In the meantime Inspector Sharpe disposed of two cases that had just been brought in, and then sending for Ferret, the two penetrating, cool, keen-scented gentlemen sat on opposite sides of the little table in the Inspector’s private office and discussed the rapidly developing situation.
“But what the devil does it all mean?” inquired Sharpe, showing by his graver and tenser expression that the case was passing from an ordinary piece of blackmail, involving a few unimportant foreigners, to a very genuine mystery of much more serious aspect, involving not an English gentleman merely, but the particular English gentleman who was at that moment in the eye of the public.
“Mean? Mean?” answered Ferret, leaning back with an air of immense professional eagerness. “Why, man, can’t you see what it means? In the first place, something happened after I left the house that changed the dear little governess lady’s mind. She was told to leave the house, to follow the Cuban, you see. Well, the Cuban didn’t go out as the little one so prettily lied to you. I know this because I had five of our trustiest men watching every entrance to the house. So, for some reason the girl has joined Fair in his unaccountable effort to keep the rum chap out of our hands. There was a row of some sort just after I left the house, for Wilson, whom I let into the place, saw them all suddenly rush up from the dinner-table, but, as they came back presently, Wilson didn’t go up to the library—especially as he saw pretty Kate slip out into the street. Getting thickish, eh? Well, sir, the shot that we heard about seven o’clock was fired in Fair’s house, for I saw his revolver lying on the library-table with one chamber empty. How’s that for your little game?”
“This is getting interesting,” muttered the Inspector.
“Isn’t it just?” answered Ferret, sitting up triumphantly. “And what did I tell you? I knew there was a deal more than just an innocent bit of Mendes’s regular little practice. The papers will be worth reading, sir, tomorrow or the day after. I wish this governess, though, was out of it.”
“You have the house well watched?” asked the Inspector.
“Rather,” answered Ferret, with one of his expressive winks. “Wilson and Banks and Thorpe and two others. They won’t let very much get through their fingers. Another thing. The Fairs are closing the house tomorrow morning all of a sudden. All the servants have been notified. Fair himself will spend the day at Drayton Hall—you know, old Sir Nelson Poynter’s place in Surrey—and the missis and the kids will go to Paris. I quietly read the two telegrams that Fair sent off to engage the rooms for them in Paris. Wilson will follow them, while Thorpe will run down to Drayton Hall tonight to see how things lie. Tomorrow after they have gone I shall give the house a thorough looking over, I can promise you. Sharpe, my lad, we’ve struck a gold mine!”
“But what do you make of it all?” asked Sharpe. “I confess that I’m in the dark. Have you got at the real situation?”
“Walls have ears—and even minor police officials have a liking for knowing what their superiors are at—so, your ear,” replied Ferret, going to the Inspector’s side and whispering to him.
“Lord! You don’t mean that?” exclaimed Sharpe, jumping up.