The Secret Passage

"You are surprised at seeing me again to-night," said Cuthbert.

"I am never surprised at anything," replied his uncle dryly, "but we exhausted all we had to say to one another before eight o'clock last night, at which time you left. I therefore don't know why you have come this evening. Our conversation is bound to be dull, and – excuse me – I can't afford to be bored at my age."

"I cannot say that our conversation was particularly agreeable last night," rejoined Mallow, equally dryly, "we talked business and money matters, and about your will."

"And about your engagement also," said Caranby without a vestige of a smile. "That should interest a young man of your ardent temperament. I certainly thought the subject amused you."

"Would you be surprised to learn that my engagement has been broken off since our conversation," said Cuthbert, crossing his legs.

"No! Who can account for the whims of a woman. After all, perhaps you are to be congratulated on not marrying a weathercock."

"Juliet has nothing to do with the breaking of our engagement. Her mother objects."

"I understood for the last six months that her mother not only approved, but was delighted."

"That is the strange part, sir. On hearing of the death of her sister, Mrs. Octagon suddenly changed her mind, and told me that the marriage could not take place."

"Did she give any reason?"

"She declined to do so."

"The same woman," muttered Caranby, "always mysterious and unsatisfactory. You say her sister is dead?"

Cuthbert cast a look at the Globe, which lay on a small table near Caranby's elbow. "If you have read the papers, sir – " "Yes! I have read that Miss Loach has been murdered. You went down to Rexton to-day. I presume you heard something more than the details set forth by the press."

Cuthbert nodded. "It appears to be a mystery."

Caranby did not reply, but looked into the fire. "Poor Selina!" he said half to himself. "A sad end for such a charming woman."

"I should hardly apply that word to Miss Loach, sir. She did not appear to be a lady, and was by no means refined."

"She must have changed then. In her young days she and her sister were the handsomest women in London."

"I believe you were engaged to one of them," said Mallow politely.

"Yes," replied his uncle grimly. "But I escaped."

"Escaped?"

"A strange word is it not, but a suitable one."

Cuthbert did not know what to make of this speech. "Have I your permission to smoke?" he asked, taking out his case.

"Yes! Will you have some coffee?"

"Thank you. I had some before I came here. Will you – " he extended the case of cigarettes, which Caranby declined.

"Ring for Fletcher to get me my chibouque."

"It is in the corner. We will dispense with Fletcher with your permission." And Cuthbert brought the chibouque to his uncle's side. In another minute the old man was smoking as gravely as any Turk. This method of consuming tobacco was another eccentricity. For a few moments neither spoke. Then Caranby broke the silence.

"So you want me to help you to find out Mrs. Octagon's reason?"

"I do," said Mallow, rather surprised by Caranby's perspicuity.

"What makes you think I can explain?"

Cuthbert looked at his cigarette. "I asked you on the chance that you may be able to do so," he said gravely. "The fact is, to be frank, Mrs. Octagon appears to think you might have something to do with the crime."

Caranby did not seem surprised, but smoked imperturbably. "I don't quite understand."

The young man related how Mrs. Octagon had inquired if the Earl was back from the Continent, and her subsequent remark. "Of course I may be unduly suspicious," said he. "But it suggested – "

"Quite so," interrupted the old gentleman gravely. "You are quick at putting two and two together. Isabella Octagon hates me so much that she would gladly see me on the scaffold. I am not astonished that she suspects me."

"But what motive can she impute – "

Caranby laid aside the long coil he was holding and laughed quietly to himself. "Oh, she'll find a motive if it suits her. But what I cannot understand is, why she should accuse me now. She has had ample opportunity during the past twenty years, since the death of Miss Saul, for instance."

"She did not exactly accuse you."

"No, a woman like that would not. And then of course, her sister dying only last night affords her the opportunity of getting me into trouble. But I am afraid Mrs. Octagon will be disappointed of her revenge, long though she has waited."

"Revenge! remember, sir, she is the mother of Juliet."

"I sincerely hope Juliet does not take after her, then," said Lord Caranby, tartly. "To be perfectly plain with you, Cuthbert, I could never understand why Mrs. Octagon sanctioned your engagement with her daughter, considering you are my nephew."

"I don't understand," said Mallow, staring and uneasily.

Caranby did not answer immediately. He rose and walked painfully up and down the room leaning heavily on his cane. Mallow offered his arm but was impatiently waved aside. When the old man sat down again he turned a serious face to his nephew. "Do you love this girl?"

"With all my heart and soul."

"And she loves you?"

"Of course. We were made for one another."

"But Mrs. Octagon – "

"I don't like Mrs. Octagon – I never did," said Mallow, impetuously, "but I don't care two straws for her opposition. I shall marry Juliet in spite of this revenge she seems to be practising on you. Though why she should hope to vex you by meddling with my marriage, I cannot understand."

"I can put the matter in a nutshell," said Caranby, and quoted Congreve —

"'Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turnedNor Hell a fury like a woman scorned.'"

"Oh," said Mallow, dropping his cigarette, and a whole story was revealed to him in the quotation.

"A gentleman doesn't talk of these things," said Caranby abruptly, "and for years I have held my tongue. Still, as Mrs. Octagon does not hesitate to strike at me through you, and as your happiness is at stake, and the happiness of the girl you love, I shall tell you – so far as I can guess – why the woman behaves in this way."

"If you please, sir," and Cuthbert settled himself to listen.

"About twenty years ago," said Caranby, plunging headfirst into his subject, "Isabella and Selina Loach were well-known in society. They were the daughters of a country squire – Kent, I remember – and created a sensation with their beauty when they came to town. I fell in love with Selina, and Isabella – if you will pardon my vanity – fell in love with me. She hated her sister on my account. I would have married Selina, but her father, who was hard up, wished her to marry a wealthy American. Isabella, to part Selina from me, helped her father. What arguments they used I do not know, but Selina suddenly changed in her manner towards me. Out of pique – you may think this weak of me, Cuthbert, but I was a fool in those days – I became engaged to a girl who was a singer. Her name was Emilia Saul, and I believe she was of Jewish extraction. I liked her in a way, and she had a wonderful power over me. I proposed and was accepted."

"But if you had really loved Miss Loach – "

"I should have worn the willow. I told you I was foolish, and, moreover, Miss Saul fascinated me. Selina was cold, Emilia was charming, and I was weak. Therefore, I became engaged to Emilia, and Selina – as I heard, arranged to marry her wealthy American. I believe she was angry at my apparently forgetting her so soon. But she was in fault, not I."

Cuthbert looked at his smart shoes. "Had I loved Selina," said he slowly, "I should have remained true to her, and have married her in spite of the objection of her father – "

"And of her sister Isabella – Mrs. Octagon that is; don't forget that, Cuthbert. And I could scarcely run away with a girl who believed stories about me."

"What sort of stories?" asked Mallow, remembering certain rumors.

"The sort that one always does tell of an unmarried man," retorted Caranby. "Scandalous stories, which Isabella picked up and retailed to Selina. But I never pretended to be a saint, and had Selina really loved me she would have overlooked certain faults. I did love her, Cuthbert. I did all in my power to prove my love. For a time I was engaged to her, and when she expressed a wish that I should build her a house after her own design, I consented."

"The house at Rexton!" exclaimed the young man.

"Exactly. I got an architect to build it according to designs suggested by Selina. When our engagement was broken and I became – out of pique, remember – engaged to Miss Saul, I still went on building the house. Selina, I believe, was very angry. One week when I was out of London she went down with her sister to see the house, and there met Emilia."

"Ah! then there was trouble?"

"No; there was no time for a quarrel, if that is what you mean. When the three met, Emilia was walking across a plank on the unfinished second story. On seeing the Loach girls – this is Isabella's tale – Emilia lost her footing and fell thirty feet. She was killed almost instantaneously, and her face was much disfigured. This took place during the dinner hour when the workmen were absent. When they returned, the body was found and recognized by the clothes."

"Did not the girls remain?"

"No. They took fright at the accident and returned home. But here a fresh disaster awaited them. Mr. Loach was dead. He died suddenly of heart disease. Selina at once broke her engagement with the American, and – "

"And returned to you?"

"Strangely enough she did not. I never saw her again. After the death of the father the girls went to the Continent, and only came back after two years abroad. Then Isabella, after vainly trying to get me to marry her, became the wife of Saxon, then a rising barrister. Selina went to Rexton and shut herself up in the house she now has."

"The house she did have," corrected Cuthbert, "you forget she is dead."

"Yes. I tried to see her, but she refused to look on my face again, alleging that I had treated her badly by becoming engaged to Miss Saul. That poor soul was buried, and then I shut up the house and left it as it is now. I travelled, as you know, for years, and I am travelling still, for the matter of that," added Caranby with a sigh, "all Selina's fault. She was the only woman I ever loved."

"But was there not an inquest held on Emilia's body?"

"Oh yes, and Isabella gave evidence as to the accident. Selina was too ill to appear. But there was no need. The cause of the death was plain enough. Moreover, Emilia had no relatives who cared to make inquiries. She left very little money, so those she had, did not trouble themselves."

"It is a strange story," said Cuthbert, looking puzzled. "Had you an idea that Emilia may have been pushed off the plank by Selina?"

"Certainly not," rejoined Caranby indignantly. "She was a good and kind girl. She would not do such a thing."

"Humph!" said Mallow, remembering the eagle nose and thin lips of Miss Loach. "I'm not so sure of that."

"Isabella, who was passionate, might have done it," resumed Caranby, "often did I wish to speak to her on the subject, but I never did. And after all, the jury brought in a verdict of accidental death, so there was no use making trouble."

"Had Emilia no relatives who might have made inquiries?"

"I believe she had a brother who was a clerk in an office, but, as I said, she left no money, so he did not bother himself. I saw him after the death, and the sight of him made me glad I had not married his sister. He looked a thorough blackguard, sly and dangerous. But, as I said, Emilia came of low people. It was only her fine voice and great talents that brought her into the society where I met her. I have never heard of her brother since. I expect he is dead by this time. It is over twenty years ago. But you can now understand why Mrs. Octagon objects to the marriage. She has never forgiven me for not making her my wife."

Cuthbert nodded again. "But I can't understand why she should have consented at all, only to alter her mind when Selina died."

"I can't understand that myself. But I decline to mix myself up in the matter. You will have to learn the reason yourself."

"I intend to," said Mallow rising, "and the reason I am certain is connected with the violent death of her sister!" A speech to which Caranby replied by shaking his head. He did not agree with the idea.

"And you see, in spite of Mrs. Octagon's hint, I had no reason to kill Selina," said Caranby gravely. "I cannot understand why Isabella should accuse me – "

CHAPTER VI

A PERPLEXING CASE

The morning after his visit to Lord Caranby, Mallow was unexpectedly called to Devonshire on account of his mother's illness. Mrs. Mallow was a fretful hypochondriac, who always imagined herself worse than she really was. Cuthbert had often been summoned to her dying bed, only to find that she was alive and well. He expected that this summons would be another false alarm, but being a dutiful son, he tore himself away from town and took the mid-day express to Exeter. As he expected, Mrs. Mallow was by no means so bad as she hinted in her wire, and Cuthbert was vexed that she should have called him down, but she insisted that he should remain, and, unwilling to cause her pain, he did so. It was four days before he returned to London. But his visit to Exeter was not without results, for he asked his mother about Caranby's romance. Mrs. Mallow knew all about it, and highly disapproved of her brother-in-law.

"He's crazy," she said vigorously, when the subject was brought up one evening. "All his life he has been queer. Your father should have had the title, Cuthbert!"

"Well, I shall have it some day," said her son soothingly. "Caranby is not likely to marry."

"Yes, but I'll never be Lady Caranby," lamented Mrs. Mallow, who was intensely selfish and egotistical. "And I should have adorned the title. Such an old one as it is, too. But I'm glad that horrid Selina Loach never became his wife. Even that Saul girl would have been better."

"Don't speak evil of the dead, mother."

"I don't see why we should praise the bad dead," snapped Mrs. Mallow. "I never liked either Isabella nor Selina. They were both horrid girls and constantly quarrelling. They hardly ever spoke to one another, and how you can contemplate marrying the daughter of Isabella, I really don't know. Such a slight to me. But there, I've said all I had to say on the subject."

To do her justice, Mrs. Mallow certainly had, and never ceased nagging at Cuthbert to break the engagement. Had she known that Mrs. Octagon had forbidden the marriage she would have rejoiced, but to save making awkward explanations to a woman who would not hold her tongue, Cuthbert said nothing about the breach.

"Did you like Miss Saul, mother?" he asked.

"I only saw her on the concert platform," said Mrs. Mallow, opening her eyes, "gracious, Cuthbert, I never associated myself with those sort of people. Caranby was infatuated with her. To be sure, he got engaged to spite Selina, and she really did treat him badly, but I believe Miss Saul – such a horrid Hebrew name, isn't it – hypnotized him. He forgot her almost as soon as she died, in spite of his ridiculous idea of shutting up that house. And such valuable land as there is at Rexton too. Well, I hope this violent death of Selina will be a warning to Caranby. Not that I wish him any harm, in spite of your being next heir to the title, and we do need money."

While Mrs. Mallow rambled on in this diffusive manner, Cuthbert was thinking. When she ended, "Why should this death be a warning to Caranby?" he asked quickly.

"Good gracious, Cuthbert, don't get on my nerves. Why? – because I believe that Selina pushed Miss Saul off that plank and killed her. She was just the kind of violent girl who would do a thing like that. And Miss Saul's relatives have waited all these years to kill Selina, and now she's dead, they will kill Caranby because he did not marry the wretched girl."

Cuthbert stared. "Mother, what are you talking about? Caranby told me that Miss Saul had only one brother, and that probably he was dead."

"Ah," said Mrs. Mallow, "he didn't tell you that Miss Saul's father was arrested for coining or passing false money, I forget which. I believe the brother was involved also, but I can't be sure. But I only know the girl was dead then, and the Saul family did not move in the matter, as the police knew too much about them.

"Good gracious!" shuddered the lady, "to think if she had lived, Caranby would have married into that family and have cheated you of the title."

"Are you sure of what you say, mother?"

"Of course I am. Look up any old file of newspapers and you'll read all about the matter. It's old history now. But I really won't talk any more of these things, Cuthbert. If I do, there will be no sleep for me to-night. Oh dear me, such nerves as I have."

"Did you ever see Miss Saul, mother?"

"I told you I did on the platform. She was a fine, large, big girl, with a hook nose and big black eyes. Rather like Selina and Isabella, for I'm sure they have Jewish blood in their veins. Miss Saul – if that was her real name – might have passed as a relative of those horrid Loach girls."

"Mrs. Octagon and her sister who died are certainly much alike."

"Of course they are, and if Miss Saul had lived they would have been a kind of triplets. I hate that style of beauty myself," said Mrs. Mallow, who was slim and fair, "so coarse. Everyone called those Loach girls pretty, but I never did myself. I never liked them, and I won't call on Mrs. Octagon – such a vulgar name – if you marry fifty of her wretched daughters, Cuthbert."

"Don't say that, mother. Juliet is an angel!"

"Then she can't be her mother's daughter," said Mrs. Mallow obscurely, and finished the discussion in what she considered to be a triumphant manner. Nor would she renew it, though her son tried to learn more about the Loach and Saul families. However, he was satisfied with the knowledge he had acquired.

While returning next day to London, he had ample time to think over what he had been told. Miss Selina Loach had certainly shut herself up for many years in Rose Cottage, and it seemed as though she was afraid of being hurt in some way. Perhaps she even anticipated a violent death. And then Mrs. Octagon hinted that she knew who had killed her sister. It might not have been Caranby after all, whom she meant, but one of the Saul family, as Mrs. Mallow suggested.

"I wonder if it is as my mother thinks," mused Cuthbert, staring out of the window at the panorama of the landscape moving swiftly past. "Perhaps Selina did kill Miss Saul, and shut herself up to avoid being murdered by one of the relatives. Caranby said that Selina did not go to the inquest, but pretended she was ill. Then she and her sister went to the continent for two years, and finally, when they returned, Selina instead of taking her proper place in society as Isabella did, shut herself up as a recluse in Rose Cottage. The Saul family appear to have been a bad lot. I should like to look up that coining case. I wonder if I dare tell Jennings."

He was doubtful of the wisdom of doing this. If he told what he knew, and set Jennings on the track, it might be that a scandal would arise implicating Mrs. Octagon. Not that Cuthbert cared much for her, but she was Juliet's mother, and he wanted to avert any trouble likely to cause the girl pain. A dozen times on the journey Cuthbert altered his mind. First he thought he would tell Jennings, then he decided to hold his peace. This indecision was not like him, but the case was so perplexing, and such serious issues were involved, that the young man felt thoroughly worried.

Hitherto he had seen nothing new about the case in the papers, but on reaching Swindon he bought a few and looked through them. His search was rewarded by finding an article on the crime. The inquest had been held, and the jury had brought in a verdict of "Murder against some person or persons unknown!" But it was plainly stated that the police could not find a clue to the assassin. The article in question did not pretend to solve the mystery, but collocated the facts so as to put the case in a nutshell.

"The facts are these," said the journal, after a preliminary introduction. "A quiet maiden lady living at Rose Cottage, Rexton, received three friends to a card-party. Difference arising – and such things will arise amongst the best when cards are in question – two of the friends, Mrs. Herne, an old lady and life-long friend of the deceased, and Mr. Hale, a lawyer of repute and the legal adviser of Miss Loach, depart before ten o'clock. In her evidence Mrs. Herne stated that she and Mr. Hale left at half-past nine, and her assertion was corroborated by Mr. Hale himself. Mr. Clancy, the third friend, left at ten, being shown out by the maid Susan Grant, who then returned to the kitchen. She left Miss Loach seated in her usual chair near the fire, and with a pack of cards on her lap. Probably the deceased lady intended to play a game of 'Patience'!

"The four servants, three women and a man, had their supper. During the supper the man asserted that he heard the front door open, but as Miss Loach was in the habit of walking in the garden before retiring, it was thought that she had gone out to take her usual stroll. Whether the man heard the door open or shut he was not quite sure. However, thinking his mistress was walking in the garden as usual, the man paid no further attention to the incident. At eleven (precisely at eleven, for the kitchen clock struck), the sitting-room bell rang. Susan Grant entered the room, and found Miss Loach seated in her chair exactly as she had left her, even to the fact that the cards were in her lap. But she had been stabbed to the heart with some sharp instrument and was quite dead. The front door was closed and the windows barred.

"Now it is certain that Miss Loach met her death between the hours of ten and eleven. Susan Grant saw her alive at ten, seated in her usual chair with the cards on her lap, and at eleven, she there found her dead, still with the cards. It would seem as though immediately after the servants left the room someone had stabbed the deceased to the heart, before she had time to rise or even alter her position. But Susan Grant asserts that no one was in the room. There was only one door, out of which she departed. The bedroom of Miss Loach on the basement floor had a door which opened into the passage, as did the sitting-room door. No one could have entered until the servant departed. The passage was lighted with electricity, but she did not observe anyone about, nor did she hear a sound. She showed out Mr. Clancy and then returned to the kitchen. Certainly the assassin may have been concealed in the bedroom and have stolen into the sitting-room when Susan Grant was showing out Mr. Clancy. Perhaps then he killed the deceased suddenly, as we said before. He could have then come up the stairs and have escaped while the servants were at supper. It might have been the murderer who opened the door, and was overheard by Thomas.

"The policeman was on duty about ten, as he was seen by Susan Grant when she showed Mr. Clancy to the door. The policeman also asserted that he was again on the spot – i.e., in the roadway opposite the cottage – at eleven. At these times the assassin could not have escaped without being seen. There is no exit at the back, as a high wall running round an unfinished house belonging to the eccentric Lord Caranby blocks the way. Therefore the assassin must have ventured into the roadway. He could then have walked up the lane into the main streets of Rexton, or have taken a path opposite to the gate of Rose Cottage, which leads to the railway station. Probably, after executing the crime, he took this latter way. The path runs between quickset hedges, rather high, for a long distance, past houses, and ends within fifty yards of the railway station. The criminal could take the first train and get to town, there to lose himself in the wilderness of London.

"So far so good. But the strangest thing about this most mysterious affair is that the bell in the sitting-room rang two minutes before Susan Grant entered the room to find her mistress dead. This was some time after the closing of the door overheard by Thomas; therefore the assassin could not have escaped that way. Moreover, by this time the policeman was standing blocking the pathway to the station. Again, the alarm was given immediately by the other servants, who rushed to the sitting-room on hearing Susan's scream, and the policeman at once searched the house. No one was found.