Drillford was again glancing at Miss Wickham, but Viner contrived to stop any further revelations and got to his feet.
“Extraordinary!” he said. “But—my aunt? Where is she?”
“She remained here until we’d safely caged the birds,” answered Drillford. “Then she said she’d go home. And I suppose you’ll find her there.”
Viner took his companion away from the police-station in silence. But at the end of the street Miss Wickham looked back.
“Are those three people really locked up—in cells—close by where we were sitting with the inspector?” she asked.
“Just so,” answered Viner.
“And will they all be hanged?” she whispered.
“I sincerely hope one will!” exclaimed Viner.
“What,” she inquired, “did the inspector mean about the papers found on Dr. Cortelyon? I have some uneasy feeling that—”
“I think you’d better wait,” said Viner. “There’ll have to be some queer explanations. We must let Mr. Pawle and Mr. Carless know of what’s happened—they’re the proper people to deal with this affair.”
And then, as they turned into Markendale Square, they saw Mr. Pawle and Mr. Carless, who, with Lord Ellingham, were hurrying from Miss Wickham’s house in the direction of Viner’s. Mr. Carless quickened his pace and came toward them.
“I was so upset when I heard from Perkwite that Miss Wickham has been in that house in Whitechapel,” he said, “that, on learning she’d gone off with you, Viner, Lord Ellingham and I drove to Pawle’s and brought him on here to learn if she’d got home and what had happened.”
“What had happened?” demanded Mr. Pawle. “What is it, Viner?”
Viner gathered them round him with a look.
“This has happened!” he said. “The whole thing’s solved. Ashton’s murderer is found, and he and his accomplices are under lock and key. Listen, and I’ll tell you all that’s been done since one o’clock, up here—while we’ve been at the other end of the town. But I’ll only give you an outline. Well, then—”
The three men listened in dead silence until Viner had repeated Drillford’s story; then Mr. Pawle glanced round at the window of Viner’s house.
“Miss Penkridge, by all that’s wonderful!” he said in a deep voice. “Most extraordinary! Where is she?”
“At home, I should imagine,” answered Viner with a laugh.
“Then, my dear sir, by all means let us pay our respects to her!” said Mr. Pawle. “A tribute!”
“By all means!” exclaimed Mr. Carless. “A just tribute—richly deserved!”
“I should like to add my small quota,” said Lord Ellingham.
Viner led the way into his house and to the drawing-room. Miss Penkridge, in her best cap, was calmly dispensing tea to the two Hyde sisters, who were regarding her with obvious admiration. She looked round on her nephew and the flood of callers as if to ask what most of them were doing there. And Viner, knowing Miss Penkridge’s peculiar humour, rose to the occasion.
“My dear aunt,” he said in a hushed voice, “these gentlemen, having heard of your extraordinary achievement this afternoon, have come to lay at your feet their united tribute of—”
Miss Penkridge shot a warning glance through her steel-rimmed spectacles.
“Don’t talk nonsense, Richard!” she exclaimed sharply. “Ring the bell for more cups and saucers!”
XXIX
Who Is to Tell Her?
But Viner, instead of ordering the teacups, whispered a word or two to Miss Penkridge, and then beckoned Lord Ellingham and the two solicitors to follow him out of the room. He silently led them to his study and closed the door.
“Miss Wickham will be all right for a while under my aunt’s care,” he said, with a smile that had a certain meaning in it which was not lost on Mr. Pawle or on Mr. Carless, “but there are matters connected with her which ought not to wait, even for ten minutes hanging round Miss Penkridge’s tea-table. Now, I have been thrown headlong into this case, and like all the rest of you, I am pretty well acquainted with it. And I take it that now that the murder of Ashton has been solved, the real question is—what is the truth about the young lady who was certainly his ward?”
“That is right!” exclaimed Mr. Pawle. “Carless—and Lord Ellingham—I am sure, agree with me.”
“Absolutely—as far as I’m concerned,” asserted Mr. Carless. “His Lordship will speak for himself.”
Lord Ellingham answered Viner’s smile with one equally frank.
“I don’t know whether I’m Lord Ellingham or not!” he said. “I have had considerable doubt on that point ever since our conference the other day. But I will say this, gentlemen: I had some conversation with Miss Wickham the other day, after we left your office, Mr. Carless, when she was kind enough to allow me to escort her home, and—well, to be frank, gentlemen, whether she is my cousin or not, I—to me an old-fashioned phrase—desire her better acquaintance! And if she is my cousin, why, then—the title is not mine but hers!”
The two lawyers exchanged significant glances.
“Admirably spoken, My Lord!” said Mr. Pawle. “Excellent!”
“It is just what I would have expected of his Lordship,” remarked Mr. Carless. “I have known His Lordship since he was first breeched! But I believe Mr. Viner has something to say?”
“Yes—this,” answered Viner. “Drillford found on Cortelyon the papers which are missing from those which Ashton had evidently kept together with a view to proving his ward’s right to the
