Looking down, Bridget shivered and said in a low voice, "Poor Rivers."
Luke said pityingly, "Yes, poor fellow. It's damnable bad luck. But this will be the last, Bridget! Now we know, we'll get him!"
He saw her sway, and in two steps he had caught her in his arms. She said, in a small, childlike voice, "Luke, I'm frightened."
He said, "It's all over darling. It's all over."
She murmured, "Be kind to me, please. I've been hurt so much."
He said, "We've hurt each other. We won't do that any more."
Chapter 18
Doctor Thomas stared across his consulting-room desk at Luke. "Remarkable," he said. "Remarkable! You are really serious, Mr. Fitzwilliam?"
"Absolutely. I am convinced that Ellsworthy is a dangerous maniac."
"I have not paid special attention to the man. I should say, though, that he is possibly an abnormal type."
"I'd go a good deal farther than that," said Luke grimly.
"You seriously believe that this man. Rivers, was murdered?"
"I do. You noticed the grains of sand in the wound?"
Doctor Thomas nodded. "I looked out for them after your statement. I am bound to say that you were correct."
"That makes it clear, does it not, that the accident was faked and that the man was killed by a blow from a sandbag, or at any rate was stunned by one?"
"Not necessarily."
"What do you mean?"
Doctor Thomas leaned back and joined his finger tips together. "Supposing that this man Rivers had been lying out in a sand pit during the day - there are several about in this part of the world. That might account for grains of sand in the hair."
"Man, I tell you he was murdered!"
"You may tell me so," said Doctor Thomas dryly; "but that doesn't make it a fact."
Luke controlled his exasperation. "I suppose you don't believe a word of what I'm telling you."
Doctor Thomas smiled, a kindly superior smile. "You must admit, Mr. Fitzwilliam, that it's rather a wild story. You assert that this man Ellsworthy has killed a servant girl, a small boy, a drunken publican, my own partner, and finally this man Rivers."
"You don't believe it?"
Doctor Thomas shrugged his shoulders.
"I have some knowledge of Humbleby's case. It seems to me quite out of the question that Ellsworthy could have caused his death, and I really cannot see that you have any evidence at all that he did so."
"I don't know how he managed it," confessed Luke, "but it all hangs together with Miss Fullerton's story."
"There again you assert that Ellsworthy followed her up to London and ran her down in a car. Again you haven't a shadow of proof that happened! It's all - well, romancing!"
Luke said sharply, "Now that I know where I am, it will be my business to get proofs. I'm going up to London tomorrow to see an old pal of mine. I saw in the paper two days ago that he's been made assistant commissioner. He knows me and he'll listen to what I have to say. One thing I'm sure of. He'll order a thorough investigation of the whole business."
Doctor Thomas stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"Well, no doubt that should be very satisfactory. If it turns out that you're mistaken -"
Luke interrupted him, "You definitely don't believe a word of all this?"
"In wholesale murder?" Doctor Thomas raised his eyebrows. "Quite frankly, Mr. Fitzwilliam, I don't. The thing is too fantastic."
"Fantastic, perhaps, but it hangs together. You've got to admit it hangs together. Once you accept Miss Fullerton's story as true."
Doctor Thomas was shaking his head. A slight smile came to his lips.
"If you knew some of these old maids as well as I do -" he murmured.
Luke rose, trying to control his annoyance.
"At any rate, you're well named," he said. "A doubting Thomas if there ever was one!"
Thomas replied good-humoredly. "Give me a few proofs, my dear fellow. That's all I ask. Not just a long melodramatic rigmarole based on what an old lady fancied she saw."
"What old ladies fancy they see is very often right. My Aunt Mildred was positively uncanny! Have you got any aunts yourself, Thomas?"
"Well - er - no."
"A mistake!" said Luke. "Every man should have aunts. They illustrate the triumph of guesswork over logic. It is reserved for aunts to know that Mr. A is a rogue because he looks like a dishonest butler they once had. Other people say, reasonably enough, that a respectable man like Mr. A couldn't be a crook. The old ladies are right every time." Doctor Thomas smiled his superior smile again. Luke said, his exasperation mounting once more, "Don't you realize that I'm a policeman myself? I'm not the complete amateur."
Doctor Thomas smiled and murmured, "In the Mayang Straits."
"Crime is crime even in the Mayang Straits."
"Of course - of course."
Luke left Doctor Thomas' surgery in a state of suppressed irritation. He joined Bridget, who said, "Well, how did you get on?"
"He didn't believe me," said Luke. "Which, when you come to think of it, is hardly surprising. It's a wild story with no proofs. Doctor Thomas is emphatically not the sort of man who believes six impossible things before breakfast."
"Will anybody believe you?"
"Probably not, but when I get hold of old Billy Bones tomorrow, the wheels will start turning. They'll check up on our long-haired friend, Ellsworthy, and in the end they're bound to get somewhere."
Bridget said thoughtfully, "We're coming out into the open very much, aren't we?"
"We've got to. We can't - we simply can't afford any more murders."
Bridget shivered. "Do be careful, Luke."
"I'm being careful, all right. Don't walk near gates with pineapples on them, avoid the lonely woods at nightfall, watch out for your food and drink. I know all the ropes."
"It's horrible feeling you're a marked man."
"So long as you're not a marked woman, my sweet."
"Perhaps I am."
"I don't think so. But I don't intend to take risks. I'm watching over you like an old-fashioned guardian angel."
"Is it any good saying anything to the police here?" Luke considered. "No, I don't think it is. Better go straight to Scotland Yard."
Bridget murmured, "That's what Miss Fullerton thought."
"Yes, but I shall be watching out for trouble."
Bridget said, "I know what I'm going to do tomorrow. I shall march Gordon down to that brute's shop and make him buy things."
"Thereby insuring that our Mr. Ellsworthy is not lying in ambush for me on the steps of Whitehall?"
"That's the idea."
Luke said, with some slight embarrassment, "About Easterfield."
Bridget said quickly, "Let's leave it till you come back tomorrow. Then we'll have it out."
"Will he be very cut up, do you think?"
"Well -" Bridget considered the question - "he'll be annoyed."
"Annoyed? Ye gods! Isn't that putting it a bit mildly?"
"No. Because, you see, Gordon doesn't like being annoyed. It upsets him."
Luke said soberly, "I feel rather uncomfortable about it all."
That feeling was uppermost in his mind when he prepared that evening to listen for the twentieth time to Lord Easterfield on the subject of Lord Easterfield. It was, he admitted, a cad's trick to stay in a man's house and steal his fiancée. He still felt, however, that a pot-bellied, pompous, strutting little nincompoop like Lord Easterfield ought never to have aspired to Bridget at all. But his conscience so far chastened him that he listened with an extra dose of fervent attention and, in consequence, made a thoroughly favorable impression on his host. Lord Easterfield was in high good humor this evening.
The death of his erstwhile chauffeur seemed to have exhilarated rather than depressed him. "Told you that fellow would come to a bad end," he crowed, holding up a glass of port to the light and squinting through it. "Didn't I tell you so yesterday evening!"
"You did, indeed, sir."
"And, you see, I was right! It's amazing how often I'm right!"
"That must be splendid for you," said Luke.
"I've had a wonderful life - yes, a wonderful life! My path's been smoothed clear before me. I've always had great faith and trust in Providence. That's the secret, Fitzwilliam - that's the secret."
"Yes?"
"I'm a religious man. I believe in good and evil and eternal justice. There is such a thing as divine justice, Fitzwilliam; not a doubt of it!"
"I believe in justice too," said Luke.
Lord Easterfield, as usual, was not interested in the beliefs of other people. "Do right by your Creator, and your Creator will do right by you! I've always been an upright man. I've subscribed to charity, and I've made my money honestly. I'm not beholden to any man! I stand alone. You remember in the Bible how the patriarchs became prosperous, herds and flocks were added to them, and their enemies were smitten down."
Luke stifled a yawn and said, "Quite, quite."
"It's remarkable - absolutely remarkable," said Lord Easterfield. "The way a righteous man's enemies are struck down! Look at yesterday. That fellow abuses me; even goes so far as to try to raise his hand against me. And what happens? Where is he today?" He paused rhetorically, and then answered himself in an impressive voice, "Dead! Struck down by divine wrath!"
Opening his eyes a little, Luke said, "Rather an excessive punishment, perhaps, for a few hasty words uttered after a glass too much."
Lord Easterfield shook his head. "It's always like that! Retribution comes swiftly and terribly. And there's a good authentic authority for it. Remember the children that mocked Elisha - how the bears came out and devoured them. That's the way things happen, Fitzwilliam."
"I always thought that was rather unnecessarily vindictive."
"No, no. You're looking at it the wrong way. Elisha was a great and holy man. No one could be suffered to mock at him and live. I understand that because of my own case." Luke looked puzzled. Lord Easterfield lowered his voice. "I could hardly believe it at first. But it happened every time! My enemies and detractors were cast down and exterminated."
"Exterminated?"
Lord Easterfield nodded gently and sipped his port.
"Time after time. One case quite like Elisha - a little boy. I came upon him in the gardens here - he was employed by me then. Do you know what he was doing? He was giving an imitation of me - of me! Mocking me! Strutting up and down, with an audience to watch him. Making fun of me on my own ground! D'you know what happened to him? Not ten days later he fell out of an upper window and was killed!
"Then there was that ruffian Carter - a drunkard and a man of evil tongue. He came here and abused me. What happened to him? A week later he was dead - drowned in the mud. There had been a servant girl too. She lifted her voice and called me names. Her punishment soon came. She drank poison by mistake. I could tell you heaps more. Humbleby dared to oppose me over the water scheme. He died of blood poisoning. Oh, it's been going on for years. Mrs. Horton, for instance, was abominably rude to me, and it wasn't long before she passed away."
He paused and, leaning forward, passed the port decanter round to Luke.
"Yes," he said, "they all died. Amazing, isn't it?"
Luke stared at him. A monstrous, an incredible suspicion leaped into his mind. With new eyes he stared at the small fat man who sat at the head of the table, who was gently nodding his head and whose light protuberant eyes met Luke's with a smiling insouciance.
A rush of disconnected memories flashed rapidly through Luke's brain. Major Horton saying, "Lord Easterfield was very kind. Sent down grapes and peaches from his hothouse."
It was Lord Easterfield who had so graciously allowed Tommy Pierce to be employed on window cleaning at the library.
Lord Easterfield holding forth on his visit to the Wellerman Kreitz Laboratories, with its serums and germ cultures, just a short time before Doctor Humbleby's death. Everything pointing plainly in one direction, and he, fool that he had been, never even suspecting.
Lord Easterfield was still smiling. A quiet happy smile. He nodded his head gently at Luke. "They all die," said Lord Easterfield.
Chapter 19
Sir William Ossington, known to the cronies of earlier days as Billy Bones, stared incredulously at his friend. "Didn't you have enough crime out in Mayang?" he asked plaintively. "Have you got to come home and do our work for us here?"
"Crime in Mayang isn't on a wholesale basis," said Luke. "What I'm up against now is a man who's done a round half dozen murders at least - and got away with it without a breath of suspicion."
Sir William sighed. "It does happen. What's his specialty - wives?"
"No, he's not that kind. He doesn't actually think he's God yet, but he soon will."
"Mad?"
"Oh, unquestionably, I should say."
"Ah, but he probably isn't legally mad. There's a difference, you know."
"I should say he knows the nature and consequence of his acts," said Luke.
"Exactly," said Billy Bones.
"Well, don't let's quibble about legal technicalities. We're not nearly at that stage yet. Perhaps we never shall be. What I want from you, old boy, is a few facts. There was a street accident took place on Derby Day between five and six o'clock in the afternoon. Old lady run over in Whitehall and the car didn't stop. Her name was Lavinia Fullerton. I want you to dig up all the facts you can about that."
