She was a fussy old person who believed herself to be much worse than she really was, and it was, therefore, not until past one oclock that I smoked my final pipe, drained my peg, and retired to bed, full of recollections of my well-beloved.
Just before turning in my man brought me a telegram from Sir Bernard, dispatched from Brighton, regarding a case to be seen on the following day. He was very erratic about telegrams and sent them to me at all hours, therefore it was no extraordinary circumstance. He always preferred telegraphing to writing letters. I read the message, tossed it with its envelope upon the fire, and then retired with a fervent hope that I should at least be allowed to have a complete nights rest. Sir Bernards patients were, however, of that class who call the doctor at any hour for the slightest attack of indigestion, and summonses at night were consequently very frequent.
I suppose I had been in bed a couple of hours when I was awakened by the electric bell sounding in my mans room, and a few minutes later he entered, saying:
Theres a man who wants to see you immediately, sir. He says hes from Mr. Courtenays, down at Kew.
Mr. Courtenays! I echoed, sitting up in bed. Bring him in here.
A few moments later the caller was shown in.
Why, Short! I exclaimed. Whats the matter?
Matter, doctor, the man stammered. Its awful, sir!
Whats awful?
My poor master, sir. Hes dead hes been murdered!
CHAPTER V
DISCLOSES A MYSTERY
The mans amazing announcement held me speechless.
Murdered! I cried when I found tongue. Impossible!
Ah! sir, its too true. Hes quite dead.
But surely he has died from natural causes eh?
No, sir. My poor master has been foully murdered.
How do you know that? I asked breathlessly. Tell me all the facts.
I saw by the mans agitation, his white face, and the hurried manner in which he had evidently dressed to come in search of me, that something tragic had really occurred.
We know nothing yet, sir, was his quick response. I entered his room at two oclock, as usual, to see if he wanted anything, and saw that he was quite still, apparently asleep. The lamp was turned low, but as I looked over the bed I saw a small dark patch upon the sheet. This I discovered to be blood, and a moment later was horrified to discover a small wound close to the heart, and from it the blood was slowly oozing.
Then hes been stabbed, you think? I gasped, springing up and beginning to dress myself hastily.
We think so, sir. Its awful!
Terrible! I said, utterly dumbfounded by the mans amazing story. After you made the discovery, how did you act?
I awoke the nurse, who slept in the room adjoining. And then we aroused Miss Mivart. The shock to her was terrible, poor young lady. When she saw the body of the old gentleman she burst into tears, and at once sent me to you. I didnt find a cab till Id walked almost to Hammersmith, and then I came straight on here.
But is there undoubtedly foul play, Short?
No doubt whatever, sir. Im nothing of a doctor, but I could see the wound plainly, like a small clean cut just under the heart.
No weapon about?
I didnt see anything, sir.
Have you called the police?
No, sir. Miss Mivart said she would wait until you arrived. She wants your opinion.
And Mrs. Courtenay. How does she bear the tragedy?
The poor lady doesnt know yet.
Doesnt know? Havent you told her?
No, sir. Shes not at home.
What? She hasnt returned?
No, sir, responded the man.
That fact was in itself peculiar. Yet there was, I felt sure, some strong reason if young Mrs. Courtenay remained the night with her friends, the Hennikers. Trains run to Kew after the theatres, but she had possibly missed the last, and had been induced by her friends to remain the night with them in town.
Yet the whole of the tragic affair was certainly very extraordinary. It was Shorts duty to rise at two oclock each morning and go to his masters room to ascertain if the invalid wanted anything. Generally, however, the old gentleman slept well, hence there had been no necessity for a night nurse.
When I entered the cab, and the man having taken a seat beside me, we had set out on our long night drive to Kew, I endeavoured to obtain more details regarding the Courtenay ménage. In an ordinary way I could scarcely have questioned a servant regarding his master and mistress, but on this drive I saw an occasion to obtain knowledge, and seized it.
Short, although a well-trained servant, was communicative. The shock he had sustained in discovering his master made him so.
After ten years service he was devoted to his master, but from the remarks he let drop during our drive I detected that he entertained a strong dislike of the old gentlemans young wife. He was, of course, well aware of my affection for Ethelwynn, and carefully concealed his antipathy towards her, an antipathy which I somehow felt convinced existed. He regarded both sisters with equal mistrust.
Does your mistress often remain in town with her friends at night?
Sometimes, when she goes to balls.
And is that often?
Not very often.
And didnt the old gentleman know of his wifes absence?
Sometimes. He used to ask me whether Mrs. Courtenay was at home, and then I was bound to tell the truth.
By his own admission then, this man Short had informed the invalid of his wifes frequent absences. He was an informer, and as such most probably the enemy of both Mary and Ethelwynn. I knew him to be the confidential servant of the old gentleman, but had not before suspected him of tale-telling. Without doubt Mrs. Courtenays recent neglect had sorely grieved the old gentleman. He doted upon her, indulged her in every whim and fancy and, like many an aged husband who has a smart young wife, dared not to differ from her or complain of any of her actions. There is a deal of truth in the adage, Theres no fool like an old fool.
But the mystery was increasing, and as we drove together down that long interminable high road through Hammersmith to Chiswick, wet, dark and silent at that hour, I reflected that the strange presage of insecurity which had so long oppressed me was actually being fulfilled. Ambler Jevons had laughed at it. But would he laugh now? To-morrow, without doubt, he would be working at the mystery in the interests of justice. To try to keep the affair out of the Press would, I knew too well, be impossible. Those men, in journalistic parlance called liners, are everywhere, hungry for copy, and always eager to seize upon anything tragic or mysterious.
From Short I gathered a few additional details. Not many, be it said, but sufficient to make it quite clear that he was intensely antagonistic towards his mistress. This struck me as curious, for as far as I had seen she had always treated him with the greatest kindness and consideration, had given him holidays, and to my knowledge had, a few months before, raised his wages of her own accord. Nevertheless, the ménage was a strange one, incongruous in every respect.
My chief thoughts were, however, with my love. The shock to her must, I knew, be terrible, especially as Mary was absent and she was alone with the nurse and servants.
When I sprang from the cab and entered the house she met me in the hall. She had dressed hastily and wore a light shawl over her head, probably to conceal her disordered hair, but her face was blanched to the lips.