“Of course,” said Collins, carelessly.
“What I don’t understand,” said Allery, “is, why you were so keen on finding out the whole thing?”
“Blackmail, I should think,” said Sanders.
Mabel gave him a look of contempt, and the rest ignored him.
“I really couldn’t tell you. I suppose a problem always fascinated me, and then I thought I might be of some use, perhaps,” and he glanced at Mabel.
“You have certainly cleared up the mystery,” said Allery.
“Yes,” said Sinclair, “but we are no nearer to the question of the murder.”
“I thought they had got the man,” said Mabel in surprise.
“They think they have,” said Sinclair.
“I suppose it will remain one of those unsolved mysteries.”
“By the way, Sir Ronald,” said Sinclair, starting up, “can I have a word with you, I shan’t keep you a minute?”
“Oh, really, Mr. Sinclair, I think he has had enough for this evening,” said Mabel.
“I am afraid the matter is very urgent,” insisted the other.
Something in his manner irritated Allery. “Mr. Sinclair,” he said, “you must remember, please, you are a guest here, and not on official duty. Are you not satisfied with the explanation you have heard?”
Collins interposed. “Don’t you think you ought to tell old John and the servants that you have come home? You know how servants gossip.”
“Of course,” said Watson, “I must do that at once. Don’t disturb yourselves, we don’t want any solemn announcement. I will just go and tell him, in an offhand way. The old fellow will be very pleased.”
He got up and went out. Sinclair bit his lip.
There was a silence when he had gone out.
Allery cleared his throat.
“Mr. Sinclair,” he said, “this brings about an awkward situation. We are rather in your hands. Your department is searching for Lewis. You have—if I may say so—unofficially found him. The question is, if you are satisfied that he has nothing to do with the crime, will you consent for us to carry out our plan and let him go, as we had arranged.”
“That places me in a curious position. I can’t give an answer offhand. I must think it over.”
“Take your time,” said Collins pleasantly. “Have a whiskey and soda?” He rose from the table and went to the sideboard.
“Bother, there’s none here. Miss Mabel, may I act as butler and fetch some, we don’t want to send for old John just now?”
“Certainly,” she said with a smile.
He went out.
Sanders spoke for the first time since his gross insinuation.
“I will go. After what has happened you will not want me to remain.”
“That is a matter for you to decide,” said Mabel stiffly.
“Oh, that’s all nonsense,” said Allery, “you two are not going to let this business upset you. It only needs an apology, and I am sure Sanders will give that. He was upset, and perhaps a little jealous,” he added.
Sanders coloured.
“Your remark is in doubtful taste,” he said. “I don’t think any apology would serve in a case like this.” He rose.
Sinclair put up his hand. “Stop,” he said firmly, “I may want you.”
Sanders turned from red to white. “What do you mean?” he said.
“I have no warrant, and cannot make any arrest. But it would be advisable if you did not leave this house.”
“This is about the last straw,” said Sanders, and sank into his chair.
XVI
The Criminal Found
“He’s a long time getting that whiskey,” said Allery.
“I expect he’s having a talk with John and my brother,” said Mabel. Sinclair sprang forward in his chair.
“Good God,” he shouted, and without waiting for leave, he rang the bell, keeping his hand on the button in his excitement.
A maid answered the door.
“Where is Mr. Collins?” said he at once.
The maid looked her surprise. She was not used to being spoken to like that.
“Mr. Collins and Sir Ronald have gone out for a run in his car, sir,” she replied stiffly. “Sir Ronald left a message that they might not be back for some time.”
“Why didn’t you come and tell us, Mary?” said Mabel quietly. She also resented Sinclair’s interference.
“He said it would do later on as you were busy, Miss,” and she looked surprised.
Allery was quick to notice it, and said:—
“All right, Mary, thank you. That’s quite all right.”
The maid went out. Sinclair’s face was ashy. He buried his face in his hands.
“What’s the matter, man?” said Allery sternly.
“Matter, he’s gone to his death,” said Sinclair.
For a moment there was a silence tense and vital. It seemed as though the horror of these weeks had come into the room in a living form. Powers of evil gathered round.
The shadows deepened at the word. There was utter and crushing conviction in the tones.
Mabel was the first to grasp the meaning, and a flush mounted to her face. “Do you suggest that my brother, after all you have heard, is a murderer?” she said in a passionate voice.
“No, not for a moment,” said Sinclair, “but before the morning comes he will be murdered, as his father was murdered, and by the same hand.”
“You mean?” said Allery, leaning forward.
“Exactly. Collins, the cleverest scoundrel we have had for a generation.”
“Mr. Collins,” said Mabel, and there was pain in the voice. “I will never believe that. You must be mad.”
Allery rose with a grim look on his face. “You have said too little or too much. We must know what you mean.”
The temporary numbness passed from Sinclair and he was the man of action.
“Yes, yes, of course, everything, but not now. We must act at once. You must trust to my word. I shall want all your help. First, have you a car, and a driver?”
His energy infected the others.
“There’s our car,” said Mabel.
“Then get it ready at once,” said Sinclair abruptly. “Ask questions afterwards.” Sanders, who had not said a word after his last rebuff, sprang to his feet. “I’ll go and see to it.”
“Good. Can you drive? No, the chauffeur must do that. I will go, no, no, that won’t do, I must telephone.”
“I’ll go,” said Sanders quietly. “If
