'Impossible,' said Sir William.
'My dear fellow, he practically boasted to me of it last night!'
'He's mad, then?'
'He's mad, all right, but he's a cunning devil. You'll have to go warily. Don't let him know we suspect him.'
Billy Bones murmured, 'Incredible.'
Luke said, 'But true!' He laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. 'Look here. Billy old son; we must get right down to this. Here are the facts.'
The two men talked long and earnestly.
On the following day, Luke returned to Wychwood. He drove down early in the morning. He could have returned the night before, but he felt a marked distaste for sleeping under Lord Easterfield's roof or accepting his hospitality under the circumstances.
On his way through Wychwood, he drew up his car at Miss Waynflete's house.
The maid who opened the door stared at him in astonishment, but showed him into the little dining room where Miss Waynflete was sitting at breakfast. She rose to receive him in some surprise.
He did not waste time. 'I must apologize for breaking in on you at this hour.' He looked round. The maid had left the room, shutting the door. 'I'm going to ask you a question. Miss Waynflete. It's rather a personal one, but I think you will forgive me for asking it.'
'Please ask me anything you like. I am quite sure your reason for doing so will be a good one.'
'Thank you.' He paused. 'I want to know exactly why you broke off your engagement to Lord Easterfield all those years ago?'
She had not expected that. The color rose in her cheeks and one hand went to her breast. 'Has he told you anything?'
Luke replied, 'He told me there was something about a bird — a bird whose neck was wrung.'
'He said that?' Her voice was wondering. 'He admitted it? That's extraordinary!'
'Will you tell me, please?'
'Yes, I will tell you. But I beg that you will never speak of the matter to him — to Gordon. It is all past — all over and finished with. I don't want it — raked up.' She looked at him appealingly.
Luke nodded. 'It is only for my personal satisfaction,' he said. 'I shall not repeat what you tell me.'
'Thank you.' She had recovered her composure. Her voice was quite steady as she went on: 'It was like this: I had a little canary. I was very fond of it, and, perhaps, rather silly about it — girls were, then. They were rather — well, coy about their pets. It must have been irritating to a man — I do realize that.'
'Yes,' said Luke, as she paused.
'Gordon was jealous of the bird. He said one day, quite ill-temperedly, 'I believe you prefer that bird to me.' And I, in the rather silly way girls went on in those days, laughed, and held it up on my finger, saying something like: 'Of course I love you, dicky bird, better than a great silly boy! Of course I do!' Then — oh, it was frightening — Gordon snatched the bird from me and wrung its neck. It was such a shock. I shall never forget it!' Her face had gone very pale.
'And so you broke off the engagement?' said Luke.
'Yes. I couldn't feel the same afterwards –' she hesitated — 'it wasn't just the action — that might have been done in a fit of jealousy and temper — it was the awful feeling I had that he'd enjoyed doing it. It was that that frightened me!'
'Even long ago,' murmured Luke. 'Even in those days.'
She laid a hand on his arm. 'Mr. Fitzwilliam –'
He met the frightened appeal in her eyes with a grave, steady look. 'It is Lord Easterfield who has committed all those murders,' he said. 'You've known that all along, haven't you?'
She shook her head with vigor. 'Not known it! If I had known it, then — then, of course I would have spoken out. No, it was just a fear.'
'And yet you never gave me a hint?'
She clasped her hands in a sudden anguish.
'How could I? How could I? I was fond of him once.'
'Yes,' said Luke gently. 'I see.'
She turned away, fumbled in her bag, and a small lace-edged handkerchief was pressed for a moment to her eyes. Then she turned back again, dry-eyed, dignified and composed.
'I am so glad,' she said, 'that Bridget has broken off her engagement. She is going to marry you instead, is she not?'
'Yes.'
'That will be much more suitable,' said Miss Waynflete rather primly. Luke was unable to help smiling a little. But Miss Waynflete's face grew grave and anxious.
She leaned forward and once more laid a hand on his arm. 'But be very careful,' she said. 'Both of you must be very careful.'
'You mean — with Lord Easterfield?'
'Yes. It would be better not to tell him.'
Luke frowned. 'I don't think either of us would like the idea of that.'
'Oh, what does that matter? You don't seem to realize that he's mad — mad. He won't stand it — not for a moment! If anything happens to her –'
'Nothing shall happen to her!'
'Yes, I know, but do realize that you're not a match for him! He's so dreadfully cunning! Take her away at once; it's the only hope. Make her go abroad! You'd better both go abroad!'
Luke said slowly, 'It might be as well if she went. I shall stay.'
'I was afraid you would say that. But at any rate, send her away. At once, mind!'
Luke nodded slowly. 'I think,' he said, 'that you're right.'
'I know I'm right! Get her away — before it's too late.'
Chapter 20
Bridget heard Luke drive up. She came out on the steps to meet him. She said, without preamble, 'I've told him.'
'What?' Luke was taken aback.
His dismay was so patent that Bridget noticed it. 'Luke, what is it? You seem quite upset.'
He said slowly, 'I thought we agreed to wait until I came back.'
'I know, but I thought it was better to get it over. He was making plans — for our marriage, our honeymoon — all that! I simply had to tell him!' She added — a touch of reproach in her voice — 'It was the only decent thing to do.'
He acknowledged it. 'From your point of view, yes. Oh, yes, I see that.'
'From every point of view, I should have thought!'
Luke said slowly, 'There are times when one can't afford decency.'
'Luke, what do you mean?'
He made an impatient gesture. 'I can't tell you now and here. How did Easterfield take it?'
Bridget said slowly, 'Extraordinarily well. Really, extraordinarily well. I felt ashamed. I believe, Luke, that I've underestimated Gordon, just because he's rather pompous and occasionally futile. I believe really he's rather — well a great little man.'
Luke nodded. 'Yes, possibly, he is a great man — in ways we haven't suspected. Look here, Bridget; you must get out of here as soon as possible.'
'Naturally, I shall pack up my things and leave today. You might drive me up to town. I suppose we can't both
