The Five Knots

by Fred M. White

"Why, the big man in the livery," Cotter replied. "But I forgot—you didn't see him. He came up to the other two with a whip in his hand and lashed them as if they had been dogs. A great nigger, nearly seven feet high."

"A nigger!" Wilfrid exclaimed. "What bosh!"

"I assure you it's true, sir," Cotter said earnestly. "It was on the other side of the lawn and the light from the window fell full upon his face. I tell you he is a pure-blooded negro. When those other two saw him coming they bolted and he after them. And he used his whip upon them vigorously. Don't ask me what it all means, sir. I am not going to stay here. I should be afraid to spend another night under this roof."

Wilfrid gave the thing up as hopeless for the present. Probably this new phase of the maddening puzzle would solve itself in time. And meanwhile there was Beatrice to be thought of. In a few curt words Wilfrid sent Cotter into the garden to bring Miss Galloway back to the house. He was to wait in the drawing-room till Wilfrid was at liberty again. He was glad to be alone so that he could concentrate attention upon his patient.

Flower was rapidly coming to himself and by and by would be able to give an account of what had happened. He opened his eyes from time to time and recognized Wilfrid with a flicker of his eyelids. There was nothing, however, but to wait, and Wilfrid sat down by the side of the table where the letters were scattered about. Without wishing to be curious he did not fail to notice the unfinished letter on which the wet pen was still lying. It was addressed as he saw to a firm called Darton & Co. Then followed the words:—

"Dear Sirs, Re Mr. Wil——"

Here the letter stopped abruptly as if the writer had been interrupted. It struck Wilfrid as a coincidence that Darton & Co. was the firm from which he had borrowed the money to set himself up in business. But doubtless there were other firms of Darton & Co., and in any case the matter was not worth thinking about. Besides, Flower was sitting up now and holding his hands to his temples.

"What does it all mean?" he whispered. "And what is the matter with the door? Why is the window open? Ah, I begin to recollect. Cotter had given me some information which he had got from London by telephone and I was just writing a letter.... It was a most extraordinary smell, Mercer. I don't think I ever smelt anything like it. I rose to open the window and after that I remember nothing till I came to my senses on the sofa and you were bending over me. What can it mean?"

"I think you know as much about it as I do," Wilfrid said guardedly. "Beyond question, a determined attempt to murder you has been made by some person or persons whom you know just as much about as I do. But I had better tell you what has happened in another part of the house."

Wilfrid told his tale briefly, not forgetting to touch upon Cotter's terror and the admissions which had come from the confidential clerk in a moment of peril.