The Riddle of the Spinning Wheel

Instantly he stopped short – stock-still, as though made out of marble, and leaned back against the parapet while those sliding, soft, creeping, cat-like footsteps came steadily on. He became conscious of a black shape, slim as a woman's, against the midnight sky, that moved with panther-like precision across the face of the parapet. He could actually hear that other person's laboured breaths, and as the Thing steadily approached felt it fan against his cheek.

If Cleek had been in a less precarious position the soul of the man would have relieved itself by laughing outright. For the situation seemed almost funny. But this was no time for humour. The moment he stirred and made himself known, upon that moment the creature – whoever and whatever it was – would pounce upon him, and dash them both down to sure death upon the stones below, and in full sight of the Superintendent's watching eyes. But what to do if he stayed where he was? Detection was certain in any case. There remained only a moment of moments before it actually would come. And in that moment, to be prepared for – what?

The creature came on steadily, picking its way stealthy as a cat across the rugged stone parapet upon which Rhea stood, until it stopped a few inches away from him, face averted, one tense hand clinging to the very stone to which Cleek also clung. Then slowly it turned, knelt upon one knee, reached down a long hand toward the bar from which the great bronze bell swung, made as if to find a foot-hold with one slim black foot, and – Cleek's hand shot out over that other hand, and Cleek's voice whispered in its ear:

"Damn you! what are you doing here?"

Instantly all was pandemonium! For the man – for man it was – sprang round quickly, showing the lower half of a white face to Cleek's watching eyes, and then with a low-pitched exclamation of fury closed with him and fought like some mad thing, spitting out furiously and clawing and scratching with his free hand to gain hold of the other.

Cleek realized the danger even as he met it, and knew what it ultimately meant. But the thing had to be done. And in the doing he had wound one foot round a stave of iron which rose up out of the parapet to form the base of Rhea's bronze throne, and so steadied himself for the nonce. But it was a difficult task indeed to free himself from this clutching, scratching, biting Thing, and it took all his powers of resistance to combat him successfully.

"Stop it – damn you! – stop it!" he gave out furiously, in an angry whisper which at least reached Mr. Narkom's ears, and sent the night-owl's hoot creeping eerily out over the silence of that black night to tell Cleek that he would come to the rescue if necessary. And Cleek hooted back. He couldn't do this thing alone – it was too much for him. The space upon which they wrestled was a mere foot and a half in breadth, and at any moment one or both of them might pitch down into the darkness to certain death.

He peered into the man's fury-ridden face, trying to distinguish the features of it, but the upper half was covered with a black mask through which the eyes gleamed like slits of fire, and the strength of him seemed superhuman, to say the least of it. It was merely a matter of moments now – something would have to be done – when, of a sudden, the man leapt away from him, reached down an arm again, and – lithe as a cat – swung himself down upon the perilously narrow ledge of the great bronze bell. Here was Cleek's chance. In an instant his hand had shot out toward the man's leg and caught it in a vise, while with the other he steadied himself by a firm hold of the wrought-iron stave that had saved him a moment or two before.

The creature spat out his vindictiveness in a string of Italian oaths, and Cleek, paying not the slightest attention to him, merely hung on tighter to the ankle and prayed for help. Another few moments of this strain and – the fight would be lost. His arm muscles were strained to their utmost, his whole body upon the rack. He sent forth the summons of the night-owl again and again, and was rewarded by the sound beneath him of a hasty exclamation from the Superintendent, a muttered "My Gawd!" from the hoarse throat of that little bit of Cockneydom who had served him and saved him many times before, and then the whispered words, "Comin', Guv'nor – there in a tick!" came with their ring of comfort, and he exerted himself to the last ounce to retain his hold of the biting, clutching furious Thing that lay twisting itself, save for that unfortunate leg in Cleek's grasp, upon the narrow confines of the ledge of Rhea's bell.

… The moments seemed like hours, and Cleek had all but let go, with a strained wrist and a dislocated finger which was giving him agony, when he saw the dark shape approaching him, and knew that his rescuer had come.

"In the nick of time, lad," he breathed, as he released his hold in favour of Dollops. "God knows who the beggar is, but he's like a wild-cat. My hand's done in completely. Hold him and, if you can, get him back again upon this ledge. The pair of us will be too much for him, I vow! Then we'll have to hold on and ring the great bell for help. It's the only way. But we must unmuffle the clapper first. Here – your torch! Gad! that's what the blighter's doing, is he? Unmuffling it for himself!.. I say, my Dago friend, keep quiet a little, will you? – or you'll find yourself in the next world in the space of another minute. This isn't a table-top, you know. And there's about two inches between yourself and eternity. And if you're ready to go, I'm not!"

The creature thus addressed pulled itself up uncertainly, still muttering in Italian, and as Dollops's hold slid from ankle to knee, from knee to thigh, and then – like a flash – to arm and shoulder, in proper jiu-jitsu grip, whirled round upon them, something white showing in the clenched fingers of one hand, and ground his teeth at them, as though he would eat them alive.

"Curse you! – damn you! What are you doing here, hell-hogs!" he spat out in a low, vehement voice. "My friends will be here any minute – and then your game will be up!"

"But not before yours has beaten it by a moment or two," gave back Cleek rapidly, in a low-pitched voice. "Here! – give me that thing in your hand. I'm anxious to see what it is that muffled the bell so successfully last night. And if you don't stand still while I'm taking it, my lad here will hurl you down into perdition. Now, then – give it up… Got him, Dollops?.. Hi! there, Mr. Narkom! I want you to take hold of that rope on the right-hand side of the gateway – and pull it for all you're worth. We've got to have help to secure this thing in man's guise we've fallen foul of, and got to have it quick!"

And so it came about that the silence of that still night was broken of a sudden by deep-throated pealing as Rhea's great bronze bell gave tongue. Once – twice – three times, until those above it were well-nigh deafened with the sound, and those below and beyond it knew, by that prearranged signal, that they were wanted – and wanted at once.

Instantly the night became hideous with shouting voices and running steps. The door-keeper hurried out of his cottage with lantern lit, and made his way toward them; constables appeared from every corner of the grounds; meanwhile, Cleek, with the crackling paperish thing that had muffled the bell in his hand, and the other lending what support to Dollops he could give in holding the man down, called out their requirements in the sharp staccato of excitement.

"A net, boys – quick! or a great-coat – anything! Only spit out your torches and hold it firm-stretched, and we're going to throw something down to you which will want a lot of holding, for it's as slippery as an eel," he gave out sharply. "Now, then – are you ready? Mr. Narkom, see that the lights are strong enough; I don't want him 'missing fire' and landing with a broken neck until we've done with him. Ready, Dollops? One – two – three – "

Came a scratching and a fighting and a furious sound of rending material as the man wriggled to be free of those three detaining hands that held him. Then of a sudden a startled gasp, a muttered oath, and – a flying black shape came hurtling down in the darkness to that little circle of light where the upturned, expectant faces of the constables showed in Rembrandt-like light and shadow, and – the shape landed in the folds of the outstretched great-coat with a thwack, and was muffled up in it in a moment, kicking and clawing and scratching furiously as the thick folds went over his head.

Ten men removed him from it eventually and set him upon his feet, just as Dollops, slithering and sliding down from the dangerous height, with his heart in his mouth for his master's safety with that injured hand of his, landed with a plomp upon the soft ground, and gave Cleek the hand that had helped him all the way down that perilous journey, until he, too, was in safety at last.

"Gawd's troof, Guv'nor!" he ejaculated, as he whipped out his handkerchief and bound it tightly and professionally over the finger and down on to the strained wrist. "You're 'urt proper, ain't you? That was a narrer squeak, I don't fink!.. That's better, ain't it? I weren't a-goin' ter let yer git orf without that bit of bandages to 'elp the pain, not if we loses the blinkin' murderer 'isself! Let's 'ave a look at the chap, sir."

Cleek's good hand swung up across the boy's shoulder.

"Thank you," he said simply. "Hello! here's Mr. Narkom. Yes, let's have a look at the blighter, men, before you carry him off to the lock-up. I'm interested to know what he looks like beneath that mask of his. Just to get a line on his features, you know."

Speaking, he went up to the group of constables and, flashing out his torch, sent its spotlight upon the man's scowling face.

And it was just as he did this that Dollops let out a yell of amazement, and stared at him – mouth open, eyes wide.

"Gawblimey! and pink sossidges!" he exclaimed, whirling round upon Cleek in astonishment, "if this 'ere ain't the giddy limit! Why, that's ole Dirty Dick the Dago 'isself!"

"And this," said Cleek, as he glanced down at the crumpled bit of parchment which he still held, and smiled into Mr. Narkom's serious face, "is the missing will, or I'm a Dutchman! Quite a little bit of excitement for one night's entertainment, I must say! Who says anything about killing two birds with one stone? Men, I'm coming along with you to the lock-up. It's a bit late in the evening, or early in the morning, to be more literal, but I'm going to have a conversation with your prisoner which is going to elucidate many things for me. Mr. Narkom, I should advise you to go back to bed and take a rest. To-morrow is likely to be a heavy day."

Then, smiling, but still a trifle pale, Cleek swung into step with Dollops behind the little cavalcade which was wending its way slowly through the great gateway and out upon the road beyond – toward the goal of many imaginings and the proper elucidation of the riddle at last.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE END IN SIGHT

Cleek spent an hour in the "lock-up" with the man they had captured, and had what he scathingly called a proper heart-to-heart talk with him, coming away with the contemptuous feeling in his heart which all clean men must find there upon discovering a fellow creature who, to save his own skin if possible, is willing to split upon a pal.

He wended his way toward the Inn of the Three Fishers, with Dollops beside him, head downward, every faculty concentrated upon the proper unravelling of the riddle that confronted him. If two and two made four, then he had the answer pretty well elucidated at last. One had to fill in the gaps with a bit of imagination, but – he patted the pocket where the missing will lay, lying close against that packet of love-letters that he had found in Sir Andrews's desk. Funny how papers so often proved things where human flesh-and-blood failed. Clues – both of 'em. Strong clues. And likely to give surprise to one or two people he knew of. Lady Paula, for instance – and Ross Duggan.

"Dollops," he said quietly, as he let himself into the little hostelry with his latchkey, just as the dawn was striking the sky with rosy fingers and rending aside the dark curtains of night, "this is going to be a heavy day for us. I don't relish the task in front of me, and yet… It's no use funking the issue. Justice must be done – and if it's going to hurt some people pretty badly, it isn't my fault, is it?"

"It is not, sir," gave back Dollops emphatically. "But you come on up to yer room and let me attend to that there 'and. 'Urtin' pretty nasty, ain't it? I thought so. A bit er cold water'll 'elp some, an' I'm a dab 'and at the First Aid stunt since I took them lessons in Lunnon larst winter. We'll put yer right in a jiffy. But I carn't 'elp wishin' it was my paw, all the same. Miss Lorne'll be that worried when she 'ears.

"Then the best thing to do is not to tell her, you little Worry-Box," returned Cleek with a laugh. "It's luck it's my left one, so the writing won't be affected. A week or two will see it right. I wish I could cure all the heartbreak and unhappiness in this old Castle-keep as effectively in such a short time… Thanks very much. That'll do nicely, I think. And it's a good deal easier. Now, be off to bed, boy, and try to make up for the loss of that beauty-sleep which you've missed. To-morrow, or rather, to-day, is going to keep us all fairly busy, I imagine. I shall want you to come up to the Castle with me in the morning, you know – and I mustn't be later than ten o'clock."

And so it came about that in the morning Cleek, looking rather pale, with one hand in a roughly contrived sling, and with Dollops in close alliance with him, and Mr. Narkom bringing up the rear, made his way to the great door of Aygon Castle, rang the bell coolly, and nodded pleasantly to the door-keeper who admitted him as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened in the night that had just passed. As he passed through the gates with his companions and heard them clang to behind him, he laid a hand upon the gate-keeper's arm and spoke in a low voice.

"Heard nothing at all after we left, Burns? Saw no one, I suppose, this morning?"

"Not a soul, sair. Aiverybody seems to have overslept themsailves and never a word has even come to me over the telephone in my lodge."

"Good! Excellent! Well, keep your mouth tight-closed and know nothing if you are questioned. Not even to the master of the Castle himself. To nobody. Simply nothing untoward happened at all last night that you know of. Follow me?"

"Absolutely, sair."

"Very well, then. Come, Mr. Narkom, we'll make our way up to the Castle now. Fine place, isn't it? Wonderful bit of stone-work in that balustrade round the tessellated tower. Never noticed it so plainly before. Perhaps it's the fine day."

Speaking, he led the way up the drive, followed by a wide-eyed Dollops and a panting Superintendent who had not long finished his breakfast of bacon and eggs, and had missed his usual ten minutes' perusal of the newspaper after it.

Jarvis opened the door to them, bowing low over Cleek's cap as the latter proffered it, and giving Dollops a friendly wink behind his master's back as he led them into the little ante-room and went to summon his mistress.

As they sat waiting, Cleek saw Tavish, clad in riding-boots and trousers, and making a fine figure of a man, swing past the half-open door. Cleek nodded to him as he glanced in.

"Good morning. I say – come in a moment, won't you? I've got a perfectly astonishing piece of news!"

Then, as Tavish, with a nod and a smile, came into the tiny room, seeming, in his enormous stature, to fill up every nook and corner of it, and shook Cleek firmly by the hand, that gentleman leaned a little forward and whispered something in his ear.

Mr. Narkom saw the flare of eye and the slackening of jaw which betoken amazement as Tavish opened his mouth to speak. But Cleek held up a silencing hand.

"Hush! I don't want the thing made public yet, y' know, my dear chap. Only I thought perhaps you'd like to have a look in and see the final round-up of the villains. Take a back seat, you know. There's no harm in that. And I've the most amazing bit of evidence by me which I've traced it all to. Stolen will among other things. Bring it home to her as smart as you please. Ought to be worth watching when you see her face."

"Gad! – yes." Tavish struck one hand into the open palm of the other, and his nice face went grim. "The woman's a devil from the first letter to the last. And if you knew the things she's done to my future wife – Johanna McCall – well, it fair makes a man's blood boil. I'd tighten the noose round her neck, I can promise you, and with my own hands, too. The earth is well rid of her kind."

"In which I profoundly agree. And – hello! here's Miss Duggan. At half-past ten, then. I'll make arrangements for you to slip in unnoticed. It's going to be as sensational as a first-rate London melodrama. And – not a word, old chap?"

"Not one of 'em."

"Thanks very much. I'll rely on you, then. And we might even want you to lend a hand. What's that, Miss Duggan? Lend a hand for what? Oh, simply in capturing a somewhat wild mare that has got loose in this part of the country and has been kicking up a pretty shindy all over the place. Mr. Tavish's strength and knowledge of horse-flesh ought to be a real help, eh, my friend?"

Here he winked broadly at the vanishing Tavish, and brought up a chair for Maud Duggan after she had greeted Mr. Narkom and given Dollops a little forlorn smile as Cleek introduced him to her notice.

"And have you followed up any of the clues which you discovered yesterday, Mr. Deland, to the utter desolation of all my hopes and fears?" she asked him wearily, sitting down with her hands lying loosely in her lap, a very picture of despondent womanhood.

He bowed his head.

"I'm afraid I have. Several of them. And yet – I don't know. Anyhow, I want you all to come along to the library again this morning – and for the last time. After to-day you ought not to be put to any further worry and inconvenience, my dear young lady. But what I want you to do is to assemble all the members of the immediate household together for me, and tell them I've discovered a perfectly new clue altogether – and from a perfectly new person – someone who, so far as you or I know, has never even entered the house at all, at any time. So you see, that's not such bad news, is it?"

At these words her head came up upon the slim column of her neck, and she looked into his face with suddenly bright eyes.

"You mean to say that – you mean to say that you can prove that neither Ross nor – Captain Macdonald is guilty of that terrible crime?" she gave out in a shrill voice, shutting her hands together in her emotion, and breathing hard. "Oh, Mr. Deland, if you have only found out that– "

"Not quite so fast, please," he responded a trifle sternly. "I'm afraid I can't give you any of the facts yet. Only I want you to know that – in one direction, at any rate – you may have some cause to hope. That is, of course, if my deductions are correct. It all depends. Even a policeman can make a mistake – isn't that so, Mr. Narkom? – and find himself led away upon a false scent. It depends a lot upon the wiliness of the fox he's in pursuit of. And in this case, when there's a – animal's a female, one has the disadvantage of the woman's intuitive faculties and natural gifts of deceit. 'The female of the species' – you know what Kipling said, of course? That sounds rude, doesn't it? But it's amazingly true, all the same – yourself, I'm sure, always excepted."

She made no answer to the little sally other than to pass a pale hand across a paler forehead, and pat a piece of dark hair into place, with that little gesture of forlornness which went straight to Cleek's heart.

"Then you have nothing more to tell me, Mr. Deland? Nothing for me to build my hopes on save that a new element has entered the case – "

"Together with an old element – yes," responded Cleek softly, with a stab at his heart for her pathetic appearance. "Just that. No more. I can tell nothing until I have you all there before me, and then – well, perhaps I shall be able to unravel the mystery for you, and put an end to your sufferings in that direction, at any rate. Would you be good enough, as you're passing, to ask the constable on duty outside the library door to come to me a moment? Mr. Narkom and I want to question him about one or two things. There's another one inside the room, so there's no chance of any one getting in and falsifying clues while he's away. Thanks very much."

She passed out, pale-faced, utterly forlorn, and the sagging droop of her shoulders sent another stab of pity through Cleek's heart, while Mr. Narkom – tender-hearted as a chicken, as he himself often put it – blew his nose loudly and passed the handkerchief surreptitiously across his eyes, and turned a sad face to his famous ally's.

"Poor girl, Cl – Deland, poor, poor, unhappy girl! It goes to my heart to see any woman so desolate as that. And a good-looking woman, too! She feels the whole wretched affair keenly. And if you'd only explained to me some of those wonderful theories of yours and given me some inkling of what you're going to say to 'em, I might have been a bit of help to her, you know. Human sympathy's a comforting thing – "

"But not always so comforting when it emanates from the police, who will probably wring her heart dry," returned Cleek with a twisted smile. "No, no, my friend. Bless your tender heart for the kind thought, but in this case it's up to me to tread warily. And the least suspicious glance cast at a guilty party, the least flutter of eyelid or brow in expression of one's knowledge – and the cat would be out of the bag, and all our trouble taken for nothing. I'm going to play 'possum to-day and lay low. And you've just got to forgive me beforehand and put up with it. I've no doubt your own theories coincide with mine but – Here's P. C. Mackay. Good morning, Constable. Mr. Narkom and I just wanted to have a few words with you, with reference to what arrangements you made for me last night. You followed out my instructions?"

P. C. Mackay, who was a slight, wiry, light-rooted chap, and so chosen by Cleek for the very work he had been given to do, nodded his head, and his hand came to the salute.

"I did that, sir."

"Good. No names mentioned, Constable … but you found some clues there, I take it?"

"Yessir. This." He looked from side to side of the room, as though uncertain how to produce the clue in case of discovery. But the door was shut, and only they four were within the confines of the small place. Then he put his hand into his breast-pocket and drew forth a little bit of crimson-covered flexible electric wire.

Cleek's face fell a little.

"That all?"

"Yessir – except for a photograph of a young wummun. It was hidden in a carved wood box on the dressin' table. I brought it along in case you might find some use for it. Here it is."

Speaking, he drew the bit of pasteboard from his pocket and handed it across to Cleek, who bent his eyes upon it, gave a little start at something which was written across it in bold capitals and underscored three times, gazed a moment at the pictured face, and then promptly opened his pocketbook and placed it within.

"Very good, Constable. Mr. Narkom, you will do me a personal favour if you arrange for P. C. Mackay's promotion. He did good work last night, and it must not be forgotten. You may go, Constable."

"Thank you, sir."

The man saluted smartly, grinned all over his ruddy Scotch face at the word "promotion," and went back to his position outside the library door, his head in the clouds and his heart longing for the time when he could impart this wonderful knowledge to his Maggie, and see her blue eyes brighten.

Meanwhile Cleek, the door shut once more, dived down into his pocket and produced the little bit of red electric wire which he had picked up in the library that first day before the tragedy had taken place, when Maud Duggan was showing him over the house. He fingered it idly, and then showed Mr. Narkom the two pieces spread upon his open palm.

"Not much in that, I'm afraid. Just the ordinary kind of wire which everyone uses, and with nothing to show any peculiarities," he said, speaking half to himself and half to the Superintendent. "Both cut with a sharp knife, obviously. Now, if they mated evenly – and gad! they do mate!" He brought them together and dovetailed the two frayed ends one against the other until the edges met in a perfectly even line. "That's a funny thing! A deuced funny thing! But they belong to each other as much as two twin souls belong. They're one and the same piece. Gad! and with the photograph of the estimable young woman – it proves it without a doubt!"