The Yellow Streak Part 52

I had never seen him sit thus idly at his desk before ...

My brain worked quite lucidly now. As I looked at him, I suddenly realised that I had a golden opportunity for speaking to him un.o.bserved. The gardens were absolutely deserted: the library wing was very still. If he were a man to be frightened into submission, my sudden appearance, following upon the receipt of the threatening letter, would be likely to help in achieving this result.

I walked softly down the steps to the window. I stood close up to the sill.

"Mr. Parrish," I said, "Victor Marbran has sent me for his answer."

In a flash he was on his feet.

"Who's there?" he cried out in alarm.

His voice shook, and I could see his hand tremble in the lamplight as he clutched at the desk. Then I knew that he was badly frightened, and the discovery gave me courage.

"Are you going to settle with Marbran or are you not?" I said.

At that he peered forward. All of a sudden his manner changed.

"What in h.e.l.l does this mean, Jeekes?"

His voice quavered no longer. It was hard and menacing.

But I had burnt my boats behind me now.

"It means," I answered boldly, "that you've got to pay up. And you've got to pay up now!"

In a couple of quick strides he was round the desk and coming at me as I stood with my chest pressing against the window-sill. His hands were thrust in his jacket pockets. His face was red with anger.

"You dawggorn dirty little rathole spy,"--he spat the words at me in a low, threatening voice,--"I guessed that lowdown skunk Marbran had been getting at some of my people!"

His voice rose in a sudden gust of pa.s.sion.

"You rotten little worm! You'd try and bounce me, would you? You've come to the wrong shop for that, Mr. Spying Jeekes ..."

His manner was incredibly insulting. So was the utter contempt with which he looked at me. This man, who had trembled with fear at the unknown, recovered his self-control on finding that the menace came from the menial, the hireling, he despised. I felt the blood rush in a hot flood to my head. I lost all self-control. I screamed aloud at him.

"There's no bounce about it this time! If you don't pay up, you know what to expect!"

I had been holding my pistol out of his sight below the window-ledge, but on this I swung it up and levelled it at him.

He sprang back a pace, the colour fading on the instant from his face, his mouth twisted awry in a horrid paroxysm of fear. Even in that subdued light I could see that his cheeks were as white as paper.

But then in a flash his right hand went up. I saw the pistol he held, but before I could make a movement there was a loud, raucous hiss of air and a bullet whistled past my ear into the darkness of the gardens. How he missed me at that range I don't know, but, seeing me standing there, he came at me again with the pistol in his hand ...

And then you, Miss Trevert, cried out, "Hartley,"

and rattled the handle of the door. Your cry merged in a deafening report. Parrish, who was quite close to me, and advancing, stopped short with a little startled exclamation, his eyes reproachful, full of surprise. He stood there and swayed, looking at me all the time, then crashed backwards on the floor. And I found myself staring at the smoking pistol in my hand ...

It was your scream that brought me to my senses.

My mind cleared instantly. I knew I must act quickly.

The house would be alarmed directly, and before that happened, I must be clear of the grounds. Yet I knew that before I went I must do something to make myself safe ...

I stood at the window staring down at the dead man. His eyes were terrible. Like a suicide he looked, I thought. And then it flashed across my mind that only one shot had been heard and that our pistols were identical and fired the same ammunition. The silencer! The silencer could save me. With that removed, the suicide theory might pa.s.s muster: at any rate, it would delay other investigations and give me a start ...

In a matter of a second or two I believe I thought of everything. I did not overlook the danger of leaving finger-prints or foot-marks about. I had not taken off my gloves, and my boots were perfectly dry.

In climbing into the room I was most careful to see that I did not mark the window-sill or scratch the paintwork ...

I stood beside the body and I caught the dead man's hand. It was fat and soft and still warm. The touch of it made me reel with horror. I turned my face away from his so as not to see his eyes again....

I got the silencer. Parrish had shown it to me and I knew how to detach it....

I went back through the window as carefully as I had come in. And I pushed the window down. Parrish would have done that, I thought, if he had meant to commit suicide. And then my nerve went. The window frightened me. The blank gla.s.s with the silent room beyond;--it reminded me of Parrish's sightless gaze. I turned and ran....

I did not mean to kill. As there is a G.o.d in ...

On that unfinished sentence the confession ended.

Mr. Bardy put the bundle of ma.n.u.script down on the desk and, dropping his eyegla.s.s from his eye, caught it deftly and began to polish it vigorously with his pocket handkerchief. As no one spoke, he said:

"That's all. It ends there!"

He looked round the circle of earnest faces. Then Horace Trevert crossed to the desk.

"Robin," he said, and held out his hand, "I want to apologize. I ...

we ... behaved very badly ..."

Robin grasped the boy's hand.

"Not a word about that, Horace, old boy," he said. "Besides, Mary is putting all that right, you know!"

"She told me," replied Horace; "and, Robin, I'm tremendously glad!"

"Mr. Greve!"

Robin turned to find Mr. Manderton, large and impressive, at his elbow.

"Might I have a word with you?"

Robin followed the detective across the room to the window.

Mr. Manderton seemed a trifle embarra.s.sed.

"Er--- Mr. Greve," he said, clearing his throat rather nervously, "I should like to--er,--offer you my congratulations on the remarkably accurate view you took of this case. I should have been able to prove to you, I believe, but for this curious interruption, that your view and mine practically coincided. It has been a pleasure to work with you, sir!"

He cast a hasty glance over his shoulder at the other occupants of the room, who were gathered round the desk.

"I'm not a society man, Mr. Greve," he added, "and I have a lot of work on my hands regarding the case. So I think I'll run off now ..."

He broke off, gave Robin a large hand, and, looking neither to right nor to left, made a hurried exit from the room, taking Inspector Humphries with him.