DETECTIVE HAMILTON CLEEK: 8 Thriller Classics in One Premium Edition. Thomas W. Hanshew
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are an occasional caller in the servants’ hall, I see, Mr. Nippers,” said Cleek, serenely, as he took up his coat and shook it, preparatory to putting it on. “I think, Mr. Narkom, that in the interests of the public at large it will be well for some one a little more efficient than the local constabulary to look into this case, so, if you don’t mind making yourself a trifle more presentable, it will be as well for us to get Mr. Nippers to show us the way to the scene of the tragedy. While you are doing it I will put a few ‘Headland’ questions to our friend here if you don’t mind assuring him that I am competent to advise.”
“Right you are, old chap,” said Narkom, taking his cue. “Nippers, this is Mr. George Headland, one of the best of my Yard detectives. He’ll very likely give you a tip or two in the matter of detecting crimes, if you pay attention to what he says.”
Nippers “paid attention” forthwith. The idea of being in consultation with any one connected with Scotland Yard tickled his very soul; and, in fancy, he already saw his name getting into the newspapers of London, and his fame spreading far beyond his native weald.
“I won’t trouble you for the full details of the murder, Mr. Nippers,” said Cleek. “Those, I fancy, this Miss Renfrew will be able to supply when I see her. For the present, tell me: how many other occupants does the house hold beyond these two of whom you have spoken—Miss Renfrew and the cook, Mrs. Armroyd?”
“None, sir, but the scullery maid, Emily, and the parlour maid, Clark. But both of them is out to-night, sir—havin’ went to a concert over at Beattie Corners. A friend of Mistress Armroyd’s sent her two tickets, and her not bein’ able to go herself, her thought it a pity for ’em to be wasted, so her give ’em to the maids.”
“I see, no male servants at all, then?”
“No, sir; not one. There’s Jones—the handy man—as comes in mornin’s to do the rough work and the haulin’ and carryin’ and things like that; and there’s the gardener and Mr. Kemper—him as is Mr. Nosworth’s assistant in the laboratory, sir—but none of ’em is ever in the house after five o’clock. Set against havin’ men sleep in the house was Mr. Nosworth—swore as never another should after him and Master Harry had their fallin’ out. Why, sir, he was that bitter he’d never even allow Mr. Charles to set foot in the place, just because him and Master Harry used to be friends—which makes it precious hard on Miss Renfrew, I can tell you.”
“As how? Is this ‘Mr. Charles’ connected with Miss Renfrew in any way?”
“Lummy! yes, sir—he’s her young man. Been sweet on each other ever since they was in pinafores; but never had no chance to marry because Mr. Charles—Mr. Charles Drummond is his full name, sir—he hasn’t one shillin’ to rub against another, and Miss Renfrew she’s a little worse off than him. Never gets nothin’, I’m told, for keepin’ house for her uncle—just her food and lodgin’ and clothes—and her slavin’ like a nigger for him the whole blessed time. Keeps his books and superintends the runnin’ of the house, she do, but never gets a brass farthin’ for it, poor girl. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, Mr. Headland, sir, but this I must say: A rare old skinflint was Mr. Septimus Nosworth—wouldn’t part with a groat unless un was forced to. But praise be, her’ll get her dues now; fegs, yes! unless old skinflint went and changed his will without her knowin’.”
“Oho!” said Cleek, with a strong rising inflection. “His will was made in Miss Renfrew’s favour, was it?”
“Aye. That’s why her come and put up with un and all his hardheartedness—denyin’ her the pleasure o’ ever seein’ her young man just because him and Master Harry had been friends and playmates when t’ pair of un was just boys in knickers and broad collars. There be a stone heart for you.”
“Rather. Now one more question: I think you said it was Miss Renfrew who gave the alarm when the murder was discovered, Mr. Nippers. How did she give it and to whom?”
“Eh, now! to me and Mistress Armroyd, of course. Me and her war sittin’ in the kitchen havin’ a bite o’ supper at the time. Gorham, he war there, too, in the beginnin’; but un didn’t stop, of course—’twouldn’t ’a’ done for the pair of us to be off duty together.”
“Oh! is Gorham a constable, then?”
“Aye—under constable: second to me. Got un appointed six months ago. Him had just gone a bit of a time when Miss Renfrew come rushin’ in and shrieked out about the murder; but he heard the rumpus and came poundin’ back, of course. I dunno what I’d ’a’ done if un hadn’t, for Miss Renfrew her went from one faintin’ fit to another—’twas just orful. Gorham helped Ah to carry her up to the sittin’-room, wheer Mistress Armroyd burnt feathers under her nose, and when we’d got her round a bit we all three went outside and round to the laboratory. That’s when we first see the prints of the animal’s feet. Mistress Armroyd spied ’em first—all over the flower bed just under the laboratory window.”
“Oho! then that is what you meant when you alluded to an ‘animal’ when you pounced down upon us, was it? I see. One word more: what kind of an animal was it? Or couldn’t you tell from the marks?”
“No, sir, I couldn’t—nobody could unless it might be Sir Ralph Droger. He’ll be like to, if anybody. Keeps all sorts of animals and birds and things in great cages in Droger Park, does Sir Ralph. One thing I can swear to, though, sir: they warn’t like the footprints of any animal as I ever see. Theer be a picture o’ St. Jarge and the Dragon on the walls o’ Town Hall at Birchampton, Mr. Headland, sir, and them footprints is more like the paws of that dragon than anything else I can call to mind. Scaly and clawed they is—like the thing as made ’em was part bird and part beast—and they’re a good twelve inches long, every one of ’em.”
“Hum-m-m! That’s extraordinary. Deeply imprinted, are they?”
“Lummy! yes, sir. The animal as made ’em must have weighed ten or twelve stone at least. Soon as I see them, sir, I knowed I had my work cut out, so I left Gorham in charge of the house, rattled up these two men and Mr. Simpkins, here—which all three is employed at Droger Park, sir—and set out hot foot to look for gypsies.”
“Why?”
“’Cause Mistress Armroyd she says as she see a gypsy lurkin’ round the place just before dark, sir; and he had a queer thing like a bear’s muzzle in his hand.”
“Ah, I see!” said Cleek; and gave one of his odd smiles as he turned round and looked at the superintendent. “All ready, Mr. Narkom? Good! Let us go over to the Round House and investigate this interesting case. Dollops, stop where you are and look after the caravan. If we are away more than a couple of hours, tumble into bed and go to sleep. We may be a short time or we may be a long one. In affairs like this one never knows.”
“Any ideas, old chap?” queried Narkom in a whisper as they forged along together in the wake of Nippers and his three companions.
“Yes—a great many,” answered Cleek. “I am particularly anxious, Mr. Narkom, to have a look at those footprints and an interview with Miss Renfrew. I want to meet that young lady very much indeed.”
CHAPTER VIII
Twenty minutes later his desires in that respect were granted; and, having been introduced by Mr. Nippers to the little gathering in the sitting-room of the house of disaster as “a friend of mine from Scotland Yard, miss,” he found himself in the presence of one of those meek-faced, dove-eyed, “mousy” little bodies who seem born to be “patient Griseldas”; and in looking at her he was minded of the description of “Lady Jane” in the poem:
“Her pulse was slow, milk white her skin—
She had not blood enough to sin.”
Years of repression had told