The Crimson Blind Part 46

David Steel stood contemplating the weird scene with almost doubting eyes. In his wildest moments he had never imagined anything more dramatic than this. The candle in its silver sconce that Mrs. Henson had s.n.a.t.c.hed up before her flight was perilously near her flimsy dress. Henson caught her once more in a fierce grip. David could stand it no longer. As Henson came by him his right arm flashed out, there was a dull thud, and Henson, without having the least idea what had happened, fell to the ground, with a very hazy idea of his surroundings for a moment or two.

Equally unconscious that she had a protector handy, Mrs. Henson turned and fled for the house. A minute later and she was followed by Henson, still puzzling his racking head to know what had happened. David would have followed, but the need for caution flashed upon him. If he stood there perfectly still Henson would never know who his antagonist was.

David stood there waiting. As he glanced round he saw some little object glittering near to his feet. It was the ruby ring!

"Be you there, sir?" a rusty voice whispered close by.

"I am, Williams," David replied; "I have been waiting for some time."

Williams chuckled, making no kind of apology for his want of punctuality.

"I've been looking after our man, sir," he said. "That Dutch chap what Miss Enid said you'd come for. And I saw all that business in the shrubbery just now. My! if I didn't feel good when you laid out Henson on the gra.s.s. The sound of that smack was as good as ten years' wages for me. And he's gone off to his room with a basin of vinegar and a ream of brown paper. Why didn't you break his neck?"

David suggested that the law took a prejudiced view of that kind of thing, and that it would be a pity to hang anyone for such a creature as Reginald Henson.

"Our man is all right?" he asked.

"As a trivet," said Williams. "Sleeping like a baby; he is in my own bed over the stable. I'll show you into the harness-room, where Miss Enid's waiting for you, sir, and then I'll go and see as Henson don't come prowling about. Not as he's likely to, considering the clump on the side of the head you gave him. I take it kind of Providence to let me see that!"

Williams hobbled away, chuckling to himself and followed by David. There was a feeble oil-lamp in the harness-room. Enid was waiting there anxiously.

"So you have put Henson out of the way for a time," she said. "He pa.s.sed me just now using awful language, and wondering how it had all come about. Wasn't it a strange thing that Van Sneck should come here?"

"Not very," David said. "He is evidently looking for his master, Reginald Henson. I have not the slightest doubt that he has been here many times before. Williams says he is asleep. Pity to wake him just yet, don't you think?"

"Perhaps it is. But I am horribly afraid of our dear friend Reginald, all the same."

"Our dear Reginald will not trouble us just yet. He came down as far as London with Bell. Of course he had heard the news of Van Sneck's flight.

Was he disturbed?"

"I have never seen him in such a pa.s.sion before, Mr. Steel. And not only was he in a pa.s.sion, but he was horribly afraid about something. And he has made a discovery."

"He hasn't found out that your sister--"

"Is at Littimer Castle? That is really the most consoling part of the business. He has been at Littimer for a day or two, and he has not the remotest idea that Christabel Lee is our Chris."

"A feather in your sister's cap. She has quite captivated Littimer, Bell says."

"And she played her part splendidly. Mr. Steel, it is very, very good to know that Hatherly has cleared himself in the eyes of Lord Littimer at last. Did Reginald suspect--"

"Nothing," Steel said. "He is utterly and hopelessly puzzled over the whole business. And Bell has managed to convince him that he is not suspected at all. That business over the Rembrandt was really a brilliant bit of comedy. But what has Henson found out?"

"That Chris is not dead. He has seen Walker and the undertaker. But he does not know yet that Dr. Bell was in the house that eventful night, which is a blessing. As a matter of fact, Reginald has not been quite the same man since Rollo nearly killed him that exciting evening. His nerves seem to be greatly shaken."

"That is because the rascal feels the net closing round him," Steel said.

"It was a fine stroke on your sister's part to win over that fellow Merritt to her side. I supplied the details per telephone, but the plot was really Miss Chris's. How on earth should we have managed without the telephone over this business?"

"I am at a loss to say," Enid smiled. "But tell me about that plot. I am quite in the dark as to that side of the matter."

David proceeded to explain his own and Chris's ingenious scheme for getting Merritt into their power. Enid followed the story with vast enjoyment, tempered with the fact that Henson was so near.

"I should never have thought of that," she said; "but Chris was always so clever. But tell me, what was Henson doing in the garden just now?

Williams says he was illtreating my aunt, but that seems hardly possible even for Reginald."

"It was over a ring that Mrs. Henson had," David explained. "She was running away with it, and Henson was trying to get it back. You see--"

"A ring!" Enid gasped. "Did you happen to see it? Oh, if it is only--.

But he would not be so silly as that. A ring is the cause of all the trouble. _Did_ you see it?"

"I not only saw it but I have it in my possession," David replied.

Enid turned up the flaring little lamp with a shaking hand. Quite unstrung, she held out her fingers for the ring.

"It is just possible," she said, hoa.r.s.ely, "that you possess the key of the situation. If that ring is what I hope it is we can tumble Henson into the dust to-morrow. We can drive him out of the country, and he will never, never trouble us again. How did you get it?"

"Mrs. Henson dropped it and I picked it up."

"Please let me see it," Enid said, pleadingly. "Let me be put out of my misery."

David handed the ring over; Enid regarded it long and searchingly. With a little sigh of regret she pa.s.sed it back to David once more.

"You had better keep it," she said. "At any rate, it is likely to be valuable evidence for us later on. But it is not the ring I hoped to see.

It is a clever copy, but the black pearls are not so fine, and the engraving inside is not so worn as it used to be on the original. It is evidently a copy that Henson has had made to tease my aunt with, to offer her at some future date in return for the large sums of money that she gave him. No; the original of that ring is popularly supposed to be at the bottom of the North Sea. If such had been the case--seeing that Henson had never handled it before the Great Tragedy came--the original must be in existence."

"Why so?" David asked.

"Because the ring must have been copied from it," Enid said. "It is a very faithful copy indeed, and could not have been made from mere directions--take the engraving inside, for instance. The engraving forms the cipher of the house of Littimer, If Henson has the real ring, if we can find it, the tragedy goes out of our lives for ever."

"I should like to hear the story," said Steel.

Enid paused and lowered the lamp as a step was heard outside. But it was only Williams.

"Mr. Henson is in his bedroom still," he said. "I've just taken him the cigars. He's got a lump on his head as big as a billiard-ball. Thinks he hit it against a branch. And my lady have locked herself in her room and refused to see anybody."

"Go and look at our patient," Enid commanded.

Williams disappeared, to return presently with the information that Van Sneck was still fast asleep and lying very peacefully.

"Looks like waiting till morning, it do," he said. "And now I'll go back and keep my eye on that 'ere distinguished philanthropist."

Williams disappeared, and Enid turned up the lamp again. Her face was pale and resolute. She motioned David towards a chair.

"I'll tell you the story," she said. "I am going to confide in you the saddest and strangest tale that ever appealed to an imaginative novelist."

CHAPTER XLIV

ENID SPEAKS