Sir Clinton’s face grew very grave.
“You’ve touched a sore spot there, Squire. But did it never occur to you that I didn’t expect an attack on Miss Hawkhurst? What I did expect was something quite different. Didn’t it strike you as peculiar that I angled for that invitation to play bridge when it obviously wasn’t the sort of thing that one expects? I had to put on a pretty tough hide to wangle that with a straight face.”
“Yes,” Wendover confirmed, “it was a piece of rank bad taste and I was surprised at your doing it.”
“It was. And I’m not usually celebrated for that kind of thing. Don’t you see what I was driving at, Squire? I expected the next attack to be made on myself—and I took good care to make an opportunity for it by going on to the murderer’s own ground. The whole bridge-party affair was a plant of mine to make myself a good target for the airgun expert.”
“My godfathers!” Wendover ejaculated in surprise, “I never thought that was what you were after. You’ve got fair nerves, Clinton, to offer yourself up like that to be shot at.”
“I’d rather take it when I was ready for it than have it unexpectedly—hence the bridge-party. I felt he’d hardly be able to resist the chance of a sitting shot.”
“H’m! I don’t know that I’d have been able to screw myself up to that point.”
“Of course you would! You didn’t hesitate over the risk of going after that fellow, through the window.”
“Yes,” Wendover admitted, “but that was in hot blood, which is rather different.”
Sir Clinton brushed this aside.
“The trouble is that I didn’t get what I wanted, after all. Miss Hawkhurst was hit. But you may remember that just when the brute pulled the trigger, she leaned slightly forward and put out her hand, whilst I happened to lean back. The dart went past you, and it struck her arm; but I can’t for the life of me be sure whether that was an accident or not. If I knew whether that shot was meant for me or for her, I’d know rather more about the case than I do; and I’d be in an easier frame of mind, I can tell you.”
A fresh point seemed to occur to him.
“By the way, Squire, your surmise about the fate of the airgun in the first attacks turns out to be correct. My men have been dragging the river near the bank at the boathouse; and we’ve got the airgun that killed the two Shandons. The murderer must have pitched it into the water just as you suggested.”
Wendover was distinctly pleased at this tribute to his acuteness.
“Is there anything identifiable about it?” he demanded.
“It seems to have come from the Whistlefield armoury,” Sir Clinton replied. “Confound them, I wish they hadn’t gone in so strong for airguns. It makes things more difficult.”
XIV
The Forged Cheque
Sir Clinton had yet another surprise in store for his host. Just before dinner, he apparently made up his mind to ring up Whistlefield; and to Wendover’s astonishment he suggested that the Squire should accompany him to the telephone.
“You’ll hear only one side of the conversation,” he said, with a rather grim expression, “but I think it may interest you. And perhaps it will be just as well to have a witness to testify about my end of the wire. I wish we had two receivers, for then you would have heard the whole thing.”
He got the connection in a moment or two and then astounded Wendover by asking for Ernest Shandon instead of Ardsley. After a few minutes, Wendover heard the beginning of the conversation.
“Sir Clinton Driffield speaking. Mr. Shandon, you must treat this as absolutely confidential. … Absolutely for yourself. Not a breath of it to anyone else, you understand? … I want you to keep an eye on your secretary … Yes, Stenness. I want him kept under observation. If you see him leave the house, ring me up immediately … Yes, at once … It won’t be for long. I’m coming across very shortly … I didn’t catch that … Yes, you weren’t far out in your suspicions. Most fortunate you mentioned the matter of the cheque … Anything further? Do you mean about the murderer? … Oh, I think I’ll have him tomorrow, quite possibly—if he doesn’t bolt. If he doesn’t bolt, I said. That’s the only thing I’m afraid of. … Yes, I’m sure that would interest you. After all, one’s skin is one’s dearest possession. Good night. We shall be across shortly after dinner.”
Wendover had been able to gather the gist of the conversation from the side which he had heard.
“You’re afraid of Stenness doing a bolt? And you think he’s the man you’re after?”
“Really, Squire, you must take a reef in your questions,” Sir Clinton said, reproachfully. “I stretched a point to let you hear that talk; and I certainly didn’t intend to stand a cross-examination about it. You must make what you can out of it for yourself. And that reminds me, I’m afraid you can’t be present when I interview Master Stenness. You’ll just have to be a private caller this evening and wait for results till later.”
Wendover was not particularly pleased with this last news. He had evidently counted on hearing what Sir Clinton had to say to the secretary. However, he realised that he was in the hands of the Chief Constable and must do as he was told; so when they arrived at Whistlefield, he asked for Ernest Shandon while Sir Clinton went into the study to interview Stenness.
The secretary arrived in a few moments. He was still looking very anxious, perhaps even more anxious than in the morning. Sir Clinton wasted no time but came to grips with the subject at once.
“Now, Mr. Stenness, I’ve one or two questions to put to you. I may as well caution you that anything you say may be used against you if you are put on your trial.”
Stenness’s face betrayed
