The House of Strange Secrets Part 23

CHAPTER x.x.xI

THE BEGINNING OF THE END

There was silence for a few moments when the end of the Squire's story was reached. Then Laurence said--

"The mystery is well-nigh solved. We can now see what blunders we have made, how we have unjustly suspected 'Doctor Meadows' (or whatever his name is), and been led a dance by the freaks of coincidence. Our suspect, Meadows, has proved to be not only innocent of the charges we brought against him, but the man who, by some means we have yet to learn, has been able to put into our hands the key to the mystery. But for him I should not have obtained access to this book, and without it we might have gone on blundering in the dark for months, or even years.

Take my word for it, Miss Scott, we are neither of us born to be investigators of mystery."

"How dare you say so!" replied the girl, with pretended anger, "when I have this very day made a most startling discovery, which may lead to the revelation of 'Doctor Meadows'' secret."

"Oh," cried Laurence, "is that so? Of course, I mean that I am the poor hand at detective work, and you----"

"A poorer," Lena ended the sentence. "But for all that I really have made a strange discovery."

"Well, and what is it, if it is not criminal to ask?"

"You remember the envelope addressed to Major Jones-Farnell that we found in the garden?"

"Certainly. It was addressed in a lady's hand, from somewhere abroad; or, rather, from either Scotland, Wales, or Ireland, since it bore a penny stamp, and was marked 'England' in the address."

"Well, I have found out the name of the person who addressed that envelope to 'Doctor Meadows.'"

"And her name is that of someone I know well. I am convinced of that.

Don't keep me in suspense any longer, please."

"Her name is that of someone you know very well--someone, though, that you know no better than I or auntie or--well, Kingsford does."

"What do you mean? Tell me, or I shall succ.u.mb to my anxiety." Laurence spoke in jest, but he was really more than interested to learn the ident.i.ty of the "doctor's" fair correspondent.

"Well, then, the unknown lady is none other than the Princess H----!"

"The Princess H----! No; you must be mistaken. It cannot be!"

"Two people do not write the same 'fist,'" Lena responded, warmly.

"Where have you seen that writing before?" she added, taking up a magazine from a table. Opening it at a page the corner of which had been turned down, she pointed to a facsimile autograph letter by Princess H----, the wife of Prince H----, whose death, under mysterious circ.u.mstances, had caused much gossip some years before, and who, as the mother of a little prince who, had he lived, would in due course have ruled over Queen Victoria's dominions, was one of the Royal celebrities of the day.

"Well, do you doubt your own eyes?" asked Lena quietly.

"No; I apologise," Laurence replied. "I agree with you that the 'doctor's' lady correspondent is Princess H----. The writings are precisely alike. There can be no doubt about it. You have made a most important discovery."

"Further, I can prove my theory, if proof is required. The Princess was residing at Dublin up to a few days ago. That was why she wrote 'England' at the end of 'Major Jones-Farnell's' address. What her connection is with this gentleman of aliases I cannot guess. The discovery, however, tells us one thing--that what the 'doctor' said about the nature of his secret was true."

"You mean that----"

"That he said if his secret was revealed to the world it would cause a general sensation--that it would do great harm to the world. The secret concerns the mysterious death of Prince H----!"

"But who, then, is 'Meadows'? What has he to do with secrets of such great importance?"

"That I cannot say, but I believe your father may know. Note this, though: your father denies the fact that he confided his secret to 'Doctor Meadows.' We have discovered that Meadows not only holds his secret, but has been bound by your father not to reveal it. If your father denies this, and is, nevertheless, really connected in some way with the 'doctor,' but will not confess to the fact, is it not possible that he, in his turn, knows something about Meadows' secret? I grant you that it does not follow that such is the case, but it is a distinct probability, to my mind."

Laurence could not reply. The argument was a fair one, but Lena's former hypothesis concerning Horncastle's connection with the attacks on the Squire's life had seemed so ingenious and probable a one and yet had been proved to be wrong in every particular.

"At any rate," he remarked, after a pause, "you will agree that we have reached the beginning of the end of this mystery?"

"Certainly; but we have yet much to learn. I doubt not but that the secret of 'Doctor Meadows' will prove less easy to solve than that of your father. I agree with Meadows that much of the mystery we have almost solved should have been explained long ago. The discovery that the Squire had been an Indian officer, coupled with the fact of the unknown a.s.sailant's agility, etcetera, should have suggested to us the possibility of the creature being a Thug. The Squire's story has revealed one thing--the reason why he fainted at my mention of the woman in coloured skirts. He thought the avenger had come in the person of Lilla herself (whom he believed to be dead), when what I had seen was this Indian, whose clothing must certainly be somewhat similar to that we a.s.sociate with a female. Now we know, too, that the 'robbery' of the gardener's coat was effected in order that the a.s.sa.s.sin might be less recognisable. One thing, though, strikes me as strange. How did this creature learn to ride a bicycle?"

"You mustn't forget that India, like all other countries, is advancing with the times. No doubt the Thugs encourage such a form of athletics among their children. Why he did not return the bicycle to the shed, though, seems difficult to understand; and what is another mystery to me is why he used a pistol on the first occasion, when that weapon is little known among the Thugs."

"Perhaps, finding it so difficult to get into the house and murder your father, he cast caution and his usual weapon to the winds, and essayed the attack on the moor. By chance he discovered the secret pa.s.sages and room when lurking in that splendid hiding-place, the barn. Then, having lost his pistol, he entered the Squire's room by means of the secret door in the wall, and would have murdered the old man had it not been for the bat."

"But how do you know that the unexplored secret pa.s.sage does lead to the Squire's room, as Meadows suggested that it might?"

"Because," replied Lena triumphantly, "I noticed that the wardrobe in that room had been s.h.i.+fted since the Squire's return to consciousness, and for no apparent reason. Mrs. Featherston, moreover, informed me that it was moved at the Squire's particular request."

CHAPTER x.x.xII

THE WIZARD'S MARSH

It was the following morning.

Nothing eventful had transpired since Laurence's return from Durley Dene, save that in the night watches the young man had fancied he heard occasional sounds from the garden of the adjoining mansion. What these sounds were he could not say, and as it was too dark for him to perceive anything outside when he rose and peered out of the window, he was unable to discover whether or no anything unusual had taken place.

The Squire's condition continued to improve, but he made no mention to his son of the little red note-book and the life story it contained; nor, in fact, did he in any way refer to the matter foremost in point of interest.

Laurence was breakfasting with Lena and Mrs. Knox, who, as usual, did justice to the array of dishes judiciously placed within her reach by the elderly butler. The three had been conversing upon every-day subjects, when the door opened, and Kingsford came hurriedly in.

"Please, sir," he said, "there's a man outside wants to see you very pertikler, at once, if you please."

Obtaining the ladies' permission for him to leave the table, Laurence followed the butler outside into the front hall, where stood a little man in a loud check suit and tight leggings. The man looked as though usually his face was rubicund; now it was white as the traditional sheet.

"Oh, my G.o.d, Mr. Laurence!" he almost shrieked on catching sight of Carrington; "they're after him! They'll kill him! They'll tear him in pieces! Quick, quick! What can be done, sir? Oh, they'll hang me for murder!"

"Calm yourself, my dear Nichols," replied Laurence, "and tell me distinctly what's the matter. Anything happened to the Marquis?"

"No, sir," replied Nichols, trembling with fear; "the Markiss's all right, but it's your visitor!"

"What visitor?"

"Why, the gent with the black face and the dress!"

"Gent with black face and dress!" echoed Laurence. "Quick, what do you mean? What has happened to him?"

"I was taking Tiger and Nap for exercise, sir, when suddenly, as though they scented something unusual, they both jumped forward, knocking me down. When I fell down I let loose of the leash, and they simply flew away across the fields in this direction--me after them. I vaulted the gate by the common in time to catch sight of a queer little gent with black face and an old black coat, and some kind of dress on, tearing down the road with the hounds after him. I tried to follow, but lost sight of 'em in no time. Then I ran back as hard as I could for a horse, and a lad at the gate told me he'd seen the black gent come out of your gate. Let me have the mare, sir, quick."