WILLFUL MURDER.
The captain slept the sleep of the innocent and just.
He did not even dream of a white, mangled face lying on the jagged rocks.
In the morning he came down, dressed with his usual care, smiling and serene.
The breakfast threatened to go off as quietly and uneventfully as usual.
But suddenly the sound of many voices broke the monotony, and the captain, looking through the window, saw a small crowd approaching up the lane.
Presently, after the lapse of a few moments, the footman entered.
"You are wanted, sir," he said, addressing the captain.
"Very well," said the captain, airily. "I will come out."
After a few minutes, the captain re-entered.
His face was very grave, almost solemn.
Mrs. Mildmay, looking at it, felt a vague alarm.
"What is the matter?" she asked.
"Oh—not much," hesitated the captain, glancing at Violet. "An accident has happened."
"An accident?" repeated Violet, looking up with her white face. "To whom?"
"To my man, Starling," he said, gravely. "He has fallen over the cliffs."
"Fallen over the cliffs!" echoed Mrs. Mildmay. "How dreadful!"
"Is it not?" he exclaimed. "Terrible! Poor fellow! I saw him last night," and here he glanced at Violet.
"And he has fallen over!" exclaimed Mrs. Mildmay. "And where did they find him?"
"That I have scarcely learned," said the captain. "It seems that they have taken the body to the coastguard station, and that they require me to identify it."
"You will go at once?" said Mrs. Mildmay.
"At once," he said, and rang the bell for his hat.
Violet sat quite alone, her head leaning upon her hand.
The captain gravely sipped his coffee until his hat came; then he put it on, and prepared to accompany the men.
"There is great excitement," he said. "This sort of men rush to a conclusion directly."
"What conclusion have they rushed to?" asked Mrs. Mildmay.
"They think he met his death by foul play," replied the captain. "But," he added, quickly, "that is only ignorant fishermen's supposition. I will go down to the coastguard station and see him," and he left the room.
Outside the house was a small knot of men.
The captain went out to them, and touched his hat.
"Which is the nearest way?" he asked.
A dozen voices answered him; and, thus guided and accompanied, he set off.
In silence, followed by the crowd, he made his way to the coastguard station.
The door was closed, and another small crowd surrounded them.
The captain knocked, and a coastguardian opened the door, admitted him, and closed it upon the crowd.
Upon a table lay stretched out the mangled form of the escaped convict, Jem Starling.
The captain approached, and uncovered his head.
"Dreadful!" he said, turning away. "Dreadful!"
"You recognize him?" asked the coastguard.
"Oh, yes," replied the captain. "It is Starling, my old servant. I recognized him at once."
The coastguard nodded.
"Where did you find him?" asked the captain, gravely.
"Under the cliff—about a quarter of a mile before you come to the guardbox. Ben Bolt found him."
"Where is Ben Bolt?" asked the captain.
The coastguard opened a side door, and called the man by his name.
A short, weather-beaten figure entered, and, seeing the captain, touched his hat.
"The captain wants to know where you found this unfortunate body, Ben," said the man.
"On the rocks below the cliff," replied the man.
"Ah," said the captain, "just where the path is narrowest. The poor fellow fell over, no doubt. I saw him last night, and he was very intoxicated."
The two coastguards exchanged glances.
"What course do you intend taking?" asked the captain.
"We've telegraphed to the inspector of police at Tenby," said the coastguard. "He'll be over here directly, and we can tell him what we know, and give the things we've found."
"What things?" inquired the captain.
"Fetch 'em here, Ben," said the man, and Ben Bolt, touching his hat, went to a cupboard, from which he brought a light felt hat and a withered lily.
"There!" said the captain. "This is his hat, is it not?"
"No," said Ben Bolt; "it bean't, and everybody knows it. There be his hat," and he pointed to the hat which lay beside the body. "There be his hat, which he allus used to wear. This 'un was found near him—close beside him, as you may say, just as if it had fell off with him."
"And the flower?" asked the captain.
"Was tight in his hand—tight as if a vise held it," replied Ben Bolt.
"Let me see the hat," said the captain.
The coastguard handed the hat, and the captain examined it.
"I have seen this hat before," he said, looking at it with a puzzled air. "I am sure I have seen it before. Ah!" he exclaimed, suddenly.
"What's the matter?" inquired the coastguard.
"N—nothing," said the captain, who seemed visibly affected.
"I know what's took you so sudden like," said the coastguard. "You caught sight o' these two letters," and he turned up the hat and pointed to "L. D.," which were marked in the inside brim.
The captain nodded, gravely.
"I confess it," he said. "I did see them."
And he turned to leave the station.
Presently he turned back again, suddenly.
"Has Mr. Leicester Dodson been to identify the body?" he asked.
The two men looked at each other.
"No, he haven't," said the coastguard.
And the captain, after a moment's pause, left the station, and walked down the cliffs, with the small crowd at his heels again.
Very slowly he walked home.
When he came to the lawn wicket, he hesitated a moment, and turned back again.
He ascended the path leading to the Cedars, and rang the bell at the lodge.
The lodge-keeper came out to him.
"Is Mr. Dodson at home?" he asked.
"I believe he be, sir," said the man, opening the gates.
The captain passed through, and reached the house.
A footman ushered him into the drawing-room.
"Will you tell Mr. Dodson I wish to see him?" he asked. "And, if you see Mr. Leicester, say that I am here," he added.
The man bowed, and left the room.
Presently, Mrs. Dodson entered.
"Oh, good-morning, captain," she said, holding out her hand. "Neither Mr. Dodson nor my son is at home. Mr. Dodson has gone to London, with Mr. Lennox, and Leicester I have not seen yet."
"Oh, it is of no consequence," said the captain. "I stepped up to tell them of an accident which has occurred in the village."
"An accident? I am sorry for that! What is it?"
"A man fell over the cliff," said the captain.
"One of the fishermen?" asked Mrs. Dodson.
"No," said the captain, rising, and he told her who it was.
She looked very much shocked, but certainly displayed no extraordinary feminine alarm; and the captain, being convinced that neither Mr. Dodson nor Leicester was at home, took his leave.
When he entered the breakfast-room at the Park, he did not notice, or pretended that he did not notice, Violet, who was sitting at the window, half hidden by the curtain; but advancing to Mrs. Mildmay, he said, in a tone of grave concern:
"It is as I feared, my dear madam. The man is Starling, my late valet."
"Dear me!" said Mrs. Mildmay.
"And he was found lying on the rocks below the cliffs. He had suddenly fallen over, or been thrown over."
"Thrown over!" repeated Mrs. Mildmay, with a look of horror. "Oh, who could be guilty of such a horrible crime?"
"I do not know—I cannot say," said the captain, who seemed much agitated. "Has Mr. Leicester Dodson been here this morning?"
"No," said Mrs. Mildmay. "Did you expect him?"
"Oh, no," said the captain. "I should like to see him; indeed, I went up to the Cedars, hoping to see him, but I could not find either him or Mr. Dodson at home."
"Why did you want to see him?" asked the simple lady.
"I should have liked him to see the body, and to ask him a few questions," said the captain, who knew that the white-muslined figure in the window seat was listening attentively.
"But why?" asked Mrs. Mildmay. "You identified the poor fellow sufficiently, I should think, and what questions could you have to ask?"
The captain drew nearer, with an expression of troubled perplexity.
Suddenly he laid his hand upon Mrs. Mildmay's arm, and, with a grave look, said:
"I had better tell you. I had better tell you, so that you may be on your guard, and keep the news from Violet. I have seen the man, and something else—a hat which was found lying beside him."
Mrs. Mildmay glanced at the window, but the captain did not seem to notice.
"The hat was Leicester Dodson's—I knew it by the initials marked inside it—and the flower was one which I gave him late last night."
Mrs. Mildmay uttered a cry of horror, and it was echoed by a voice behind the curtain.
The next moment Violet confronted him.
"What!" she breathed, her eyes distended and her face white.
"You here!" exclaimed the captain, in a tone of self-reproach. "Nothing, my dear young lady!"
"You say his hat and the flower were lying beside the dead man?" she breathed. "What do you mean? What do they all mean? They do not say he killed him!" and, with a faint cry, she fell back.
The captain caught her, with a cry of alarm.
Mrs. Mildmay rushed to the bell.
The door opened, and the footman appeared.
"Did you ring, ma'am? Mr. Thaxton has arrived."
At his name, Violet seemed relieved.
She drew herself upright from the captain's arms, and, pushing her hair from her white forehead, said, with unnatural calm:
"Mr. Thaxton, the lawyer? Show him in!"
There entered a short, wiry, old gentleman, with a pleasant, but shrewd, face, crowned by smoothly parted white hair.
It was Mr. Thaxton, the lawyer. He looked from one to the other, with inquiring and acute attention.
Mrs. Mildmay came forward, and held out her hand.
"Oh, Mr. Thaxton," she exclaimed, with agitated earnestness, "I am so glad you have come!"
"So am I, if I am needed," said Mr. Thaxton, bowing over her hand and glancing at the captain.
"This is Captain Murpoint."
The captain bowed, but, as he was pouring some eau de cologne upon Violet's handkerchief, he could not shake hands.
"Something dreadful has happened," continued Mrs. Mildmay, hurriedly; "we have only just heard of it; we did not know that Violet was in the room, and—and—oh, dear, oh, dear!"
And the simple, good-hearted lady burst into tears.
Violet rose, calm and terribly quiet.
"Do not cry, aunt," she said. "Mr. Thaxton, I am glad you have come; some terrible accident has happened."
Then she turned to the captain, and, with a gesture almost of command, said:
"Will you tell Mr. Thaxton?"
Mr. Thaxton took her hand.
"Wait a while," he said. "You distress yourself, Miss Violet, perhaps without adequate cause. What has happened? Come, come!"
And the old man patted her hand, soothingly, though nothing of his acuteness abated.
Then he led Violet to a seat, and himself drew a little apart, with the captain, who had all this time been, so to speak, measuring his man.
"What has happened?" asked Mr. Thaxton. "Nothing nearly concerning the family, I hope?"
"N—o," said the captain, gravely, and then he placed Mr. Thaxton in possession of the facts which were generally known.
A body had been found at the foot of the cliff.
The corpse had been identified as the body of the captain's late valet, Jem Starling.
Near the body a hat had been found.
That hat belonged to one Leicester Dodson.
At the name, Mr. Thaxton's sharp eyes shot a swift glance at Violet.
She saw the glance, but did not flinch.
Mr. Thaxton nodded once or twice, thoughtfully.
"Where is the body?" he asked.
"Lying at the coastguard station," replied the captain.
"I think," said Mr. Thaxton, "that I should like to walk up there."
"You will take some refreshment first?" said Mrs. Mildmay.
"No, thank you," said the lawyer. "I will wait until I return." And he took up his hat.
"Is there nothing but the discovery of the hat near the body to direct suspicion against Mr. Dodson?" he asked.
"I do not know," said the captain. "I should think not. It is ridiculous to suppose that he was capable of committing such a crime."
"Exactly," said the lawyer.
And he remained quiet until they had reached the guardhouse.
Once more the captain looked down upon the dead body and distorted face with calm, grave complaisance.
The lawyer asked a few questions.
"Can I see the hat?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," said the coastguard, approaching the cupboard.
While he was unlocking it, a thin, cadaverous looking man entered, in a quiet, careless sort of fashion, and went up close behind the lawyer.
"There's the hat, sir," said the guard. "It was found close near the corpse, and——Hello! Who are you?"
This was addressed to the intrusive stranger, who had suddenly pushed closer and stretched out his hand.
"What's that?" he said, pointing to a flower in the cupboard.
"That's a flower," returned the coastguard. "P'r'aps you didn't hear me ask you who you was?"
"Yes, I did," retorted the stranger, mildly. "Where did you find that flower?"
The coastguard stared.
"If you must know," he said, with dignity, "that there flower was clinched tight in the dead man's hand!"
"It was, was it!" said the stranger, quietly, pushing up to the cupboard, and taking up the flower. "A lily," he muttered. "I thought so."
Then, to the astonishment of the coastguard, he quietly shut the cupboard, locked it, and dropped the key in his pocket.
Then he turned, touched his hat to the gentlemen, who stood regarding him attentively, and said:
"My name's Dockett, gentlemen—Detective Dockett."
The captain made a gesture of assent.
"Please not to mention that I'm here, gentlemen," said the detective. "I'd like to walk round quietly a bit before the yokels gets the scent of it."
"Certainly," said Mr. Thaxton, gravely. "Any assistance I can be to you, I shall be glad to render. My name is Thaxton, and I am Mrs. Mildmay's solicitor."
The detective touched his hat again.
"Thank you, sir," he said. "I think I'd like a light trap in a quarter of an hour, and a smart chap who could show me the way to Coombe Lodge."
"Lord Lackland's?" said the captain.
"The nearest magistrate," said the detective.
The captain glanced at Mr. Thaxton.
At that moment the police inspector entered, hurriedly.
"Well," said the detective, "you can speak out."
"He's gone," said the inspector. "Leastways, I cannot find him, or any tidings of him."
The detective brightened up, as if by magic, and a sharp, ferrety expression came upon his face.
"What, already?" he said, quietly. "Have you posted a man at the station?"
"I did that last night," said the inspector.
"And telegraphed a description of him?"
"Yes," said the man.
"Then I must have that light trap at once, if you please, gentlemen," said Mr. Dockett.
Hurriedly, the party left the station and ran down the path to the village.
"For whom are you looking?" asked Mr. Thaxton of the detective.
"Mr. Leicester Dodson," said the detective, shortly. "It was his hat, and he was seen on the cliff road."
"But—but," said the captain, "it is impossible!"
The detective glanced at him, and smiled.
"Nothing's impossible in a murder, sir. I think I can get a trap or a horse here quicker than going up to the Park. Here, saddle me a horse, sharp, boy, and I'll give you a shilling."
There was confusion instantly all round the "Blue Lion", at the door of which stood Martha, grim and fierce, as usual.
A horse was saddled, and, after giving a few instructions to the inspector, Detective Dockett dashed off.
The captain looked at Mr. Thaxton with perplexity and dismay.
"This is preposterous and ridiculous! Mr. Leicester Dodson is the most respected man in the place."
Mr. Thaxton shook his head gravely.
"The course the detective is adopting is inevitable," he said. "We had better go to the Cedars, and see his father or mother."
"Come along, then," said the captain, who seemed all excitement and indignation, and the two gentlemen hurried off.
At the gates of the Cedars they found a policeman, and it was some moments before he would permit them to pass.
At last they succeeded in overcoming his scruples, and made their way to the house.
Mrs. Dodson came to them, pale and agitated, but her scorn at the mere idea of Leicester's committing such a deed helped to keep her up.
She answered all their questions as she had done those of the inspector.
"Leicester is not here," she said, "and I cannot tell you where he is. He often goes away suddenly and unexpectedly. He may be in London, but, if he is, he will come down at once. I have telegraphed for him and his father, who went up with Mr. Lennox. What is all this silly story about a murder, Captain Murpoint?"
The captain did his best—or pretended to do—to reassure and soothe her, and Mr. Thaxton, after a few moments' silence, asked if he could see the valet.
Mrs. Dodson dispatched a messenger to find the valet, who soon appeared, looking as bewildered as every one else.
He, however, threw some light upon the matter by informing them of the dispatch of the portmanteau.
"What!" exclaimed Mr. Thaxton. "Why did you not say so before?"
The man hung his head. He was a faithful fellow, and had hoped, by concealing his master's destination, that he should give him all the more time to get out of the way, "if so be as he had committed a mistake."
"Foolish fellow!" said Mr. Thaxton. "It is to your master's interest to return and clear up the matter. We must telegraph to the Isle of Man. If, as I suppose, Mr. Leicester started last night, he would not reach there until midday. Do not be alarmed, madam; he will assuredly hurry back, posthaste, and set the affair straight, so far as he is concerned."
"That I am confident of, sir," said Mrs. Dodson, with simple dignity.
The two gentlemen rose and departed, the captain still excited, the lawyer very calm and thoughtful. They telegraphed, through the police, to the Isle of Man, and waited feverishly for an answer.
An answer came late that night.
The Wave had come in, telegraphed the skipper of the yacht, but Mr. Leicester had not arrived by it.
Before nightfall the hue and cry was in full voice, and the police were on the alert to arrest Leicester Dodson, wherever and whenever he might be found, on a charge of willful murder.