Sir Clinton’s face showed what he thought.
“Well, I tell you what,” Arthur proposed. “There’s a tree near the riverbank which overlooks part of the Maze if one gets high enough in it. Suppose I swarm up it and see if I can spot anything? Now that he’s out of action, it’s safe enough.”
Sir Clinton welcomed the idea.
“That’s a good scheme. He might be shamming, after all; and I won’t take any risks by sending anyone into the Maze till I’m sure. If you keep well inside the leaves you’ll be safe enough in any case. And if you find he’s dead, it’ll save us a long wait.”
Arthur dropped his rifle and went off to put his project into execution. After he had gone Sir Clinton turned to Wendover.
“Not much family affection left in the Whistlefield circle, Squire. But can you wonder, after all. Friend Ernest wasn’t the sort of man who’d attract much liking at the best; and that boy was very keen on his sister, undoubtedly. I have a certain sympathy with his feelings. And I can tell you I’ve been on pins and needles for some time back lest young Hawkhurst should find out who the murderer really was and take the law into his own hands at once. He wouldn’t have been hanged, of course; that mental instability of his would have saved him. But it would have been a case for Broadmoor; and that’s not much better than the drop in his state. It’s a relief to get it all over as easily as we have done.”
In a few minutes, Arthur came back with his report.
“He’s lying on the ground in Helen’s Bower. I couldn’t see very clearly; but from the way he’s lying, I think he’s done for.”
“Well,” said Sir Clinton, “I’d better get into the Maze and make sure of things.”
He reflected for a moment, then added:
“I think perhaps it would be as well if all of us went in together. It’s quite safe; I’m pretty sure of that. And there’s something there, I suspect, that I shall want witnesses for.”
He summoned Ardsley and Stenness and explained the state of affairs to them.
“If we dowse the sulphur, the wind will clear away the fumes fairly soon. We can get water from the river and put it out. There’s sure to be something in the boathouse which we can use for bringing water—a bucket or a bailer of some sort!”
When it seemed safe, they entered the Maze and soon reached Helen’s Bower. No danger awaited them. Ernest’s body lay sprawling on the grass with a bullet wound in the head and the automatic pistol still clutched in the hand. Sir Clinton crossed over and knelt down beside the corpse.
“We’d better search the body now and be done with it,” he said, beginning the task as he spoke.
“Here’s something bulky in the breast-pocket,” he explained as he extracted it. “H’m! An envelope with your name written on it, Stenness. Your property, perhaps?”
Stenness glanced at the paper and a look of intelligence passed between him and Sir Clinton.
“That’s mine,” he confirmed. “It ought to have notes in it!”
The Chief Constable thrust his fingers into the envelope and, pulling out some of the contents, exhibited them to the company.
“It’s full of notes—must be a fair sum. I’ll keep this for the present, Stenness. You don’t mind? It’s best to do things formally; and you can always have it later on when you want it.”
“Oh, keep it, certainly,” Stenness agreed, with a certain dull indifference.
Sir Clinton continued his search; but the only thing of interest was a tin box which he opened carefully and held out for inspection.
“More of these darts, you see?”
He counted them rapidly.
“Yes, that’s right. This represents the balance of the lot after deducting the ones he used in the attack on Miss Hawkhurst and last night.”
He replaced the cover on the box and transferred the thing to his pocket.
“That’s all we need do. You’d better have a look at the body, Ardsley. We’ll need your evidence at the inquest. I’ll send a constable in here to look after things until we can get the body removed.”
When Ardsley had finished his examination, they left the Maze.
“Go back to the house now,” Sir Clinton directed, as they emerged from the entrance gate. “I’ll have to pilot my men in to the centre, you know. You can send the car down to meet me if you like.”
He turned back with the constables, while the rest of the party got into the motor. No one seemed inclined to talk, as they made their way up to the house. The events of the morning had been too bizarre to merge easily into everyday affairs. To Wendover, it seemed as though he had spent the last hour or two in some world lying far beyond the normal bounds of probability—already the siege of the Maze was passing into the realm of the unreal in his mind; and he had difficulty in forcing himself to remember that it had cost the life of a man.
But even while he reflected on this, a fresh surprise came upon him. As the car swept round in sight of the main entrance to Whistlefield, he heard a sharp intake of breath from Stenness and a suppressed exclamation from Arthur.
He raised his eyes, and for a moment could hardly believe what he saw. There, at the top of the steps, stood Torrance and Vera Forrest, while between them was Sylvia, safe and sound except for the sling which supported her right arm.
“Rather a surprise, I suppose,” said Ardsley dryly, as he pulled up the car at the front door.
XVIII
The Truth of the Matter
Wendover brought out cigars and cigarettes, and endeavoured to make his guests as comfortable as possible without too much fuss. It was some days after the affair at the
