“Nothing, only that I have found four little marks disposed of at such regular distances that they seem to have been made by the four legs of a chair resting, with a rather heavy weight upon it, on the leads of the roof and immediately under one of the bowman’s slits in the Stone Drum. A chair with casters, I should imagine, from the character of the marks. We are on a level with the sleeping quarters of the servants in the house proper, I believe, and chairs with casters are not usual in servants’ bedrooms in most houses. Are they so here?”
“Certainly not,” put in young Drake. “Why, I don’t believe there is a chair with casters on the whole blessed floor. Is there, Lord Fallowfield? You ought to know.”
“Yes, there is, Jim. There are three in fact; they all are in the old armoury. Been there a dog’s age; and they so matched the old place your poor father never had them taken out.”
“The ‘old armoury’? What’s that, your lordship, may I ask?”
“Oh, a relic of the old feudal times, Mr. Cleek. You see, on account of the position of the Stone Drum, the weapon room, or arming-room, had to be up here on a level with the wing roof, instead of below stairs, as in the case of other ‘towers.’ That’s the place over there—the window just to the left of the door leading into the building proper. It is full of the old battle flags, knights’ pennants, shields, cross-bows, and the Lord knows what of those old days of primitive warfare. We Fallowfields always preserved it, just as it was in the days of its usefulness, for its historical interest and its old association with the name. Like to have a look at it?”
“Very much indeed,” replied Cleek, and two minutes later he was standing in the place and revelling in its air of antiquity.
As Lord Fallowfield had declared, the three old chairs which supplied seating accommodation were equipped with casters, but although these were the prime reason for Cleek’s visit to the place, he gave them little more than a passing glance, bestowing all his attention upon the ancient shields and the quaint old cross-bows with which the walls were heavily hung in tier after tier almost to the groined ceiling.
“Primitive times, Mr. Narkom, when men used to go out with these jimcrack things and bang away at each other with skewers!” he said, taking one of them down and examining it in a somewhat casual manner, turning it over, testing its weight, looking at its catch, and running his fingers up and down the propelling string. “Fancy a chap with one of these things running up against a modern battery or sailing out into a storm of shrapnel! Back to your hook, grandfather”—hanging it up again—“times change and we with time. By the way, your lordship, I hope you will be better able to give an account of your whereabouts last night than I hear that Mr. Drake here is able to do regarding his.”
“I? Good heavens, man, what do you mean?” flung out his lordship, so taken aback by the abruptness of the remark that the very breath seemed to be knocked out of him. “Upon my soul, Mr. Cleek——”
“Gently, gently, your lordship. You must certainly realize that in the circumstances the same necessity must exist for you to explain your movements as exists for Mr. Drake. I am told that in the event of the elder Mr. Drake’s death this property was to come to you wholly unencumbered by any charge or any restrictions whatsoever.”