AN ASTOUNDING CONFESSION
"Very well," said Lena, when she had learned the young man's impressions of Mr. Oliver Potter's capabilities, "we must do without him. We must work by ourselves. I have a suggestion to make. Let me visit Major Jones-Farnell, alias Meadows. It is somewhat irregular, I have no doubt, but in such a case as this we must not be too particular."
"Excuse me, but you must do nothing of the kind," was the reply.
"Then let me go with you, and see what the two of us can do towards discovering the secret of Durley Dene. I am sure that if once we can discover who this Meadows is, what his relations are with the man Smith, and who the creature that is held in restraint in the basement or cellar of the house is—then, and not before, shall we be able to solve the mystery."
"I don't at all like the idea of you coming with me. The ordeal was quite bad enough for me; what would it be to you?"
"Sir!" Lena cried, with pretended severity, "I am able to stand any ordeal that you can. You see, I am not afraid, or why should I have suggested going alone?"
"Then shall we go together?"
"Yes, and as soon as possible. It is now eleven o'clock. Auntie will not reappear until lunch. The detective is surely capable of looking after your father's safety. What is to prevent us from going at once? You agree? Then wait one moment while I put on my hat."
She hurried off, returning a minute later, prepared for the morning visit.
Laurence, during her short absence, had filled his vesta case, and once again placed the little pistol in his pocket.
"Now we can come," said Lena. And without delay they started off, presently reaching the dark porch of the house of secrets.
Smith, as before, appeared in answer to their ring, but he was far from ready to admit the pair. Finally he said he would consult the Major, and banging the door in their faces, disappeared, to return in a few minutes with a sour grin and a summons to follow upstairs.
This time Laurence struck a match on entering the house. The servant did not object, but he kept very close to the visitors, eyeing the lady as though coveting the bracelets she wore. The faint light of the match revealed little, for the passages were unfurnished, and green mildew clung to the stone walls. It was, however, a considerable aid to their progress towards Mr. Meadows' sanctum. Anything was better, thought Laurence, than the grim, impenetrable darkness of the previous visit.
As on the former occasion, the porter ushered them into the Oriental chamber in which sat the owner of the house, withdrawing immediately when they were once inside.
The doctor sprang to his feet immediately and held out his hand—which Laurence appeared not to notice.
"Good-morning to you," he said politely. "Madam, I am more than honoured by your visit. My only regret is the inefficiency of my establishment. I think, though, you will find this chair comfortable, and trust the smell of tobacco smoke does not inconvenience you. Unfortunately I have no drawing-room, as your brother—I believe he is your brother—no?—then your friend—will have told you."
He spoke fast, as though fearing that Laurence would commence by asking unpleasant questions.
"Doctor Meadows," said Carrington, "this lady and I have come to you to-day to endeavour to learn the reason of your remarkable behaviour of late. I am aware that you would do anything rather than receive a visit from the police, but that is one of the two alternatives I offer you now. The other is that you explain fully your relations with my father, Squire Carrington, of Northden Manse."
"Mr. Carrington," replied the doctor, "I told you the night before last you are making some great mistake in connecting me in any way with your father. Must I tell you so again now?"
"Then, answer me this. What were you doing in the grounds of our house at midnight, shortly after my visit here and the attempt to murder my father in his room? What were you doing, I ask, on that occasion; and how comes it that on the following morning the stolen bicycle, by the rider of which a former attack on the Squire was made, is found in the shed from which it was taken?"
As Laurence spoke in a sharp, determined tone, both Lena and he noticed that the colour died away from Doctor Meadows' cheeks. For a moment he could not reply. His concern was very apparent. At last he answered.
"Mr. Carrington," he said, "I see that it is no use for me to withhold anything from you. You have been too sharp for me. What if I were to tell you that my secret has nothing whatever to do with your father or the strange attempts to murder him in cold blood, and that it is only by unfortunate circumstances I come to be suspected by you of connection with the plot against the Squire?"
"I shouldn't believe it," replied Laurence, frankly and deliberately; "however, I pray you to tell me your story. Do not forget, by the way, that you have confessed to telling a pack of lies on different occasions before now—about the Persian cat and the whip, the lunatic in the cellar, your invalid Major, and so on. By the way, let me advise you, if you wish to keep your secret from me, not to allow the creature imprisoned downstairs to shriek while I am in the house."
So great was the effect of these words on Doctor Meadows that at first Lena feared he was going to faint. He sank down into his chair, sweat standing out on his forehead; then he sprang up and darted towards Laurence as though about to attack him with his fists.
"Good God!" he cried. "How much do you know? Are you bent on ruining me? Tell me, quickly, exactly, how much you know?"
Laurence was more than astounded at this outburst. Acting on a suggestion of Lena, he had sprung upon the other a remark about the creature whom he had seen in the barn, and who, according to Miss Scott's mode of accounting for the various mysterious circumstances of the case, was being held in restraint by the inhabitants of Durley Dene. That the chance shot had gone home was surely proved by the excited behaviour of Doctor Meadows.
For a moment Laurence hesitated. Should he play a game of "bluff" and pretend that he knew all? He felt inclined to do this, but reflected that he might be placing Lena in a position of danger were he to do so. For, once Meadows believed his closely guarded secret was known, what steps might not he take to compel those who had learned that secret to keep silence? Consequently, he replied, "That is surely my own business?"
But Doctor Meadows was not satisfied.
"That's no answer," he cried. "I must have an answer. How much do you know? Tell me!"
"All I know is," responded Laurence, "that one of the members of your household is moving heaven and earth to do away with my unhappy father, and I shrewdly suspect which of you it is. I know better than to believe that you and your servant alone occupy this house of dark deeds."
"There you are, bringing up that absurd notion that I (or, in your own words, one of my household) am the author of the attempts on your father's life. If you won't take my word for it that no one living in this house is in any way responsible for the Squire's terrible position, will it satisfy you if I swear upon the Book that such is the case?"
"You dare not," said Laurence positively.
"Not only do I dare to, but I will do so," answered Meadows; "but first, tell me what you know about the person whom you allege is imprisoned in this house."
"In the first place," Laurence replied, "I know that, for some reason or other, he has been hiding in the Manse barn. Secondly, that he possesses the activity of an ape; and, thirdly, that he is black, and that his voice is the strangest I have ever heard."
"Thank Heaven!" muttered Meadows, not too low for the two visitors to hear it. He sat down once again, and the colour returned to his cheeks.
"Are you satisfied that I know something about him?" asked Laurence, none too pleased with the way in which the doctor had taken his information.
"I am quite satisfied that you know nothing whatever about that which you are pleased to call the mystery of this house. I confess that I have a secret. Who has not? Mine is one that I am very anxious to keep. Again, I say, who is not desirous of keeping secrets as such? Further, I confess that you have had good grounds for mistrust. That bicycle business was enough to lay me open to suspicion. What I am now going to say I will repeat afterwards upon oath, if you so please, but, as a gentleman, I hope my word will not be doubted. That bicycle was found by my servant standing in the rear of this house the morning after what was evidently the first attempt on your father's life. Whose it was, and whence it came, was for the time a mystery. Then you honoured me with a visit, and I learned in what an uncomfortable position circumstances had placed me. As I say, I have no desire to emerge from the darkness of my retirement. I did not wish you to know that I had found the bicycle, for fear that you, doubting my word, would carry out your threat of communicating with the police, and having the house searched. Therefore, I secretly returned you the bicycle which evil destiny had given into my hands.
"This I can safely say—and swear, if it please you—that there neither has been, nor is, anything illegal or wrong going on in this house. Does that satisfy you?"
No one answered. Laurence was inclined to doubt the man's word. He had heard some equally astounding falsehoods from him before. Lena, also, knew not whether to believe the statement or not.
"Then," said the doctor, "I will fetch a volume of the Testament. But before going any further, tell me if you know any man who would answer to this description—Medium height, iron-grey moustache, possibly a grey beard, but I doubt it; age about sixty; peculiarly courteous and old-fashioned as to speech; an abhorrer of tobacco in any form."
"That is the Squire—do you know him?" asked Lena and Laurence excitedly, and almost in one breath.
"Ah!" responded Doctor Meadows. But his pronunciation of the monosyllable was pregnant with meaning.