The Hand in the Dark
some light on the motive for the crime."
"I do not think Sir Philip will care to have his guests questioned,"
remarked Captain Stanhill doubtfully. "They must be all well-connected
and very respectable people, or they would not have been invited here."
"There have been very respectable and highly connected murderers before
to-day, Captain Stanhill, as no doubt you are aware," rejoined
Merrington caustically.
"The guests were all downstairs in the dining-room at the time the
murder was committed," said Caldew. "Miss Heredith told me so herself."
"I am aware of that fact also," retorted Merrington sharply.
"Nevertheless, they must be seen. We cannot afford to throw away a
chance."
"It is a delicate and awkward business," murmured the Chief Constable.
"It will be a delicate and awkward business for us if we don't lay our
hands on this criminal," responded Merrington. "Sir Philip Heredith,
with his influence and connections, will be able to make it pretty hot
for Scotland Yard and the County Police if the murderer of his son's
wife is allowed to escape. You'd better take the job in hand at once,
Caldew. Weyling can go with you and help. See as many of the guests as
you can--especially the ladies--and get what you can out of them. But
I'd be glad if you'd first ask Miss Heredith to grant me an interview
before breakfast. Don't send a servant, but see her yourself."
Caldew left the room to undertake the investigations allotted to him,
and Weyling followed him with a startled expression of face. He felt
overweighted by the magnitude of the task which had been thrust upon
him, and doubted his ability to discharge it properly.
"Miss Heredith will be able to give us more information than Sir
Philip," remarked Merrington in a friendly tone to Captain Stanhill, as
the door closed behind the subordinate officials. "A woman is generally
more observant than a man--particularly if anything underhand has been
going on."
Captain Stanhill cast a puzzled glance at his companion. As a
simple-minded English gentleman he was quite unable to penetrate the
obscurity of expression which masked the meaning of the last remark.
Merrington caught the look, but had formed too poor an opinion of his
companion's understanding to explain himself further. Besides, he liked
mystifying people.
"I'm going to put the servants through their facings straight away," he
continued. "If there is anything to be learnt we are more likely to find
it out from them than the guests. Trust the backstairs for knowing
what's going on upstairs! Servants want skilful handling, though. You've
got to know when to bully and when to coax. Half measures are no good
with them."
Captain Stanhill did not reply. He wandered round the spacious library,
glancing at the rows of books in their oaken shelves. Superintendent
Merrington, while awaiting the arrival of Miss Heredith, drew forth the
plan of the moat-house which Caldew had sketched, and studied it
closely.
The moat-house had only two stories, but it was a rambling old place and
covered a considerable area of ground, facing three sides of the county.
The principal portion, consisting of the old house which had been burnt
down and rebuilt, faced the north. The two wings had been added later.
The front door opened into a spacious entrance hall which in former
times had been the dining-room. At the end of the hall was the grand
staircase, adorned by statues, armour, and the Heredith arms carved in
panels. The principal rooms, with the exception of the dining-room, were
all on the ground floor of the main building, but corridors led off the
entrance hall to the newer wings at each side, extending on the right
side to the billiard room, conservatory, greenhouses, and orangery, and
on the left side to the dining-room, Miss Heredith's private
sitting-room, and Sir Philip's study.
Merrington carefully studied the arrangements of this wing, as depicted
on Caldew's sketch plan. The upper portion was reached by a staircase
which opened off the corridor almost opposite the dining-room door, and
ran, with one turning, to a landing which was only a few feet away from
the door of the bedroom in which Mrs. Heredith was murdered. Next to
this room was a dressing-room, and a spare bedroom. The remainder of the
wing consisted of two bathrooms, a linen room, and Miss Heredith's
bedroom, which was at the south end of the wing. The rooms all faced the
west side of the house, and were lit by windows opening on the terraced
gardens. They were entered by a corridor which ran the whole length of
the wing, terminating in the door which opened on the unused back
staircase.
Before Merrington had finished his scrutiny of the plan, the door
opened, and Miss Heredith entered the library. She looked pale and worn,
and there were dark rings under her eyes which suggested a sleepless
night. But her face was composed, though grave.
Captain Stanhill advanced and shook hands with her, uttering a few words
of well-bred sympathy as he did so, and then introduced Superintendent
Merrington.
"Superintendent Merrington has been kind enough to come down from
Scotland Yard at my request to give us the benefit of his skill in
investigating this terrible crime," he said simply.
"I desired an interview with you in order to ask a few questions," said
Merrington, coming to the point at once.
Miss Heredith bowed.
"Were all the blinds down in the dining-room last night during dinner?"
asked Merrington.
Captain Stanhill looked quickly at his colleague. He failed to see the
purpose of the question.
"I think so," replied Miss Heredith, after a moment's reflection. "I
cannot say for certain, as I was out of the room during the latter
portion of the dinner, but I can easily ascertain." She touched a bell,
which was answered by a maidservant. "Tell Mr. Tufnell I wish to speak
to him," she said.
The girl went away, and Tufnell appeared a moment afterwards.
"Were the blinds all drawn in the dining-room during dinner last night,
Tufnell?"
"Yes, ma'am. I pulled them down myself before sounding the gong."
"Thank you, Tufnell."
"I understand that you were not present at the dinner table when the
shot was fired?" said Merrington when the butler had left the room.
"No, I was not."
"May I ask why you left the table?"
The question was put suavely enough, but a half-uttered protest from
Captain Stanhill indicated that he, at least, realized the sting
contained within it. But Miss Heredith, looking at Merrington with her
clear grey eyes, replied calmly:
"I was called out of the room to speak to our chauffeur. He had been
ordered to have an extra vehicle in readiness to convey our guests to an
evening entertainment, and he wished to consult me about it."
"Why did you not return to the dining-room?"
"Because dinner was nearly finished when I left the room."
"Where were you when the shot was fired?"
"I was on the stairs, on the way to my room when I heard the scream. I
was hastening back to the dining-room as quickly as possible, but before
I reached it the shot rang out."
"Surely these questions are unnecessary, Merrington," exclaimed
Captain Stanhill. "Anyone would think--I mean that there is not the
slightest idea in our minds that Miss Heredith--at least, I meant to
say--" Captain Stanhill floundered badly as he realized that his remarks
were capable of a terrible interpretation which he did not intend, and
broke off abruptly.
"I am very glad that Superintendent Merrington has asked these
questions," said Miss Heredith coldly.
Merrington bowed a grim acknowledgment. He had still many questions he
wanted to ask Miss Heredith, and he proceeded to put them in his own
masterful way, very much as though he were examining a witness in the
police court, Captain Stanhill thought, but in reality with a courtesy
and consideration quite unusual for him. It was his best manner; his
worst, Captain Stanhill was to see later. As a matter of fact, it was
impossible for Merrington to be gentle with anybody. He had spent so
many years of his life probing into strange stories and sinister
mysteries that he had insensibly come to regard the world as a larger
criminal court, made up of tainted and adverse witnesses, whom it was
his privilege to cross-question.
He questioned Miss Heredith searchingly about the young bride. According
to an eminent expert in jurisprudence, the tendency to believe the
testimony of others is an inherent instinct implanted in the human
breast by the Almighty. If that be so, it is to be feared that the seed
had failed to germinate in Merrington's bosom, for his natural tendency
was to look upon his fellow creatures as liars, particularly when they
were of good social standing, with that hatred of notoriety which is
characteristic of their class. Merrington had this fact in his mind as
he interrogated Miss Heredith closely about the circumstances of her
nephew's marriage. He hoped to extract from her something which her
English pride might lead her to conceal, something which might throw a
light on the motive for the murder.
Miss Heredith answered him with a frankness which even Merrington
grudgingly realized left nothing to be desired. She was, apparently,
only too anxious to help the police investigations to the best of her
ability. But what she had to tell amounted to very little. Her first
knowledge of her nephew's intention to marry was contained in a letter
written home some four months before, in which he announced his
engagement to a young lady engaged in war work in a London Government
office. A month later came the news that he was married, and was
bringing his young bride to the moat-house. The young couple arrived a
week after the receipt of the second letter. They were welcomed home,
and settled down to country life in the old place. Phil left his post in
the War Office, and busied himself in looking after the estate. He was
very fond of his young wife, but it was obvious from the first that
Violet found the quiet country existence rather dull after her London
life. She knew nobody in Sussex except Mrs. Weyne, the author's wife,
who had been an acquaintance of hers in London years before, and she did
not seem to care much for the county people who visited the moat-house.
She received letters from girl friends in London, and sometimes read
extracts from them at the breakfast table, but her life, on the whole,
was a secluded one. It was in order to brighten it that Phil suggested a
house party. The guests consisted principally of Violet's and Phil's
London friends and acquaintances.
"Do you know the names of these girl friends who used to write to her?"
asked Merrington.
Miss Heredith replied that she did not.
"I suppose her husband would know them?"
"It is quite impossible to question my nephew," said Miss Heredith
decisively. "He is dreadfully ill."
Merrington nodded in a dissatisfied sort of way. He was aware of Phil's
illness, and his suspicious mind wondered whether it had been assumed
for the occasion in order to keep back something which the police ought
to know. His thick lip curled savagely at the idea. If these people
tried to hide anything from him in order to save a scandal, so much the
worse for them. But that was something he would go into later.
The next questions he put to Miss Heredith were designed to ascertain
what she thought of the murder, whether she had any suspicions of her
own, and whether there was any reason for suspecting Miss Heredith
herself. At that stage of the inquiry it was Merrington's business to
suspect everybody. He could not afford to allow the slightest chance to
slip. His object was to get at the truth; to weigh each particle of
supposition or evidence without regard to the feelings or social