DETECTIVE HAMILTON CLEEK: 8 Thriller Classics in One Premium Edition. Thomas W. Hanshew
Читать онлайн книгу.
a deep, still tarn, and had called a halt to light a fire and get things out of the bag which Dollops carried—things to eat and to drink and to wear—and were enjoying a plunge in the ice-cold water the while the coffee was boiling; and by six—gorged with food and soothed by tobacco—they were lying sprawled out on the fragrant earth and blinking drowsily while their boots were drying before the fire. And after that there was a long hiatus until Cleek’s voice rapped out saying sharply, “Well, I’ll be dashed! Rouse up there, you lazy beggars. Do you know that it’s half-past twelve and we’ve been sleeping for hours?”
They knew it then, be assured, and were up and on their way again with as little delay as possible. Rested and refreshed, they made such good time that two o’clock found them in the Morcam Abbey district, just over the borders of Cumberland, and, with appetites sharpened for luncheon, bearing down on a quaint little hostlery whose signboard announced it as the Rose and Thistle.
“Well, there’s hospitality if you like,” said Cleek, as, at their approach, a cheery-faced landlady bobbed up at an open window and, seeing them, bobbed away again and ran round to welcome them with smiles and curtseys delivered from the arch of a vine-bowered door.
“Welcome, gentlemen, welcome,” beamed she as they came up and joined her. “But however in the world did you manage to get over here so soon?—the train not being due at Shepperton Old Cross until five-and-twenty past one, and that a good mile and a quarter away as the crow flies. However, better too early than too late—Major Norcross and Lady Mary being already here and most anxious to meet you.”
As it happened that neither Cleek nor Mr. Narkom had any personal acquaintance with the lady and gentleman mentioned, it was so clearly a case of mistaken identity that the superintendent had it on the tip of his tongue to announce the fact, when there clashed out the sound of a door opening and shutting rapidly, a clatter of hasty footsteps along the passage, and presently there came into view the figure of a bluff, hearty, florid-faced man of about five-and-forty, who thrust the landlady aside and threw a metaphorical bombshell by exclaiming excitedly:
“My dear sir, I never was so delighted. Talk about English slowness. Why, this is prompt enough to satisfy a Yankee. I never dispatched my letter to you until late yesterday afternoon, Mr. Narkom, and—by the way, which is Mr. Narkom, and which that amazing Mr. Cleek? Or, never mind—perhaps that clever johnnie will be coming later; you can tell me all about that afterward. For the present, come along. Let’s not keep Lady Mary waiting—she’s anxious. This way, please.”
Here—as Mr. Narkom had lost no time in acknowledging his identity, it being clear that no mistake had been made after all—here he caught the superintendent by the arm, whisked him down the passage, and throwing open the door at the end of it, announced excitedly, “All right, Mary. The Yard’s answered—the big reward’s caught ’em, as I knew it would—and here’s Narkom. That chap Cleek will come by a later train, no doubt.”
The response to this came from an unexpected quarter. Of a sudden the man he had left standing at the outer door, under the impression that he was in no way connected with the superintendent, but merely a gentleman who had reached the inn at the same time, came down the passage to the open door, brushed past him into the room, and announced gravely, “Permit me to correct an error, please, Major. The ‘man Cleek’ is not coming later—he is here, and very much at your and Lady Mary Norcross’ service, believe me. I have long known the name of Major Seton Norcross as one which stands high in the racing world—as that, indeed, of the gentleman who owns the finest stud in the kingdom and whose filly, Highland Lassie, is first favourite for the forthcoming Derby—and I now have the honour of meeting the gentleman himself, it seems.”
The effect of this was somewhat disconcerting. For, as he concluded it, he put out his hand and rested it upon Mr. Narkom’s shoulder, whereat Lady Mary half rose from her seat, only to sit down again suddenly and look round at her liege lord with uplifted eyebrows and lips slightly parted. Afterward she declared of the two men standing side by side in that familiar manner: “One reminded me of an actor trying to play the part of a person of distinction, and the other of a person of distinction trying to play the part of an ordinary actor and not quite able to keep what he really was from showing through the veneer of what he was trying to be.”
The major, however, was too blunt to bottle up his sentiments at any time, and being completely bowled over in the present instance put them into bluff, outspoken, characteristic words.
“Oh, gum games!” he blurted out. “If you really are Cleek——”
“I really am. Mr. Narkom will stand sponsor for that.”
“But, good lud, man! Oh, look here, you know, this is all tommyrot! What under God’s heaven has brought a chap like you down to this sort of thing?”
“Opinions differ upon that score, Major,” said Cleek quietly. “So far from being ‘brought down,’ it is my good friend, Mr. Narkom here, who has brought me up to it—and made me his debtor for life.”
“Debtor nothing! Don’t talk rubbish. As if it were possible for a gentleman not to recognize a gentleman!”
“It would not be so easy, I fear, if he were a good actor—and you have just done me the compliment of indirectly telling me that I must be one. It is very nice of you but—may we not let it go at that? I fancy from what I hear that I, too, shall soon be in the position to pay compliments, Major. I hear on every side that Highland Lassie is sure to carry off the Derby—in fact that, unless a miracle occurs, there’ll be no horse ‘in it’ but her.”
Here both the major and his wife grew visibly excited.
“Gad, sir!” exclaimed he, in a voice of deep despair. “I’m afraid you will have to amend that statement so that it may read, ‘unless a miracle occurs there will be every horse in it but her’—every blessed one from Dawson-Blake’s Tarantula, the second favourite, down to the last ‘also ran’ of the lot.”
“Good heavens! The filly hasn’t ‘gone wrong’ suddenly, has she?”
“She’s done more than ‘gone wrong’—she’s gone altogether! Some beastly, low-lived cur of a horse thief broke into the stables the night before last and stole her—stole her, sir, body and bones—and there’s not so much as a hoofprint to tell what became of her.”
“Well, I’m blest!”
“Are you? B’gad, then, you’re about the only one who knows about it that is! For as if that wasn’t bad enough, I’ve not only lost the best filly in England but the best trainer as well: and the brute that carried off the one got at the other at the same time, dash him!”
“What do you mean by ‘got at’ the trainer, Major? Did the man take a bribe and ‘sell’ you that way?”
“What, Tom Farrow? Never in God’s world! Not that kind of a chap, by George! The man that offered Tom Farrow a bribe would spend the rest of the week in bed—gad, yes! A more faithful chap never drew the breath of life. God only knows when or how the thing happened, but Farrow was found on the moor yesterday morning—quite unconscious and at death’s door. He had been bludgeoned in the most brutal manner imaginable. Not only was his right arm broken, but his skull was all but crushed in. There was concussion of the brain, of course. Poor fellow, he can’t speak a word, and the chances are that he never will be able to do so again.”
“Bad business, that,” declared Cleek, looking grave. “Any idea of who may possibly have been the assailant? Local police picked up anything in the nature of a clue?”
“The local police know nothing whatsoever about it. I have not reported the case to them.”
“Not reported——H’m! rather unusual course, that, to pursue, isn’t it? When a man has his place broken into, a valuable horse stolen, and his trainer all but murdered, one would naturally suppose that his first act would be to set the machinery of the law in motion without an instant’s delay. That is, unless——H’m! Yes! Just so.”
“What is ‘just