The Mystery of M. Felix. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold

Being here with Mrs. Middlemore's permission. You've got a lot to learn, Wigg, and one of the lessons I'd advise you to take to heart" – here he looked significantly at Mrs. Middlemore-"is not to poach on a pal's preserves."

      Constable Wigg may have felt the reproach, but he took no notice of it. "You may as well come to the door with me, Nightingale."

      "I've no objections."

      "I'll come too," said Mrs. Middlemore, nervously. "I wouldn't be left alone here for anythink you could orfer me."

      The three walked upstairs to the passage, Mrs. Middlemore needing the support of Constable Nightingale's arm round her waist; but the moment the fastenings of the street-door were unloosed, it flew open as though a battering ram had been applied to it, and the wind and snow swept in upon them with undiminished fury.

      "Hanged if it ain't getting worse and worse!" muttered Constable Nightingale, helping the others to shut the door, which was accomplished with great difficulty.

      "Don't make a noise in the passage," whispered Mrs. Middlemore to Constable Wigg. "Mr. Felix 'll 'ear it, and he'd never forgive me."

      "We'll take it for granted, then, that the alarm is given," said Constable Nightingale, "and we'll go downstairs, and consider what ought to be done."

      CHAPTER V.

      DR. LAMB TELLS THE CONSTABLES AND MRS. MIDDLEMORE WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH MR. FELIX

      Arrived once more in that comfortable apartment, they shook off the snow dust which had blown in upon them from the street. Then Constable Nightingale assumed a judicial attitude.

      "In case of anything being wrong," he said, "we must all be agreed upon what has took place before it's discovered."

      "Before what's discovered?" cried Mrs. Middlemore.

      "That we've got to find out."

      "It's ten to one there's nothing to find out," said Constable Wigg.

      "It's ten to one there is," retorted Constable Nightingale. "I go a bit deeper than you, Wigg; but whether there is or there ain't, it's always well to be prepared with a story. I've got something in my mind that you don't seem to have in yours; what it is you shall hear presently. Mrs. Middlemore, going out for her supper-beer at her usual hour, about half-past eleven shuts the street-door behind her, and does not return till past twelve. Is that correct, ma'am?"

      "Quite correct, Mr. Nightingale; but what are you driving at?"

      "All in good time, my dear. You leave the house safe, and you are sure you shut the street-door tight?"

      "I'll take my oath of it."

      "It may come to that; I don't want to scare you, but it may come to that. When you come back with the supper-beer you find the street-door open?"

      "But I don't."

      "Excuse me, you do; it's necessary."

      "Oh!"

      "And I'll tell you why. When you come home you find Wigg and me here, don't you?"

      "Yes."

      "You've heard how we got in, but it's a fact that we had no business here unless we was called in. We must have been called in by somebody, and whoever it was must have had a reason for inviting us. Is that sound, Wigg?"

      "As sound as a rock, Nightingale."

      "Mr. Felix didn't call us in, and there's no one else in the house while you've gone for your supper-beer?" Mrs. Middlemore coughed, which caused Constable Nightingale to ask, "What's that for?"

      "It ain't for me to say," replied Mrs. Middlemore. "What you want to git at is that there's only two people living regularly in the 'ouse, Mr. Felix and me. If Mr. Felix makes it worth my while to keep my own counsel, I'm going to keep it, and I don't care what happens."

      "I wouldn't persuade you otherwise. Gentlemen that's so liberal with their money as him ain't to be met with every day. Very well, then. There's only you and Mr. Felix living in the house, and he don't call us in. It's you that does that. Why? You shut the street-door tight when you went out; you find it open when you come back, and at the same time you see a man with a red handkercher round his neck run out of the house. Of course you're alarmed; Wigg happens to be near, and you call him; he, thinking he may want assistance, calls me; and that's how it is we're both here at the present moment. That's pretty straight, isn't it?"

      Both his hearers agreed that it was, and he proceeded:

      "But we mustn't forget that we've been here some time already. I make it, by my silver watch that I won in a raffle, twenty minutes to two. Your kitchen clock, Mrs. Middlemore, is a little slow."

      "Do what I will," said Mrs. Middlemore, "I can't make it go right."

      "Some clocks," observed Constable Nightingale, with a touch of humor-he was on the best of terms with himself, having, in a certain sense, snuffed out Constable Wigg-"are like some men and women; they're either too slow or too fast, and try your hardest you can't alter 'em. We must be able to account for a little time between past twelve o'clock and now; there's no need to be too particular; such a night as this is 'll excuse a lot. I'll take the liberty of stopping your clock and putting the hands back to twelve, so that you won't be fixed to a half-hour or so. The clock stopped while you was getting your supper-beer, of course. Likewise I stop my watch, and put the hands back to about the same time. Now, what do I do when Wigg calls me here? I hear what you, ma'am, have to say about the street-door being open and a man running out and almost upsetting you, and I make tracks after him. I don't catch him, and then I come back here, and that brings us up to this very minute. Plain sailing, so far. You'll bear it in mind, you and Wigg, won't you?"

      "I've got it," said Wigg, "at my fingers' ends."

      "So 'ave I," said Mrs. Middlemore.

      "But what are you going to do now?" asked Constable Wigg.

      "To find the cat," replied Constable Nightingale.

      "Going to take it up?" This, with a fine touch of sarcasm.

      "No, Wigg," said Constable Nightingale, speaking very seriously. "I want to make sure where it got that red color from, because, not to put too fine a point on it, it's blood."

      Mrs. Middlemore uttered a stifled scream, and clapped her hands on her hips.

      "That," continued Constable Nightingale, in a tone of severity to his brother constable, "is what I had in my mind and you didn't have in yours. Why, if you look with only half an eye at them stains on the floor, you can't mistake 'em."

      "Oh, dear, oh, dear," moaned Mrs. Middlemore, "we shall all be murdered in our beds?"

      "Nothing of the sort, my dear," said Constable Nightingale; "we'll look after you. Pull yourself together, there's a good soul, and answer me one or two questions. I know that Mr. Felix comes home late sometimes."

      "Very often, very often."

      "And that, as well as being generous with his money, he likes his pleasures. Now, are you sure he was at home when you went out for your beer?"

      "I'm certain of it."

      "And that he did not go out before you come back?"

      "How can I tell you that?"

      "Of course. A stupid question. But, at all events, he ain't the sort of man to go out in such a storm as this?"

      "Not 'im. He's too fond of his comforts."

      "Does he ever ring for you in the middle of the night-at such a time as this, for instance?"

      "Never."

      "Has he ever been took ill in the night, and rung you up?"

      "Never."

      "Do you ever go up to his room without being summoned?"

      "It's more than I dare. I should lose the best customer I ever had in my life. He made things as clear as can be when he first come into the 'ouse. 'Never,' he ses to me, 'under any circumstances whatever, let me see you going upstairs to my rooms unless I call you. Never let me ketch you prying about. If I do, you