The Sign of the Stranger. Le Queux William
committed, for the assassin, I thought, might have cast it away, but my search was in vain. It had disappeared.
Fully twenty distinct marks of those small well-shod feet I effaced by stamping upon them or scraping the surface with the trowel, and was preparing to return and keep the appointment with the doctor when of a sudden I saw, lying close behind the trunk of the giant oak, a half-smoked cigarette, which on taking up I found to be of the same brand as those found in the dead man’s pocket. He had therefore kept a tryst at that spot, and had smoked calmly and unsuspiciously in order to while away the time.
Of men’s footprints in the soft ground there were a quantity, but then I remembered how all four of us had tramped about there, in addition to the victim himself, and I was not sufficiently expert in tracking to be able to distinguish one man’s tread from another’s.
It was already daylight and in the distance I could hear the sound of a reaping machine in one of the fields beyond the park, therefore I was compelled to escape in order that my premature examination should remain secret. So I struck straight across the level sward to the London road, which ran beyond the park boundary, in preference to passing straight down the avenue at risk of meeting any of the labourers.
News of the tragedy I knew had not yet reached the Hall, otherwise the servants would have been out to see the spot, therefore I believed myself quite safe from detection until, just as I scaled the old stone wall and dropped into the broad white high road with its long line of telegraph lines, I encountered the innkeeper Warr who, mounted on his bicycle, was riding towards me.
He had approached noiselessly and we were mutually surprised to meet each other in such circumstances.
“Halloa!” he cried, dismounting. “You’ve been out again very early – eh?”
“I’ve been back to the spot to see if I could find any traces of the dead man’s assailant,” was my reply. “I thought I’d go back early, before the crowd trod over the place. Don’t say anything, or Knight may consider that I’ve taken his duty out of his hands.”
“Ah, a very good idea, sir,” was the man’s approving response. “I thought of doing so myself, only they’re beginning to cut my bit o’ wheat in the mill-field this morning and I have to go into Thrapston about the machine. I’ll be back in an hour.”
He was preparing to re-mount, when I stopped him, saying —
“Look here, Warr. You recollect that stranger who called and left the note for Lady Lolita last evening? Well, there seems considerable mystery about the affair, and somehow I feel there’s connexion with the fellow’s visit with this poor young man’s death. If so, her ladyship’s name must be rigorously kept out of it, you understand. There’s to be an inquest to-morrow, and we shall both be called to give evidence. Recollect that not a word is said about the man Keene, the note, or the message.”
“If you wish it, sir, I’ll keep a still tongue,” was his reply. “I’ve told nobody up to now – not even the missus.”
“Very well. Remember only you and I know of this man’s return, and the knowledge must go no further. There’s a mystery, but it must have no connexion with her ladyship.”
“You may trust me, sir. The family have been too good to me all these years for me not to try and render them a service. I quite agree with you that the stranger was suspicious, and from what he said to me in private it is certain that he must know her ladyship very well indeed.”
“You’re sure you’ve never seen that young man before?” I asked, watching his face narrowly.
“Him? No, I don’t know him from Adam!” was the landlord’s reply, yet uttered in a manner and tone that aroused my distinct suspicions. His assurance was just a trifle too emphatic, I thought.
I paused a moment, half inclined to express my doubt openly, then said at last —
“That letter – what shall you do with it?”
“Give it to her, of course. I’ll come up to the Hall when I come back. I ought to have given it to her last night.”
“Had you done so that man’s life might perhaps have been saved – who knows?”
“Ah!” he sighed in regret. “I never thought of that. I didn’t know it was of such importance. You see the missus is in bed with a cold, and I couldn’t leave the house in charge o’ the girl. They were a bit merry last night after Jim Cook’s weddin’.”
I was anxious to obtain possession of the mysterious letter, but I already knew that he would only deliver it to Lolita personally. Yet I had no wish that the man Warr should come to the Hall just at the moment when the startling news of the tragedy would create a sensation throughout the whole household. If he were to deliver the letter, it should not be before the first horror of the affair had died down. Therefore I made excuse to him that her ladyship was going over very early to Lady Sudborough’s to join a picnic and would not be back before evening.
“Very well,” he answered. “I’ll come up then.” And mounting his machine he spun away down the hill.
Next moment, from where I stood, I distinguished a trap approaching along a bend in the road. Three men were in it, two of them being in uniform – the police from Northampton.
Having no desire that they should know that I had returned to the spot to efface those tell-tale marks, the only way to avoid them was to spring over the wall again into the park, which I did without a moment’s hesitation, crouching down until they had passed, and then crossed the corner of the park and entered the Monk’s Wood, a thick belt of forest through which ran a footpath which joined the road about a mile further down. The way I had taken to Sibberton was a circuitous one, it was true, but at any rate I should avoid being seen in the vicinity of the spot where the tragedy was enacted.
Walking forward along the dim forest path covered with moss and wild flowers, where the rising sun glinted upon the grey trunks of the trees and the foliage above rustled softly in the wind, I was sorely puzzled over the innkeeper’s manner when I had put that direct question to him.
Notwithstanding his denial, I felt convinced that he had recognised the dead man.
I had almost gained the outer edge of the wood, walking noiselessly over the carpet of moss, when of a sudden the sound of voices caused me to start and halt.
At first I saw nothing, but next moment through the tree trunks twenty yards away I caught sight of two persons strolling slowly in company – a man and a woman.
The man’s face I could not see, but the woman, whose hair, beneath her navy blue Tam o’ Shanter cap showed dishevelled as a ray of sunlight struck it, and whose white silk dress showed muddy and bedraggled beneath her dark cloak, I recognised in an instant – although her back was turned towards me.
It was Lady Lolita, the goddess of my admiration. Lolita – my queen – my love.
Chapter Six
For Love of Lolita
I held my breath, open-mouthed, utterly dumbfounded.
Lolita’s appearance showed too plainly that she had been out all the night. Her cloak was torn at the shoulder, evidently by a bramble, and the weary manner in which she walked was as though she were exhausted.
The man, bearded, broad-shouldered and athletic, seemed, as far as I could judge from his back, to be of middle age. He wore a rough tweed suit and a golf cap, and as he strode by her side he spoke with her earnestly, emphasising his words with gesture, as though giving her certain directions, which she heard resignedly and in silence.
I noticed that when he stretched out his hand to add force to his utterance that she shrank from him and shuddered. She was probably very cold, for the early morning air was chilly, and the dew was heavy on the ground.
Without betraying my presence, I crept on noiselessly after them, hoping that I might overhear the words the fellow uttered, but in this I was doomed to disappointment, for at the edge of the wood, before I realised the man’s intention, he suddenly raised his hat, and turning, left her, disappearing by the