THE SAFE WITH THE TIME-LOCK
The Superintendent had not been wrong in saying that Brian Desmond was driven fairly frantic by his cousin's murder, for the agony of the night and day was still visible on his face when he met the detectives in his own motor-car at the station.
"Thank God you've come at last, Mr. Narkom!" he said as they drove off. "And if only the Yard had acted more quickly I believe this horrid tragedy might have been averted. I don't care what it costs me—every coin I have in the world, if necessary—but this appalling mystery must be cleared up. I want the murderer of my cousin brought to justice. Justice? Yes, but vengeance, too. Let me but get my hands on the brute, and I'll save the law any further trouble."
"I quite understand your feelings, my dear Mr. Desmond," said Cleek, quietly, "but suppose you give the law a chance first. I have had only a sketchy outline of the case from Mr. Narkom. We had no time for more, so, if you will give me full details, it will perhaps facilitate matters. Tell me just when, where, and under what circumstances, the murder took place."
"I can only tell you the story just as Lady Beryl, my wife, and Estelle told it to me, Mr. Headland. I was not in the house at the time, more's the pity."
"That is just what I want. But, before you start, who is Estelle?"
"Estelle Jardine, an orphan protégée and companion to my wife, a dear little girl whom my wife found being worked to death in some sweatshop just before we were married. She sent her away till her health was fully restored, and she has lived with us ever since."
"A kindly act few women would perform," commented Cleek. "Lady Beryl must be a good woman."
"She is. She is an angel, and as clever as she is good," said her husband, his whole tragic face lighting up with tenderness. "Just now Estelle seems more upset than Beryl, as a matter of fact. Still, that isn't to be wondered at, is it, considering that it was she who found my poor cousin. The shock has nearly turned her brain. It seems, as far as I can make out, that Elton retired to the library after lunch, as usual, to go through my correspondence, or any of Beryl's that needed his attention. The safe in the library was set for five o'clock, when I am usually home myself, and when, too, I lock away any surplus money I have brought home with me, in case my wife needs it at bridge. You see, one of her fads—if you like to call it so—is to pay her scores with ready money. There are no checks or I.O.U.'s flying around at her parties."
"A good plan, too," put in Mr. Narkom.
"Well, anyway, Elton retired into the library, and Beryl went up to her room for an hour's rest. She had a headache, she says."
"And Miss Jardine?" asked Cleek. "What became of her?"
"She remained with my wife, and sat at her side, reading, until Beryl went to sleep. She was still there, but asleep herself, poor youngster, when Beryl woke. About four o'clock, as near as I can make out."
"Rather a nice nap," said Cleek, thoughtfully. "Ought to have made her feel refreshed."
"Yes, but, strangely enough, it didn't. As a matter of fact, she complained that her head was worse than when she lay down. Still, as Estelle also complained of a headache, we attributed it to the storm which broke, pretty heavily, as you know, all over this part of the country last night."
"Quite so, quite so; it might well have been that. Is your wife a light sleeper?" asked Cleek.
Mr. Desmond shot a surprised look into his face.
"Very light, indeed," he said. "A breath of wind will disturb her." He gave a short little laugh. "I say! You're not supposing that Estelle got up and went down and drugged with chloroform a big strong man like Elton, are you? Without a struggle, and a man with whom she was deeply in love, at that?"
Cleek smiled and shook his head.
"In love, eh?" said he, twisting in his seat and facing Mr. Desmond. "That brings another element into the case."
"Oh, well, I shouldn't go so far as to call it love," said Mr. Desmond with an answering smile. "It was really more like hero-worship. Elton was one of those men who spend their lives always trying to be pleasant to people, and he petted Estelle, though she is on the top side of twenty. Not that she looks it; she'd pass for sweet seventeen. Anyhow, at five o'clock I phoned through from the bank that I might be a little late, as I was staying for a meeting of provincial directors, and I sent a special message for my cousin."
"What was the message, and who took it?"
"I wish in one sense it had been the fool of a butler, who ought to have been in the hall, and wasn't, of course. But it was Estelle herself who had just come downstairs that answered, so I asked her to tell Elton to be sure and lock up the Eugenie pearl in the safe with my wife's other jewels, directly it opened, and not leave it in its case in my wife's boudoir. It had suddenly struck me that it wasn't right to have such a temptation put in the way of any one in or about the house. There is a great fascination about that particular jewel. Estelle said she would tell him, and she must have gone straight to the library and found Elton stretched out in front of the safe with the empty jewel-case of the pearl beside him—dead. It seems as if it were from some agonizing poison, though the doctor says only chloroform had been used. But I have no confidence in him."
"And the safe?" put in Cleek. "Was anything missing from that?"
Desmond nodded grimly.
"Yes; my wife, bless her for the only one of us who kept her head on her shoulders, not only sent for the police and for me, but opened the safe at the hour the time-lock allowed, only to find that that, too, was empty. Of course, she had thought at first that Elton had put in the jewel, re-set the safe, and then been attacked, but this was impossible, because I had set the safe the preceding night for five o'clock the next day. You see, Mr. Headland, I only use the time-lock when I have money or any special papers in the safe. Otherwise I just lock it ordinarily. And it has always been the day after the safe has been ordinarily locked, and on the nights when it has money in it and the time-lock has been set that the robberies have taken place. But this time——Well, the greatest mystery of all is that the bag of gold I left there in the morning was missing together with a lot of other jewels of my wife's which were there. And then, too, the pearl was gone from her room, and its case was beside the safe."
Cleek pursed up his lips and tapped his foot softly upon the carpeted flooring of the car. But he made no remark, and finally Desmond went on:
"Well, you can imagine my horror. As soon as I gathered from Bennett, the butler, what had happened, I came tearing over, to find my wife almost sick with horror, and the man I loved best in the world, the truest, the firmest friend that ever walked God's earth, foully murdered on my own hearth." He threw out his hands suddenly and gave a sound like a sob. "My God! but it's almost unbelievable even now that I shan't find him on the steps waiting for me!"
Cleek stretched out his hand to place it gently on his shoulder.
"What will be, will be," he said, softly, but with a deep sympathy in his low tones. "We cannot quarrel with the Almighty, Mr. Desmond, though sometimes, I'll admit, we are greatly tempted to do so. This is the house, isn't it?" as the car turned in at a great gateway and swung slowly up the path toward a huge building alight with the glow of electricity. "Fine place you have here, I must say. After you, Mr. Desmond, after you."
Leaving the car in the hands of a chauffeur, who had evidently been on the watch for them, Cleek and Mr. Narkom followed their host into the great hall. Here Desmond turned to them.
"If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I will go and find my wife," said he, beckoning to a manservant to relieve them of their coats and hats.
"Certainly, Mr. Desmond," said Cleek, and their host vanished swiftly up the broad staircase.
"Any ideas, old chap?" asked the Superintendent, eagerly, as he saw his famous ally make a leap for the telephone apparatus and pick up a small, tightly rolled ball of paper which lay beside it.
"Ideas? Oh, several," was his grim answer as, having unrolled the paper, he read its contents. "Shall be able to tell you more when I know to whom this unsettled bridge score belongs. And, also, I've got a dim idea that the firm of Desmond & Co. was in danger of going into bankruptcy a few days ago. Merely a whisper, but——"
"Good Lord, man! Then, in that case, Mr. Desmond——"
"May have nothing whatever to do with the matter!" Cleek gave back quickly, as the sound of footsteps rang in the hall above, and down the stairway came Lady Beryl Desmond, one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She was followed by her husband and a timid-looking little woman, whom Cleek did not need to be told was Estelle Jardine.
After the formal introduction Lady Beryl led the way into the library, wherein stood the time-lock safe.
On the threshold of the door, however, she turned to the girl, and her voice softened.
"Estelle, there is no need for you to come in here, petite. Go back to your room. I am sure you are not wanted." She flashed a look of interrogation at Mr. Narkom, though it was Cleek who took it upon himself to answer her, in rough, uncouth tones that made even Brian Desmond stare at him in dismay and wonder if he could have been mistaken in thinking the man a gentleman.
"Heaven bless your ladyship, but I don't see any reason to keep either of you ladies. I'll just poke about a bit, and then leave things till morning. In the night all cats are gray," and he gave an inane giggle, for which Mr. Narkom could have cheerfully shaken him, even though he realized that such behaviour was part of the game his ally knew so well how to play.
The door closed upon the two women, and Cleek, in the same dull, uncouth fashion, concentrated his attention on the time-lock safe.
Presently he switched round on Mr. Desmond, who was watching him anxiously, as his fingers darted over the mechanism, and he patted the immovable dial with something almost like affection.
A curious smile looped up one side of his face.
"Mr. Desmond," he said, speaking with excitement, "I have now set your safe to open at one o'clock to-morrow. I pray that three hours before that time the riddle may be solved. Now show me the room where the dead man lies."
Desmond at once led the way to a room down the corridor, and a word from Mr. Narkom to the two constables on guard was sufficient to allow the door to be unlocked. In silence the three men filed in.
There was a sort of bier upon which the body lay, and they looked down upon it reverently.
That Elton Carlyle's death had been attended with awful agony was only too apparent, and yet about the body still lingered the unmistakably sweet odour of chloroform.
"As I thought," said Cleek, briskly, as he laid bare the shoulder and pointed with a nod of satisfaction to a tiny red mark, a slight puncture of the skin. "Mr. Desmond, the doctors are not infallible. I think I know what means were used to do this thing, and why. But, to make sure, I want to borrow your motor, if I may. I shall just catch the last train back to town if I hurry, so, if you will be so kind—one other thing. Lock up this room, and let no one enter it—doctor, coroner, or mourner—until I return. That will be, if all is well, by nine to-morrow morning."
Then, with sudden briskness, he switched upon his heel and left the room. He was followed by Brian Desmond, who locked the door and pocketed the key, then went down to order the motor.