Sinclair advanced and shook hands with Mabel. He had met her, of course, in London, at the time of the Inquest, but could hardly claim acquaintance.
In the hall they were met by Allery and Eric Sanders.
Collins opened his eyes in surprise.
“Eric,” said Mabel. “This is my brother.” The two men shook hands with a mutual look of interest.
Allery laughed outright.
“You young dog,” he said. “How did you come to be caught after all our trouble. I was afraid Collins would be one too much for us. … I congratulate you on your cleverness,” said he, turning to Collins.
“I am afraid this is all Greek to me,” said Sinclair stiffly. He had expected Tragedy, and found Comic Opera.
“You shall know everything,” said Allery; “but come to dinner first. Can you manage it?” he said to Mabel.
“I’ll go and see about it at once,” said she.
“As these three poor men have no dress clothes with them, we will have a scratch meal, and then a round talk.” Her spirits seemed to have risen now that the affair was over.
Dinner was a merry meal, even if the gaiety was somewhat forced.
Old John moved round with a look of blank astonishment on his face. His eyes were round and wide, and he could not keep them off Watson. The aunt had sent a message that she would not come to dinner. The news had proved too much for her nerves.
When the port was on the table, and John had retired, Mabel said, “This room is very comfy, and I think we might go into matters here. You can smoke.”
“Not till after this excellent port,” said Collins. “Our ancestors would turn in their graves if we smoked with the port. Isn’t that so, Watson?”
“That was the custom,” said the other with a smile. There was no trace of the Scotland Yard “hack” now in this man who presided at the table as one born to it.
“Well, before we have your story,” said Collins, “I would like to know how many were in the plot. Miss Watson and you, Allery, I know. Anyone else?” and he glanced sharply at Sanders.
“You are a wizard,” said Allery. “No, there were only us two. Sanders knew nothing about it.”
Sinclair moved uneasily. Was he in a madhouse? “Plot” and “secret”! These people were talking as though they were playing a game, and he had come on the track of a murderer.
“Can we have the explanation of all this?” he said, testily.
“Certainly, Sinclair,” said Watson, “and you are entitled to one from me, at any rate. Here goes.”
The main lights were turned off, and only the electric bulbs in shades threw a soft light on the table. There was no sound in the room while Watson spoke.
“I will not be more tedious than possible, but I want to make the narrative clear, so I must go back.”
“I need not go into the reasons for my leaving England. Allery here, I know, thought I had done something criminal—in fact, forged my father’s name. But I think I have convinced him that it was only a youthful outbreak, which I sincerely regret.” Allery nodded, gravely.
“I wandered about in the South American States. I found I could not settle down to any definite occupation, and after a time I got mixed up with a pretty little revolution. Partly through pride, and partly because I was not carrying out the conditions my father imposed, I stopped communicating with the lawyer at Monte Video, and then I was in prison, and nearly executed for my part in the revolution which failed. When I got out, I had had enough of plots, and was only released on my agreeing to leave the country. I knew a man who was a merchant, and he gave me a job to come to England in charge of some freight for his firm which required someone to travel with it, largely bullion. It was a responsible job, though an easy one, and with a strong letter of recommendation from the firm I got a position in the London office, where my knowledge of the other end was useful. I had intended to go to the old man, and tell him the whole thing, but it savoured too much of the prodigal son, and I delayed doing so. I soon got sick of the office work, and as I had always had a taste for detective stories, I got the idea that I would try and get into Scotland Yard. My father was not then Home Secretary, or I would not have risked a chance meeting. As Sinclair here knows I got in as a clerk on the recommendation of my good merchants. Only the head of the firm knew where I had come from, and he died soon after, so my past was hidden.
“I believe I discharged my duties satisfactorily, and was promoted to be right-hand man to Superintendent Sinclair. I might even have become an Inspector in time.
“All this time I had held no communication with my father or sister, though I couldn’t resist the temptation of coming down here and looking at the old place, and saw them both without being seen. This was only three weeks before the death of my father.” He paused and steadied his voice. “It got on my nerves and I had almost made up my mind to come and tell him the whole story. On the very day of the terrible occurrence, I had made up my mind to go to him, and as you know now, I had spoken aloud on the subject. I went out with the intention of doing so, but wandered round in a state of uncertainty, and then returned. Would to God I had gone!”
“Wait a moment,” said Sinclair. “Then you were not the man who called on Sir James on that afternoon?”
“No; I
