The Seven Secrets Part 34

"At present he will tell me nothing," I replied.

Sir Bernard gave vent to an exclamation of dissatisfaction, observing that he hoped Jevons' efforts would meet with success, as it was scandalous that a double tragedy of that character could occur in a civilized community without the truth being revealed and the a.s.sa.s.sin arrested.

"There's no doubt that the tragedy was a double one," I observed.

"Although the jury have returned a verdict of 'Found Drowned' in the widow's case, the facts, even as far as at present known, point undoubtedly to murder."

"To murder!" he cried. "Then is it believed that she's been wilfully drowned?"

"That is the local surmise."

"Why?" he asked, with an eager look upon his countenance, for he took the most intense interest in every feature of the affair.

"Well, because it is rumoured that she had been seen late one night walking along the river-bank, near the spot where she was found, accompanied by a strange man."

"A strange man?" he echoed, his interest increased. "Did anyone see him sufficiently close to recognise him?"

"I believe not," I answered, hesitating at that moment to tell him all I knew. "The local police are making active inquiries, I believe."

"I wonder who it could have been?" Sir Bernard exclaimed reflectively.

"Mrs. Courtenay was always so devoted to poor Henry, that the story of the stranger appears to me very like some invention of the villagers.

Whenever a tragedy occurs in a rural district all kinds of absurd canards are started. Probably that's one of them. It is only natural for the rustic mind to connect a lover with a pretty young widow."

"Exactly. But I have certain reasons for believing the clandestine meeting to have taken place," I said.

"What causes you to give credence to the story?"

"Statements made to me," I replied vaguely. "And further, all the evidence points to murder."

"Then why did the jury return an open verdict?"

"It was the best thing they could do in the circ.u.mstances, as it leaves the police with a free hand."

"But who could possibly have any motive for the poor little woman's death?" he asked, with a puzzled, rather anxious expression upon his grey brow.

"The lover may have wished to get rid of her," I suggested.

"You speak rather ungenerously, Boyd," he protested. "Remember, we don't know for certain that there was a lover in the case, and we should surely accept the rumours of country yokels with considerable hesitation."

"I make no direct accusation," I said. "I merely give as my opinion that she was murdered by the man she was evidently in the habit of meeting. That's all."

"Well, if that is so, then I hope the police will be successful in making an arrest," declared the old physician. "Poor little woman!

When is the funeral?"

"The day after to-morrow."

"I must send a wreath. How sad it is! How very sad!" And he sighed sympathetically, and sat staring with fixed eyes at the dark green wall opposite.

"It's time you caught your train," I remarked, glancing at the clock.

"No," he answered. "I'm dining at the House of Commons to-night with my friend Houston. I shall remain in town all night. I so very seldom allow myself any dissipation," and he smiled rather sadly.

Truly he led an anchorite's life, going to and fro with clockwork regularity, and denying himself all those diversions in Society which are ever at the command of a notable man. Very rarely did he accept an invitation to dine, and the fact that he lived down at Hove was in order to have a good excuse to evade people. He was a great man, with all a great man's little eccentricities.

The two following days pa.s.sed uneventfully. Each evening, about ten, Ambler Jevons came in to smoke and drink. He stayed an hour, apparently nervous, tired, and fidgety in a manner quite unusual; but to my inquiries regarding the success of his investigations he remained dumb.

"Have you discovered anything?" I asked, eagerly, on the occasion of his second visit.

He hesitated, at length answering----

"Yes--and no. I must see Ethelwynn without delay. Telegraph and ask her to meet you here. I want to ask her a question."

"Do you still suspect her?"

He shrugged his shoulders with an air of distinct vagueness.

"Wire to her to-night," he urged. "Your man can take the message down to the Charing Cross office, and she'll get it at eight o'clock in the morning. The funeral is over, so there is nothing to prevent her coming to town."

I was compelled to agree to his suggestion, although loth to again bring pain and annoyance to my love. I knew how she had suffered when, a few days ago, I had questioned her, and I felt convinced by her manner that, although she had refused to speak, she herself was innocent. Her lips were sealed by word of honour.

According to appointment Jevons met me when I had finished my next morning's work at Guy's, and we took a gla.s.s of sherry together in a neighbouring bar. Then at his invitation I accompanied him along the Borough High Street and Newington Causeway to the London Road, until we came to a row of costermongers' barrows drawn up beside the pavement. Before one of these, piled with vegetables ready for the Sat.u.r.day-night market, he stopped, and was immediately recognised by the owner--a tall, consumptive-looking man, whose face struck me somehow as being familiar.

"Well, Lane?" my companion said. "Busy, eh?"

"Not very, sir," was the answer, with the true c.o.c.kney tw.a.n.g. "Trade ain't very brisk. There's too bloomin' many of us 'ere nowadays."

Leaving my side my companion advanced towards the man and whispered some confidential words that I could not catch, at the same time pulling something from his breast-pocket and showing it to him.

"Oh, yes, sir. No doubt abawt it!" I heard the man exclaim.

Then, in reply to a further question from Jevons, he said:

"'Arry 'Arding used to work at Curtis's. So I fancy that 'ud be the place to find out somethink. I'm keepin' my ears open, you bet," and he winked knowingly.

Where I had seen the man before I could not remember. But his face was certainly familiar.

When we left him and continued along the busy thoroughfare of cheap shops and itinerant vendors I asked my friend who he was, to which he merely replied:

"Well, he's a man who knows something of the affair. I'll explain later. In the meantime come with me to Gray's Inn Road. I have to make a call there," and he hailed a hansom, into which we mounted.

Twenty minutes later we alighted before a dingy-looking barber's shop and inquired for Mr. Harding--an a.s.sistant who was at that moment shaving a customer of the working cla.s.s. It was a house where one could be shaved for a penny, but where the toilet accessories were somewhat primitive.

While I stood on the threshold Ambler Jevons asked the barber's a.s.sistant if he had ever worked at Curtis's, and if, while there, he knew a man whose photograph he showed him.

"Yes, sir," answered the barber, without a moment's hesitation.

"That's Mr. Slade. He was a very good customer, and Mr. Curtis used always to attend on him himself."

"Slade, you say, is his name?" repeated my friend.