“Suppose, now, that you have succeeded in putting the cart before the horse, Mr. Narkom,” Cleek said suddenly, “you proceed to give me, not the ramifications of the case, but the case itself. You have repeatedly spoken of the murder having taken place in some place which is difficult of access and under most mystifying circumstances. Now, if you don’t mind, I should like to hear what those circumstances are.”
“All right, old chap, I’ll give you the details as briefly as possible. In the first place, you must know that Heatherington Hall is a very ancient place, dating back, indeed, to those pleasant times when a nobleman’s home had to be something of a fortress as well, if he didn’t want to wake up some fine morning and find his place ‘sacked,’ his roof burnt over his head, and himself and his lady either held for ransom or freed from any possibility of having ‘headaches’ thereafter. Now, a round tower with only one door by which to enter, and no windows other than narrow slits, through which the bowmen could discharge their shafts at an attacking party without exposing themselves to the dangers of a return fire, was the usual means of defence adopted—you’ll see dozens of them in Suffolk, dear chap, but whether for reasons of economy or merely to carry out some theory of his own, the first lord of Heatherington Hall did not stick to the general plan.
“In brief, instead of building a tall tower rising from the ground itself, he chose to erect upon the roof of the west wing of the building a lower but more commodious one than was customary. That is to say, that while his tower was less than half the height of any other in the country, its circumference was twice as great, and, by reason of the double supply of bowman’s slits, equally as effective in withstanding a siege; and, indeed, doubly difficult to assault, as before an invading force could get to the door of the place it would have to fight its way up through the main building to reach the level of it.
“Now, owing to the peculiarity of its construction—it is not more than eighteen feet high—the fact that it contained but one circular room, and all those bowman slits in the walls of it, this unusual ‘tower’ gained an equally unusual name for itself, and became known everywhere as the ‘Stone Drum of Heatherington,’ and is even mentioned by that name in the Inquisitio Eliensis of the “Domesday Book,” which, as you doubtless know, is the particular volume of that remarkable work which records the survey, et cetera, of the counties of Cambridge, Hertford, Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, and Huntingdon.”
“I see,” said Cleek, with an amused twinkle in his eye. “You are getting on, Mr. Narkom. We shall have you lecturing on archæology one of these fine days. But to return to our mutton—or, rather, our stone drum—was it in that place, then, that the murder was committed?”
“Yes. It is one of the few, very few, parts of the building to which Mr. Jefferson P. Drake did nothing in the way of modernizing, and added nothing in the way of ’improvements.’ That, probably, was because, as it stood, it offered him a quiet, secluded, and exclusive retreat for the carrying on of his experiments; for wealth had brought with it no inclination to retire, and he remained to the last in the lists of the world’s active forces. As a general thing, he did not do much in the way of burning the midnight oil, but conducted most of his experiments in the daytime. But last night was an exception. It may be that the news of his son’s appeal to the lodgekeeper that afternoon had upset him, for he was restless and preoccupied all the evening, Lord Fallowfield says—or, at least, so young Drake reports him as having said—and instead of retiring with the rest of the house party when bedtime came and his Japanese valet carried up his customary carafe of ice-water——”
“Oh, he has a Japanese valet, has he? But, of course, in these days no American gentleman with any pretence to distinction whatsoever would be without one. Go on, please. His Japanese valet carried up the ice-water, and—then what?”
“Then he suddenly announced his intention of going into the Stone Drum and working for a few hours. Lord Fallowfield, it appears, tried his best to dissuade him, but to no purpose.”
“Why did he do that? Or don’t you know?”
“Yes. I asked that very question myself. I was told that it was because his lordship saw very plainly that he was labouring under strong mental excitement, and he thought that rest would be the best thing for him in the circumstances. Then, too, his lordship and he are warmly attached to each other. In fact, the earl was as fond of him as if he had been a brother. As well he ought to be, by James! when you recollect that before he got the idea into his head of marrying his son to Lady Marjorie he added a codicil to his will bequeathing the place to Lord Fallowfield, together with all the acres and acres of land he had added to it, and all the art treasures he had collected, absolutely free from death duties.”