Here was ground ready for sowing. He had gone through life with a cynical view of women, partly because he had come in contact with the sordid side of human nature, and partly because he had led a lonely life.
From the first moment that he had seen Mabel his interest had been aroused, and that interest was growing to something more intimate. She either did not or would not see, and the situation was soon acute. She was attracted to him by the very distaste for his profession, for she had inherited much of her father’s contradiction in character.
His invitation had been indefinite, and with all the party he was very popular. He carefully refrained from referring to the subject of the murder, and tried to lead the conversation away from it. And so the age-long battle began.
An excursion had been arranged to the Cheddar Gorge and Caves, and as they passed down that wonderful panorama of riven rocks, unsurpassed in England, the grandeur of the scene drew them together. Each had a vein of savagery in their natures to which the wild aspect of the scenery appealed. Collins was driving the car, and Mabel had taken her place with him.
“Stop a moment here,” she whispered. “This is wonderful.”
Eric was sitting morosely in the back.
Far up, the trees growing on the edge of the precipice looked like the toy trees of a Japanese garden, and the fantastic rocks formed castles of fairy legend. The twisted road curved steeply down into the depths.
“I would like to come here by moonlight,” she said. “It would be wonderful.”
“Why not have a picnic here, then?” he answered. “It is quite warm still.”
“We will,” she said gaily. “Come on, or the others will get restive. My aunt sees nothing in these rocks—in fact, she is rather frightened.” They descended to the caves no less wonderful.
There were no tourists at that time so they made a party by themselves and went in with a guide.
Far in the depths of “Solomon’s Temple” with its amazing stalactites lit by electric light, they saw the entrance of a dark cave.
The guide was speaking: “That cave has been explored for over two miles, but is not open to the public. We do not know where it ends. There must be exits somewhere, or the air would not keep so fresh.”
“What a place for a criminal to hide from justice,” said Collins. “If one of our friends could make his way from Dartmoor here, he might stay for months with an accomplice to bring him food.”
“Only in the summer,” said the guide; “the caves are flooded in the winter.”
Mabel shivered.
“How cold and damp it would be,” she said, “and fancy a storm coming on and the water dashing down on one from above.”
“Really, Mabel,” said Sanders, “you are getting very morbid, let’s get out and have some lunch.”
She turned on him.
“How unromantic you are. I would like to buy this place, and turn it into a sort of Monte Christo’s cave.”
“And get chronic rheumatism,” said Allery, laughing.
“Well, I must give way to the craving for lunch,” she said, and led the way out.
When they had got back in the afternoon, Mabel’s old nurse met them with a startling announcement. Old John, the butler, had seen a ghost, and was prostrated with terror.
“Nonsense,” said Collins, “ghosts don’t come in the day time, it’s against all the rules of the game. Let’s have him up and question him.”
Mabel did not take it quite so lightly. “Poor old man,” she said, “he has been brooding on my father’s death, and I expect he has imagined things.”
“Better ask for the cellar key,” said Sanders.
Mabel turned on him, angrily. “That’s a mean thing to say. John has been with us now for twenty-five years and I have never known him the worse for drink.”
Sanders hastily apologised.
Allery intervened. “Perhaps I had better see him, and talk to him.”
“If I may suggest it,” said Collins, “why not just send for him in the ordinary way, and let him tell his story? These old family servants are entitled to being treated to respect.”
Mabel gave him a grateful look. Without waiting for an answer, Collins rang the bell. It was answered by John himself.
He was looking white and scared, but made no remark.
After giving some trivial order, Mabel said in a casual way:
“I hear you have had an unpleasant experience, John. Would you care to tell us about it?”
The old man was dying to do so, and plunged into his story at once.
“Thank you, Miss Mabel, it has upset me somewhat, but I am sorry I mentioned it. While you were away I had occasion to go into the dining-room to fetch some silver. When I opened the door there was Sir James standing on the hearthrug as plain as life.”
“How was he dressed?” said Collins, quickly.
“He was in court dress, with a sword on, and he was holding his hat in his hand.”
Sanders burst out laughing.
“Exactly, and I suppose the picture frame was empty,” he looked round in surprise. No one else had laughed.
“I was too frightened to look, sir,” he said.
“What happened then?” said Collins in a soothing tone.
“I don’t quite know, sir, I think I must have turned faint. I believe he turned and looked at me, and when I looked again he was gone.”
“But why were you so frightened?” said Collins.
“It was a warning, sir, I am sure of that. He came to tell me my time is up. Well, I suppose we all have to go sometime, and I have tried to do my duty.”
Collins cast a quick glance round the
