"You can search me," said the accused man, opening his arms.
Trent took him at his word, and ran his hand down the young man's sides. But nothing could be found. He then marched him and the landlady upstairs and into the bedroom. Herries, with his hands in his pockets, sat wearily by the window, while Trent examined the room, aided by Mrs. Narby. The lady was extremely active. She pulled the clothes from the bed, removed the wardrobe from against the wall, and wrenched up the carpet, but all to no purpose. Then while Trent looked up the chimney, Mrs. Narby, with surprising activity, scrambled under the bed. She emerged in a minute or so, with a smothered exclamation, covered with grime and fluff, and held in her large hand a blue pocket-book of morocco.
"The money!" cried Trent, darting towards her.
Mrs. Narby shook out the pocket-book triumphantly,--
"Empty," she cried vindictively, "he's the thief an' assassing!" and she flung the book at Herries' head.
[CHAPTER IV]
WHAT HAPPENED NEXT
Mrs. Narby's discovery convinced Inspector Trent that his prisoner was guilty. The razor, the key of the dead man's bedroom, the smeared sleeve, and the pocket-book, all pointed to Herries as the assassin. And to this material evidence could be added several serious admissions. After an early denial, Herries had admitted that he knew the deceased; he had acknowledged him to be a relative with whom he had quarrelled; and he had stated that his temper was fiery; finally, the presumed murderer, arriving at an unknown inn on the particular night on which Sir Simon had slept there, had occupied the room directly adjoining that of his victim. In the face of such strong circumstantial evidence, it was scarcely to be wondered at that Herries looked upon himself as lost. Weaker proofs had hanged men just as innocent.
It was close on five o'clock when Trent came downstairs to see if the doctor had arrived. He locked Herries in the bedroom, intending to take him personally to Tarhaven prison, when the doctor had examined the body. In the meantime there was no chance of Herries escaping. From this solitary house, surrounded by marsh and fog, no one, without being well acquainted with the neighbourhood (and Herries was a stranger), could hope to get away without endangering his life. The two yokels still watched under the window, and three or four policemen were in and around the house. Trent felt that his valuable prisoner was perfectly safe, and went back to the stuffy parlour to examine Narby, and to question the landlady about the man called Michael Gowrie, to whom Herries had alluded.
The heads of the household being thus employed, Elspeth and Pope attended to the many customers who thronged the tap-room. A great number of people had been drawn to the inn by an account of the tragedy, and as some hours had elapsed since the discovery of the body, the news was pretty widely known. Never before in its sordid history had the "Marsh Inn" done such a roaring trade, and Pope put his poetry and dreaming on one side, to deliver pots of frothing beer to thirsty labourers, who lethargically discussed the crime.