WILLIAM LE QUEUX: 15 Dystopian Novels & Espionage Thrillers (Illustrated Edition). William Le Queux
I?” I laughed cheerily. “Well, it’s nothing, dearest; nothing at all.”
Thus reassured, she continued to chat with that bright vivacity that was one of her most engaging characteristics. I have, however, no idea of what she said; I only answered her mechanically, for I was too full of gloomy apprehensions to heed her gossip, even though I loved her with all my soul.
Half-an-hour later, Dudley, finding that I had to go to town, announced his intention of walking back to Shepperton.
“The night is lovely, and the moon bright as day,” he said, as we all shook hands with him in the hall. “I shall enjoy the walk.”
“Beware of widows!” shouted Beck, standing at the top of the wide flight of steps.
We all laughed heartily.
“None about to-night,” my friend shouted back good-humouredly, and, setting out briskly, disappeared a moment later down the long, winding carriage drive.
“It’s really too bad to tease Mr Ogle about widows,” Ella protested when we went in.
“He enjoys the joke hugely,” I said. “Dudley’s an excellent fellow. I’ve never in my life seen him out of temper.”
“In that case he ought to make a good husband,” she replied, laughing, as together we all entered Mrs Laing’s pretty drawing-room, with its shaded lamps and cosy-corners, where we spent another three-quarters of an hour chatting until, finding we had just time to catch our train, Beck and I made our adieux. When I shook hands with Ella she whispered an earnest appeal for forgiveness, which, truth to tell, I feigned not to hear. Then we parted.
With Beck at my side, I walked sharply down the drive, rendered dark by the thick canopy of trees overhead, and had almost gained the gate leading to the high road when suddenly, catching my foot against some unseen object in the pathway, I fell heavily forward upon the gravel, just managing to save my face by putting out both hands.
“Hulloa!” cried Beck; “what’s the matter?”
“The matter!” I gasped, groping at the mysterious object quickly with my hands. “I believe I’ve fallen over somebody.”
“Drunk, I suppose. Come along, or we sha’n’t catch our train.”
But, still kneeling, I quickly took my vestas from my pocket and struck one. By its fitful light I distinguished the prostrate body of a man lying face downwards, with arms outstretched beyond his head. Turning him over with difficulty, I lit another vesta and held it close down to his face.
Next second I drew back with a loud cry of dismay and horror. It was Dudley Ogle.
His bloodless features were hideously distorted, his limbs rigid, his wildly-staring eyes were already glazed, and his stiffened fingers icy cold.
In an instant I knew the truth. He was dead.
Chapter Three
A Mystery
“Why!” gasped Beck, recognising the cold, drawn features by the light of the match he struck. “It’s Dudley! Run back to the house and get assistance quickly. I’ll remain here. Life may not be extinct after all, poor fellow!” At this suggestion I sprang up, and dashing away along the drive, burst into the drawing-room from the lawn.
“Geoffrey!” cried Mrs Laing, starting up quickly from a cosy-corner wherein she had settled to read. “What has happened? You look scared.”
“A very painful thing has occurred,” I gasped breathlessly, striving to preserve a calm demeanour. “We have found poor Dudley lying in the drive yonder. He’s dead!”
“Dead!” she screamed hysterically. “Dudley dead!”
“Yes, alas!” I replied. “Beck is with him, awaiting assistance.”
“I can’t believe it,” she cried, clutching at a chair for support. Her face was ashen pale, and her bejewelled hands trembled violently. “Poor Dudley! If he is dead, it is certain that he has been the victim of foul play,” she added mechanically, in a low tone. Then suddenly recovering herself, she inquired the circumstances in which we had found him.
“I will explain later,” I cried impatiently. “May I ring for the servants?”
“No,” she cried, starting forward with a strange, wild look. “Return to him, and leave all to me. For the present the truth must be kept from Ella. There are reasons why my daughter should not know of this tragic affair until to-morrow. As you are aware, she is weak and unstrung to-night, and has already gone to her room. I fear that any sudden shock may prove extremely detrimental to her, and I therefore trust you will respect my wishes.”
“Certainly,” I answered. “But we are not yet convinced that life is extinct, so while you arrange for his removal here, I’ll go at once for a doctor.”
“Yes, do. Dr Allenby is nearest. The first house over the bridge,” she replied hastily, and as she rang the bell I sprang out again upon the lawn and rushed away along the drive.
Beck was still kneeling beside the prostrate man, supporting his head upon his knee, and approaching, I asked whether he had detected any signs of respiration.
“None whatever,” he answered. “I’m afraid, poor fellow, he has gone.”
Briefly I explained my errand and rushed off for medical assistance, returning to “The Nook” with the grey-haired practitioner a quarter of an hour later. We found Dudley lying in the drawing-room on the large couch of yellow silk, with Beck and Mrs Laing standing calmly on either side. In Mrs Laing’s eyes were traces of tears. The doctor, after a brief examination, shook his head gravely, saying, —
“Life has, unfortunately, been extinct for fully an hour.”
“What is the cause of death?” inquired Mrs Laing, eagerly.
“I have not yet examined the body, but there are no marks of violence whatever, as far as I can observe. At the post-mortem we may be able to discover something.”
She drew a deep breath. I chanced at that moment to glance at her, and was surprised to observe an unmistakable look of terror flit for a brief instant across her haggard countenance. It seemed as though the doctor’s hope of determining the cause of death had aroused within her a sudden apprehension. Dr Allenby, however, suggested, in polite terms, that she should leave the room, as he desired to examine the body, and she reluctantly consented, exclaiming, as she moved slowly out, —
“I would have given worlds to have avoided all this. One’s name will be bruited about in the papers; and there will be an inquest, I suppose, and all that sort of thing. And dear Ella — what a terrible blow it will be to her!” Then, when the door had closed, while I stood gazing upon my intimate friend who, only an hour before, had been so full of life’s enjoyment, buoyant spirits and bonhomie, surprised at Mrs Laing’s extraordinary manner, and reflecting upon her sudden strange demeanour, the doctor, assisted by Beck, began a minute and careful examination. In a quarter of an hour, they satisfied themselves that no violence had been used, and just as they concluded, the police, who had been sent for, arrived. The local sub-divisional inspector, tall, red-faced, and inclined to obesity, a plain-clothes constable, and a sergeant in uniform, who entered the drawing-room, were at once informed of the mysterious circumstances in which the body had been discovered. The inspector scribbled some brief notes, took the names and addresses of all of us, remarking with politeness that we should be compelled to attend the inquest.
Afterwards, the body was removed to the billiard-room and the plain-clothes constable left in charge of it, while, with Beck and Dr Allenby, I entered the dining-room where Mrs Laing, pale, agitated and nervous, was eagerly awaiting us. The arrival of the police in her house had apparently filled her with dread, for almost the first question she asked