The Secret Passage

"Ah! It was you opening the door that Thomas heard."

"Yes! At half-past ten; I had a latch-key. Aunt Selina loved me very much and wanted me to come and see her whenever I could. So that I could come and go at pleasure without troubling the servants, she gave me a latch-key. I happened to have it in my pocket. I really wished to see her about this quarrel she had with Basil."

"What was this quarrel about?"

Juliet deliberated before replying. "It was a small thing," she said at length. "Aunt Selina was fond of Basil and often gave him money. Mr. Octagon doesn't allow Basil much, and mother has enough to do to make both ends meet. Basil is, I fear, extravagant. I know he gambles, though he never told me where he went – "

"To Maraquito's," said Cuthbert. "I have met him there."

"I know," said Juliet in rather a reproachful tone. "I wish you would not gamble, Cuthbert."

"I have given it up now. I only played for the excitement, but since our engagement I have hardly touched a card. I shall not play for money again. My visits to Maraquito's now are purely in the interests of this case."

"Does she know anything about it?" asked Juliet, astonished.

"Yes," replied Mallow, wondering if the girl knew that Mrs. Octagon had paid a visit to Senora Gredos. "Mrs. Herne, who was your aunt's friend, is the aunt of Senora Gredos."

"I never knew that. But about this quarrel. Basil spent more money than he could afford, poor boy – "

"Young scamp," murmured Cuthbert.

"Don't blame him. He means well," expostulated Juliet. "Well, aunt gave him a lot of money, but he always wanted more. Then she refused. About a week before Aunt Selina died, Basil wanted money, and she declined. They had words and she ordered Basil out of the house. It was to try and make it up between them that I called on that night."

"Are you sure Basil did not go also?"

"I don't think so," said Juliet doubtfully. "He was on bad terms with Aunt Selina and knew he would not be welcomed. Besides, he had not a latch-key. Well, Cuthbert, I reached Rose Cottage at half-past ten and let myself in. I went downstairs quietly. I found Aunt Selina seated in her chair near the fire with the cards on her lap, as though she had been playing 'Patience.' I saw that she was dead."

"Why did you not give the alarm?"

Juliet hesitated. "I thought it best not to," she said faintly.

It seemed to Mallow that she was keeping something back. However, she was very frank as it was, so he thought it best not to say anything. "Well, you saw she was dead?"

"Yes. She had been stabbed to the heart. There was a knife on the floor. I picked it up and saw it was yours. Then I thought – "

"That I had killed her. Thank you, Juliet."

"No, no!" she protested. "Really, I did not believe that at the time. I could not think why you should kill Aunt Selina. I was bewildered at the time and then – " here Juliet turned away her head, "I fancied someone else might have killed her."

"Who?"

"Don't ask me. I have no grounds on which to accuse anyone. Let me tell you what I can. Then you may think – but that's impossible. Cuthbert, ask me no more questions."

Mallow thought her demeanor strangely suspicious, and wondered if she was shielding her mother. Mrs. Octagon, who hated Selina Loach, might have struck the blow, but there was absolutely no proof of this. Mallow decided to ask nothing, as Juliet requested. "Tell me what you will, my dear," he said, "so long as you don't believe me guilty."

"I don't – I don't – really I don't. I picked up the knife and left the room after ten minutes. I stole up the stairs and shut the door so quietly that no one heard. You see, the first time I did not trouble to do that, but when I found that aunt was dead I was afraid lest the servants should come and find me there. I fancied, as I had the knife in my hand and had entered by means of the latch-key, that I might be suspected. Besides, it would have been difficult to account for my unexpected presence in the house at that hour."

"I quite comprehend!" said Mallow grimly. "We can't all keep our heads in these difficult situations. Well?"

"I came out into the garden. I heard the policeman coming down the lane, and knew I could not escape unobserved that way. Then if I took the path to the station I fancied he might see me in the moonlight. I ran across the garden by the wall and got over the fence amongst the corn, where I lay concealed. Then I saw you coming round the corner. You climbed the wall and went into the park. After that I waited till after eleven, when the policeman entered the house, summoned by the servants. I then ran round the field, sheltered from observation by the corn, which, as you know, was then high, and I got out at the further side. I walked to Keighley, the next place to Rexton, and took a cab home. I went straight to bed, and did not see Basil till the next morning. He told me he had come home later, but he did not say where he had been, nor did I ask him."

"But I am sure – unless my watch was wrong, that I climbed the wall at a quarter past ten," insisted Mallow.

"You might have climbed it again at a quarter to eleven."

"No! I climbed it only once. Which way did I come?"

"Along the path from the station. Then you walked beside the fence on the corn side, and jumping over, you climbed the wall."

"Certainly I did that," murmured Mallow, remembering what he had told Jennings. "Did you see my face?"

"No! But I knew you by your height and by the light overcoat you wore. That long, sporting overcoat which is down to your heels. Oh, Cuthbert, what is the matter?"

She might well ask this question, for Mallow had started and turned pale. "Nothing! nothing," he said irritably. "I certainly did wear such an overcoat. I was with Caranby before I went to Rexton, and knowing his room would be heated like a furnace, I took every precaution against cold."

Juliet doubted this, as she knew Mallow did not coddle himself in any way. However, she had seen the overcoat too often to mistake to whom it belonged. Moreover, Cuthbert did not deny that he had jumped the wall in the way she explained. "Well, now you know all, what will you do?" she asked.

"I really can't say," said Mallow, who was trying to conceal his agitation. "I can't think who took the knife out of my room. It was in a trophy of arms on the wall, and I never noticed that it was missing, till Jennings drew my attention to the loss. Certainly Miss Loach was killed with that knife."

"I am positive of that," said Juliet. "There is blood on the handle. But you understand why I kept silence?"

"Yes. But there was really no need. I shall call and see your mother and insist on her giving her consent to our marriage. She has no reason to refuse. Do you know why she objects?"

"No. She simply says she does not wish me to marry you."

"Did you not tell her what you have told me?"

"I did not. What was the use? It was because of my discovery of the knife and seeing you, and receiving that letter, that I refused to marry, and so fell in with my mother's plans."

"Juliet, you are not engaged to Arkwright?"

"No. I am engaged to you and you only. I mean I only pretended that I would not marry you. My mother thought I was obeying her, but I was really shielding you on account of that letter."

"Give me the letter, love, and I'll show it to Jennings."

"No," said Miss Saxon, shrinking back; "get him to drop the case."

"Why?" asked Cuthbert dryly. "I could understand that request when you thought me guilty, but now that you know I am innocent, and that Jennings is aware I was at Rose Cottage on that night, surely there is no bar to his proceeding with the case."

"I do not wish it," faltered Juliet.

Cuthbert looked at her steadily and turned away with a sigh. "You are keeping something from me," he said.

"And you from me," she retorted. "Why did you start when I spoke of the overcoat?"

"Juliet, my own," Cuthbert took her hands earnestly, "there are circumstances in this case which are very strange. Innocent persons may be sacrificed. It is best for you and me to have nothing more to do with the matter. Miss Loach is dead. Who killed her will never be known. Let us marry, dear heart, and leave the case alone."

"I am quite willing. But my mother?"

"I shall persuade her to consent."

"I hope so; but I fear she hates you because you are Lord Caranby's nephew. She hinted as much. I don't know the reason."

"I do," said Mallow calmly, "and I think I may be able to persuade her to see reason. I shall meddle no more with the case."

"What about Mr. Jennings?"

"I will tell him what I have told you, and what you have told me. Then I will point out the futility of looking for a needle in a haystack. He may be inclined to let the case drop. He ought to be weary of it by this time."

Juliet looked wistfully at him. "Can't we be plain with one another?"

"No," said Mallow, shaking his head, "you have your suspicions and I mine. Let us refrain from talking about the matter."

Miss Saxon drew a breath of relief. "I think that is best," she said, and her expression was reflected in the eyes of her lover. "When will you come and see mother?"

"Next week. If her objection is a question of money, you can hand over the whole of that income you have inherited."

"Aunt Selina's six thousand a year! Why?"

"Because I have enough money for us both, and when Caranby dies I shall be almost a millionaire. I don't like you having this money."

"But your reason?"

"I have none that I can tell you. Besides, if we can buy Mrs. Octagon's consent with even six thousand a year – "

"I do not mind," said Juliet. "But now that I know you are really innocent, and I take shame to myself for having doubted you, I am willing to marry you, even though my mother withholds her consent."

"My darling!" Cuthbert folded the girl in his arms and kissed her. "I now know that you truly love me. Indeed, I never doubted you."

"But I doubted myself," said Juliet tearfully. "I should never have suspected you, even though the evidence was so strong."

"You lost your head for the moment," said her lover, "but don't let us talk any more about the matter. I shall pacify Jennings and get him to drop the case. Then we will marry and take a tour round the world so as to forget these unpleasant matters."

"Yes, that is best," said Juliet, and the two walked towards the door.

They should have been completely happy now that all misunderstandings were cleared up, but each wore a gloomy expression. Apparently the shadow of Miss Loach's death still clouded the sunshine of their lives.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS

Jennings was at breakfast in his rooms, considering what he should do next in connection with the case. As yet he had not heard from Cuthbert with regard to the interview with Juliet. The detective waited upstairs in Le Beau's sitting-room for the conclusion of the meeting, but when Mallow never appeared he went down. Then he learned from Peggy, who was in the office, that the lovers had been gone for some time "I thought you knew," said Miss Garthorne.

"No," replied Jennings, "I did not know," and then, since he had no further reason to remain, he took his departure also, wondering why Mallow had not come to report the matter.

That same evening he sought out Mallow, but was unable to find him at his accustomed haunts. More perplexed than ever, Jennings, leaving a note at Mallow's rooms, had returned to his own. He could make no new move until he heard from Mallow, and the young man did not appear inclined to give any assistance. Next morning, while at breakfast, he expected his friend, but still there was no appearance of the visitor. A ring came to the door and Jennings thought that this was Cuthbert at last. He was distinctly disappointed when Drudge made his appearance.

"Well," said Jennings sharply, "what is it?"

"I followed the lady you saw, sir."

"Mrs. Herne? Yes."

"She left her house in Hampstead and walked down the hill. There she took a cab. I followed in another. Her cab stopped at the house of Maraquito in Soho. Since then I have been watching the house, but I have not seen Mrs. Herne again."

"She is Senora Gredos' aunt," explained Jennings, "so I expect she is stopping with her."

"No, sir, she isn't. I made friends with a boy called Gibber – "

"Yes. He is a page in the house. Well?"

"I gave him a drink or two," said Drudge, "and a few stamps, as he is a collector. He become friendly with me, and I asked him about the house. He was very frank, but he said nothing about the gambling."

"Humph! I expect he has been told to hold his tongue. Well, did you hear anything at all?"

"I heard that Gibber had never seen Mrs. Herne. He did not even know her name. Now, sir," went on Drudge, laying a finger in the palm of his hand, "if Mrs. Herne was stopping at the Soho house, Gibber would have seen her."

A flash of joy passed across the countenance of Jennings, but he turned away from his underling so that he might not betray the satisfaction he felt. "Mrs. Herne is Maraquito's aunt," he said again.

"No, sir, pardon me. Maraquito hasn't got an aunt. Leastways the aunt, if there is such a person, has never set foot in the house."

"Perhaps Maraquito sees her secretly."

"Well," said Drudge pensively, "she certainly went in by a side door, Mr. Jennings. Do you want me to watch further, sir?"

"Yes. Keep your eye on the Soho house, and should Mrs. Herne reappear, follow her. Anything else?"

"Yes, sir. Mrs. Herne when walking down the hill dropped a small bag."

"Ah! Have you got it?"

"No. She was too sharp for me. I was picking it up when she missed it and came to claim it. But before she reached me I had opened it. Only her handkerchief was inside. I gave it back, and she gave me a shilling. But the queer thing, sir, is the scent."

"What scent?" asked Jennings, looking keenly at the man.

"Oh, a strange strong scent, fit to knock you down, sir."

"Well, and why shouldn't a lady use scent. It is customary."

"It is, sir. My wife uses scent. But this was a queer smell. And then a man shouldn't use scent," burst out Drudge.

"Some men are effeminate enough to do so," said Jennings drily. "But I don't quite understand all this."

"I can tell you what puzzled me at once," said the underling, "after watching Maraquito's house for some time, I put another fellow on, and went to the office. I had to go to see the police about some matter, and I spoke to Inspector Twining of the Rexton district. He had on his desk a handkerchief and a few articles which had just been taken from a man who had been arrested for passing false coins."

"Oh!" Jennings looked very interested, "go on."

"This man was in one of the cells, and he is to be brought before the magistrate this morning. They searched him and took his handkerchief from him."

"It is not customary to do that?"

"No, Sir. But this man – I don't know his name – had two handkerchiefs. The searcher thought that was one too many," said Drudge, with the glimmer of a smile, "and took one."

"Why do you tell me all this?" asked Jennings impatiently.

"Because the handkerchief was scented with the same perfume as the handkerchief of Mrs. Herne I picked up. The moment I smelt it I thought of her coming back for the bag. The scent is so strange and strong that I thought it just as well to mention it to you. You are interested in Mrs. Herne, sir, so if this man uses the same scent – "

"Quite so. You have acted very wisely. Where was the man arrested?"

"At a place near Rexton. He was trying to get a drink and gave a shilling – it was false. The inspector will show it to you, sir. And another queer thing, Mr. Jennings, this man had some rags and a bottle of petroleum on him."

"Humph! Perhaps he intended to set fire to some place. Have you heard of any fire?"

"No, sir, not near Rexton."

"At what time was the man arrested?"

"At nine last night. He is in jail now, and will be brought up this morning on a charge of passing false money."

"I'll look into it, Drudge. It is strange about the scent: but there may be nothing in the matter. The man could easily buy scent of the kind Mrs. Herne uses. Go back to Soho and watch the house. Let me know if Mrs. Herne comes out, and where she goes."

"Yes, sir," said Drudge, and bowed himself out.

When the man was gone Jennings walked up and down his room in a great state of excitement. He was beginning to see the end of the matter. That the scent should be used by a man who was passing false coins confirmed his idea that it was some peculiar sign whereby the members of the gang recognized one another. If Mrs. Herne really was the aunt of Maraquito, this matter implicated her as well as the niece. And Mrs. Herne had been accustomed to go to Rose Cottage, which hinted that Miss Loach had perhaps learned of the existence of the gang and had suffered for her indiscreet curiosity.

"I believe Miss Loach threatened to disclose what she knew. She may have learned that the gang worked in that house from the fact of the ghosts, in which so strongminded an old lady would not believe. I daresay she threatened exposure, and someone killed her. Perhaps Mrs. Herne herself. No, confound it, she was out of the house. Well, I'll see this man now in jail. I may be able to force him to tell. And I'll call on Lord Caranby to-day, and get permission to search the unfinished house. I am quite sure there is a factory there. I wish Mallow would come and tell me if he has learned anything."

Again there was a ring at the door, and this time Jennings, expecting no one else, certainly hoped to see Cuthbert. But, to his surprise, the servant showed in Lord Caranby. The old gentleman was calm and composed as usual, but Jennings thought he looked ill and frail. The dark circles round his eyes were more pronounced than ever, and he leaned heavily on his cane. He was perfectly dressed as usual, and seemed disposed to be friendly.

"I am glad to see you, Lord Caranby," said the detective, when the old gentleman was accommodated with the chair, "have you had breakfast?"

"Thank you, yes. But I could not eat any," said Caranby, breathing heavily. "Those stairs of yours are trying, Mr. Jennings. I am not so young or so strong as I was."

"You don't look the picture of health, my lord."

"Can you expect a dying man to?"

"Dying – oh, no, you – "

"Dying," insisted Caranby, rapping his stick on the ground. "I know that I have not many months to live, and I sha'n't be sorry when the end comes. I have had a hard time. Cuthbert will soon be standing in my shoes. I suffer from an incurable complaint, Mr. Jennings, and my doctor tells me I shall die soon."

"I am sure Mallow will be sorry," said Jennings, wondering why Caranby, ordinarily the most reticent of men, should tell him all this.

"Yes – yes, Cuthbert is a good fellow. I should like to see him happy and settled with Miss Saxon before I die. But Maraquito will do her best to hinder the match."

"She may soon have enough to do to look after herself," said Jennings grimly. "I shall see that she gets her deserts."

"What do you suspect her of?" asked Caranby hastily.

"I can't tell you yet. I have no proofs. But I am suspicious."

"She is a bad woman," said the old man. "I am certain of that. And she will stop at nothing to marry Cuthbert. But this is not what I came to see you about, Mr. Jennings. You asked my permission to go over my house at Rexton?"

"I did. And I was coming to-day to get the permission confirmed."

"Then I am sorry to say you cannot go over it."

"Why not?" asked Jennings, wondering why Lord Caranby had changed his mind – a thing he rarely did. "I only want to – "

"Yes! Yes!" Caranby waved his hand impatiently, "but the fact is, the house has been burnt down."

"Burnt down – at Rexton!" cried Jennings, jumping from his seat.

"Yes. It caught fire in some way last night, about eight o'clock. There was a high wind blowing, and the house has been burnt to the ground. Not only that, but, as the weather has been dry, the whole of the trees and shrubs and undergrowth in the park have gone likewise. I am informed that everything within the circle of that wall is a heap of ashes. Quite a burning of Rome," chuckled Caranby.

"Do you suspect the house was set on fire?"

"Of course I do. Even though the weather is hot, I don't think this can be a case of spontaneous combustion. Probably some tramp – "

"No," said Jennings decisively, "it is strange you should come to me with this news. One of my men has lately been here, and he tells me that a man was arrested near Rexton last night for passing false money. He had on him a bottle of petroleum and some rags."

"Ah!" said Caranby, quite serene, "so you think – "

"There can be no doubt about it, my lord. This man set fire to the house. People don't carry bottles of petroleum about for nothing."

"But why should he set fire deliberately to my house?"

"At the instance of the Saul family?"

Lord Caranby sat bolt upright. "What do you mean?"

"Humph! It is rather a long story. But this man who was caught used a particular kind of scent called Hikui. Maraquito uses it also, and her aunt, Mrs. Herne."

"Mrs. Herne? She is not Maraquito's aunt."

"She told me herself that she was."

"And I tell you that Emilia, who is dead, was the only aunt Maraquito ever had. Why does Mrs. Herne say this?"

"That is what I am trying to find out. She said that you did not know the whole history of the Saul family."

"I know quite enough," said Caranby gloomily, "the members were abominably wicked. Maraquito's father died after he was discharged from jail for coining; and the mother also."

"Well, my lord, this man, who apparently fired your house, was trying to pass false coins. He uses the same scent as Maraquito does, leaving mysterious Mrs. Herne out of the question."

"Well, and what do you deduce from that?"

"I believe that there is a gang of coiners in existence, of which this man, Clancy, Hale, Maraquito and Mrs. Herne are members. All use the scent Hikui, which probably is a sign amongst them. In what way it is utilized I cannot say, unless they meet one another in the dark, and recognize their confreres by the scent."

"I see. It might be so. But why should this man burn my house?"

Jennings shrugged his shoulders. "I can hardly say. I think the coiners used that house as a factory. But since it is burnt down, that seems impossible. This man may have fired it out of revenge, on account of some row with the gang."

"Or else," said Caranby deliberately, "knowing that you were going to search the house, perhaps it was fired to destroy all traces of the factory. Do you connect this with Selina's death?"

"I do. I believe that she learned of the existence of the factory, and that she threatened to denounce Clancy, Hale and Mrs. Herne. Then, to silence her, she was stabbed."

"But the three you mention were out of the house before the death."

"I know that, and they gave their evidence freely enough at the inquest. I have not yet fitted the pieces of the puzzle into one another, but I am certain the lot are connected from their use of the perfume. Also, as this man who has been caught was passing false money, and as Maraquito and probably Mrs. Herne are surviving members of the Saul family who practised coining, I should not be surprised to find that my theories are correct. But how could anyone know that I intended to go over your house?"

"You asked me in Maraquito's salon. Clancy and Hale were about."

"Humph!" said Jennings, "you see the various parts of the puzzle are fitting together excellently. Probably one of those two overheard."

"Probably. That Hale looks a sly creature and capable of much. I wonder if he is related to the Saul family. He has the same nose."

"And the same eyebrows meeting over the nose," said Jennings. "Mrs. Herne has a similar mark. I am sure she is a relative of Maraquito's."

"If she is her aunt, I give you leave to call me a fool," said Caranby, rising. "I know that Emilia told me she had no sister. What will you do next, Jennings?"

"I shall see this man who fired the house and try to get at the truth. Then I am having Mrs. Herne watched – "