"She won't tell you the truth."
"Yes she will, provided she is not implicated in the matter, and I hardly think that likely. Though to be sure," added Torry to himself, "it is strange that her hat should be on the dead woman's head."
"I should like to know the truth of that, certainly," said Darrel, fired by sudden curiosity, "Yes, I'll go with you. When do we start?"
"In an hour. We take the mid-day train from Waterloo, I am not fanciful, you know," remarked the detective, nodding, "but I have an idea that this journey will be a lucky one."
Frank laughed, "We'll do our best to make it so," said he.
This being arranged they drove to Waterloo Station, and after a hasty luncheon in the restaurant, departed for Wraybridge by the 12.30 train. In a surprisingly short time considering the distance from town, they arrived at Wraybridge, and hiring a fly, drove at once to Wray House. The road which led, thereto, was singularly beautiful, as it passed through a small forest of pine and fir trees. Here and there were villas and mansions and cottages, and occasionally, through intervening trees, a glimpse could be caught of the smoothly-flowing Thames, winding its silvery way through flowery meadows. In twenty minutes the travellers arrived at Wraybridge village, a quaint and picturesque hamlet with old-fashioned houses, peaked roofed and many gabled. Through the narrow crooked thoroughfare, misnamed the High-street, they passed; emerged again into a stretch of open country marching with the river, and ultimately stopped before a pair of elaborate iron gates which gave admission to Wray House. Having arrived at their destination Torry paid off the cabman and, followed by Darrel, entered the grounds.
It must be confessed that Frank did not feel altogether easy in his mind. To visit unsuspecting people with the idea of worming secrets out of their inexperience seemed to him like getting into the house under false pretences. Torry not being a gentleman, was not troubled by these fine scruples. And indeed there was no need that he should be. He was an officer of the law; he was acting entirely in the interests of justice; and it was only natural that he should attempt by every means in his power to bring the wrongdoer to the gallows. Darrel mentally tried to assure himself of this, for the salving of his own conscience; but all the same, he felt uncomfortable, and devoutly wished that he had not embarked on a career which dealt with life in so underhanded a way. However, he had gone too far to retreat; so with some philosophy, he made the best of a bad bargain, and followed Torry up to the house. Here they found some difficulty in entering.
The servant brought back Torry's card, and announced that his mistress was too ill to receive anyone. Thereupon the detective requested permission to see Donna Maria; who also sent back a message that she was not to be seen. On this second refusal Torry lost his smiling demeanour, and at once became the stern officer of justice--sharp-tongued and peremptory.
"Tell your mistress," said he to the servant, "that if she will not see me herself, she must permit me to converse with Donna Maria Sandoval. I am a detective from New Scotland-yard, and have been charged to discover, if possible, the assassin of Mr. Grent. In my official character Donna Maria dare not refuse to see me."
Apparently this peremptory speech carried weight, for in a few minutes the servant returned and shewed the two men into a small room.