The Riddle of the Mysterious Light

"What was the message, and who took it?"

"I wish in one sense it had been the fool of a butler, who ought to have been in the hall, and wasn't, of course. But it was Estelle herself who had just come downstairs that answered, so I asked her to tell Elton to be sure and lock up the Eugenie pearl in the safe with my wife's other jewels, directly it opened, and not leave it in its case in my wife's boudoir. It had suddenly struck me that it wasn't right to have such a temptation put in the way of any one in or about the house. There is a great fascination about that particular jewel. Estelle said she would tell him, and she must have gone straight to the library and found Elton stretched out in front of the safe with the empty jewel-case of the pearl beside him – dead. It seems as if it were from some agonizing poison, though the doctor says only chloroform had been used. But I have no confidence in him."

"And the safe?" put in Cleek. "Was anything missing from that?"

Desmond nodded grimly.

"Yes; my wife, bless her for the only one of us who kept her head on her shoulders, not only sent for the police and for me, but opened the safe at the hour the time-lock allowed, only to find that that, too, was empty. Of course, she had thought at first that Elton had put in the jewel, re-set the safe, and then been attacked, but this was impossible, because I had set the safe the preceding night for five o'clock the next day. You see, Mr. Headland, I only use the time-lock when I have money or any special papers in the safe. Otherwise I just lock it ordinarily. And it has always been the day after the safe has been ordinarily locked, and on the nights when it has money in it and the time-lock has been set that the robberies have taken place. But this time – Well, the greatest mystery of all is that the bag of gold I left there in the morning was missing together with a lot of other jewels of my wife's which were there. And then, too, the pearl was gone from her room, and its case was beside the safe."

Cleek pursed up his lips and tapped his foot softly upon the carpeted flooring of the car. But he made no remark, and finally Desmond went on:

"Well, you can imagine my horror. As soon as I gathered from Bennett, the butler, what had happened, I came tearing over, to find my wife almost sick with horror, and the man I loved best in the world, the truest, the firmest friend that ever walked God's earth, foully murdered on my own hearth." He threw out his hands suddenly and gave a sound like a sob. "My God! but it's almost unbelievable even now that I shan't find him on the steps waiting for me!"

Cleek stretched out his hand to place it gently on his shoulder.

"What will be, will be," he said, softly, but with a deep sympathy in his low tones. "We cannot quarrel with the Almighty, Mr. Desmond, though sometimes, I'll admit, we are greatly tempted to do so. This is the house, isn't it?" as the car turned in at a great gateway and swung slowly up the path toward a huge building alight with the glow of electricity. "Fine place you have here, I must say. After you, Mr. Desmond, after you."

Leaving the car in the hands of a chauffeur, who had evidently been on the watch for them, Cleek and Mr. Narkom followed their host into the great hall. Here Desmond turned to them.

"If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I will go and find my wife," said he, beckoning to a manservant to relieve them of their coats and hats.

"Certainly, Mr. Desmond," said Cleek, and their host vanished swiftly up the broad staircase.

"Any ideas, old chap?" asked the Superintendent, eagerly, as he saw his famous ally make a leap for the telephone apparatus and pick up a small, tightly rolled ball of paper which lay beside it.

"Ideas? Oh, several," was his grim answer as, having unrolled the paper, he read its contents. "Shall be able to tell you more when I know to whom this unsettled bridge score belongs. And, also, I've got a dim idea that the firm of Desmond & Co. was in danger of going into bankruptcy a few days ago. Merely a whisper, but – "

"Good Lord, man! Then, in that case, Mr. Desmond – "

"May have nothing whatever to do with the matter!" Cleek gave back quickly, as the sound of footsteps rang in the hall above, and down the stairway came Lady Beryl Desmond, one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She was followed by her husband and a timid-looking little woman, whom Cleek did not need to be told was Estelle Jardine.

After the formal introduction Lady Beryl led the way into the library, wherein stood the time-lock safe.

On the threshold of the door, however, she turned to the girl, and her voice softened.

"Estelle, there is no need for you to come in here, petite. Go back to your room. I am sure you are not wanted." She flashed a look of interrogation at Mr. Narkom, though it was Cleek who took it upon himself to answer her, in rough, uncouth tones that made even Brian Desmond stare at him in dismay and wonder if he could have been mistaken in thinking the man a gentleman.

"Heaven bless your ladyship, but I don't see any reason to keep either of you ladies. I'll just poke about a bit, and then leave things till morning. In the night all cats are gray," and he gave an inane giggle, for which Mr. Narkom could have cheerfully shaken him, even though he realized that such behaviour was part of the game his ally knew so well how to play.

The door closed upon the two women, and Cleek, in the same dull, uncouth fashion, concentrated his attention on the time-lock safe.

Presently he switched round on Mr. Desmond, who was watching him anxiously, as his fingers darted over the mechanism, and he patted the immovable dial with something almost like affection.

A curious smile looped up one side of his face.

"Mr. Desmond," he said, speaking with excitement, "I have now set your safe to open at one o'clock to-morrow. I pray that three hours before that time the riddle may be solved. Now show me the room where the dead man lies."

Desmond at once led the way to a room down the corridor, and a word from Mr. Narkom to the two constables on guard was sufficient to allow the door to be unlocked. In silence the three men filed in.

There was a sort of bier upon which the body lay, and they looked down upon it reverently.

That Elton Carlyle's death had been attended with awful agony was only too apparent, and yet about the body still lingered the unmistakably sweet odour of chloroform.

"As I thought," said Cleek, briskly, as he laid bare the shoulder and pointed with a nod of satisfaction to a tiny red mark, a slight puncture of the skin. "Mr. Desmond, the doctors are not infallible. I think I know what means were used to do this thing, and why. But, to make sure, I want to borrow your motor, if I may. I shall just catch the last train back to town if I hurry, so, if you will be so kind – one other thing. Lock up this room, and let no one enter it – doctor, coroner, or mourner – until I return. That will be, if all is well, by nine to-morrow morning."

Then, with sudden briskness, he switched upon his heel and left the room. He was followed by Brian Desmond, who locked the door and pocketed the key, then went down to order the motor.

CHAPTER XXXI

IN THE DEN OF THE APACHES

Cleek, once in the train, pulled out the crumpled slip of paper he had found near the telephone in the Desmond home and reread it with knitted brows. It was, to all appearances, a bridge score, and a heavy one at that, but on the back was pencilled in a woman's handwriting:

"Bring pearl to old place, 14 Ratcliff Highway," and the signature beneath it was the one word, "Margot."

His first step on reaching London again was to make his way by devious cuts and many doublings and twistings to his rooms in Portman Square. To his immense surprise, there was a light burning there and when, having run swiftly and silently up the stairs, he advanced suddenly into the room, both he and its occupant had the surprise of their lives. It was Dollops, sitting disconsolately before the remains of a supper qualified to disturb the digestion of an ostrich.

"Dollops!" gasped his master, shutting the door behind him and facing the lad with astonished eyes. "Why, I thought you were at Hampton Court!"

"Lor' lumme sir, but I jest couldn't stop there 'aving a 'oliday without you, so I just bunked my things into the blooming boat, and 'ad a scrap of somefin' to eat, me feeling as holler as a sandwich-board, and back I comes," he explained, disjointedly, not meeting Cleek's keen eyes. "I meant to go down to the Yard in the morning for to try and cade your address out of Lennard."

"A pretty tough job that, my boy, even if he knew," said Cleek with a little smile. "Well, since you're here, Dollops, all the better. I've got a ticklish job ahead of me, and so, if I'm not back here before nine o'clock to-morrow morning, you can wire to Mr. Narkom to come on to me. These are the two addresses." He scribbled rapidly in his note-book. "But mind, not a single syllable before. You understand me?"

"Not 'arf, guv'nor. I'll stay 'ere as mum as a mouse," was the fervent reply.

"Good!" Cleek crossed to his locked medicine chest and drew from it a little phial containing some dark, thick-looking liquid, and put it into his breast-pocket. Then he whipped out his make-up box, twisted a short thick black beard about his chin; grew, in some mysterious manner, a choppy little moustache upon his upper lip; threw off his clothing, threw on some others, and lo! in the twinkling of an eye he stood before the amazed and admiring Dollops, as perfect a representation of a typical Paris Apache as ever was.

Dollops gave a gasp of amazement, and stepped back a foot or two.

"Gor' save us, sir," he whispered in an awe-struck voice, "but if I 'adn't seen yer do it wiv my own blessed peepers I wouldn't 'ave thought it possible. You've got it all over me the night I bust into the Countess's Ball."

One more warning of complete silence, one more promise of fulfilment of it, and Cleek, with that litheness which characterized all his movements, had passed out into the night. Some five minutes later Dollops, armed with his beloved master's biggest revolver, sallied forth in his wake, and succeeded in following him, unseen, right up to the door of one of the evillest-looking dens of Limehouse.

Here Cleek knocked at the door, and on its being opened by a vicious-looking Apache, slipped quickly in. Dollops, knowing this was beyond his powers, contented himself with watching and reconnoitring from the outside.

Meanwhile Cleek, speaking the old Apache slang, had managed to persuade the men that he was from Desmond House, producing as evidence the crumpled bridge score.

"Name of a devil, yes! But what has become of Borelle? We sent him down to fetch the pearl this morning," said one of them, leaping forward and laying a hard hand on Cleek's arm. "At the last minute Margot was sure it would not arrive safe if trusted to the woman – the fickle jades that they are! But what has become of Borelle?"

Cleek shrugged a pair of nonchalant shoulders.

"Bah! how should I know?" he flung out, roughly, with a harsh laugh. "I was told to say that the trick has succeeded, mes frères, and that the jewels are coming. Perhaps le cher Borelle will bring them along later, who knows?"

Then someone opened the door. It was Margot, flushed, triumphant, a very queen returned from a revel at Covent Garden, a band of Apaches about her. Margot!

The disguised Cleek endeavoured to evade her sharp eyes, but that was an impossibility, and unwillingly he was dragged out of his corner, where he had pretended to fall asleep, overcome by the noise and the absinthe, and made to give his story over again.

"Hola, then, but we must wait for the good Borelle," shouted Margot, as she pushed him from her with a sharp slap of her hand across his stupid face. "Drink, mes enfants, drink to the good day when we get that rat, the Cracksman, into our power, that Rat who deserted us for a pale-faced English woman. To the day!"

They lifted their glasses, draining them to the bottom, while Cleek laughed foolishly, as though the whole thing were a great joke, then slid back into his corner, edging his way toward the door.

Just then Borelle himself entered, carrying a bag upon which Margot fell with all the voracity of a young tigress. She tore it open, only to find that it contained nothing more valuable than a rather large bath sponge – only Cleek's keen eyes noticed that it seemed rather heavy.

Like a flash Margot turned upon Borelle, her eyes flashing with anger, but he held up a silencing hand.

"The great Cleek is handling the case, Margot," he said, swiftly. "The pig of a Narkom is down there, and the Cracksman followed him disguised as a Frenchman. I saw him myself, though it was almost impossible to know him. The fat Narkom was at the booking-office. He took the train to Portsmouth. I took a ticket fifty miles farther east. I saw the relief on the fat pig's face, and laughed at the child's play that had deceived him. And I saw him enter the carriage where the Frenchman sat. Is not that proof enough? Cleek is there. Cleek! Cleek! Cleek!"

The cry went up like a ribbon of flame licking round a burning building. It caught the whole crowd by the heels, as it were, sending them drunk with rage. With one accord they darted toward the stranger in their midst, and shoved him rudely toward Margot.

"What are you?" they shouted, discordantly mad with the madness of a possible triumph, and caught at the beard upon his chin. It came away in their hands.

"The Cracksman! Nom de diable! The Cracksman at last, at last!" screamed Margot in a very frenzy of joy. "Save yourself now, O Forty Faces, if you can! What shall we do with him, mes amis? Shall it be the knife, the poison, the rope? Oh, yes! but we have many ways of calling King Death! Come, choose, mes frères, and choose quickly. I want to see him dead with my own eyes this time – dead, dead!"

For a second one roared for one method, and one another; but all at once, through the din and the noise and the hoarse shouting of many voices came the sound of snapping wood and trampling footsteps. Like a flash the cry went up:

"The police! The police!"

They were gone in a flash, tumbling over each other through the trap-door that suddenly sprang open at somebody's hand, and Cleek found himself being left alone. But Margot was the last to disappear, and even as the footsteps neared the door of their haunt she whirled round suddenly, whipped a revolver from the breast of her frock, pointed it at Cleek's tall figure, gave a little scream of hatred and triumph and fury all rolled into one, and fired straight at his heart!

He dropped like a log, and lay there perfectly still, perfectly motionless, until the little band of police, headed by Dollops, charged into the room and found him.

Then Dollops dropped to his knees, rolled him over, looked into his face, and then began blubbering like a baby. "My Gawd! It's Mr. Cleek! Mr. Cleek! And they've killed him! The Gawd-forsaken blighters!" he sobbed in an utter abandonment of grief. "Sir – sir! for Heaven's sake, say something! Tell us you're not dead, guv'nor! It's Dollops, Dollops who's a-asking of you!"

The still form shifted slowly, rolled over, shifted again, and then from the half-open lips came a voice that was as the music of Heaven itself to the boy.

"All right, you disobedient young angel, get off my back and let me get up," said Cleek, somewhat feebly. "Madame Margot fired a very straight shot, and if it hadn't been for the chain-armour which I put on, I'd have been as dead as a doornail, and no mistake!"

They took Cleek outside, thrust him into the waiting motor-car, and drove him to Scotland Yard. Here breakfast awaited him, and he was able to wash the paint from his face and brush his hair; then, somewhat tired, somewhat stiff, but ever the same smiling, well-groomed man, he went down at last to the limousine, entered it, and prepared himself for a comfortable snooze. Meanwhile, Lennard raced down to Portsmouth at a pace that by comparison made the speed limit as slow as that of a tortoise.

It was close on ten when the limousine dashed up to the steps of Desmond House, and Cleek tumbled out of it, to find a much-perturbed Superintendent, the very devil of anxiety shining in his eyes. For Cleek had never before missed an appointment.

"Gad! I was afraid something had happened to you. I've nearly gone frantic," Mr. Narkom said, with a little sobbing laugh of thankfulness, and Cleek's hand sought his.

"I've had a pretty close shave, my friend," answered that gentleman with a wry smile, "and I've a yarn to spin to you later that'll turn your hair gray. It's a wonder mine isn't white! But I'm here, thanks to that young monkey, Dollops. And now let me finish my task." He flashed round on Brian Desmond, who stood near, and gave him a quick smile.

"Mr. Desmond," said he, briskly, "first of all, I want to show you how your money was taken, and then perhaps I will show you later who took it. So, to begin with, the library, if you please. I'm tired, I'm 'bed-hungry,' and I'm going there when I've finished, just as straight as I can!"

But the banker needed no further bidding. He turned and fled up the staircase, returning in a few minutes with Lady Beryl and Estelle Jardine. They all trooped into the library.

As Mr. Narkom was about to close the door, Cleek patted his pocket with a comical gesture of dismay.

"Blest if I haven't forgotten that book now, Mr. Narkom!" He turned blandly to the Superintendent. "You might run down to the limousine; you'll find a book and a bottle. I want both. It's open, I think."

The Superintendent needed no further instructions, but left the room as quickly and as expeditiously as possible, and Cleek turned to the Desmonds.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," he said, smoothly, "but now I think I can solve the riddle of the time-lock. Mr. Desmond, you saw me set that safe yourself, to open at what hour?"

"One o'clock," was the prompt reply.

"Quite so, and therefore it is impossible to open it until that hour – "

But he was interrupted here by Mr. Narkom, who came tumbling into the room, his face alight with eagerness.

"Ah," interposed Cleek, before the little man could speak. "It worked all right, eh?"

"I should just think so," was the brisk reply. "I left the – "

"That's all right then," interrupted Cleek, with a twitch of his eyebrow. "I was just asking Mr. Desmond to test his safe. Have you your key? If so, try it, please."

Mr. Desmond stepped forward and inserted it. To his surprise, it turned in the lock and the door swung slowly open.

"Good heavens!" he cried. "What does it mean? That thing should not have moved!" He looked at the dial, which stood for one o'clock, rigid, inscrutable.

Then he looked from Cleek to Lady Beryl, who was leaning against the table, overcome with emotion.

"I won't have it," she burst out. "It was not Elton. I swear it wasn't!"

"Have no fear," Cleek said, quietly. "Elton Carlyle was as true as steel, he never tampered with the lock. Perhaps Mr. Carlyle would prefer to tell us himself, Lady Desmond."

Before any one could so much as speak a word the amazing intimation had come true. With disordered dress and white, haggard face, the figure of Elton Carlyle himself stood in the doorway.

A shriek burst from Estelle Jardine's white lips, and she turned to fly to him.

"Oh, no, no, my girl; you don't make another attempt," snapped out Cleek. "You thought you were safe this time, didn't you, and that the dead tell no tales, eh?"

Speaking, he had sprung with a sharp movement, and immediately there was a scream, a struggle, and a click of clamping handcuffs.

"Well, my sweet-voiced little traitress, so I've got one more of your precious gang, have I?" Cleek snapped out, triumphantly, staring down into her upturned face. "I suppose your precious brother, Gustave Borelle, is at the bottom of it. Oh, yes, you may shriek, you may scream, but I hadn't forgotten Nita Borelle any more than her brother had forgotten Cleek!"

"Cleek!" broke out Carlyle in a weak voice. And "Cleek!" chimed in Lady Beryl and her husband in one breath.

"Yes, just Cleek, Mr. Desmond. Mr. Carlyle, you must keep quiet and rest. I know the effects of that drug this she-devil used on you, and the reaction of the reviving antidote that I sent Mr. Narkom upstairs with. You must retire to your bed for a few days. I take it that you were busy with the accounts when that hypocrite" – he flashed a glance of contempt at the huddled figure of Nita Borelle – "came into the room."

"That is so," said Carlyle. "She said Lady Beryl wanted to know whether I liked a new scent, a bottle of which she had just opened. Like a guileless fool, I buried my face in the handkerchief, which was chock-full of chloroform; and then I felt a deadly stab in the shoulder, and an agony which caused me to faint. And that was the end."

"And might, indeed, have been the end if she had injected but a few more drops of the hellish compound," said Cleek, grimly.

"But how did the Eugenie pearl vanish with the other jewels? I had not got Mr. Desmond's message about putting it in the safe."

"No, but Nita Borelle had. So she knew that it was upstairs in Lady Beryl's boudoir. She must have been horribly disappointed when she found it wasn't in the safe with the gold and the other jewels. Weren't you, my girl? And then to learn so easily where it was!"

"But how did she get into the safe?" demanded Brian Desmond, eagerly.

"Just a moment," returned Cleek. "Wait till I show you what she got out!" And he pulled out of his pocket the very sponge that Margot had thrown down so contemptuously. The manacled woman gave a little sound indicative of despair and rage.

"After all your work, too, eh, mademoiselle!" And Cleek, tearing aside the substance, showed how the various stones had been pushed down the openings of the sponge. "She must have snatched up the jewels, brought them to the bedroom, and hidden them while you slept that drugged sleep. How pleased she must have been to be able to add the pearl to the collection! See, here it is," and he squeezed out the shining jewel itself onto the table. "She wasn't too excited, though, to leave the case beside Mr. Carlyle. Then all she had to do was to drop the sponge out of the window directly it was dusk, and Borelle could pick it up and walk off unseen. And now I think the riddle is solved, my friends."

"Yes, all but the safe," said Brian Desmond once more. "I don't see how she got the money and these jewels out before five o'clock when the safe was opened."

Cleek smiled at his host.

"That? Oh, quite simple, my dear sir, when you see the scheme. Look."

He crossed to the time-lock.

"Do you see, the dial is immovable, but a screw has been taken from the clockwork at the back, so that the body of the clock could be shifted round a quarter; so that when I set that clock last night for one o'clock, I knew it could be opened with the key at ten. And mademoiselle had so arranged it on days when it was only simply locked. She had turned the clock so that when Mr. Desmond set the dial for five the following day, at two o'clock her duplicate key would fit it, when she could remove the money and jewels, re-set it to open at five, and there you are! Only unfortunately for him Mr. Carlyle interfered with her plan – and his interference was very nearly fatal to him. I saw that the two little marks which should tally on the rim and the clock body were not together, and when I tried it for myself, I knew the secret.

"Well, it is solved now, and there only remains one other thing, and that is to dispose of this woman. Will you send for the local police, Mr. Desmond?" Cleek flashed an inquiring look at his host, who in his turn was mutely questioning Lady Beryl.

"Ah, Mr. Cleek," said that lady, her voice quivering with emotion, "we all have much to thank you for; and yet I will ask but one more favour. And that is, to be allowed to set her free. Thanks to you, no real harm has been done. Elton is safe, the jewels are safe. Let her go, and perhaps she will sin no more."

Cleek's eyes shone his approval, though he shook his head dissentingly.