"Nonsense, nonsense!"
"Begging your pardon, sir, but it's gospel truth that I am speaking," said the landlady, bristling, "with a lunatic at large one never knows what may happen. The police inspector--and a very nice man he is--has already sent to Denleigh asking Major Rebb to go to Leegarth. Everyone is talking about things with blood and slaughter in them. And I ask your pardon, sir, for having come into your bedroom, but I thought you would like to know. Oh, dear me! dear me!" Mrs. Jennings wrung her plump hands and retreated towards the door, in a flurried condition. "I'll bolt and bar every window and door at sunset: no murders for me."
Having babbled herself out of the room, she banged the door, and Haskins, sitting up in bed, placed his hands on either side of his head, to think matters over. He found it difficult to believe the news, and yet he might have expected to hear something of this sort. Of course he was absolutely certain that Mavis was innocent: but he could not understand why she had run away, nor could he guess who had slain the unfortunate Italian. Quite unable to eat his breakfast because of the intelligence, he jumped out of bed, and into the hip-bath which was in the centre of the room. The sooner he went downstairs and learned all that could be learned the better able would he be to see his way. If Mavis had been in danger from Major Rebb before, she was now in greater danger than ever, as he assuredly would use her assumed guilt to prevent her inheriting the money.
"Nothing will make anyone believe that Mavis is other than guilty," was the young man's soliloquy: "her crazy reputation is enough. If she is caught, they will shut her up in an asylum, notwithstanding the denial she is sure to make. Then Rebb will be able to keep the money, according to the strict letter of the will. And yet--and yet----" He clenched his fist. "I believe that Rebb himself is guilty of the crime."
He had really no reason to make such an accusation: but the happening of the crime was so opportune for the Major that it did not seem entirely impossible for him to have had a hand in it. Assuredly he might not have struck the blow himself, but the unscrupulous Geary could easily have been employed to remove Bellaria. Not that Rebb, on the face of it, would wish to lose so useful a servant, but if it was necessary that Mavis should be accused of murder, to ensure her being placed in an asylum, Bellaria was the nearest and most natural victim.
But these arguments were futile, as Gerald reflected while dressing, for he did not know exactly what had taken place. It was necessary to learn when the crime had been committed; where the body had been found--the precise spot, that is--and, if possible, to discover the weapon which had been used. If the yellow-handled knife was picked up anywhere near the corpse the presumption would be that Geary had killed the woman, although Mrs. Jennings had made no report of this. But the thought recalled to Haskins' mind the attack made upon him by the negro on the previous night. A knife had been used then, and he had it in the pocket of the suit he had worn. On looking at it again he saw what had struck him before, that the handle of this particular weapon was black, and not yellow. What then had become of the famous sacrificial knife, of which Mavis had spoken? Why should Geary not have used this when striving to murder Gerald? That question could only be answered when the yellow-handled knife was found.
Haskins could not wear the flannels in which he had been attacked, as they were smeared all over with oil from Geary's body, He therefore flung this suit into his portmanteau, and, as the day promised to be extremely hot, dressed himself in white drill. Thus clothed, although far from being in his right mind, by reason of inward perturbation, he descended, to find the hotel seething with excitement.
Everyone was talking of the Leegarth tragedy, as such an event had never before startled the somnolent town. The bar was crowded with idlers, and Mr. Evans' messenger was being supplied with as much drink as he could swallow. However, he was yet sober enough to answer the few questions which Haskins put to him. No weapon had been found; the police had gone to Leegarth; the guilt of Miss Durham was certain; she had vanished, and search was being made; wires had been sent far and wide ordering her arrest; policemen were scouring the countryside on bicycles; sooner or later the murderess would be captured and everyone would be relieved. So the man babbled on, and, having learned all that was possible, Gerald went to hire a bicycle in order to proceed to Leegarth.
He did not feel the least hungry, for obvious reasons, but as he had a long and exhausting day before him he was wise enough to force himself to eat and drink. Thus fortified he rode up the steep Silbury High Street, and into the surrounding country. So rapid was his pace, and so eager was he to learn the best or the worst at once, that in a marvelously short time he found himself before the high wall which girdled the Pixy's House and its park. In this wall double gates of rough iron were set, but the grounds could not be seen from the lane as boards had been placed across the bars to prevent anyone looking in. This had been done--as Gerald learned from a chatty villager--many years before, when the crazy girl and her dead watcher had come to live there.
Policemen guarded the gates, and preserved order amongst the rapidly increasing crowd, which augmented every minute. The terrible news had traveled with lightning speed, and from far and wide came all who were possessed of morbid curiosity. The police were expected from Exeter, and in the meanwhile Inspector Morgan of Silbury was within the grounds, searching round. Major Rebb had not yet arrived.