“Did he explain that circumstance?” I asked eagerly.
“No. I pressed him, but he refused to tell me. ‘It is my secret, Teddy,’ he said. ‘A secret which, alas! bars my happiness for ever.’ As we smoked, I noticed that, contrary to the rule, the long window yonder was open, and remarked upon it. He rose, and saying that the servant had probably forgotten it, closed it himself and barred the shutters. You’ll see they are strong shutters, and they were found in the morning closed and barred just as he had left them. Indeed, I unbarred them myself.”
“Then you left him here?” I asked.
“No. He turned off the light and came out with me, locking the door after him, for it seems he’s always careful to have every door on the ground floor locked at night. He came upstairs with me, wished me a cheery good-night outside my own door, and, promising to motor me into Oakham on the morrow, went along to his room. That is the last time he was seen alive.”
“What did you next hear?”
“I was awakened by a loud, piercing shriek—a man’s shriek of intense horror, it seemed. No one else slept in this wing of the house, or they must certainly have heard it. I roused myself at the unusual sound, for I was thoroughly startled and awakened by it. The clock on my mantelshelf struck two. I waited for some minutes, when I heard a noise which seemed to be below in the library, as though some one were moving about trying the door and hammering upon it. This caused me to wonder, and I held my breath to listen further. I suppose I must have lain like that for fully an hour. It was my intention if I heard anything further to go along to Guy’s room. I had, of course, some hesitation in arousing the household. But as I heard nothing further, I suppose I fell asleep, for the sun was shining when I awoke again. I got up, and was crossing to the window to look out when I heard a woman’s cry for help. So I rushed out in my pyjamas, and, descending the stairs, found poor Guy lying just here,” and he crossed to a spot about four yards from the door, and pointed to the red carpet.
“Was the room in any disorder?” I asked.
“Not as far as I could see. The shutters yonder were closed and barred, so I opened them and then tried to rouse my friend. But, alas! I saw by the ashen look upon his face that he was already dead. He was still in his dinner-jacket—just as I had left him. Of course you can well imagine the scene and the horror of the servants. Poor Guy—he was one of the very best.”
“What is your theory, Captain Cardew?”
“Theory! Well, I hardly know. I was a fool, and I shall never forgive myself for not raising an alarm when I first heard his shriek. I ought to have known that something was wrong. But there are moments in one’s life when one, being awakened suddenly, acts foolishly. It was so with me.”