"'Cheek?'" she repeated, as if reproving slang. "Miss—Princess—I don't know what you mean."
"I think you know very well," I said, "because you have no 'sad affliction.' Your husband is as much alive as I am. The only loss you've suffered is the loss of the coffin in which he wasn't buried!"
The woman dropped, like a jelly out of its mould, into a kitchen chair. "My Heavens! Miss Elizabeth, you don't know what you're saying!" she gasped, dry-lipped.
"I know quite well," I caught her up. "And to show that I know, I'm going to reconstruct the whole plot." (This was bluff. But it was part of the Plan). "Barlow's nephews were expert thieves. They'd served a term for stealing at home, in Australia. They spent a short leave at Courtenaye Coombe, and you showed them over the Abbey. Then and there they got an idea. They bribed you and Barlow to help them carry it out and give them a letter of mine to tear into bits and turn suspicion on me. Probably they worked with rubber gloves and shoes—as you know the detectives have found no fingermarks or footprints. Every man is said to have his price. You two had yours! Just how much more than others you knew about old secret 'hidie-holes' in the Abbey I can't tell, but I'm sure you did know more than any of us. There was always the lodge, too, which was the same as your own, and full of your things! I'm practically certain there's a secret way to it, through the cellars. Ah, I thought so!" (As her face changed.) "Trusted as you were, a burglary in the night was easy as falling off a log—and all that binding and gagging business. The trouble was to get the stolen things out of the country—let's say to Australia, where Barlow's nephews could count upon a receiver, or a buyer, maybe some old associate of their pre-prison days. Among you all, you hit on quite a clever plan. Only a dear, kind creature like you, respected by everyone, could have hypnotized even old Doctor Pyne into believing Barlow was dead—no matter what strong drug you used! You wouldn't let any one come near the body afterward. You loved your husband so much you would do everything for him yourself—in death as in life. How pathetic—how estimable! And then you and the two 'boys' brought the coffin here, to have it buried in the old cemetery, with generations of other respectable Barlows. The night after the funeral the twins dug it up, as neatly as they dug trenches in France, and left the case underground as a precaution. Perhaps Barlow's 'ghost' watched the work. But that's of no importance. What was of importance was the next step. They took the coffin to a nice convenient cave (that's what made this house worth buying back, isn't it?) and tethered the thing there to wait an appointed hour. At that hour a boat would quietly appear, and bear it away to a smart little sailing ship. Then—ho! for Australia or some place where heirlooms from this country can be disposed of without talk or trouble. I would bet that Barlow is on that ship now, and you meant to join him, instead of waiting for a better world. But there came the storm, and a record wave or two ran into the cave. Alas for the schemes of mice and men—and Barlow's!"
Not once did she interrupt. I doubt if the woman could have uttered a word had she dared; for the game of Bluff was new to her. She believed that by sleuth-hound cunning I had tracked her down, following each move from the first, and biding my time to strike until all proofs (the coffin and its contents) were within my grasp. By the time I had paused for lack of breath, the old face was sickly white, like candle-grease, and the remembrance of affection was so keen that I could not help pitying the creature. "You realize," I said, "everything is known. Not only do I know, but others. And we have all the stolen things in our possession. I've come here to offer you a chance of saving yourselves—though it's compounding a felony or something, I suppose! We can put you in the way of replacing the heirlooms in the night, just as they were taken away—by that secret passage you know. If you try to play us false, and hope to get the things back, we won't have mercy a second time. We shall find Barlow before you can warn him. And as for his nephews——"
"Yes! What about his nephews?" broke in a rough voice.
I started (only a statue could have resisted that start!) and turning my head I saw a tall young man close behind me, in the doorway by which I'd entered. Whether or not Mrs. Barlow had seen him, I don't know. She did not venture to speak, but a glance showed me a gleam of malicious relief in the eyes I had once thought limpid as a brook. If she'd ever felt any fondness for me, it was gone. She hated and feared me with a deadly fear. The thought shot through my brain that she would willingly sit still and see me murdered, if she and her husband could be saved from open shame by my disappearance.
The man in the doorway was sunburned to a lobster-red, and had features like those of some gargoyle. He must have been eavesdropping long enough to gather a good deal of information, for there was fury in his eyes, and deadly decision in the set of his big jaw.
Where was Roger Fane? I wondered. Without Roger I was lost, and my fate might never be known. Suddenly I was icily afraid—for something might have happened to Roger. But at that same frozen instant a very strange thing happened to me. My thoughts flew to Sir James Courtenaye! I had always disliked him—or fancied so. But he was so strong—such a giant of a man! What a wonderful champion he would be now! What hash he would make of the Barlow twins! Quickly I controlled myself. This was the moment when the game of Bluff (which had served me well so far) might be my one weapon of defence.
"As for Barlow's nephews," I echoed, with false calmness, "theirs is the principal guilt, and theirs ought to be the heaviest punishment."