"However," said the writer, in conclusion, "I have wired to the Authorities in London, furnishing them with an exact description of him, and I have no doubt that before very long his arrest will be effected."
With this assurance Jim was perforce compelled to be content. Later came the intimation from the Coroner to the effect that the Inquest would be held at the George and Dragon Inn on the following morning.
Shortly after twelve o'clock Wilkins entered the study with the information that a person of "_the name of Robins_" desired to see his master on an important matter, if he would permit him an interview.
"Show him in," said Jim, forming as he did so a shrewd guess as to the man's business.
A few moments later a small, sombrely-dressed individual, resembling a Dissenting minister more than any one else, made his appearance in the room.
"Mr. Standerton, I believe," he began, speaking in a low, deep voice, that had almost a solemn ring about it.
"That is my name," the other replied. "What can I do for you?"
"I am a Scotland Yard detective," the stranger replied, "and I have been sent down to take charge of the case. I must apologise for intruding upon you at such a time, but if the murderer is to be brought to justice, no time mast be lost. I want you to tell me, if you will, all you can about the crime, keeping nothing back, however trivial you may consider it."
James thereupon proceeded to once more narrate what he knew regarding the murder. He discovered that the detective had already been informed as to the ominous suspicion that had attached itself to Murbridge.
"The first point to be settled," he said, when James had finished, "is the way in which the man got into the house. You have not cross-questioned the domestics upon the subject, I suppose?"
James shook his head.
"I have been too much upset to think of such a thing," he answered. "But if you deem such a proceeding necessary, you are, of course, quite at liberty to do so. Take what steps you think best; all I ask of you is to find my father's murderer."
"I presume you heard nothing suspicious during the night?"
"Nothing at all. But it is scarcely likely that I should do so, as my room is in another part of the house."
"Who is responsible for the locking up at night?"
"The butler, Wilkins."
"Has he been with you any length of time?"
"We ourselves have only been a few months in England," Jim replied, "but since he has been in our service we have found him a most careful and trustworthy man. There cannot be any shadow of suspicion against him."
"Very likely not," the detective answered. "But in my profession we often find criminals in the most unlikely quarters. Mind you, sir, I don't say that he had anything to do with the crime itself. It is not outside the bounds of possibility, however, that his honesty may have been tampered with, even to the extent of leaving a window unfastened, or a door unlocked. However, I have no doubt I shall soon learn all there is to be known about Mr. Wilkins."
When he had asked one or two other important questions, he withdrew to question the servants. From the account James received of the examination later, it would not appear to have been a very successful business.
Wilkins asserted most positively that he had made every door and window in the house secure before retiring to rest. He was as certain as a man could be that no lock, bolt, or bar had been moved from its place during the night, and the housekeeper corroborated his assertions. The detective's face wore a puzzled expression.
"I've been round every flower-bed outside the windows," he said to the police inspector, "and not a trace of a footprint can I find. And yet we know that Murbridge was away from the inn at a late hour, and there's evidence enough upstairs to show that somebody made his way into Mr.
Standerton's room between midnight and daybreak. Later I'll go down to the village and make a few enquiries there. It's just possible somebody may have met the man upon the road."
He was as good as his word, and when he returned to the Manor House at a late hour he knew as much about Richard Murbridge's movements on the preceding evening as did any man in the neighbourhood.
Jim dined alone that night, though it would be almost a sarcasm to dignify his meal with such a name. He had spent the afternoon going through his father's papers, in the hope of being able to discover some clue that might ultimately enable him to solve the mystery concerning Murbridge. He was entirely unsuccessful, however. Among all the papers with which the drawers were filled, there was not one scrap of writing that could in anyway enlighten him. They were the plain records of a successful business man's career, and, so far as Murbridge was concerned, quite devoid of interest. I do not think James Standerton ever knew how much he loved his father until he went through that drawer. The neat little packets, so carefully tied up and labelled, spoke to him eloquently of the dead man, and, as he replaced them where he had found them, a wave of intense longing to be revenged on his father's cowardly assassin swept over him. He was in the act of closing the drawer, when there came a tap at the door, and Wilkins entered to inform him that the detective had returned and was at his service, should he desire to see him.
"Show him in, Wilkins," said James, locking the drawer of the table, and placing the key in his pocket as he spoke.
The butler disappeared, to return a few moments later accompanied by the individual in question.
"Well, Mr. Robins," said Jim, when they were alone together, "what have you discovered?"
"Nothing of very much importance, sir, I am afraid," the other replied.
"I have found out that Murbridge left the park by the main gates almost on the stroke of half-past eight last night. I have also discovered that he was again seen within a few minutes of eleven o'clock, standing near the small stile at the further end of the park."
"I know the place," Jim replied. "Go on! What was he doing there!"
"Well, sir," continued the detective, "that's more than I can tell you.
But if he were there at such an hour, you may be sure it was not with any good intention. I have made enquiries from the keepers, and they have informed me that it is quite possible to reach the house by the path that leads from the stile without being observed."
"It winds through the plantation," said Jim, "and it is very seldom used. Lying outside the village as it does, it is a very roundabout way of reaching the house. What have they to say about him at the inn?"
"Not very much, sir. But what little they do say is important. The landlord informs me that immediately after his arrival in the village he began to ask questions concerning the Squire. There is no doubt that your father was his enemy, and also that Murbridge cherished a bitter grudge against him. He did not tell the landlord who he was, or what his reasons were for being in the neighbourhood. It is certain, however, that had your father not been living here he would not have come near the place. On receipt of Mr. Standerton's letter, he set off for the house, and did not return to the inn until a late hour. In point of fact, it was between twelve and one o'clock when he _did_ come in. The landlord is unable to give the exact time, for the reason that he was too sleepy to take much notice of it. He does remember, however, that Murbridge was in a very bad temper, and that he was excited about something. He called for some brandy, and moreover stated that his holiday was at an end, and that he was leaving for London by the early train next morning. This he did. That is as far as the landlord's tale goes. It seems to me that, unless we can prove something more definite against him than the evidence we have been able to obtain up to the present moment, it will be difficult to bring the crime home to him."
"But we must prove more," cried Jim, with considerable vehemence. "I am as certain in my own mind as I can be of anything that he was the man who killed my father, and if it costs me all I am worth in the world, and if I am compelled to spend the rest of my life in doing it, I'll bring the crime home to him somehow or another. It is impossible that he should be allowed to take that good, honest life, and get off scot free."
"I can quite understand your feelings, sir," said the detective, "and you may rest assured that, so far as we are concerned, no stone shall be left unturned to bring the guilty man to justice. Of course it is full early to speak like this, but if you will review the case in your own mind, you will see that, up to the present, there is really nothing tangible against the man. We know that he hated your father, and that he stated his intention of doing him a mischief, and also that on the night he uttered this threat the murder was committed. From this it would appear that he is responsible for it. But how are we to prove that he got into the house? No one saw him, and there are no suspicious footprints on the flower-beds outside. At the same time we know that he did not return to the inn until a late hour, and that, when he did, he was in an excited state. Yet why should he not have gone for a walk, and might not his excitement be attributed to resentment of the treatment he received at your father's hands? I am very much afraid it would be difficult to induce a Jury to convict on evidence such as we are, so far, able to bring against him. However, we shall hear what the Coroner has to say to-morrow. In the meantime, if you do not require my presence longer, I will return to the inn. It will be necessary for me to be early astir to-morrow."
James bade him good-night, and when he had departed, went upstairs to his sister's room. He found her more composed than she had been when he had last seen her, and able to talk of the dead man without breaking down as she had hitherto done. He informed her of the detective's visit, and of the information he had received from him. It was nearly midnight when he left her. The lamp in the hall was still burning, and he descended the great staircase with the intention of telling Wilkins that he could lock up the house and retire to rest. To his astonishment, when he reached the hall, he beheld the butler standing near the dining-room door, his face as white as the paper upon which I am now writing.
"What on earth is the matter, man?" asked James, who, for the moment, was compelled to entertain the notion that the other had been drinking.
"I've seen it, sir," said Wilkins in a voice that his master scarcely recognised. "I'd never believe it could be true, but now I've witnessed it with my own eyes."
"Witnessed what?" James enquired.
"_The ghost_, sir," Wilkins replied; "the ghost of the Little Black Dwarf."
Jim was in no humour for such talk then, and I very much regret to say he lost his temper.
"Nonsense," he answered. "You must have imagined that you saw it."
"No, sir, I will take my Bible Oath that I did not. I saw it as plain as I see you now. I'd been in to lock up the dining-room, and was standing just where I am now, never thinking of such a thing, when I happened to look up in the gallery, and there, sir, as sure as I'm alive, was the ghost, leaning on the rail, and looking down at me. His eyes were glaring like red-hot coals. Then he pointed upwards and disappeared. I will never laugh at another person again, when they say that they have seen him. May God defend us from further trouble!"
CHAPTER V
The inquest on the body of William Standerton was held next morning at the George and Dragon Inn in the village, and was attended by more than half the Neighbourhood. The affair had naturally caused an immense sensation in all ranks of Society, and, as the Coroner observed in his opening remarks, universal sympathy was felt for the bereaved family.
Wilkins, who had not altogether recovered from the fright he had received on the night before, was the first witness. He stated that he had been the first to discover the murder, and then informed the coroner of the steps he had immediately taken. Questioned as to the visit paid to the Squire by Murbridge, he said that the latter was in a great rage when turned away from the house, and on being asked to do so, repeated the words he had made use of. In conclusion, he said that he was quite certain that no door or window in the house had been left unfastened on the night in question, and that he was equally certain that none were found either open, or showing signs of having been tampered with in the morning. Jim followed next, and corroborated what the butler had said. A sensation was caused when he informed the Coroner that Murbridge had threatened his father in his hearing in Australia. He described his meeting with the man in the park before dinner, and added that he had forbidden him to approach the house. Examined by the Coroner, he was unable to say anything concerning the nature of the quarrel between the two men. The doctor was next called, and gave evidence as to being summoned to the Manor House. He described the body, and gave it as his opinion that death was due to strangulation. Then followed the police officer. The landlord was the next witness, and he gave evidence to the effect that the man Murbridge had stayed at the inn, had been absent on the evening in question from eight o'clock until half-past twelve, and that he had departed for London by the first train on the following morning. The driver of the mail-cart, who had seen him standing beside the stile, was next called. He was quite sure that he had made no mistake as to the man's identity, for the reason that he had had a conversation with him at the George and Dragon Inn earlier in the evening. This completing the evidence, the jury, without leaving the room, brought in a verdict of "Wilful murder against some person or persons unknown," and for the time being the case was at an end.
"You must not be disappointed, my dear sir," said Robins, afterwards; "it is all you can possibly expect. The jury could do no more on such evidence. But we've got our warrant for the arrest of Murbridge, and, as soon as we are able to lay our hands upon him, we may be able to advance another and more important step. I am going up to London this afternoon, and I give you my assurance I shall not waste a moment in getting upon his track."
"And you will let me know how you succeed?"