Abergavenny Chronicle

iI I i i [All Rights Reserved.) II III THE FATAL ROOM I BY 11' i'l ) JAMES McELDERRY, r jj Author of The Veil of Circmnstance," &c. IIII il?- -?-  — — — —• SYNOPSIS. The murder of Dolores Fernandez, a brilliant writer whose identity has hitherto been unknown, reveals the fact that she is really Margaret Denmark, the wife of Max Denmark, the millionaire, of Eddlesham Court. But the remarkable point about the murder is this she is murdered in some mysterious fashion on June 1 in the same room in which her daughter, Carlotta, was murdered exactly a year before, and in which a man named Weiler met his death exactly two years before. Gerald M arining, who has been engaged to Carlotta Denmark, points out this remarkable fact to Hugh Vincent (who teils tbR story) and his 'elloir barrister, John Hollow. Hollow p omises Manning that he will do all in his power to solve "He mystery of these deaths. CHAPTER II. (Continued). MANNING'S STORY. Hollow's declaration did not surprise me Ilia tone when he had spoken to we before JVIanning's arrival; the admiration he felt for Margaret Denmark as a woman, quite Apart from his admiration of Dolorea Fernandez, the writer; and the success which had attended his few excursions into what I will call the realm of detectivity—all led me to the belief that he would be quick to avail himself of the opportunity. After a silence of considerable duration, during which his eyes seemed to wander in- cessantly from Manning's face to the window and back again, he said: "There is one thing we have forgotten. Has Max Denmark given his consent to an inquiry being made into the circumstances- to a detective being engaged? "He has given a reluctant consent to your being engaged, Mr. Hollow—because you are Vincent's friend. Except you and the inevitable Scotland Yard officials he will allow no one to make any investigation this time. I am afraid that my attitude after Carlotta's death is responsible for this." You both pay me, I am afraid, an un- deserved compliment," replied Hollow, lightly. "I will promise-though you are the first mnn to whom I have ever made any such promise-to prove that you have not ,erred in coming to me. Now there are one or two questions I wish to ask, and I want you to think before you answer them. Could you swear, after consideration, and upon oath, that the doors of Detaille's and Denmark's rooms were opened simultane- ously with your own? You said ttiat they -were wrenched open. That is a figure of speech that you could not be in a position to justify. May I take it that the word simul- taneously is a part of that figure of spo-teell? A slight pallor crept into Manning's cheekSj which had grown flushed during his narration, as Hollow put the question. "I am afraid," he said, doubtfully, "tliat I was not as careful of my language as I might hrive been. I should have said that, as I left my room, I saw both Denmark and Detaille, apparently in the act of leaving theirs." "That may be important," said Hollow. "'And, of course, you can swear that the door leading from the ante-room into the room in which Mrs. Denmark diel was actualiy locked and bolted on the inside? There is no question of the door having been locked from the ante-room merely, and the -key having been shifted afterwards—say, when you entered the room, and such a thing could be done in the confusion that might ensue? "We could see the key on the inside. The bolt was certainly shot when we were battering at the door. Why do you ask? "Because when the impossible has hap- pened, it is always well to be sure of all things. I merely wished to confirm my belief that the servant did not, while San- tiago was returning from the dressing-room -door to the corridor, allow anyone to escape through the dressing-room, lock and bolt the door between the dressing-room and her mistress's; and then, returning to her own room, lock the other door from her own side. "This would have accounted for her delay, and for your finding the dressing-room door Unlocked instead of locked, as Santiago says le found it." "But the bolt socket on the inside of the ioor between the Fatal Room and the ante- Toom was wrenched out as we entered the room. "Then the maid is probably innocent of any share in the murder. You say that San- tiago declares that he was sitting up read- ing. If this is true, he would have heard "the reports if there were more than one. Even if he were not speaking the truth about his reading, he must have been in the corri- dor or thereabouts before you awakened, and therefore would have heard them?" "Decidedly. Besides which I myself am now so light a sleeper that the slightest re- port or noise would at once awaken me, 'Whereas the maid is admittedly a heavy keeper. I am convinced that there was but "One report, and that the girl's fear and Pagination are responsible for the exag- geration. What that report was, time alone ^ill show." "There was no revolver in the room-and no indication of one having been dis- charged ? "Absolutely none. Neither was there any Rign on the body of a blow or wound-but "that you will have learnt from the Press re- ports. Hollow nodded, and took one or two harp turns up and down the room. Then lIIe swung round sharply on his heel. b "You can tell me nothing that is likely to be of importance with regard to the "Character of Santiago or Detaille on the Personal side?" he asked at last. "Nothing. I should have considered them i both beyond suspicion. Santiago is really ne of the best types of sportsman-with a hatred of everything that is not clean and 4 b ove board. Detaule is, besides being a Scientist, a courtly and benevolent old Rentleman with an amazing wit for a pro- essor-a member of the old French aristo- cracy. Santiago, as I have told you, was at "hne time a suitor for Mrs. Denmark's hand; Ltit that was a long time before she met nmark. Detaille was, like Weider and Everyone who visited much at the Court, a "lery great admirer of Mrs. Denmark." "There could be no suspicion of anything a Out admiration-perhaps a mutual esteem- between them?" asked Hollow, sinking his °ice till it was little more than audible. Manning turned on him with a blazing Wrath that was magnificent to see. "Margaret Denmark," he said, with the ttliberation of white heat, after a pause in Which his heavy breathing could be heard 4tross the room, "Margaret Denmark was rjjy friend. She was also the mother of the oman I should have married, and the rarest woman God ever made. She was the riend of all the world; but she was the wife 44d the lover of May Denmark in every ent of her married life. I will ask you remember that, Mr. Hollow, whenever we WO are in the same room." -*toll°w looked at him for some seconds in azement. Then he held out his hand. I ask your pardon, and her pardon," he d then. "But her honour is as dear to tp ii .tt,-o as I knew her, as it is to you, d.r. Manning. I was suggesting nothing ^honourable—merely, perhaps, a possible ^Hth on her part, producing, perhaps, a !ttain passion in the other. One has to th rove each theory that arises and is not fS ? true explanation. The question I have «Q is the first and most natural that will Ur to everyone. We can now dismiss it. ^&mark himself, was, of course, devoted to 4 ? fanning noddfcd. IkAs they must have been in the begin- III so they were to the end, different tigh their tastes were. Woman never had Uiore devoted lover than Denmark, and 1, penally, never met a straighter man." t?ntly he added: "I came away before heard the report of the doctors; but there -? to be a consultation, and, I expect, aa ? the other two cases, a poat-mortem. Sir ? .t??e Hailey will be sure to insist on it. I ? <T not think, however, that any light the torø will be able to throw on her death jk? assist you. It will be beet for you to Vb ie on the spot if you can spare the time.  soon can you come? If ?ou could re- \¡on with me, my motor is at de door." follow looked across at me with a frown.  I propose to come to Eddlesham Court ?orrow." he said. "Yon, Vincent, will !Nr4e with me? If Mr. Manning can arrange ? will remain there until we have woven together the threads that will convict the murderer. Perhaps, Vincent, you will ring up Pawson and arrange for him to take over that Massingham Right-of-Way case. He wit-i be glad of the opportunity. I am going to sit down and think." I CHAPTER III. I THE VOICE AT THE TELEPHONE. For some hours after Manning had left lis-hours in which I was busily occupied in making such arrangements as should enable both myself and Hollow to leave town for an indefinite period with a clear conscience-. Hollow sat still in his chair, his head rest- ing on his hands, without addressing a single word to me beyond the intimation that I should find all his notes on the Right- of-Way case clearly drawn up in one of hit pigeon-holes. It was close upon five when I finished up. and then, having locked up my own private room, I was just about to close down Hol- low's desk-knowing that, if left to himself. he would inevitably neglect the precaution —when I was startled by a loud ringing of the telephone bell at the far end of the room. I waited to see whether Hollow would answer it himself; but beyond a slight start of surprise when it began to ring. he took no notice of it whatever. Crossing the room, I took down the r. eeiver. "Hullo! Hullo! Who are you?" To my surprise, there was no reply. I called again, then a third time, with a similar result. With an exclamation of annoyance I hung up the receiver and was about to return to the desk when the bell began to ring again. I picked up th-e receiver once more, and called, and again there was silence for a space of moments. I hung on to the receiver, determined, if possible, to get a reply of some sort; and at last it came, in a hoarse, tuneless voice: Is that John Hollow? Is that John Hollow? Hullo! Are you John Hollow t" Yes—hold on a minute, and-" I looked across at Hollow, with the inten- tion of calling him to the 'phone; but be- fore I could carry out my intention the voice began again "II ullo Are you John Hollow? Changing my mind, I called: Yes! Who are you?" The reply took my breath away-rendered me dumb and powerless for a space that seemed hours but could only have been seconds. For across the wire, in the same hoarse, tuneless voice, came the words: "I am the murderer of Weider and of Car. lotta and Margaret Denmark. Unless you keep away from Eddlesham Court and mind your own business I shall also be the mur- derer* of John Hollow and his friend Hugh Vincent. There'll be no second warning. Good-bye! As soon as I had recovered my breath I shouted down the te lephone-a mad desire possessing me to hear again the voice that had spoken. It was quite possible that some practical joker was making a butt of us; but, on the other hand, in a case of the mysteriousnesa of the one in which we were shortly to be engaged, all things were pos- sible, and how should a practical joker know anything of Manning's visit? But, as I had anticipated, there was no reply. The practical joker, if practical joker he were, had rung off. I called up the Exchange, only to find that the call had come from a public call- box. By this time Hollow was on his feet, re- garding me at last with something ap- proaching curiosity. "Well?" he said, "what is it? Someone wanting me ? I hesitated. Looking into Hollow's calm, unemotional face, it was difficult to explain. I felt, somehow, as if any explanation must inevitably be received by a burst of uncon- trollable laughter, so ridiculous did the whole thing seemed to me directly I had put the receiver down. "A practical joke, apparently," I said at length. "Someone rings up to announce that-" As I hesitated the bell began to ring again, to my ears louder than before. Hol- low made no attempt to answer it himself. I, for my part, seemed paralysed by a .kind of fear of what would happen if I took the message myself. At last, however, I crossed to the 'phone. "Hullo! Who are you?" After a barely perceptible pause I heard the same hoarse, tuneless voice, repeating his warning in almost identical words: "I am the murderer of Weider and of Carw lotta and Margaret Denmark. Unless you mind your own business I shall also be the murderer of John Hollow and his friend. I am a man who never makes mistakes. I strike, but no one knows the hour in which I strike. You understand?" A cold shiver ran down my back. I am not a coward in the ordinary circumstances of life, but there was something in the calm, deliberate, confident accents that un- nerved me. The voice ceased. I rang up the Ex- change, only to receive, after an interval, the same reply as before. Evidently the man had walked, in a few minutes, from one public telephone to another. With au awkward laugh I repeated the two mes- sages to Hollow, watching him the while to see their effect upon him, and conscious that in my own mind there was an un- pleasant feeling that behind the threats lay something more than irresponsible jesting. Before he could reply, however, there was & sharp knocking at the door, and a dis- trict messenger handed in a letter. Hollow looked across at me befoifc he opened it and laughed lightly. "A thousand to one it's a further courtesy from our friend of the telephone," he said, slitting the envelope with his paper-knife. There was a moment's silence during which he read the missive. Then he threw I it across to me and sprang to his feet. As I picked it up and glanced at it I was con- scious that he was taking the stairs leading to the ground floor about six at a time. The letter was unaddressed and undated, and, I at first thought, contained but four ;words: "Weider, Carlotta, Margaret, Hollow." On turning it over, however, I found across the back, heavily underscored in red ink, three more: "All these interfered." The whole thing was typewritten, and pave, therefore, no clue whatever as to the sender. The paper was cheap and common. As I was in the act of folding up the note, Hollow returned, and threw himself into his chair with a heavy sigh. I looked across at him inquiringly. You appear to have lost none of the old agility, Hollow!" I laughed. Hollow scowled savagely. "I don't suppose it was ever equal to yours," he said, bitterly; "but I didn't ex. pect to be outstripped by. a boy." "By a what?" "By a boy, you infernal fool-a district messenger! Good heavens, don't you see we've let our only chance of finding the man go? Of all the unmitigated asses! Well, we start with the advantage of know. ing that our friend ia afraid of us. It would iy hard to over-rate the importance of that: Yes, decidedly he is afraid. We start work to-night—at Eddlesham Court." Hollow's decision caused me less surprise than his giving Manning the morrow as the earliest date at which he could take up the I case. It was not his habit to waste time when once he had determined to make an investigation, and I had not really thought it possible that he would be able to possess his sotfl in patience during the passage of a day and a night, even if he had much think- ing to do. We made an early dinner and caught the eight o'clock train to Warling, whence we were accustomed to set out on our lengthy walks to our bungalow each week-end. It seemed difficult to believe, as we stretched along, that only that morning we had re- turned to town in blissful ignorance of the ghastly tragedy we had left behind us on Dur walk-that now we should be returning to avenge the woman we had regarded with so warm an affection. Not a word further had passed between us as to the mysterious messages we had received over the telephone or the letter whose bearer Hollow had allowed to escape so easily; but as neither of us for a moment believed that the boy had really belonged to the District Mes- eenger service so neither of us in our hearts under-rated the peril into which, in all probability, we were going. Practical jokers are hardly so strenuous as our mysterious friend—or enemy—had been; and there were circumstances suffi- ciently diabolical in the series of murders at Eddlesham Court (assuming that they were murders) to warrant our belief that the murderer would stop at nothing, particularly in view of the fact that he was obviously alarmed at the prospect of Hollow's taking up the investigation. Late though it had been when we left town, Hollow had waved aside my sugges- tion that we should wire Denmark to pre- pare him for our coming. "To-night," he said, "we can make what investigation we like—presuming that we are not being followed, which I doubt. To- morrow, when everyone will know that we are at the Court, our every movement will be watched, should anyone have a purpose to serve by watching us, as we know they have. There are several points upon which I wish to acquire first-hand information before I see either Denmark or any of his guests." It was dusk when we left the station, and by half-past ten, when we passed through the little village of Eddlesham, darkness had wrapped the countryside in a pall of the deepest black. Heavy clouds were scud- ding across the sky, and it was only at long intervals that a faint light showed us the outlines of the hedge-rows. No sooner, however, had we left the village behind us than Hollow turned aside, and, catching at my arm, drew me through a gateway into a field at the side of the road. "There are footsteps in the distance," he whispered, though I had heard nothing. "It is as well that no one should see us. We must make our way by the fields to the far end of the park. The wall is low enough there for us to be able to climb it." I said nothing, and in silence we swung across the fields. Then, after a fifteen minutes' walk, we arrived at the wall sur- rounding the park. Being the taller of the two, I gave Hollow a leg over, and then, with a little assistance from him, scrambled up myself. We dropped into the scrub at the far side, and within five minutes arrived at the west side of the great house—the side on which the Fatal Room was situated. It must have been then close on eleven, fnd the place was in darkness save for an occasional light which flickered in some of the bedrooms and then disappeared. We had halted several times and retraced our steps to assure ourselves that we were not being followed, and now Hollow drew me into a clump of shrubs which stood at the extreme end of the western wing. Here we remained crouching in silence until the last light had flickered out and the house was in darkness. I had just concluded that Hollow meant to push on to the bungalow later and to spend the night there instead of at the Court, when he touched me on the arm, and bending towards me, pressed a revolver into my hand. "We are going to remain here all night," he whispered, "and it can do no harm to be prepared for emergencies. If we shift to the middle of *;hc wing we shall be able to command the whole side of the house." I followed him cautiously, keeping in the shade of the huge shrubs that lined the pathway beneath the windows. We had seen no lights on the western side itself, and so concluded that Denmark and his guests had vacated their rooms in the corridor running along it, as from the point at which we had originally taken up our stand we commanded one end of the corridor itself, and had the rooms been occupied there would assuredly have been some lights visible. A few dry twigs crackled beneath our feet as we moved, but otherwise there was no sound to betray us. Denmark, as we learned beforehand, kept no dogs in the near neighbourhood of the house. The night was close, with a slight mist rising from the ground, but we were both too much on the alert to notice small inconveniences, and having found comfortable seats beneath a laurel, we settled down to wait for we knew not what. The clock on the tower boomed out the hours of twelve—one—two. |Still nothing had happened to reward our vigil. I was becom- ing acutely conscious of my cramped posi- tion, and wondering whether the twinges of pain I felt were the tokens of an incipient rheumatism or not, when I felt Hollow start, and a slight quiver, as of a greyhound straining at the leash, run through him. In a moment all thoughts of self vanished. I listened intently. Hollow's wonderful hearing—a faculty that in him seemed to be allied to instinct— had not played him false. Somewhere-as near as I could judge, at the far end of the wing—there was a slight scrunching of the gravel. The darkness was intense. It would be impossible to see anyone, even if they passed quite close to us. Nevertheless, Hollow raised himself until he was in an upright position—slowly and painfully, but without betraying himself by eo much as th<? sway- ing of a branch. I followed suit as best I could, but just as I was on my feet, a piece of dry wood broke under my heel. I could hear Hollow curse under his breath. The footsteps, which had been ad- vancing in our direction, suddenly stopped. There was a pregnant silence of some ten minutes' duration. Then they began to re- treat. Just as Hollow was in the act of parting the branches with the intention of following, however, they stopped again. We strained our ears till the very beating of our hearts seemed like the panting of a heavy locomotive. And at last the foot- steps began again. But this time they were coming nearer. The midnight wanderer, whoever he might be, had gainfd courage, persuaded himself that he had allowed him- self to be deceived by his fears. The steps came nearer and nearer. With growing confidence they became louder and more determined-absurdlv careless- at one point. Then again they seemed to waver, cease, and begin again. The man—for such it undoubtedly was—was almost level with us- Quickly, and with an almost incredible quietness, Hollow thrust back the branches of the laurel until he was standing close be- side the path, I myself immediately behind him, both of us, I think, fearful lest the man should hear the swift intake of our breath in the excitement under vhich we were now labouring. The man drew level with us, and then stopped abruptly. My heart stood still. Had he heard us in very truth? Was he, per- haps, waiting for the least movement to betray us, with revolver levelled in our direction. A hundred extravagant and ridiculous fears crowded into my 0 brain. I could have cried aloud with relief when the tension was broken and the man moved again—this time a few steps away from us, in the direction of the walls of the house itself. At last he wag close against the creeper- clad wall, standing before the windows of one of the lower rooms. What was his object? Again he stood still; and again we waited. Presently his hands stirred the creeper. Hollow took a silent step forward; then another. With my heart pounding against my sides, I followed. We were within a few steps of the man now. Still hia hands rustled the leaves of the creeper. He seemed to be feeling for something he could not find. All at once he moved—this time swiftly and almost noiselessly. Reaching back- ward with his feet, he carefully churned up the soil of the narrow strip of garden on which he had been standing. He was obliterating his footmarks. Then, with what seemed a sudden spring, he began to go upward. We could hear distinctly his laboured breathing. He was ascending the wall, pulling himself up by means of the creeper. Was he simply a burglar, bent on gaining access to one of the upper rooms, or were we standing beneath the windows of the Fatal Room, and had My thoughts broke off. Hollow had moved. Before I could realise what he was doing he was standing where the other had stood before. He had only to stretch out his hands and he could grasp the man's legs. Burglar or whatever he was, he would be completely at Hollow's mercy—and at mine. Armed or not, he could hardly escape us, taken as he would be at such a disadvantage. To my surprise. Hollow made no attempt j to seize him. Instead of doing so he began, as I realised from the movements of his body, to search for the points at which the man had secured a foothold. Bv the time the other had passed out of reach above us, Hollow had got his foot securely fixed in the strong trails of the creeper; but he had done it without the noise which had be- trayed the actions of the other. Then he felt for his revolver, shifted it to the breast pocket of his coat, and swung himself off the ground, first whispering the word "Stay"' to me in order to restrain me from follow- ing in his footsteps, as I should assuredly have done but for his instruction. As it was, I remained below, straining my eyes upwards in a vain attempt to follow either the movements of my friend or the man he pursued. In a few seconds I found it impossible to locate Hollow, so silently did he move, though I could hear the heavy breathing of the other and the occasional breaking of pieces of dead creeper as he made his way ever upwards. Suddenly a faint light flecked the sky, and in the second in which it lasted I saw that Hollow had deviated from the path the other had taken, and that he was now al- most alongside him, the two being nearly at ( opposite sides of a large window. The light faded too quickly for it to have been pos- sible for anyone not standing immediately beneath the two men to have distinguished anything; and even with this advantage I should have been unable to distinguish which was which had I not noticed that while Hollow was wearing a light cap, the other was wearing no covering over his head at all. At the level of the window, which was on the first floor, and which, as I suspected now, was that of the Fatal Room itself, the man stopped. For some fifteen minutes I waited beneath for a sound which should tell me what was happening above. But none came. The silence became almost unendur- able. I wondered whether it was possible that the other could still be unaware that he was being followed. Were the two men both equally conscious of the other's pre- sence, and playing a waiting game, weapons in hand? It was impossible to tell anything from the position in which I stood. With my hand upon the creeper, I was about to dis- obey Hollow's instructions and to endeavour to follow him as noiselessly as he had gone in order to relieve the unendurable tension of my nerves, when a rustling told me that the man had begun to move again. This noise, faint though it was, I heard for some minutes. Then it seemed to me that some- one was trying the window, or attempting to move it. Was the man, after all, only a burglar, and had he happened by mere accident upon the room in which tragedy had played itself out? He began to move again-this time in a direction at right angles to that which he had taken, and, of course, away from Hollow. A few seconds later a window was pushed up-very slowly, but with a certain inevitable noise-in the direction the man had taken. Had Hollow been able to follow him? As I asked myself the question a move- ment among the branches of the laurel in which we had sheltered—cautious, but just sufficiently loud for the slight breeze which had sprung up to carry it to my listening ears-attracted my attention. I turned round and began to creep towards the path beside the laurel. Before I could reach it. however someone had stepped out from the cover, a bare yard or so away from me. I held my breath and waited. He came a step nearer. He was evidently unaware of my existence. I could almost feel his hot breath fanning my cheeks. Feeling in my pocket for my revolver, I glanced upward swiftly. I had need of all my self-control to pre- vent myself from giving vent to an exclama. tion of amazement. Working along the creeper, Hollow had evidently just reached the man he was pur- suing as the other was in the act of disap- pearing through the window lie had forced open. Apparently realising that it might be dangerous to follow at once if he allowed him to get into the room, Hollow had drawn from hia pocket an electric torch, and had switched it on. Before I realised what had happened, the man beside me broke into a cry that seemed half terror, half surprise. Then, before I could stretch out a hand to detain him, he broke into a run and disappeared into the bushes. But the face I had seen above, silhouetted against the darkness, was that of Gerald Manning! (To be Continued.)