"Cap'n, you're a good fellow."
"That was a big failure," replied the coachman, knowingly. "You just see that the horses are done off all right, won't you? I must look after the carriage."
"It was lucky for me that I happened to know the history of these horses," mused Jerry Belknap, for he it was who leaned confidingly over to stroke the sleek sides of one of the splendid bays, and who had bribed Mr. Lamotte's coachman with a ten dollar bill. "If I drive the Lamottes, I'm sure of a hearing, and no audience; at the worst if they should take in a third party, but they won't, I can find a way to make myself and my wants known." And he sauntered across to the carriage house and critically inspected the splendid landau that was being rolled out upon the gravel.
He had returned to W—— on foot, from a near railway station, reaching the town within five hours from the time he left it.
During this time, however, his personal appearance had undergone a marked change. He was rubicund, and more youthful of countenance; shabbily smart in dress; excessively "horsey," and somewhat loud in manner.
During his intercourse with the Lamottes he had learned, from Frank, that their blooded bays had once been the property of a wealthy and prominent citizen of New York, who having failed, after the modern fashion, had given Jasper Lamotte the first bid for the valuable span. Given thus much, the rest was easy. Representing himself as a former coachman of this bankrupt New Yorker, he had told his little story. He was looking about him for a place in which to open a "small, but neat" livery stable, had wandered into W—— that morning, and having considerable cash about him, all his savings in fact, he had not cared to tempt robbers, by appearing too "high toned."
Of course he had heard at once of the murder, and then remembered that Lamotte was the name of the gentleman who had bought his favorite horses from his former master.
"I never pulled reins over a span equal to 'em," he said, with much pathos. "I never had the same liking for any other pair of critters; they was the apple of my eye, and I'd give just ten dollars to draw reins over 'em once more—even to a funeral."
His little ruse was successful; the bait was instantly swallowed, and Jerry Belknap glanced maliciously up at the closely curtained chamber windows, and muttered, as he began to saunter slowly up and down before the stable door:
"Miss Wardour, you won't find it so easy to outwit an old detective, even with the odds in your favor."
Just as the horses were being led out from the stable, a quiet-looking young man, with a somewhat rustic air, came into the yard, and approached the group near the carriage house.
"Who comes here?" asked the disguised Belknap, in a low tone, addressing the coachman.
"More than I know," replied that functionary. Then laying down a halter, just removed from the head of one of the pawing, restless horses, he turned toward the new comer, saying, patronizingly:
"Well, my man, can we do anything for you?"
The stranger appeared somewhat abashed.
"I hope I ain't in the way, gentlemen," he said, respectfully; "I came from Wardour with a message for Miss Constance. It's from the old lady, and as I see the carriages are coming and the hearse, I just thought I'd wait till the funeral was gone before I intruded."
"Oh!" said the coachman, more graciously. "Well, you won't have long to wait, then; the time's about up, and Mr. Lamotte is never behind time." Then he turned to Mr. Belknap.
"You must keep a close eye over the off one," he said; "he's full of Cain; and I say, what a lucky thing it is that your clothes are dark, and that Mrs. Lamotte won't let us wear full liveries."
"Why, yes, it's very lucky, that's so; just throw over those reins, will you. Don't be uneasy in your mind about that horse; I'll drive 'em safe enough; just you tell me when to start."
Ten minutes later, all that remained of John Burrill was borne out in its costly casket and placed in the splendid hearse at the door.
Just as he was about to cross his own threshold, Jasper Lamotte was confronted by a young man who pressed into his hand a slip of paper, and whispered in his ear:
"Read it at once, sir; it's of vital importance to you."
Stifling an exclamation, Jasper Lamotte unfolded and glanced at the slip of paper. It contained these words:
The man who will drive your carriage is a cursed New York detective, who has bribed your coachman.
Don't give him the opportunity he hopes to gain for watching and listening to yourself and son.
The bearer of this can be trusted. Belknap.
By the time he had mastered the meaning of the note, the hearse had moved forward and the pall-bearers were taking their places.
Then the Lamotte carriage came into view. Mr. Lamotte placed the note in the hand of his son, who stood close beside him, and descended the steps, a stern look on his face.
"My friend, come down off that box," he said to the self-satisfied substitute procured him by his coachman.
