patch of garden, filled with early flowering plants lay between the house and the wood; all about the work-shop were the tall trees which they had noticed upon their previous visit.

"We had better not use the gate," suggested the investigator. "There might be an attachment of some sort that will give him warning."

So under cover of the trees they scaled the fence; then they carefully made their way toward the shop. The windows and door of this were closed, nothing was stirring. Near the door was scattered some rubbish and loose paper. The place had an utterly deserted look.

"Do you think he is there?" asked Pendleton.

"I will know in a few moments," replied the other. "Wait here."

Pendleton expected Ashton-Kirk to continue his cautious approach. But to his surprise the investigator with cool a.s.surance stepped out from behind a tree and advanced toward the outbuilding; when he reached the door he opened it and calmly stepped inside.

The building was in one great room. It had some windows at the side, but the greater part of its illumination came from a huge skylight. As he closed the door behind him, Ashton-Kirk had a vague impression of something huge, made of steel rods and with far-stretching wing-like projections at the sides. But he had no time to give the mechanism even a glance; of greater interest was the small figure which sat at a wide work-table upon which a litter of drawings was scattered.

It was Locke; and as the slight jar of the closing door reached him he lifted his eyes and saw the intruder. If Ashton-Kirk expected any display of fear or other emotion, he was disappointed; upon each of his previous meetings with Locke the latter had shown great trepidation; but now he simply nodded quietly and seemed not at all surprised.

But as Ashton-Kirk made a step toward him, he rose and raised his hand in a gesture that was peremptory and unmistakable. The investigator paused; then Locke pointed to a chair directly before his bench, but some half dozen yards away; and when Ashton-Kirk smilingly seated himself, Locke did likewise.

Then in heavy characters he scrawled upon the back of one of the blue-prints.

"I was expecting a visitor, and fancied that it might be you."

This he held up so that the investigator might read it. Ashton-Kirk nodded. Again the back of a plan came into service and this time the investigator read.

"What has occurred is most unfortunate. I had no hand in it, though, of course, I do not expect anyone to believe me."

Here Ashton-Kirk drew a note book from his pocket and was about to write, but the other stopped him with a gesture. Then the man once more wrote; carefully, heavily, in order that the other might have no difficulty in reading it from the distance.

"Pardon me! But it is not necessary for you to go to any trouble.

Moreover--I beg of you not to think me rude--your opinions in the matter have no interest for me."

Ashton-Kirk acknowledged this with a grave nod. The pencil was instantly at work again.

"As I have said, I expected a visitor; but I will now add that I did not expect to be here to receive him."

Ashton-Kirk looked swiftly into Locke's face as he read this; the expression was unmistakable, and the investigator leaped to his feet.

But the mute uttered a strange parrot-like cry--evidently the same that Edyth heard that night in Christie Place--and Ashton-Kirk saw his hand go swiftly to a b.u.t.ton at one side of the work-bench. Instantly the investigator paused; once more a gesture bade him be seated.

Slowly he obeyed; and once more Locke began to trace bold characters upon the stiff paper. This message read:

"You are a wise man. I had arranged everything before you came in, and had sat down to make an end of it. This b.u.t.ton at my hand once started an electric apparatus; but now it is connected with a quant.i.ty of an explosive--my own invention, and a terrible one. Believe me, one touch and everything in this building is in fragments."

Ashton-Kirk, when he had finished reading, nodded quietly. Again the mute began to write.

"I have no ill will toward you," the words ran, "you have two minutes to leave here, and get safely away."

When he saw that this had been read, Locke threw down the paper and took out his watch. Then he pointed toward the door and sat waiting.

It was strange to see the little man sitting there calmly, with only the pressure of a finger between him and eternity. But Ashton-Kirk knew stern resolution too well to mistake the look on the mute's face. There was nothing to do but to obey. He waved his hand in a farewell. Locke returned the gesture. Then Ashton-Kirk walked to the door, opened it and stepped out.

Pendleton, patiently watching among the trees, saw him emerge and at once moved toward him; to his amazement the investigator took him by the arm and broke into a run.

"What the deuce is the matter now?" asked Pendleton, after they had pa.s.sed the gate and were racing down the road.

"You'll know in a few moments," returned Ashton-Kirk grimly.

He permitted no pause until they reached the car, the engine of which had not been stopped.

"Quick, for your lives!" he ordered, as he leaped in.

Pendleton and Burgess followed instantly. The car had scarcely begun its plunge forward when a horrible rending shock staggered them. And as they sped away the debris of the deaf-mute's work-shop was falling all about them.

The evening papers were glaring with the news from Cordova by the time the two friends were once more alone in Ashton-Kirk's library.

Pendleton seemed to be pondering.

"I say," said he, at last, "was it Morris or Spatola who remained at Hume's the night of the murder?"

"I spoke to Spatola about that," answered Ashton-Kirk. "He said it was Morris who left first and whom Hume pursued by jeers through the open window. Morris had, according to his resolve, called at the place to demand the plans; but Hume was mad with liquor and was even worse in his manner than usual. Unable to bear it, Morris had rushed out.

Spatola later made his way out by way of the scuttle and across the roof, as he frequently did.

"The thing which Spatola had carried under his coat that night was a diploma which he had received from a musical conservatory in Rome. It was in a frame and so made considerable bulk. Hume had denied that afternoon that Spatola had ever studied in this particular conservatory; frantic with rage, but knowing that he was a fool for doing it, the Italian had brought his diploma as proof.

"Morris, under the name of Crawford, occupied a room on the floor below Spatola; and as soon as the musician entered through the scuttle, he descended the stairs and went immediately to his friend's room to console and encourage him.

"Some time pa.s.sed, and while they were still talking they heard a step upon the stairs leading to the attic. As no one lived there but himself, Spatola looked and in the semi-darkness saw two men descending. He called and asked who they were, and Sagon's voice replied that it was he and a friend. They had gone up to have a talk and smoke a cigar with him; but seeing that he was not in, they had come down at once. And now, as he was apparently engaged, they would not trouble him, and with that they disappeared within Sagon's room."

"Then," said Pendleton, "they had gone up through the attic, across the roofs, committed the deed, and returned while Spatola was with Morris?"

"It would seem so."

"But suppose that on reaching the attic, upon their return they had found Spatola there?"

"Sagon had calculated it all very nicely. One night a week Spatola went to play with two compatriots at their rooms; with piano, harp and violin, they gave vent to the harmony that was in them. That was the night for the trio, and Sagon knew it. But In his rage and his desire to prove his standing to Hume, Spatola had forgotten it. When he descended to Morris's rooms, the two criminals thought he had gone to make his usual visit to his friends. Sagon says he almost lost his nerve when the Italian confronted them on the stairs."