CHAPTER XXVII
Meanwhile the fates were working in another direction. Field had stumbled, more or less by accident, upon a startling discovery. He had, it will be remembered, called upon the little actress to whom he had rendered so signal a service on the night of the theatre panic, and whom in the heat and confusion of the moment he had failed to recognize, but now he knew that he was face to face with the lady whom he had seen with Sartoris at Audley Place.
Field was not often astonished, but he gave full rein to that emotion now. For he had made more than one discovery at the same time. In the first place he had found Miss Violet Decié, Sir Charles Darryll's ward, who proved at the same time to be the actress known as Adela Vane. But that was a minor discovery compared to the rest. Here was the girl who at one time had been engaged to Carl Sartoris, and who was supposed to be connected more or less with his misfortunes.
Here was the girl, too, who might be in a position to supply the key to the mystery. Undoubtedly, the backbone of the whole thing was the desire for money. Sir Charles Darryll and his friend Lord Edward Decié had been engaged in some adventurous speculation together in Burmah. They had doubtless deemed that speculation to be worthless, but Carl Sartoris had found that they were mistaken. Therefore, trusting to his changed appearance and his disguise, he had asked his old sweetheart to call upon him. The conversation that Field had overheard in the conservatory was going to be useful.
The curious questioning look in the girl's eyes recalled Field to himself. He had instantly to make up his mind as to his line of action. Miss Decié, to give her her proper name, gave the inspector a little time to decide what to do.
"How can I ever sufficiently thank you?" she asked. "Really, I could not sleep all night for thinking about the horror of the thing and your brave action. It was splendid!"
"Not at all," Field said modestly. "I am accustomed to danger. You see I am a police officer, a detective inspector from Scotland Yard. It is a little strange that I should have been able to do you a service, seeing that I came to the theatre on purpose to see you."
The girl's eyes opened a little wider, but she said nothing.
"Perhaps I had better be quite candid," Field went on. "I want you to help me if you can."
"Most assuredly. After last night, I will do anything you like. Pray go on."
"Thank you very much," Field replied. "It is very good of you to make my task easier. You see I am closely connected with the inquiry into the sudden death of Sir Charles Darryll and the subsequent startling disappearance of his body. Were not your father and Sir Charles great friends in India long ago? Do you recollect that?"
The girl nodded; her eyes were dilated with curiosity. Field could not find it in his heart to believe that she was a bad girl.
"They had adventures together," she said. "They were going to make a fortune over some mine or something of that kind. But it never came to anything."
"You are absolutely sure of that?" Field asked.
"Well, so far as I know, the thing came to nothing. Some man was employed to make certain investigations, and he reported badly of the scheme. I only heard all this talk as a child, and I was not particularly interested. You see, I knew very little of Sir Charles, though he was my guardian. There were certain papers that he deposited with a solicitor who used to get him out of messes from time to time, but really I am as ignorant as you are."
"You don't even know the name of the solicitor?" Field asked.
"I do now," the girl said. "I found it among some letters. Do you know that a Mr. Sartoris, who claims to know my father and Sir Charles, also wrote me on the same matter? He asked me to go and see him at Wandsworth. He is a crippled gentleman, and very nice. He has a lovely conservatory-room full of flowers. I was at his house only last night, and he talked to me very much the same way as you are doing."
"I know that," Field said calmly. "I was hiding in the conservatory and listened."
Miss Decié gave a little cry of astonishment.
"Our profession leads us into strange places," Field said. "I heard all that conversation, so there is no occasion to ask you to repeat it. You will recollect saying that Mr. Sartoris reminded you of somebody that you knew years ago in India. Have you made up your mind who the gentleman in question does resemble?"
The girl's face grew white, and then the red blood flamed into her cheeks ago.
"I have a fancy," she said. "But are not these idle questions?"
"I assure you that they are vital to this strange investigation," Field said earnestly.
"Then I had better confess to you that Mr. Sartoris reminded me of a gentleman to whom I was once engaged in India; I was greatly deceived in the man to whom I was engaged; indeed it was a tragic time altogether. I don't like to speak of it."
"Loth as I am to give you pain, I must proceed," Field said. "Was the gentleman you speak of known as a Mr. Carl Grey, by any chance."
"Yes, that was the name. I see you know a great deal more than I anticipated. I suppose you have been making investigations. But I cannot possibly see what – "
"What this has to do with the death of Sir Charles Darryll? My dear young lady, this is a very complicated case; at least it looks like one at present, and its ramifications go a long way. I want to know all you can tell me about Carl Grey."
"I can tell you nothing that is good," the girl said. She had risen from the chair and was pacing up and down the room in a state of considerable agitation. "There was a tragedy behind it all. I don't think that I really and truly loved Carl Grey; I fancy that he fascinated me. There was another man that I cared more for. He died trying to save my life."
Field nodded encouragement; a good deal of this he knew already.
"Let me make it easy for you if I can," he said. "I have found out a great deal from a little conversation, part of which I overheard between Colonel Berrington and Miss Mary Grey, or Miss Mary Sartoris, which you like. There was a mysterious affair, but it resulted in the death or disappearance of the other man and the permanent crippling of Carl Grey. Am I misinformed, or is this practically the case?"
"I cannot see what this has to do with Sir Charles Darryll," Violet Decié said slowly.
"Pardon me, but it has a great deal to do with the case," Field replied. "If you knew all that I do you would not hesitate for a moment. If you care to write it down – "
The girl stopped in her restless walk; her eyes were heavy with tears.
"I'll tell you," she said. "I must not forget that I owe my life to your bravery. As I said before, I was engaged to Carl Grey. But for his sister I don't think that I should ever have consented. But there it was, and I loved another man at the time. And the other man loved me. There was a deal of jealousy between the two, and I was frightened. Carl Grey was always queer and mysterious; he was ever seeking to penetrate the mysteries of the East. Strange men would come to his bungalow late at night, and I heard of weird orgies there. But I did not see anything of this till one day when I was riding on the hills with Mr. Grey. We had a kind of quarrel on the way, and he was very difficult that day. We came presently to a kind of temple in ruins, which we explored. There was a vault underneath, and Mr. Grey pressed me to enter. It all seems like a dream now; but there were natives there and some kind of ceremony progressing. The air of the place seemed to intoxicate me; I seemed to be dragged into the ceremony, Mr. Grey and I together. Somebody dressed me in long white robes. Even to this day I don't know whether it was a dream or a reality. Then there was a disturbance, and the other man came in; I do not recollect anything after but blows and pistol shots; when I came to myself I was in the jungle with my horse by my side. From that day to this I have never seen or heard of Mr. Grey, and I never again beheld the man I loved, and who gave his life to save me."
Field listened patiently enough to the strange story. He had yet a few questions to ask.
"You think that Mr. Grey had been initiated into the mysteries of those rites?" he asked. "And that his idea was to initiate you into them also?"
"I think so," Violet Decié said with a shudder. "There are such strange and weird things in the East that even the cleverest of our scholars know nothing of them. An old nurse used to tell the most dreadful tales. Perhaps the man who died for me could have explained. I presume that he followed me, expecting mischief of some kind."
"I dare say he did," Field replied. "Did an explanation follow?"
"No. I declined to see Mr. Grey again. I heard that he had met with an accident; they said that he was maimed for life. And people blamed me for being callous and heartless. As if they knew! Even Mr. Grey's sister was angry with me. But nothing could induce me to look upon the face of that man again, and I left Simla soon afterwards."
"And that is all you have to tell me?" Field asked.
"I don't think there is any more. It is rather strange that this thing should crop up again like this, so soon after I have been to see Mr. Sartoris, who reminded me so strangely of Carl Grey. Only of course, Mr. Sartoris is much older."
"I fancy there is not so much difference between their ages," Field said grimly. "You see, a clever disguise goes a long way. And you say that you never saw Mr. Grey after that supposed accident. A thing like that changes people dreadfully."
The girl looked up with a startled expression in her eyes.
"You don't mean to say," she faltered. "You don't mean to suggest that – "
"That Mr. Grey and Mr. Sartoris are one and the same person," Field said quietly. "My dear young lady, that is actually the fact. Mr. Sartoris knew or thought that you could give him certain information. It was necessary to see you. The name of Sartoris would convey nothing to you, and in that interview the man was right. But you might have recognised him, and so he disguised himself. I saw the disguise assumed; I saw you come into the room amongst the flowers. And long before you had finished what you had to say I began to see the motive for what looked like a purposeless and cruel crime. But you were certainly talking to Carl Grey last night."
The girl shuddered violently and covered her face with her hands. The whole thing had come back to her now; she blushed to the roots of her hair as she realised that she had kissed the man that she only thought of with horror and detestation.
"If I had known, no power on earth would have induced me to enter that house," she said. "That man seems to be as cruel and cunning as ever. But why should he have had a hand in the stealing of the body of Sir Charles Darryll?"
"We will come to that presently," Field said drily. "Sartoris wanted certain information from you, the address of a lawyer or something of that kind. You were not quite sure last night whether or not you could find the information. Did you?"
"Yes," Violet Decié said. "I found it in an old memorandum book of mine."
"And you were going to post the address to Mr. Sartoris?"
"I am afraid the mischief is done," the girl said. "It was posted early this morning."
CHAPTER XXVIII
Hot words rose to Field's lips, but he managed to swallow them just in time. He could have wished that the girl had not been quite so businesslike in her methods.
"I suppose that can't be helped," he muttered. "Though it certainly gives the enemy a better start. I hope you have not destroyed the address of that lawyer?"
"Oh, no," Violet cried. "It is in my old memorandum book. Perhaps you had better take a copy of it for your own use. I have no doubt that my letter has been delivered at Wandsworth by this time, but as Mr. Sartoris is a cripple – "
Field was not quite so sure on that point. Sartoris, it was true, was a cripple, but then Field had not forgotten the black hansom and the expedition by night to the Royal Palace Hotel. He felt that Sartoris would not let the grass grow under his feet. From the memorandum book he copied the address – which proved to be a street in Lincoln's Inn Fields.
"Evidently a pretty good firm," Field muttered. "I'll go round there at once and see Mr. George Fleming. But there is one thing, you will be silent as to all I have told you. We are on the verge of very important discoveries, and a word at random might ruin everything."
Violet Decié said that she perfectly well understood what she had to do.
"Sartoris may try to see you again," Field continued. "If he does, do not answer him. Pretend that you are still ignorant; do nothing to arouse his suspicions. Perhaps it would have been better if I had told you nothing of this, but I fancy that I can trust you."
"You can trust me implicitly," the girl said eagerly. "If it is to harm that man – "
She said no more, and Field perfectly understood what her feelings were. By no means displeased with his morning's work he started off in the direction of Lincoln's Inn Fields. He was pleased to find that the firm of George Fleming & Co. occupied good offices, and that the clerks looked as if they had been there a long time. It was just as well not to have a pettifogging lawyer to deal with. Mr. Fleming was in, but he was engaged for a little time. Perhaps the gentleman would state his business; but on the whole Field preferred to wait.
He interested himself for some little time behind the broad page of the "Daily Telegraph," until at length an inner door marked "private" opened and a tall man with grey hair emerged, with a crooked figure dragging on his arm. Field looked over the paper for a moment, and then ducked down again as he saw Carl Sartoris. Evidently the cripple had lost no time. He was saying something now in a low and rasping voice to the lawyer.
"My dear sir, there shall be no delay at all," the latter replied. "I am bound to confess that that deed has made all the difference. I always told Sir Charles that that property was valuable. But he would never see it, and if he had, where was the capital to work it? But why he never told me that he had made the thing over to you – "
"Did he ever tell anybody anything that facilitated business?" Sartoris laughed. "I daresay he forgot all about it, poor fellow."
Sartoris shuffled painfully out of the office with the help of the lawyer, and got into a cab. A moment later and Field was in the inner office with Mr. Fleming. He produced his card and laid it on the table by the way of introduction.
"This is the first time I have been honoured by a detective in all my long experience," the lawyer said as he raised his eyebrows. "I hope there is nothing wrong, sir?"
"Not so far as any of your clients are concerned, sir," Field replied. "As a matter of fact, I am the officer who has charge of the investigation into the strange case of Sir Charles Darryll. And I am pretty sure that the lame gentleman who has just gone out could tell you all about it if he chose. I mean Mr. Carl Sartoris."
The lawyer again raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
"I see you have no disposition to help me," Field proceeded. "But just now Mr. Sartoris made a remark that gives me an opening. He came to you to-day with a deed which, unless I am greatly mistaken, purports to be an assignment of property from Sir Charles to Mr. Sartoris. And that property is probably a ruby mine in Burmah."
"So far you are quite correct," the lawyer said drily. "Pray proceed."
"I must ask you to help me a little," Field cried. "Let me tell you that Carl Sartoris was in the scheme to obtain possession of the body of Sir Charles Darryll. He was the lame man who was in the black hansom. I have been in that fellow's house, and I have seen the body of Sir Charles, unless I am greatly mistaken."
"Then, why don't you arrest that man?" the lawyer asked.
"Because I want the whole covey at one bag," Field said coolly. "Now, sir, will you let me see the deed that Carl Sartoris brought here to-day? Yesterday he did not know of your existence."
"He has been going to write to me for a long time," Fleming said.
"I am prepared to stake my reputation that Carl Sartoris never heard your name till this morning," Field said coolly. "I can produce a witness to prove it if you like. My witness is Miss Violet Decié, only daughter of Lord Edward Decié of that ilk."
The lawyer's dry, cautious manner seemed to be melting. He took up a sheet of parchment and read it. It was a deed of some kind, in which the names of Charles Darryll and Carl Sartoris figured very frequently. Field asked to be told the gist of it.
"An assignment of mining rights," Fleming explained. "A place in Burmah. It was a dangerous place to get at some time ago, but things have changed recently. At one time certain Burmese followed Sir Charles about and threatened his life unless he promised to let the thing drop. But Sir Charles had assigned all his interest for the sum of five hundred pounds paid to him by Mr. Carl Sartoris. Here is the signature."
The deed looked regular enough. Field looked closely at the signature of Sir Charles.
"Of course it would be easy to get the body of the deed written by a clerk," he said with a thoughtful air. "If there was anything wrong about the thing, the false note would ring out in the signature. Are you sure that it is genuine?"
"Quite," the lawyer said with conviction. "I'll show you some old letters of poor Sir Charles if you like. The signature is a little peculiar in the respect that it has a long loop to the first l, and a short loop to the second. That appears in every signature. Besides there is that little flourish over the C. The flourish really forms the initials 'C. D.' Can't you see that for yourself? Leave out ever so little of the flourish, and the 'C. D.' disappears."
Field was fain to be satisfied, though he was a little disappointed too. The pretty little theory that he had been building up in his mind had been shattered.
"I suppose I shall have to give way on that point," he said. "Only it strikes me as strange that a man should have allowed this matter to lie for three years without making use of it. Unless, of course, Sir Charles's death made all the difference. Allow me."
Field's eyes began to gleam as they dwelt on the parchment. There was a red seal in the top left-hand corner, a red seal with silver paper let into it and some small figures on the edge.
"What do those figures represent?" he asked. "The figures 4. 4. '93, I mean."
"The date," Fleming explained. "Those stamped skins are forwarded from Somerset House to the various sub-offices, and they are dated on the day they go out. The date-figures are very small, and only the legal eye gives them any value at all."
Field jumped up in a great state of excitement. He had made an important discovery.
"Then this is a forgery, after all," he cried. "4. 4. '93 means the fourth of April 1893, and the deed is dated three years ago. How are you going to get over that, sir? I take it, there are no mistakes in the date?"
Even the lawyer was forced out of his calm manner for the moment. He looked very closely at the red stamp through his glasses. It was some time before he spoke.
"You are quite right," he said. "And as to there being a mistake in the date, that is absolutely out of the question. You may be quite certain that Somerset House makes no mistakes like that. It is most extraordinary."
"I don't see anything extraordinary about it," Field said coolly. "That rascal, clever as he is, has made a mistake. Not knowing anything of legal matters in these minor points, it has never occurred to him to see whether these parchment stamps are dated or not. He simply bought a skin and got some engrossing clerk to make out the deed. Then he put in the date, and there you are."
"Stop a minute, Mr. Field," Mr. Fleming put in. "There is one little point that you have overlooked. I am quite prepared to take my oath to the fact that the signature is genuine."
Field stared at the speaker. He could find no words for the moment. He could see that Fleming was in deadly earnest. The silence continued for some time.
"Well, I thought that I had got to the bottom of this business, but it seems to me that I am mistaken," Field admitted. "In the face of the evidence of forgery that I have just produced, your statement that the signature is genuine fairly staggers me."
"The deed purporting to have been executed three years ago has only been executed a few days, or a few months at the outside," Fleming said. "What I think is this – there must have been some reason why the deed was dated back. Perhaps the old one was destroyed and this one copied from the other, and executed say a month or two ago. Would that not meet the case? You see I am taking a legal view of it."
"You are still sure of the signature?" Field asked.
"Absolutely. On that head I do not hesitate for a moment. Whatever else may happen, I am positive that Sir Charles wrote that signature."
Field scratched his head in a puzzled kind of way. It was some time before he began to see his way clear again. Then a happy thought came to him.
"If they are so particular at Somerset House, the fact may help us. When those deed stamps are sold to the public, are the numbers taken, and all that?"
"So I understand. But what do you want to get at? Yes, I think you are right."
"Anyway, I'm on the right track," Field cried. "If what I ask is a fact, then the people at the sub-office will be able to tell me the date that parchment was sold. I see there is a number on the stamp. If I take that to Somerset House – "
Field spent half an hour at Somerset House, and then he took a cab to Wandsworth. He stopped at the Inland Revenue Office there and sent in his card. Giving a brief outline of what he wanted to the clerk, he laid down his slip of paper with the number of the stamp on it and the date, and merely asked to know when that was sold and to whom.
He watched the clerk vaguely as he turned over his book. It seemed a long time before any definite result was arrived at. Then the clerk looked over his glasses.
"I fancy I've got what you want," he said. "What is the number on your paper?"
"44791," Field said, "and the date."
"Never mind dates, that is quite immaterial, Mr. Field. You have us now. That stamped parchment was sold early this morning, just after the office was open – why, I must have sold it myself. Yes; there is no mistake."
With a grim smile on his face, Field drove back to London. He began to see his way clearer to the end of the mystery now.