“My dear chap, you don’t surely mean that you think he is really at the bottom of it?” began Narkom, in surprise; but before he could say a word further, that surprise was completely overwhelmed by another and a greater one. For the Honourable Felix had reined in and dismounted at the French Horn’s door, and, with a clear-voiced, “No, don’t put him up; I shan’t be long, Betty. Just want a word or two with some friends I’m expecting,” walked straightway into the bar parlour and advanced toward the superintendent with hand outstretched.
“Thank God, you got my letter in time, Mr. Narkom,” he said, with a breath of intense relief. “Although I sent it by express messenger, it was after three o’clock and I was afraid you wouldn’t. What a friend you are to come to my relief like this! I shall owe you a debt no money can repay. This then is the great and amazing Cleek, is it? I thank you, Mr. Cleek, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for accepting the case. Now we shall get to the bottom of the mystery, I am sure.”
It was upon the tip of Narkom’s tongue to inquire what he meant by all this; but Cleek, rightly suspecting that the letter to which he alluded had been delivered at the Yard after the superintendent’s departure, jumped into the breach and saved the situation.
“Very good of you indeed to place such great reliance in me, Mr. Carruthers,” he said. “We had to scramble for it, Mr. Narkom and I—the letter was so late in arriving—but, thank fortune, we managed to get here, as you see. And now, please, may I have the details of the case?”
He spoke guardedly, lest it should be upon some matter other than the interest of the “Golden Boy” and to prevent the Honourable Felix from guessing that he had already been approached upon that subject by Lady Essington. It was not some other matter, however. It was again the mystery of the secret attacks upon his little lordship he was asked to dispel; and the Honourable Felix, plunging forthwith into the details connected with it, gave him exactly the same report as Lady Essington had done.
“Come to the rescue, Mr. Cleek,” he finished, rather excitedly. “Both my wife and I feel that you and you alone are the man to get at the bottom of this diabolical thing; and the boy is as dear to us as if he were our own. Help me to get proof—unimpeachable proof—of the hand which is engineering these diabolical attacks, that we may not only put an end to them before they go too far, but may avert the disgrace which publicity must inevitably bring.”
“Publicity, Mr. Carruthers? What publicity are you in dread of, please?”
“That which could only bring shame to a dear, lovable young fellow if any hint of what I believe to be the truth should get out, Mr. Cleek,” he replied. “To you I may confess it: I appeal to no medical man because I fear, for young Claude’s sake, that investigation may lead to a discovery of the truth; for both my wife and I feel—indeed, we almost know—that it is his own grandmother, Lady Essington, who is injuring the boy and that it will not be long before she attempts to direct suspicion against us.”
“Indeed? For what purpose?”
“To have us removed by the courts as not being fit to have the care of the child, and to get him transferred to her care, that she may enjoy the revenue from his estate.”