14: Through the Lady’s Maid

RICHARD, like most men who spend the greater part of life in open-air pursuits, was a sound sleeper, and not apt to awake very readily. But he awoke speedily enough at sight of the detective and his wits came to him with surprising readiness.

“Hullo!” he exclaimed as he struggled out of his blankets. “What are you doing here?”

“I might have asked that question of you, Mr. Marchmont, a few hours ago,” replied Liversedge, with a laugh. “But I’ve the advantage of you!---I know why you’re here.”

“How did you find out I was here?” asked Richard.

“Heard of it from the curious gentleman up at the Manor,” answered the detective. He crossed over to the window, drew up the blinds, and returning, perched himself at a corner of the bed. “Strange man, that, Mr. Marchmont, very strange!”

“You mean Vandelius?”

“Nobody else!---oddest chap I’ve come across of late, if ever!”

“So you’ve been at the Manor?”

“Been there all night!---that is, since just before midnight, until an hour ago. Three of us. The other two are up there now---I came down to see you.”

Richard got out of bed and consulted his watch. Nearly seven o’clock. He rang the bell.

“I suppose you’ve got a tale to tell, Liversedge,” he remarked as he got into a dressing-gown. “We’ll have some tea. Or would you prefer coffee?”

“Tea for me,” said the detective. “Weakness for tea of a morning---and I’ve had a stiff night. Yes,” he went on when Richard had ordered tea from the chambermaid who answered his summons, “I’ve some rather interesting news to give you. But---how came you to strike this place, Mr. Marchmont? You’d no idea of it, I think, when I saw you last.”

Richard told him of Angelita’s letter and of his subsequent discoveries and eventual interview with Vandelius, but nothing of what Vandelius had said.

“Aye, well!” remarked Liversedge. “I suppose you were in a hurry to do what you could for the young lady, but you ought to have let us know at the Yard---you might have run yourself into serious danger. However, this man Vandelius, queer though he is, doesn’t seem to be of the sort that would resort to criminal practices in any shape---his foible appears to be in a mistaken notion that his money will enable him to do anything! Sad error, that!---as he’ll find out!”

“How came you here?” asked Richard. “That’s more to the point---my point!”

“More interesting, eh?” laughed Liversedge. “Well, I’m going to tell you. I happened to be at headquarters last night, rather late, and I was just thinking of going home when word was brought in that a young man had called who said that he wanted to see somebody in connection with the disappearance of Mr. Lansdale and his daughter. He was brought in to see me and one or two more of our men who chanced to be there. He turned out to be a superior sort of young fellow, a clerk in some West End establishment---name of Charles Summers. Summers had a romantic tale to tell. He said that he was the fiancé (funny what grand phrases these people use so glibly, Mr. Marchmont!) of Miss Amy Meecher. Miss Amy Meecher, he went on to explain, was, and is, maid, lady’s maid, to Miss Lansdale. Miss Lansdale engaged Miss Meecher’s services, through an agency, soon after she, Miss Lansdale, came with her father to the Hotel Cecil; it was one condition of service that Mr. Summers, as Miss Meecher’s sweetheart, should be allowed to visit Miss Meecher at the hotel. Mr. Summers availed himself of this privilege pretty regularly, I fancy. And he appears, from a comparison of dates, to have been there on the evening on which Lansdale disappeared---a few hours before that disappearance took place. On that occasion Miss Meecher said nothing to him that indicated any movement on the part of her mistress or her mistress’s father; on the contrary, she fixed up an appointment with Summers to call next evening, when Miss Lansdale was going to dine out somewhere, to call and take her to the theatre. Summers called---only to hear that Miss Lansdale and her maid had gone off with an unknown lady that morning, hurriedly, and had never returned!”

At this point of the story, the chambermaid entered with the tea; when Liversedge had got his cup in his hand he went on:

“Summers, disappointed, went home to his lodgings, expecting to find a letter of explanation from Miss Meecher. He didn’t find anything then; he didn’t receive anything later. He called at the hotel two or three times---no news of Miss Meecher or her young mistress had come to hand. Then he began to read things in the paper---about the disappearance of Lansdale, and Lansdale’s connection with Henry Marchmont, and about the murder in Bedford Row, and he got decidedly anxious and uneasy about his sweetheart. But he seems to be a diffident and nervous sort of chap, and didn’t like, he says, to apply to the police---besides, he was hoping, every day, to hear from Miss Meecher. And at last, yesterday evening, he did hear from her!”

Richard nodded. It had been yesterday evening when he, too, heard from his sweetheart. He began to put two and two together. Evidently these two young women, immured at Malbourne Manor, had joined wits in the endeavour to get into touch with their young men---and had succeeded.

“Yes?” he said. “Deeply interesting, Liversedge. And what said Meecher?”

“A lot more than your young lady said to you, Mr. Marchmont!” replied Liversedge, with a laugh. “She must have taken a bit of time over her letter---I read it, but, of course, we gave it back to Summers. She told how she and Miss Lansdale were got away from the Hotel Cecil and brought a good way into the country to a big country house where Lansdale was, how they were exceedingly well treated in the matter of lodging, food, and all creature comforts, but were virtually prisoners, not allowed to go out except under surveillance, nor to see newspapers, nor to send letters, nor to communicate with servants except those detailed to look after them. However, this is evidently a smart girl, gifted with resource and unusual power of observation. As maid to Miss Lansdale, she enjoyed a certain amount of liberty inside the house, and in the way of fetching and carrying, I suppose, and she noted a feature of its arrangements---namely, that at seven o’clock every evening a footman cleared a letter box in the hall, placed the letters, without inspection, in a bag, and handed the bag to a page who immediately went off to the post with it. So she announced in her letter that she should watch her opportunity and slip her letter into that box---presumably, from what you tell me, she subsequently did the same thing for her young mistress.”

“The letters appear to have been delivered about the same time,” agreed Richard. “Well---what more?”

“This: Meecher said in her letter to Summers that she didn’t know the name of the house or place in which they were confined: she suggested that Summers should look at the postmark---as in the case of your letter. Fortunately, the postmark was quite clear---very often, as you know, they’re illegible---and he saw it was Malbourne. And so, Mr. Marchmont, he did just what you ought to have done, you know, and didn’t do!---he came straight to us.”

“I had reasons,” said Richard. “I didn’t want you to interfere!”

“Very kind of you, I’m sure!” laughed the detective. “Though I don’t see your reasons!”

“I thought that you’d probably arrest Lansdale, if you found him there,” said Richard. “I don’t want him to be arrested!”

“Well, of course, we have found Lansdale,” said Liversedge. “But I don’t know what we’ll do with him, yet! What we really want with Lansdale, at first, you know---I won’t say what may happen later---is to get information out of him; we want him to explain himself, and tell us things. However, I was telling you what took place last night. After we’d heard all this from Summers and seen Meecher’s letter, and had a consultation at headquarters, and got instructions, I and two of my associates chartered a fast car and came down here. We struck this place just after eleven o’clock, and of course made first for the local police. We roused out the superintendent, and in five minutes were sure that the house we wanted to find was Malbourne Manor, the residence of a more or less mysterious person named Vandelius. So, reinforced by the superintendent and one of his sergeants, we set off there, and reached it before midnight.”

“How did you get in?” asked Richard. “The place is semi-fortified!”

“We got in easily enough,” replied the detective. “There was a bit of delay at the gateway while the gatekeeper, who had, of course, to be roused, telephoned up to the house, but Vandelius evidently made no bones about our being admitted. He himself met us at his front door---a queer, strange character, I should say! Of course, we had a talk with him; he was very anxious to know how we’d got there. We didn’t tell him, you may be sure. He inquired if we knew anything about you---we knew nothing, as you know. Then he told us you were here, at this hotel, and that you’d had an interview with him last night, and that he’d told you frankly why Lansdale was here, and he went on to say that he’d be equally frank with us.”

“And was he?” asked Richard.

“As far as one can tell, I should say he was,” answered Liversedge. “It came to this---that he brought Lansdale here until this mess could be cleared out of the way and their business carried to a satisfactory conclusion---which, I understand, was done last night . . .”

“Eh?” exclaimed Richard, interrupting him sharply. “Last night? How? It hadn’t been done when I was there!”

“Well, I didn’t pay much attention to it,” said the detective. “It was something about some papers of vast importance which had to be signed by Lansdale and Vandelius—relating to some huge deal in South America. I gathered that they arrived last night, by a special messenger from Southampton, and Lansdale and Vandelius signed them---that, I imagine, was why Crench, the solicitor, was there.”

“Um!” remarked Richard. “So that’s carried through!---but, after all, Liversedge, that had nothing to do with your job, eh?”

“Well, not so far as we know, you know,” agreed Liversedge. “And as I said to Vandelius. Of course, our job is to ascertain what Lansdale had to do, if anything, with the murder of your uncle. I pointed that out to Vandelius. Then he told us that it’s he who’s at the back of that offer of ten thousand pounds reward. But you know that?”

“Yes,” assented Richard. “I do, now!”

“Well, his notion---Vandelius’s---is that by getting at the real culprit you’ll free the supposed one---if Lansdale is that. But, as I immediately pointed out to him and Crench, we, the police, haven’t had a single approach in respect of that offer, and I said that I didn’t believe Crench had. Crench admitted he hadn’t! So, as I went on to urge them, it comes to this---we must regard Lansdale as the only person known to us at present whose doings on that evening . . . eh?”

“I see your point,” said Richard. “Well?”

“I told him that I must see Lansdale, and at once,” continued Liversedge. “And before they could warn him that I was there and who and what I was!”

“Rather drastic, though!” observed Richard, with a gesture of disapproval. “He’s a sick man!”

“Oh, I was considerate enough about it, Mr. Marchmont,” retorted the detective. “I always make allowance for other people’s feelings. I saw the daughter first---very nice, sensible young lady, that, sir!---and prepared her. She saw my point at once, and she took me in to see her father. Not at all the sort of man I expected to see, Mr. Marchmont! I should say Lansdale’s nervous system is---well, I should say it’s been pretty well tried in his time. However, I saw him!---and I just, as considerately as I could, explained what I wanted, adding that I was obliged to intrude on him there and then, in pursuance of my duty, and that if he’d just answer the one question I wanted to put to him I’d withdraw---for that time, at any rate.”

“What question did you put to him?” asked Richard.

“I asked him if he could tell me if he knew anything about the murder of your uncle and if he would tell me whether or not he visited him at Bedford Row on the evening on which the murder took place,” replied Liversedge. “That, d’you see, Mr. Marchmont, was putting the whole thing into a nutshell, as far as he was concerned---it required no more than a direct answer!”

“And---he answered?”

“He answered, right enough, and direct enough!” said Liversedge. “I’ll give you his exact words. ‘I know nothing whatever about the murder of Henry Marchmont!’ he replied. ‘I called on him in Bedford Row at half-past seven; I was with him until close upon eight; I left him in full life and vigour! I shall say no more unless I am called on to do so in a court of law, and then I shall say what I am certainly not going to say to you!’ Straight enough, that, Mr. Marchmont! Of course, as I’d promised, I left him then.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Richard.

“Oh, well, of course, that’s not satisfactory, from our point of view,” replied Liversedge, with a shake of his head. “That won’t suit our people! I shall have to telephone to headquarters and ask for further instructions.”

“Look here!” exclaimed Richard suddenly. “Do you know whether Miss Lansdale knows that I’m in the neighbourhood?”

“She does!” answered Liversedge. “I had a bit of a talk with her---keeps her head well, for a young lady of what I call half-foreign extraction. I told her what Vandelius had told me---that you were here and were anxious to see her. In fact, I promised her that you should see her this morning.”

“What did she say?” demanded Richard.

“Say? Why, what should she say?” laughed the detective. “Seemed highly pleased, of course---and relieved!”

Richard opened the door and shouted for Scarfe, whose room was close by. He turned to Liversedge.

“Look here, Liversedge!” he said. “You breakfast here with me in an hour---then I’ll go up to the Manor with you. Something’s got to be done!”

“Aye, Mr. Marchmont, but that doesn’t rest with me!” remarked the detective. “I’ll breakfast with you with pleasure, and while you’re dressing I’ll get on the ’phone and have a talk with somebody at headquarters---then we’ll know more.”

He went off, and Richard, over his toilet, wondered anxiously what the next development would be. He was feverishly anxious to spare Angelita any further trouble, and to be able to give her good and reassuring news on their meeting. He went down to breakfast full of hope---but his face fell as Liversedge, waiting in the coffee-room, advanced to meet him with a shake of the head and an expression of gloom.

“No good, Mr. Marchmont!” he whispered. “My instructions are peremptory---we’re to take Lansdale up to headquarters at once!”