She Painted her Face (14 page)

"How good of you to come early." Herrick and I looked round. While we waited for Percy, the beautiful picture of Caroline on the wall behind us was like a silent encouraging companion.

Percy Elbert Virgil was standing six paces away.

"For that," said Herrick, slowly, "the warmth of our invitation must be our excuse."

Virgil raised his eyebrows and took out a cigarette

"My uncle will see you later. Till then you must put up with me."

"We'll manage somehow," said Herrick. "I don't remember you here in 1912."

The other frowned.

"Allow me to warn you," he said, "not to refer to that visit when my uncle is here. As you probably know, in 1914 his father and wife were both killed and his only brother, my father, met with a hideous fate. And these three terrible blows all fell within twenty four hours. From that day to this he has never so much as mentioned what went before. For him the past is buried— in holy ground."

"Is it indeed?" said Herrick. "I'd no idea. And I don't think his daughter has. She never said—"

His daughter? When did you meet her?"

The queries flamed. That Herrick had drawn first blood was as clear as day.

"At Tracery," said Herrick, calmly. "We dined there on Friday night."

Virgil stood as still as death.

Then, as though released from some spell, he turned to a table beside him, struck a match and lighted his cigarette.

"Well, well,'' he said lightly. "And how are you proposing to get me down?"

The sudden, impudent question hit me between the eyes, but Herrick replied as coolly as if a child had come up and asked him the time.

"Well, we rather thought of leaving that operation to you."

Virgil laughed.

"I don't know that I blame you," he said, and took his seat on the arm of a mighty chair. "It's rotten to be laughed out of court. Have they found Max yet?"

"They found him on Tuesday," said Herrick.

"Well, that ought to help you," said Virgil, comfortably.

"I think it will," said Herrick, "before we're through."

Virgil regarded the end of his cigarette.

"You're to have the same rooms," he said.

Herrick raised his eyebrows.

"That's very nice. To be honest, I can't remember—"

"In the tower," said Virgil. "The rooms that you had last week."

His eyes were not upon Herrick, but full upon me.

"Last week?" said Herrick, staring.

"Last week," said Virgil. "On Wednesday. I wish I had known you were there."

"What makes you think that we were? Did somebody leave a pistol in one of the beds?"

I saw the man tighten his lips. Then:

"Why were you there, Mr. Exon?" I sighed.

"Is it any good saying I wasn't?"

"None whatever," said Virgil. "Before leaving, you knocked a man down. But you didn't hit hard enough— you only put him to sleep. And when he woke up, he described you, and Herrick as well."

"And yet," said Herrick, "no summons for assault has been served. You know, I can't help feeling that if you'd a rag of a case, you'd have gone to the police."

This was, of course, most true. To discredit us in their eyes, the man would have sold his soul.

Virgil fingered his chin.

"Where were you," he said, "on Wednesday, at half-past nine?"

"Elsewhere," said Herrick, shortly. "Where were you on Friday, at half past six?"

"That," said Virgil, "is easy. Never mind, let's look at your rooms." He got to his feet. "Did you bring a servant of sorts? Or are you working alone?"

"I don't think he'd suit you," said Herrick, "if that's what you mean."

"Is that meant to be rude?" said Virgil.

"Intensely," said Herrick.

Virgil sucked in his breath. Then:

"As your host, I— "

"What makes you think," said Herrick, "that your are our host?"

The other's eyes burned in his head.

Then, with a manifest effort

"Come," he said thickly. "I'll take you a way that you know."

And so he did.

At the foot of each staircase turret there were two doors, one of which gave to the terrace and one to the house. A moment later, therefore, we followed him into the turret which gave to Caroline's suite, climbed the stair and passed through her lovely rooms.

Though the fellow can scarcely be blamed for ramming down our throats his just suspicion that we had been there before, his casual intrusion into my lady's apartments made me so angry that I could hardly see straight, and when he paused in her bedroom, to put out his cigarette on an elegant silver tray, I was so much offended that I could have picked up the salver and dashed it against his face.

He led the way out of her rooms, on to the mighty landing and past the head of the staircase down which I had knocked the servant six days before.

As he went by, Virgil pointed.

"A little harder," he said, "and you would have broken his neck."

And then we had entered the tower and were climbing up to the bed- room I knew so well.

Winter was busy, unpacking. As we came in, he turned, with a shirt in his hands.

Now Winter, of course, was prepared for some such encounter as this, but Virgil was not; and the sudden, improvised meeting with the valet whom he had oppressed, who must, he knew, be itching to take his revenge, hit our unpleasant companion extremely hard.

Indeed, for one or two moments, his self-possession was gone and he seemed the prey of some nightmare, too grim to be true.

As a man who comes full on a snake, he started violently back. And then in a flash he was round and was searching my face and Herrick's with bolting eyes.

We regarded him coolly enough.

"I said he wouldn't suit you," said Herrick complacently.

For an instant I thought that the fellow would launch an attack. As a beast about to spring he dropped to a crouch and actually lifted his lip. Then he had himself in hand, and had turned about.

As he crossed to the window

"I'm not at all certain," he said, "that Brief is going to suit him."

I addressed myself to Winter. "Did you hear that remark?"

"I did, sir," said Winter, quietly.

"Repeat it to Mr. Parish, her Grace's page."

"Very good, sir."

Virgil stood very still, with his back to the room. When at last he turned, I saw he was very pale.

"My uncle will receive you," he said, "in a quarter of an hour."

Then he passed to the doorway and left us alone.

Two things were now clear, and Herrick at once sat down and wrote the Duchess a note.

Madam.—Before we had been here ten minutes, Virgil took care to warn me not to remind his uncle of anything which had happened before he became Count of Brief. This, I submit, goes to show that Virgil is aware of the truth.

The presence of Winter appeared to shock him so much that I am sure that he regards him not only as a personal enemy, but as a witness, to be used against him, if and when he is charged with the theft of the jewels.

Yours to command,

J.H.

This note we gave to Winter, to give to Parish at once. Then we washed our hands and made our way back to the hall.

WE were not sent for to go to the Count of Brief. In fact, we did not see him until he had passed through the hall on his was to receive the Duchess, whose car had entered the drive. This, I suppose, by design— so that Herrick should have no time to awaken such sleeping clogs as the Count desired to let lie.

I shall never forget his appearance, or how startling to me was his coming across the hall for, except that he was stouter and. seemingly younger in years, he might have been, his poor brother, come back to life: the eyes were Gering's eyes, the manner was Gering's manner, the gait was Gering's gait-and he had a trick of holding one arm behind him that I had seen Gering use a thousand times.

If he was ill at ease, he never showed it, but used us both cavalierly, as though to confirm the impression his letter conveyed

"Which is which?" he demanded and gave us no time to reply. "Oh, this must be Herrick. The Duchess mentioned your name. If you want anything, ask the steward— he knows the roles of the house. And now you'd better come with me. She will expect to see you upon the steps."

With that for welcome, he led the way to the courtyard, as though he were late.

A little bevy of servants was standing beside the steps— with Bertram, the steward, before them, wand in hand. On the other side were standing Parish and Winter and two waiters.

As I came out with Herrick. Parish came forward at once to pay his respects.

I put out my hand for his.

"I'm looking forward." I said, "to a talk with you."

As he took my hand:

"I shall be honoured, sir, whenever you please."

I turned to see the Count staring— and Percy Virgil beside him, poking his head. Then the Count said something in German at which the Herrick's voice rang out, as the crack of a lash.

"We know the Duchess' servants, because we know Tracery. Can you say as much, you two?"

His words might have been a spell. Everyone In the courtyard seemed suddenly turned to stone. Bertram stood open-mouthed, with a hand halfway to his head, and the others stared straight before them, not seeming to breathe. Only the Count and Virgil turned slowly as red as fire, and at this full-flavoured moment I heard the crunch of gravel beneath the wheels of a car.

All eyes were turned to the archway

A liveried groom appeared, backing.

Then a long limousine turned slowly into the courtyard and moved to the foot of the steps— and there were Caroline smiling and the Duchess of Whelp leaning back, with the air of a Lord Chief Justice upon his Bench.

The chauffeurs sat still, uncovered, while a footman opened the door and the Count stood bowing and waiting for the Duchess to put out a hand.

In silence Old Harry surveyed him. Then she spoke clear and loud

"There is something different about you. We're both of us older of course, but it's deeper than that. The flesh is Esau's flesh, but the spirit—"

White to the lips, the Count looked ready to swoon.

"It's very strange. I should never have said you were Brief."

Somehow the man made answer.

"In twenty-four years, madam— "

"No, no, it's not that. The leopard grows old, but he never changes his spots. Never mind! Here's your daughter back. She has escaped this time; but I think you should warn all your servants, within and without, to expect another attempt.''

With that, having set two balls rolling before she had fairly arrived, Old Harry got to her feet and stepped out of the car and declining the arm the Count offered, walked up to the head of the steps. Here she stopped and looked round

"Ah, Richard" she said "And John Herrick. I'm glad to see you again."

We went to her side at once, and she gave us her hand to be kissed and then, but not until then, Caroline left the car.

The Count was not there to greet her. He was, in fact, attempting without success to present "My nephew. Percy," to the Duchess of Whelp. But as her foot touched the ground, the servants went forward with Bertram to welcome her home.

It was a moving scene, for they were all bowing and bobbing, and one of the women was crying and another was holding Caroline's hand to her breast— and poor Bertram had dropped his wand and was clown on one knee, with the hem of the coat she was wearing pressed tight to his lips— I never saw devotion so honest in all my life, and the Duchess was plainly pleased, for she smiled and nodded approval and, wholly ignoring Virgil, addressed the Count.

"Since when was blood thicker than daughters?" was all she said.

Then she turned, to enter the hall where Parish was somehow waiting to lead her up to her rooms.

THE RECEPTION was over, and we were alone in the hall when, as though from nowhere, a maid appeared at our side.

"Her ladyship begs that you will take tea in her suite."

"At once?" said Herrick, rising.

"At once, sir. If you follow me." She waited for me to rise and then, with a delicate deference, took the lead.

Her demeanour was point-device: her appearance beyond reproach: she breathed efficiency. She was dark and by no means ill-favoured, and I would have said discreet, but for a curious expression about her lips— Leonardo da Vinci could have caught it, for the woman was not smiling, and yet the smile was there.

I followed her thoughtfully, because I knew who she was. And that was Elsa— Caroline's personal maid.

She led us the way we had gone some forty-five minutes before— that is, by the staircase-turret Caroline always used: and as we went, I paid what attention I could do to the doors which shut the turret from the rest of the house.

Of these there were three— one which gave to a lobby upon the ground floor, one which gave to the picture gallery upon the first floor, and one which opened directly Into Caroline's bedroom upon the second floor. These doors, which were small but massive, could be neither bolted nor barred, but below each old-fashioned latch was a good Yale lock. The bolts of these locks were not shot, but were at present held back by catches within the locks; but, once the catches were down, none could have passed the doors unless they had been admitted or possessed the appropriate locks were within the turret, except the last; and that was in Caroline's bedroom.

As we entered the bedroom, I heard Caroline's voice.

"I have said that, because of my fall, I cannot remember what happened for several hours; that, after that, I was cared for by people I did not know and that by their advice I sought the Duchess of Whelp. I may say that these people knew you and that, though they had not been engaged to— er— care for my health, nobody could have been kinder— or more insistent that I should not return to Brief."

"If you think—" said Virgil, as I walked into the room.

Caroline turned and smiled.

"Do sit down," she said. "The inquest is nearly done."

In some agitation the Count of Brief got to his feet and Percy surveyed us with murder In both of his eyes.