The dream detective
“I am not!” replied Moris Klaw. “I am a student of the Science of
Cycles--not motor cycles; and a humble explorer of the etheric
borderland! You lay yourself open to grave charges, Doctor!”
The doctor began to fidget nervously.
“If indeed I am culpable,” he said, “my culpability only dates from
last night.”
“So!” rumbled Klaw. “He has been insensible?”
Doctor Madden started up.
“Mr. Klaw,” he replied, “I do not know who you may be, but your
penetration is uncanny. He had lost his memory!”
“What?--lost his memory! How is that?”
“He was thrown from his horse! Come; I see it is useless, now, to
waste time. I will take you to him.”
As we filed out to the waiting car, I glanced at Grimsby. His
stupefaction was almost laughable.
“What in heaven’s name is it all about, Mr. Searles?” he whispered to
me. “I feel like a man in a strange country. People talk, and it
doesn’t seem to mean anything!”
En route:
“Tell me, Doctor,” said Moris Klaw, “about your patient.”
The doctor, without hesitation, now explained that he had been called
to attend a Mr. Rogers, an artist, who was staying at Hinxman’s farm,
off the Uxley Road. On the evening of the tragedy Mr. Rogers went out
on Bess, a mare belonging to the farm, and, not having returned by
ten, some anxiety was felt concerning him, the mare possessing a very
bad reputation. At about a quarter-past ten the animal returned,
riderless, and Rogers was brought home later, in an insensible
condition, by two farm hands, having been found beside the road some
distance from the farm.
For some time Mr. Rogers lay in a critical condition, suffering from
concussion. Finally, a change for the better set in, but the patient
was found to have lost his memory.
“Last Saturday,” added the doctor, “a specialist whom I had invited to
come down from London performed a successful operation.”
“Ah,” rumbled Moris Klaw, “so we can see him?”
“Certainly. He is quite convalescent. His memory returned to him
completely last night.”
In a state of uncertainty which can well be imagined, we arrived at,
and entered, Hinxman’s farm. Seated in the shade of the veranda,
smoking his pipe, was a bronzed young man who wore a bandage about his
head. He was chatting to the farmer when we arrived.
Moris Klaw walked up the steps beside Doctor Madden.
“Good day, Mr. Farmer,” he said, amiably. A rosy-cheeked girl face was
thrust from an open window. “Good day, Miss Farmer!” He removed the
brown bowler. He turned to the bronzed young man. “Good day, _Sir
Roland Crespie!_”
V
When Grimsby and I had somewhat recovered from the shock of this
dramatic meeting, and Sir Roland, Madden, and Moris Klaw had talked
together for a few moments, said Moris Klaw:
“And now Sir Roland will tell us all about the death of Mr.
Heidelberger!”
Inspector Grimsby was all eyes when the young baronet began:
“You must know, then, that I, together with three others, have been
engaged, since my departure from England, in a mining venture in West
Africa. Up to the time when I left, and, for the sake of my health,
came to England, our efforts had been attended by only moderate
success. Thus, on arriving in Cresping and taking lodgings with
Hinxman as ‘Mr. Rogers’--for the circumstances under which I left home
made me desirous of remaining unknown in the village--I, on learning
that my father had just died and that the Hall had fallen into
Heidelberger’s hands, realized that my slender capital would not allow
of my buying him out. The facts of the case came as a great shock to
me, and, without revealing my identity--the beard which I had
cultivated in Africa, but which the doctors have removed, acting as an
effectual disguise--I made inquiries concerning Ryder. I had little
difficulty in finding him, and he alone, in Cresping, knew who I
really was.
“I now come to the events that immediately preceded Heidelberger’s
death. There was one object in the old place for which I determined to
negotiate, and which, owing to its associations, I particularly
desired to retain. This was my mother’s portrait. I may mention here
that, for certain reasons which I would prefer not to specify, I had
rather have burnt the picture than see it fall into the hands of the
Jew.
“With this object in view, then, I enlisted the services of Ryder,
though from none other than myself would he have accepted the task.
This brings me to the day prior to Heidelberger’s death, and, on that
morning, I received news from Africa which led me to hope that I
might, after all, be able to save my old home from an ignominious
fate. Herein my hopes have since been realized, for I learnt to-day
that the mine has made rich men of us all; and I assume that some
ill-advised remark upon the part of Ryder, regarding Heidelberger’s
possible expulsion, gave rise to the idea that the old man
contemplated a violent deed.
“It therefore came about that he made an appointment with
Heidelberger, an appointment which he duly kept; and it was solely due
to my anxiety on Ryder’s behalf, and lest he should meet with some
ill-treatment from the Jew--whom I knew for a man of most brutal
disposition--that I took certain steps which, indirectly, brought
about the tragedy.
“In common with most old mansions of the period, the Hall has its
hidden entrances and exits--though, in accordance with certain ancient
traditions, the secret of their existence is strictly preserved among
the family. With a view, therefore, to becoming an unseen witness of
the transactions between Ryder and Heidelberger, I made use of a
passage that opens into a shrubbery some fifty yards from the west
wing. Entering, and mounting the steps at whose foot the tunnel
terminates, I found myself at the back of an old painting in the
banqueting hall. The frame of this picture forms a door which opens
upon pressing a spring, but the apparatus, owing to its great age,
works very stiffly. From this position, then, I could hear all that
took place in the hall, where, I had anticipated, the negotiations
would be conducted, as my mother’s picture hangs there.
“This proved to be the case; for I had but just gained the top of the
steps when I heard the two enter the hall. Heidelberger spoke first.
“‘Think of _you_ wanting to buy Lady Crespie’s picture, you
sentimental old fool!’ he said. ‘If it had been another I could name
who wanted it, the case would have been different!’
“Then I heard Ryder’s voice. ‘What do you mean, Mr. Heidelberger?’ he
asked.
“I awaited the Jew’s reply with some curiosity. As I had anticipated,
it consisted of a foul and unfounded imputation against my poor
mother. It was, in fact, more than I could bear in silence, and the
tolerance of old Ryder, too, had reached its limit. For, at the moment
that I wrenched open the panel and sprang into the room to confront
this slanderer, I heard the sound of a blow, followed by an
animal-like roar of anger from Heidelberger.
“The next moment, he seized the old man by the throat. Before he had
time to proceed further I struck him heavily with my fist, so that he
released his grip and turned to face his new assailant.
“One tribute I must pay to Heidelberger. He was, seemingly, incapable
of fear; for this sudden attack by a person he had not known to be
present seemed only to arouse a new resentment. His face, as he turned
and looked me up and down, contained no trace of fear.
“‘So it’s you that wants the picture, is it?’ he sneered. ‘I suppose
you are----’
“‘Stop!’ I said. ‘I am Roland Crespie, and can listen to no more of
your foul slanders!’
“For a second he hesitated, looking from me to Ryder and then toward
the picture, dimly discernible in the light of the candle which he had
brought with him. Then, before I could divine his intention, he drew a
knife from his pocket, and, opening a blade, took a step in the
direction of the portrait. ‘You shall never have it!’ he said.
“He had actually inserted the blade in the canvas--as an examination
will show--when I came upon him, and we closed in a desperate
struggle.
“In what followed, one can almost trace the finger of destiny.
Heidelberger was a more powerful man than myself, but in his fury he
endeavoured to stab me with the knife which he held in his hand!
“I seized his wrist, but he wrenched it from my grasp. I leapt back
from him--as he struck down with the knife--and to the left of one of
the posts supporting the minstrels’ gallery.
“In the blindness of his anger, Heidelberger failed to perceive the
proximity of this post. Moreover, it was very dark under the gallery.
He threw himself forward savagely--and struck his shoulder against the
post. The impact was tremendous.
“Gentlemen! I tremble, now, to relate what happened! The ax of ‘Black
Geoffrey,’ which had hung for centuries before the rail above, was
shaken from its place by the shock and its time-worn fastenings were
torn bodily from their hold. At the instant that Heidelberger’s huge
body struck the post, the great ax, as though detached by invisible
hands, fell, blade downward, cleaving the head of the unfortunate man
and remaining, with quivering shaft, upright in the oaken floor!
“The suddenness of the tragedy almost dazed me, and I was awakened to
its awful reality by old Ryder’s cry--‘Oh, Master Roly!’ As Master
Roly I had always been known to the old butler, and this name it was
which someone stated to be ‘holy.’
“Our subsequent action was, perhaps, ill-advised. Removing the ax and
raising the head of the victim, examination showed him to be dead,
and, hearing hesitating footsteps upon the narrow stair beneath the
gallery, we seized the candle and retreated through the secret panel,
Ryder severely cutting his hand in endeavouring to force the rusty
bolt into place. It was not until we stood in a lane bordering the
grounds, where I had tethered the mare upon which I had ridden from
the farm, that the seemingly guilty nature of our action dawned upon
me. Now, however, was too late to atone for what I attribute to a
momentary panic; and requesting Ryder to keep silence until he
received instructions from me, I mounted the mare, intending to return
to my lodgings and think the matter quietly over.
“By an unlucky accident, the brute threw me, at some distance from the
farm, thereby all but bringing about a second tragedy; and what
followed is already known to you.
“Of Ryder I need only say that rather than incriminate me he was
prepared to pay the penalty for a deed which was in truth a visitation
of God. Doctor Madden recognized me, of course, and to him also I am
eternally indebted. I had proposed to make this statement before a
magistrate later to-day.”
“You see,” said Moris Klaw. “I have done nothing! It would all have
happened the same if I had been in Peru!”
Grimsby cleared his throat.
“Without casting any doubt upon Sir Roland’s word,” he began, “there’s
no evidence to go to a jury that he didn’t----”
“Pull down the ax himself?” suggested Klaw.
Grimsby looked uncomfortable.
“Well--_is_ there?”
“There is!” rumbled Moris Klaw. “I am he! This case most triumphantly
substantiates my theory of Cycles! Almost parallel it occurred
hundreds of years ago, at Dyke Manor! The ax has repeated itself!”
“H’um!” said Grimsby. “Your theory of Cycles wouldn’t hold water with
twelve good men and true, I’m afraid, Mr. Klaw!”
“Yes?” replied Moris Klaw. “No? You think not, eh? Well, then, there
is another little point. I am an old crank-fool, eh? So? But you? You
are sublimely mad, my Grimsby! You say he, or Mr. Ryder, may have
snatched down the black ax? Yes? Have you tried to reach the spot
where it hung before the rail?”
“No,” confessed Grimsby, with the light as of the dawning of an
unpleasant idea in his eyes.