“Oho! Then her ladyship has a son, has she? The daughter who died was not her only child?”
“No. The son was born about a year after the daughter. A nice lad—bright, clever, engaging; fond of all sorts of dumb animals—birds, monkeys, white mice—all manner of such things—and as tender-hearted as a girl. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Carruthers is immensely fond of him and has him at the Priory whenever he can. That, of course, means having the mother, too, which is a bit of a trial, in a way, for I don’t believe that her ladyship and Mrs. Carruthers care very much for each other. But that’s another story. Now, then, let’s see—where was I? Oh, ah! about the house party at the Priory and Carruthers’ fondness for the boy. You can judge of my surprise, my dear Cleek, when last night’s post brought me a private letter from Lady Essington asking me to meet her here at this inn—which, by the way, belongs to the Strathmere estate and is run by a former servant at the Priory—and stating that she wished me to bring one of the shrewdest and cleverest of my detectives, as she was quite convinced there was an underhand scheme afoot to injure his little lordship—in short, she had every reason to believe that somebody was secretly attacking the life of the Golden Boy. She then went on to give me details of a most extraordinary and bewildering nature.”
“Indeed? What were those details, Mr. Narkom?”
“Let her tell you for herself—here she is!” replied the superintendent, as a veiled and cloaked figure moved hurriedly past the window; and he and Cleek had barely more than pushed back their chairs and risen when that figure entered the room.
A sweep of her hand carried back her veil; and Cleek, looking round, saw what he considered one of the handsomest women he had ever beheld: a good woman, too, for all her frivolous life and her dark ancestry, if clear, straight-looking eyes could be taken as a proof, which he knew that they could not; for he had seen men and women in his day, as crafty as the fox and as dangerous as the serpent, who could look you straight in the eyes and never flinch; while others—as true as steel and as clean-lifed as saints—would send shifting glances flicking all round the room and could no more fix those glances on the face of the person to whom they were talking than they could take unto themselves wings and fly.
But good or ill, whichever the future might prove this lovely lady to be, one thing about her was certain: she was violently agitated, and nervousness was making her shake perceptibly and breathe hard, like a spent runner.
“It is good of you to come, Mr. Narkom,” she said, moving forward with a grace which no amount of excitement could dispel or diminish—the innate grace of the woman born to her station and schooled by Mother Nature’s guiding hand. “I had hoped that I might steal away and come here to meet you unsuspected. But, secretly as I wrote, carefully as I planned this thing, I have every reason to believe that my efforts are suspected and that I have, indeed, been followed. So, then, this interview must be a very hurried one, and you must not be surprised if it becomes necessary for me to run off without a moment’s notice; for believe me, I am quite, quite sure that the Honourable Mr. Felix Carruthers is already following me.”
“The Honourable—my dear Lady Essington, you don’t mean to suggest that he—he of all men——God bless my soul!”
“Oh, it may well amaze you, Mr. Narkom. It well-nigh stupefied me when I first began to suspect. Indeed, I can’t do any more than suspect even yet. Perhaps it is he, perhaps that abominable woman he has married. You must decide that when you have heard. I perceive”—glancing over at Cleek—“you have been unable to bring a detective police officer to listen to what I have to say, but if you and your friend will listen carefully and convey the story to one in due course——”
“Pardon, your ladyship, but my companion is a detective officer,” interposed Narkom. “So if you will state the case at once he will be able to advise.”