14 Murder Mysteries in One Volume. Louis Tracy

in the owner of The Hollies, while she, a smart Londoner, would recognize in Siddle an informant worth all the rest of the babblers in Steynholme. At any rate, no matter how the thing was brought about, it is self-evident that Siddle brought his intended victim into the grounds, and told her of the small uncovered window through which she could peer at Grant after Miss Doris had gone. He showed her which path to use, and undoubtedly waited for her, and stayed her flight when Grant rose from his chair. She was close to him, and wholly unafraid, finding in him an ally. They were purposely hidden, in the gloom of dense foliage, and remained there until Grant had closed the window again. Then, and not till then, did the murderer strike, probably stifling her with his free hand. He had the implement in his pocket. The rope was secreted among the bushes. He could carry through the whole wretched crime in little more than a minute. And his psychology went far deeper than Peters gave him credit for. He had weighed up the situation to a nicety. No matter who found the body, Mr. Grant was saddled with a responsibility which might well prove disastrous, and was almost sure to affect his relations with the Martin household. For instance, nothing short of a miracle could have stopped Robinson from arresting him on a charge of murder."

      "You, then, are a miracle?" put in Hart, pointing the pipe at the little man.

      "To the person of ordinary intelligence—yes."

      "After that," said Winter, "there is nothing more to be said. Let's see who secures the pocket marvel as a partner at auction."

      * * * * *

      As a fitting end to the strange story of wayward love and maniacal frenzy which found an unusual habitat in a secluded hamlet like Steynholme, a small vignette of its normal life may be etched in. The trope is germane to the scene.

      On a wet afternoon in October Hobbs and Elkin had adjourned to the Hare and Hounds. Tomlin was reading a newspaper spread on the bar counter. He was alone. The day was Friday, and the last "commercial" of the week had departed by the mid-day train.

      "Wot's yer tonic?" demanded the butcher.

      "A glass of beer," threw Elkin over his shoulder. He had walked to the window, and was gazing moodily at the sign of the "plumber and decorator" who had taken Siddle's shop. The village could not really support an out-and-out chemist, so a local grocer had elected to stock patent medicines as a side line.

      Tomlin made play with a beer-pump.

      "Where's yer own?" inquired Hobbs hospitably.

      Elkin came and drank. After an interlude, Tomlin ran a finger down a column of the newspaper.

      "By the way, Fred, didn't you tell me about that funny little chap, Furno, the 'tec, buyin' some pictures of yours?" he said.

      "I did. Had him there, anyhow," chuckled Elkin.

      "How much did you stick 'im for?"

      "Three guineas."

      "They can't ha' bin this lot, then, though I've a notion it wur the same name, 'Aylesbury Steeplechase.'"

      "What are you talking about?"

      "This."

      Tomlin turned the paper, and Elkin read:

      At their monthly art sale on Wednesday Messrs. Brown, Jenkins and Brown disposed of an almost unique set of colored prints, by F. Smyth, dated 1841. The series of six represented various phases of the long defunct Aylesbury Steeplechase, "The Start," "The Brook," "The In-and-Out," and so on to "The Finish." It is understood that this notable series, produced during the best period of the art, and at the very zenith of Smyth's fame, were acquired recently by a Sussex amateur at a low price. Bidding began at fifty guineas, and rose quickly to one hundred and twenty, at which figure Messrs. Carnioli and Bruschi became the owners.

      Elkin read the paragraph twice, until the words burnt into his brain.

      "No," he said thickly. "They're not mine. No such luck!"

      Number Seventeen

       Table of Contents

       CHAPTER I THE OUTCOME OF ARTISTIC CURIOSITY

       CHAPTER II THE COMPACT

       CHAPTER III IN THE TOILS

       CHAPTER IV A TELEPHONIC TALK AND ITS CONSEQUENCES

       CHAPTER V A LEAP IN THE DARK

       CHAPTER VI CLOSE QUARTERS

       CHAPTER VII WHEREIN MR. FORBES EXPLAINS HIMSELF

       CHAPTER VIII THE FIRST COUNTER-STROKE

       CHAPTER IX SHARP WORK

       CHAPTER X CAPTURES ON BOTH SIDES

       CHAPTER XI THE REAPPEARANCE OF HANDYSIDE

       CHAPTER XII NO SURRENDER

       CHAPTER XIII SOME NEW MOVES IN THE GAME

       CHAPTER XIV WHEREIN THEYDON SUFFERS FROM FAINT HEART

       CHAPTER XV FORCEFUL TACTICS

       CHAPTER XVI WHEREIN UNEXPECTED ALLIES APPEAR

       CHAPTER XVII THE SETTLEMENT

      CHAPTER I

       THE OUTCOME OF ARTISTIC CURIOSITY

       Table of Contents

      "Taxi, sir? Yes, sir. No. 4 will be yours."

      A red-faced, loud-breathing commissionaire, engaged in the lucrative task of pocketing sixpences as quickly as he could summon cabs, vanished in a swirl of macintoshes and umbrellas.

      People who had arrived at the theater in fine weather were emerging into a drizzle of rain. "All London," as the phrase goes, was flocking to see the latest musical comedy at Daly's, but all London, regarded thus collectively, is far from owning motor cars, or even affording taxicabs, so the majority of the play-goers were hurrying on foot towards tube railways and omnibus routes.

      Still, a popular light opera could hardly fail to draw many patrons from the upper ranks of society, and, in the crush at the main exit, Francis Berrold Theydon, hesitating whether to walk or wait the hazard of a cab, deemed himself fortunate when a panting commissionaire promised to secure a taxi "in half a minute."

      Automobiles of every known variety were snorting up to the curb and bustling off again as promptly as their users could enter and bestow themselves in dim interiors. Being a considerate person—wishful also to light a cigarette—Theydon moved out