Part 25 (1/2)

THE SOLVING OF THE RIDDLE

”For the sake of le bon dieu, man, cease your cruel mockery!” said Brellier, suddenly, in a husky voice, as the clerk rose to quell the interrupted flow of oratory, and the court banged his mace for quiet.

”You didn't think of the cruel mockery of G.o.d's good world, which you were helping so successfully to ruin!” continued the detective, speaking to the court but at Brellier, each word pointed as a barb, each pause more pregnant with scorn than the spoken words had been. ”You didn't think of that, did you? Oh, no! You gave no thought to the ruined home and the weeping wife, the broken-hearted mother and the fatherless child. That was outside your reckoning altogether. And, if hearsay be true (and in this case I believe it is) you even went so far as to kill a defenceless woman who had been brave enough to wander out across that particular part of the Fens just to see what those flames really were. And yet,-your lords.h.i.+p, this man howls for mercy.”

He paused a moment and pa.s.sed a hand wearily over his forehead. The telling of the tale was not easy, and the expression of 'Toinette Brellier's tear-misted eyes added to the difficulty of it. But he knew he must spare no detail; in fairness to the man who stood in the dock, in fairness to the Law he served, and in whose service he had unravelled this riddle which at first had seemed so inexplicable.

Then the judge spoke.

”The court must congratulate you, Mr. Cleek,” he said in his fine, metallic voice, ”upon the very excellent and intricate work you have done on this case. Believe me, the Law appreciates it, and I, as one of its humble exponents, must add my admiration to the rest. Permit me, however, to ask one or two questions. In the first place, before we proceed further with the case, I should like you to give me any explanation that you can relative to the matter of what the prisoner here has told us with regard to the story of the Frozen Flame. This gentleman has said that the story goes that whenever a new victim had been claimed by the flames, that he completely vanishes, and that another flame appears in amongst its fellows. The prisoner has declared this to be true; in fact, has actually sworn upon oath, that he has seen this thing with his own eyes the night that Dacre Wynne was killed. I confess that upon hearing this, I had my strong suspicions of his veracity. Can you explain it any clearer?”

Cleek smiled a trifle whimsically, then he nodded.

”I can. Shortly after I made my discovery of the secret pa.s.sage that led out upon the Fens-the entrance to it, by the way, was marked by a patch of charred gra.s.s about the size of a small round table (you remember, Dollops, I asked you if you noticed anything then?), that lifted up, if one had keen enough eyes to discover it, and revealed the trap-door beneath-Dollops and I set out on another tour of investigation. We were determined to take a sporting chance on being winged by the watchful guards and have a look round behind those flames for ourselves. We did this. It happened that we slipped the guard un.o.bserved, having knowledge, you see, of at least part of the whole diabolical scheme, and getting within range of the flames without discovery, or, for that matter, seeing any one about, we got down on our hands and knees and dug into the earth with our penknives.”

”What suggested this plan to you?”

Cleek smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

”Why, I had a theory, you see. And, like you, I wanted to find out if Merriton were telling the truth about that other light he had seen or not. This was the only way. Marsh-gas was there in plenty, though there is no heat from the tiny flames, as you know, from which fact, no doubt, our friend Brellier derived the very theatrical name for them, but the light of which Merriton spoke I took to be something bigger than that. And I had noticed, too, that here and there among the flames danced brilliant patches that seemed, well-more than natural. So our penknives did the trick. Dollops was digging, when something suddenly exploded, and shot up into our faces with a volume of ga.s.sy smoke. We sprang back, throwing our arms up to s.h.i.+eld our eyes, and after the fumes had subsided returned to our task. The penknife had struck a bladder filled with gas, which, sunk into the ground, produced the larger lights, one of which Sir Nigel had seen upon the night that Wynne disappeared. Even more clever, isn't it? I wonder whose idea it originally was.”

He spun round slowly upon his heel and faced the line of seated witnesses. His eyes once more travelled over the group, face to face, eye to eye, until he paused suddenly and pointed at Borkins's chalk-white countenance.

”That's the man who probably did the job,” he said casually. ”Brellier's right-hand man, that. With a brain that might have been used for other and better things.”

The judge leaned forward upon his folded elbows, pointing his pen in Borkins's direction.

”Then you say this man is part and parcel of the scheme, Mr. Cleek?” he queried.

”I do. And a very big part, too. But, let me qualify that statement by saying that if it hadn't been for Borkins's desire for revenge upon the man he served, this whole ghastly affair would probably never have been revealed. Wynne would have vanished in the ordinary way, as Collins vanished afterward, and the superst.i.tious horror would have gone on until there was not one person left in the village of Fetchworth who would have dared to venture an investigation of the flames. Then the work at the factory would have continued, with a possibly curtailed payroll. No need for high-handed pirates armed with revolvers then. That was the end the arch-fiend was working for. The end that never came.”

”H'm. And may I ask how you discovered all this, before going into the case of Borkins?” put in the judge.

Cleek bowed.

”Certainly,” he returned. ”That is the legal right. But I can vouch for my evidence, my lord. I received it, you see, at first-hand. This man Borkins engaged both the lad Dollops and myself as new hands for the factory. We therefore had every opportunity of looking into the matter personally.”

”Gawdamercy! I never did!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Borkins, at this juncture, his face the colour of newly-baked bread. ”You're a liar-that's what you are! A drorin' an innocent man into the beastly affair. I never engaged the likes of you!”

”Didn't you?” Cleek laughed soundlessly. ”Look here. Remember the man Bill Jones, and his little pal Sammie Robinson, from Jamaica?” He writhed his features for a moment, slipped his hand into his pocket, and producing the black moustache that had been Dollops's envy and admiration, stuck it upon his upper lip, pulled out a check cap from the other pocket, drew that upon his head, and peered at Borkins under the peak of it. ”What-o, matey!” he remarked in a harsh c.o.c.kney voice.

”Merciful 'Eavens!” gasped out that worthy, covering his eyes with his hands, one more incredulous witness of Cleek's greatest gift. ”Bill Jones it is! Gawd! are you a devil?”

”No, just an ordinary man, my dear friend. But you remember now, eh? Well, that does away with the need of the moustache, then.” The clerk of the court, only too familiar with Cleek's disregard of legal formality, frowned at this violation of dignity and raised his mace to rap for order and possibly to reprimand Cleek for his theatrical conduct but at that moment the detective pulled off the cap and moustache as though well pleased with his performance. Cleek turned once more to the judge.

”My lord,” he said serenely, ”you have seen the man Bill Jones, and the impersonator of Sammie Robinson is there,” he pointed to Dollops. ”Well, this man Borkins-or Piggott, as he calls himself when doing his 'private work'-engaged Dollops and me, in place of two hands in the factory who had been given to too much tongue-wagging, and in consequence had met with prompt punishment, G.o.d alone knows what it was! We worked there for something just under a fortnight. Dollops, with his usual knack for making friends in the right direction, chummed up to one of the men-whom I have already named-Jim Dobbs. He finally asked him to come and help with the loading up of the boats, and gave him the chance of making a little overtime by simply keeping his mouth shut as to what went on. I managed to get on the job too, and we did it three times in that fortnight-and a jolly difficult task we found it, I don't mind saying. But I felt that evidence was necessary, and while in the employ of 'the master' we carried on many investigations. And still in his service I made this rough map of the varied turnings of the secret pa.s.sage, and the places to which they led. You can get a better idea of the ground if you glance at it.” He handed it up to the high desk, and paused a moment as the judge surveyed it through his spectacles. ”The pa.s.sage at Merriton Towers, and also at Withersby Hall-so conveniently placed near that particular part of the Fens, and therefore chosen by Brellier for his work-are both of ancient origin, dating back, I should say, to the time of the civil war.

”Whose idea it was to connect the two pa.s.sages up I could not say, or when Borkins got into the pay of Brellier and played false to a family that he had served for twenty years. But the fact remains. The two pa.s.sages are linked up, and then continued at great labour in another direction to that field which lies off the Saltfleet Road and just at the back of the factory. And thus was made a convenient little subway for the carrying on of nefarious transactions of the kind which we have discovered.”

”And how did you discover that Brellier was the 'Master' in question?” put in the judge at this juncture.