DETECTIVE CLEEK'S GOVERNMENT CASES (Vintage Mystery Series). Thomas W. Hanshew
of the sentence go by default.
But Cleek got to his feet, and rubbed his hands together, smiling a little. "I should like to have a look at Her Laughing Ladyship, if it's not too late and it wouldn't trouble you too much, Sir Lionel," he said.
"Certainly, certainly," replied Sir Lionel, and promptly led the way into a long, comparatively narrow gallery, in the middle of which, in fact, right opposite to the door, was a picture, roped off from too close inspection by a dark red, silken rope.
Sir Lionel held up a candle, and proceeded quickly to light others.
"So that's her Laughing Ladyship, is it?" said Cleek, gazing curiously up at the brilliant Spanish beauty smiling down into his eyes.
"You beauty, you!" he apostrophized her. "Have you lured those boys to their death, or is it a trap?" His eyes wandered first to Sir Lionel, who appeared to be watching him almost too eagerly, then around the gallery. Then he turned:
"Nothing to be learned here to-night, Sir Lionel. So it's no use wasting any more time. I don't mind having another look round in the daylight. 'Pon my word I don't wonder you get superstitious up here. Let's get down into the light again. I feel quite creepy."
"I very rarely come here myself," said Sir Lionel, with a bitter laugh. "The place has hateful memories." He stopped suddenly and shook his head. Then, snuffing the candles about the spot, turned on his heel and led the way downstairs once more.
As they passed the music-room door, there came the rich strains of the organ playing the grand choral, "Now Praise We All Our God," so that the house was filled with the sound.
Cleek paused and lifted his head. "A grand thing," he said softly, "a great and grand thing; and the man who can play like that is fit for the angels indeed."
"And that is as true a thing as was ever spoken," put in the baronet, with a sigh of genuine delight. "It is Gaston Calmount, a distant cousin, who lives with us. Poor lad, he is humpbacked, but he is as dear to us as a son."
"Another prop, eh?"
But Sir Lionel did not hear. He had opened the door, and now, coming toward them from the organ, was the figure of the hunchback, with a face that was as beautiful as the angels he emulated.
"Uncle Lal!" he murmured tenderly, his softtoned voice shaking with emotion, "I heard the laughter; I heard, I tell you. Surely now you will take action? You will not let our own Edward be murdered by that devil incarnate! You will not, you will not!"
"Hush, hush, Gaston," struck in Sir Lionel hurriedly. Then, as the boy drew back, ashamed of his outburst, and sent a startled look up into Cleek's face, he explained: "These gentlemen are detectives, Gaston. This is Lieutenant Deland, and he is going to try to protect our lad." "The police! Oh, thank God!" The boy — for he looked but little more, although he must have reached manhood some time before — fairly flung himself at Cleek, and laid a trembling hand upon his arm. "Oh, save us, Lieutenant! Save us!" he cried despairingly, "before he kills us all. It is Wentworth's hand that has done the dastardly deed. It is his wicked desire to become master here that is at the root of it. He has hushed up the first two, but, mark my words, Edward will be killed in some way or other. It is not for nothing that he has been poring over the medical books in the library. Oh, yes, I know; I watched. I may have done wrong, but Edward is as dear to me as though he were my own brother, and if anything happens to him "
Cleek gave vent to a low whistle of surprise. "Medical books, eh? Queer literature that for an officer, Sir Lionel!"
"I've heard of queerer," broke in Sir Lionel fiercely, with a sudden display of temper. "I can't believe it, and I won't. It is one of Gaston's foolish notions, simply because he hates Wentworth. That is all it is."
"Steady, steady," said Cleek softly, with a quick smile. " Circumstantial evidence isn't the best rod to lean on, though I'm inclined to think you're right. Anyhow, we're all safe for to-night, and, to tell you the truth, Sir Lionel, I'm getting deuced tired. I... I..." he turned suddenly, sniffed the air, then gave vent to a tremendous sneeze. "There's a draught somewhere. I think, if you would make my adieux to the ladies, I would like to retire."
"Certainly, certainly." The baronet hurried off, as if glad to escape from further parley with so curious an individual. And, left to himself, Cleek turned to the bowed figure of the hunchback, and laid a hand upon his shoulder.
" My dear young sir," said he briskly, " why didn't you wait till you got me alone before breaking out like that? So you want Mr. Edward to escape death, do you?"
The other looked up.
"Then you believe it, too," he said abruptly, not answering the question.
"Don't see a shadow of doubt," responded Cleek. "You leave it to me."
Then, turning upon his heel, he yawned wearily, wished the boy a sleepy "Good-night," and followed Mr. Narkom up the broad staircase to their allotted rooms.
CHAPTER IV.
CLEEK'S desire to see Captain Wentworth Calmount was speedily granted, for they met at the breakfast table next morning. Cleek guessed instinctively that the captain was inwardly very wroth at the turn of events. He laughed rudely when his aunt timidly volunteered the information that Lieutenant Deland had offered to unravel the mystery.
"There's nothing to discover," he declared, in a loud, grating voice. "One of the servants must have played a trick on you while I was out last night." He glared at the Superintendent. "They know all your superstitious ways, Aunt Helena, from A to Z, and most likely have taken advantage of that fact; still, if it pleases you to tell every one your family history, it's nothing to me."
"Pleases, Wentworth! How dare you say such a thing!" ejaculated Sir Lionel angrily, glaring at him in amazement. "I think you forget yourself, sir, when you address your aunt like that. Lieutenant, sit down."
The meal proceeded forthwith, and Cleek, in the presence of Ailsa, found himself making a big breakfast. Afterward he announced his intention of thoroughly examining the picture gallery by daylight. The whole party filed up to it, talking and chattering as they entered the gallery. Here the sun shone with full brilliance, and as Cleek stood with the handle of the door still beneath his fingers, a shaft of sunlight glinted upon the face of "The Laughing Girl." Then, his shoulders hunched, he gripped the knob firmly, and his mouth set into a thin, hard line.
"Idiot!" he ejaculated forcibly, "blithering idiot that I am! I might have guessed, I might have known!"
"Guessed what?" demanded Gaston interestedly, staring up into Cleek's face with round eyes. "Struck an idea, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, rather! There's no fireplace, you see," he explained, as the rest crowded about him, "and it doesn't look as if these windows are ever opened."
"They are not," said Sir Lionel. "I had them screwed down so there should be no chance of burglars getting in; some of these pictures are of priceless value, you know. I had ventilators put in the wall, and it is the duty of one of the maids to pull the ropes outside in the passage every morning so as to air the gallery thoroughly."
"H'm-m-m — yes, I see," put in Cleek, with a jerk of the head. "That is to say, if these ventilators were not opened, for some reason or other, it would be possible to be suffocated? Oh, no, it wouldn't." He stooped suddenly as his eye caught something at the lower left-hand corner of one of the pictures. "I see you've taken care of that. Here's a hole for ventilation purposes, I presume?"
"What! Impossible!" chimed in Sir Lionel and the captain in one breath.
"Well, I'm blest," said the captain, "so there is. Too big for a mouse hole. Funny we never noticed that before."
"Anyhow, it's no use for ventilation," threw in Sir Lionel nonchalantly, "for it leads right into one of the bedrooms, yours, too, by the way, Wentworth." And he stared at the captain with a strangely startled expression.
Gaston