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The Crime
at the QROS SWAYS


Brian Flynn
THE CASE OF THE BLACK TWENTY-TWO
THE MURDERS NEAR MAPLETON
THE MYSTERY OF THE PEACOCK'S EYE
THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
THE CRIME AT THE CROSSWAYS


The QRIME
at the QROSSWAYS
*
by Brian Flynn

MACRAE - SMITH - COMPANY
Philadelphia


FIRST PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES, 1932
First Edition
Manufactured in the United States of America





C HAPTER I
♦
In the space of six weeks the name of " Creeping
Jenny" had become notorious in the southern coun-
ties of England and her capabilities immensely re-
spected. A series of daring robberies had taken
place from country houses and in each case where the
robbery had occurred a card—in shape and size like
a visiting-card—had been left behind in the bedroom
where the actual theft had been perpetrated bearing
the superscription in typewritten characters, "With
Creeping Jenny's compliments. She takes but one."
In two instances—those of Sir Graeme Grantham's
diamond tie-pin and Mrs. Stanley Medlicott's pearl
necklace with pendant and tassel of pearls—a ladder
had evidently been employed at the front of the
house while the company were seated at dinner, and
also in each of these affairs very much more valu-
able articles had been left behind—untouched, quite
in accordance as it were with the terms of the visit-
ing-card. Mrs. Medlicott's necklace, for example,
which was stolen two nights after Sir Graeme's pin,
was worth perhaps a mere matter of one hundred
and fifty pounds, while her famous emeralds had
been almost at the thief's mercy had a little more
care been taken. The view taken by the Superin-
tendent of Police who investigated the affair of the


8 THE CRIME AT
I
Medlicott robbery was that the marauder had been
disturbed and also that the fantastic sobriquet that
had been assumed, and the somewhat vainglorious
declaration of policy were entirely misleading, and
intended to deceive. The Superintendent, who was
looked upon with justification as one of the ablest
men in the service, formed the opinion that he was
dealing with a man "cat-burglar" of the most ad-
vanced and cleverest type who was throwing dust in
the eyes of the police and preparing for much bigger
"coups." When Sir Graeme Grantham's tie-pin
had been stolen, a magnificent pair of amethyst cuff-
links had been possibly overlooked and in the Medli-
cott case it was definitely proved, when the evidence
of the various witnesses intimate with the affair
came to be examined and sifted, that the thief must
have been hiding in the bedroom while Mrs. Medli-
cott had actually been in there, for it was estab-
lished beyond doubt that the ladder that had been
used in connection with the theft must have been
moved from its usual shelter and replaced within a
period of no more than nine or ten minutes.
Following upon the two robberies that have been
described, very similar occurrences took place in
somewhat alarming succession at Mrs. Arthur Mid-
winter's near Crawley, Mrs. Topham-Garnett's on
the outskirts of Rustington and then at the residence
of Sir Gilbert and Lady Craddock at Cranwick in
Sussex. Mrs. Arthur Midwinter lost a diamond
chain with pendant of aquamarine, crystal and dia-
monds, a guest of Mrs. Topham-Garnett's was re-
lieved of a pair of long drop turquoise earrings and


THE CROSSWAYS
9
at Cranwick Towers, Lady Craddock herself suf-
fered a loss that caused her a great deal of annoy-
ance. A very valuable opal ring was stolen from
her bedroom—a ring for which she held a very
strong sentimental regard—entirely apart from its
intrinsic value. In this last affair the stains of mud
upon a rug in the room, coupled with a broken pane
of glass seemed to prove conclusively to the Police-
Inspector who was called in by Sir Gilbert Craddock
that yet another successful climbing feat had been
executed by "Creeping Jenny" before the usual
card had been deposited upon Lady Craddock's
dressing-table. As a result of his operations several
of the better known thieves of this particular type
were combed out by the police from the unsavory
seclusion of their respective haunts and their move-
ments, comings and goings, most strictly investi-
gated. But all to no purpose. The inquiry yielded
no discovery of any importance and at last it be-
came evident to Scotland Yard that a new star had
arisen whose methods displayed a daring ingenuity
and audacious originality worthy of a much better
cause. For "Creeping Jenny's" unselfishness and
altruistic principles still persisted and these traits,
more than the qualities previously mentioned, cap-
tured the imagination of the public. "She "—if it
were truly "she "—still and always "took but
one," for Mrs. Arthur Midwinter, Mrs. Topham-
Garnett, Mrs. Topham-Garnett's guest and Lady
Craddock herself, were enabled out of her Robin
Hood-like magnanimity to retain more valuable
possessions that might very easily have found their


10
THE CRIME AT
way into this daring robber's pocket. An attempt
made by the more sensational and less reliable press
to call the thief " La Voleuse " met with immediate
failure—" she" had christened herself "Creeping
Jenny " and " Creeping Jenny " she remained.
On the morning that the theft of Lady Crad-
dock's opal ring was announced in the newspapers
Henry Mordaunt K. C. of "The Crossways " near
Cranwick, Sussex, read the account of the affair
with somewhat mixed feelings.
"Very good, Mitchell," he exclaimed to his butler
who had upon instructions brought him the Morn-
ing Message, "many thanks. That will do for the
present."
Very shortly after the withdrawal of the butler,
the famous King's Counsel having exhausted the
paragraph in question pressed the bell again.
"I'm sorry, Mitchell," he declared upon the but-
ler's reappearance, " but I shall have to trouble you
'again. Tell Mrs. Mordaunt I want to see her at
once—will you?"
Mitchell bowed. "Very good, sir. I will tell
Mrs. Mordaunt immediately, sir."
Mordaunt awaited his wife's arrival very pa-
tiently, although patience was not his strongest suit.
When she entered he greeted her with his customary
courtesy.
"Good morning, Olive. I hope I'm not worry-
ing you. But I wanted to show you this. It's er—
extremely interesting. You remember what we were
talking about last week? Well—have a look here."


THE CROSSWAYS
II
He pointed to the column in the paper that described
"Creeping Jenny's" latest exploit at the Crad-
docks'.
Olive Mordaunt took the paper wonderingly.
She was her husband's second wife and, of course,
considerably his junior. Mordaunt's intimate circle
had been extremely surprised at the marriage, for
it was openly hinted that the lady chosen for the
second union did not quite fill the bill as would have
been generally expected. Physically she was de-
cidedly attractive—her dark, somewhat meretricious
beauty pleasing most men with whom she came into
contact. She read the account that her husband
had pointed out to her with an uplifting of the
eyebrows. Then the suggestion of a smile played
round her lips.
"Getting nearer and nearer," she said. "Is that
what you mean, Henry?"
"It is," he replied, "and I am speaking, of
course, with direct reference to next week. I
wouldn't like anything to go wrong here next week
—for Lorrimer's sake. His family I know has al-
ways placed a tremendous value on the Lorrimer
sapphire as is only natural." He smiled across at
his wife. "You will remember, my dear, that I
have an excellent reason for saying that. In fact
only two other people could have as good a one."
Olive Mordaunt returned her husband's smile and
nodded brightly. "I know that, Henry. I remem-
ber you telling me when you wrote to me at Cannes,
informing me of Margaret's intended engagement.
I look forward to meeting Captain Lorrimer." She


12
THE CRIME AT
paused but proceeded almost immediately. "Rather
a coincidence—don't you think—that Margaret and
he, with Jane and Francis should be at Cranwick
Towers at the moment? We shall at any rate get
a first-hand account of this last 'Creeping Jenny'
affair when they return here. It's an ill-wind,
Henry"
He stroked his firm, clean-shaven mouth. "Yes,
I suppose we shall! All the same—I don't like it.
I seem to be suffering this morning from a presenti-
ment. I think that's the best word to use to describe
how I feel. Our house party and the reason behind
it—Margaret's twenty-first birthday and the an-
nouncement of her engagement to Lorrimer—have
been pretty extensively published—you know—in
most circles. The Morning Message gave it three
paragraphs, Olive, as recently as last Tuesday—
very properly so, too. It stated, quite openly,
• that ' Margaret Mordaunt, third child and younger
daughter of Henry Mordaunt, K. C. etc., etc., was
to receive from her fiance—Capt. Cyril Lorrimer,
M. P. for the Froam division of Seabourne—the
famous "Lorrimer Sapphire" for her engagement
ring.' There followed some details—mainly incor-
rect—concerned with the ring's history." He
stopped and pursed his lips in the manner that juries
knew so well. "Seems to me, Olive, that that
would be just the type of ring—jewel—whatever
you choose to call it—to attract this 'Creeping
Jenny' person . . . as an incentive. I've got
a 'hunch' as our cousins across the Atlantic say—
especially as her latest operations were at the


THE CROSSWAYS
13
'Towers'—no more than a couple of miles away
from us."
"Rubbish, Henry. Now what has that to do
with it really? That's only a coincidence—they do
happen sometimes. Besides we'll have people stay-
ing here that we can form into a Committee of
Defence—a Committee of Public Safety we'll call
it." She laughed and clapped her hands gaily.
"That would be rather fun, wouldn't it?" she
cried, supplementing her previous remark.
"How many shall we have?" asked Mordaunt
seriously.
"Our own three, back from the scene of the
crime, as you might say, Captain Lorrimer and his
mother, Adrian Challoner, John Raikes with Mr.
and Mrs. Raikes, Mary Considine, Anne Ebbisham,
Christine Massingham, Peter Daventry and Russell
Streatfeild. You insisted on him—if you remember
—although I don't know why—as well as your other
old friend Adrian Challoner—another gentleman I
am yet to have the pleasure of meeting. One or
two of them have kept away a long time since you
upset them all by marrying me, Henry." She added
the last sentence mischievously, but Mordaunt made
no sign that he appreciated its inner meaning. For
there was bitterness allied with the mischief and he
detected it.
"When are the girls and Francis expected
back? " he inquired.
"To-morrow," she answered. "But Captain
Lorrimer won't be coming over with them. So
Margaret has told me,—at least. She 'phoned yes-


THE CRIME AT
terday afternoon. He has an appointment in town,
I believe—business she says, that in all probability
will take him a day or two so that we shan't see
him at 'The Crossways' until Monday afternoon
some time—the day before the great day."
"H'm," he remarked, as though pondering over
some aspect of the matter that had not previously
occurred to him, " do any of the others come before
Monday?"
"You know there are some coming, Henry, as
well as I do. Didn't I tell you so last week? Anne
Ebbisham and Christine Massingham are coming
over with Francis and the girls from the Craddocks'
place and Peter Daventry will be coming down here
for the week-end. Is there anything else that you
want to know or have you remembered some of the
things I have told you?"
"No—I'm satisfied now, Olive. All the same—
I've still that feeling of insecurity. In fact, I've had
it for some time. I can't explain it as I told you
just now. I've just got it and that is all I can say
about it. It is one of those curious, unreasoned
anxieties."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a
light knock sounded on the door. Mitchell entered
noiselessly at his master's invitation.
"I beg your pardon, sir, but if it is convenient
to you Inspector Baddeley would like to speak to
you. He says it is very important, sir. What shall
I tell him, sir?"
Mordaunt's brow furrowed with annoyance as
he considered the butler's statement.


THE CROSSWAYS
IS
"Inspector Baddeley? " he queried. "What on
earth does Inspector Baddeley want with me? Any
idea, Mitchell? Did he say?"
Mitchell shook his head gravely. "No, sir—he
did not! And I did not inquire. If I had inquired
I doubt very much whether the Inspector would
have told me. I have noticed things like that be-
fore, sir."
Mordaunt looked across at his wife. "Better
see him I suppose, Olive—though I can't imagine
for a moment what he can want with me." He nod-
ded with decision towards Mitchell. "All right,
Mitchell! Tell the Inspector I'll see him at once.
Leave him to me, Olive—you clear out—I don't
suppose it's anything to cause either of us sleepless
nights."
Mrs. Mordaunt acquiesced with unusual readiness
for her, and slipped out of the room.
Inspector Baddeley of the Sussex Constabulary
looked little changed since his investigation of the
"Billiard Room Mystery" at Considine Manor
some years previously. His closely cut dark hair
still retained its color, his moustache was as trim
as ever and his steady blue eyes had lost none of
their brightness. When he spoke it was with the
old snap and eminently business-like rapidity.
"Mr. Mordaunt," he opened immediately,
"I'm Inspector Baddeley, just put in charge of the
Cranwick Towers case. May I claim a few mo-
ments of your valuable time?"
The man he addressed looked puzzled but was
quick to give his assent. "With pleasure, Inspector.


THE CROSSWAYS I?
down a lane very rarely used by motorists in the
ordinary way and two villagers who have come for-
ward and given us information state very definitely
that a car passed them in this very lane on the
night of the burglary just about the time to fit in
with this theory of mine regarding the affair."
Mordaunt nodded. "Quite a reasonable theory,
too, I should say, Inspector! Motor cars seem in-
separable from crime these days. Certainly I can
see nothing in your idea that would cause me
Baddeley raised his hand in his eagerness.
"Quite so, sir. But that isn't all. That doesn't
explain why I'm here to see you. I haven't finished
yet—by a long way. The lane to which I refer,
Mr. Mordaunt, is that known locally as 'Hang-
man's Hollow'—the very lane that comes out al-
most exactly opposite your house here—' The Cross-
ways.' In fact it might be said to be in a direct
line of communication between 'The Crossways'
and 'Cranwick Towers.'" He caressed his neat
little moustache with an air of extreme satisfaction
and watched carefully the expression on the K. C.'s
face.
"Well, Inspector?" said Mordaunt at length,
with a certain amount of unconcealed amusement.
"I don't deny that what you say is true—but still
I find myself"
Baddeley changed his tone. *' Your two daugh-
ters and son, Mr. Mordaunt, are I believe guests
for the time being of Sir Gilbert Craddock at Cran-
wick Towers. That is so, isn't it? I am indebted


i8
THE CRIME AT
to Lady Craddock herself for the knowledge and—
I understand that"
"That's quite true, Inspector. But what's the
point?"
Baddeley was some little time before he answered
Mordaunt's last question and when he actually did
so, his reply was not entirely direct.
"We have been unable so far, Mr. Mordaunt, to
trace the tracks of the car beyond your house. Its
tracks as a matter of fact seem to disappear com-
pletely as soon as 'The Crossways' is reached.
There were the impressions in the lane—plain
enough for anybody to see who has the eyes to read
and understand such things—but at the end of this
lane—' Hangman's Hollow '—they stop quite sud-
denly. You can't help me, I suppose, Mr. Mor-
daunt?"
Mordaunt's answer to this bore a tinge of annoy-
ance.
"How do you mean, Inspector? How is it pos-
sible for me to help you? In fact I don't follow
you at all."
But Baddeley, although he realized the note of
asperity, was quite unperturbed. "You can't make
any suggestion, Mr. Mordaunt, that would assist
me towards an explanation?"
"None whatever, Inspector."
"Then tell me this, sir. Am I right in stating that
one of your cars is over in the Cranwick Towers'
garage and has been there all the time your people
have been staying there?"
Mordaunt looked at him—the surprise on his


THE CROSSWAYS
19
face unmistakable. "You are, Inspector. But I'm
hanged if I know at what you're getting. If you
must know, my son drove his sisters over to Sir
Gilbert Craddock's ten days or so ago. He's got
my six-cylinder Sunbeam over there. But there's
nothing unusual in that surely."
Baddeley turned his hat in his hands. "No," he
ventured at length, "perhaps not. Perhaps I'm
weaving a too fantastic theory about this ' Creeping
Jenny' person. Still "He rose sharply from
his chair and prepared to make his exit. "It's my
way, you see, sir! I was always one to consider
everything, no matter how improbable some of the
things may be at first blush. Or seem to be would
be a better way of putting it perhaps. However, in
this case—I may have strayed a little too far. If
I have I'll get back to the main path, never fear.
But you never know. A 'Sunbeam' I think you
said? Good-day, Mr. Mordaunt, and thank you."
"Good-day, Inspector. Sorry you've had your
journey for nothing."
The eyes of the two men met and held each other
across the room. Then the door closed behind In-
spector Baddeley. Mordaunt took a cigar and lit
it, and the hand that held the match was as steady
as a rock.


20
THE CRIME AT
CHAPTER II
•
"Christine, my child," said Anne Ebbisham, as
she dexterously swung the car round a sharp curve
of the road, " I'm not sorry to be leaving Cranwick
Towers. It hasn't exactly been a home of rest these
last few days. Take it from my own sweet self,
that Inspector gentleman that was so inquisitive
about Francis' car and how far 'The Crossways'
was away and how long it would take to get there
(a) in September travelling light and (b) at Christ-
mas—carol-singing as you went—is no 'bimbo' as
they'd say on the ' talkies.' Look out, I'm going to
tread on the 'juice ' for a bit. The road's as clear
as a City church."
As the car gathered speed, Christine Massing-
ham, her companion, looked at her curiously.
"What do you mean, Anne—exactly? " she asked
after a moment's hesitation, "about the In-
spector?"
"What do I mean? " Anne repeated the question
after her very deliberately. "I mean this, my tem-
porarily unintelligent precious. The jovial Baddeley
won't have the wool pulled over his eyes quite as
easily as some of his predecessors did. If you ask
little Annie—and believe me, oh my Christine, you
could do a lot worse than that—the sprightly Bad-
deley has come to the conclusion that the 'Creep-


THE CROSSWAYS
21
ing Jenny ' affairs have been worked ' on the inside.'
I believe that is the correct expression to use in
cases of this kind. I invariably buy the midday
Wallace. Anyhow, I'll bet a pony to a peanut that
he's properly poked the breeze up Papa Mordaunt;
do him good too." She jerked her head at Chris-
tine. "What was that jolt, dreamy-eyes? Did you
notice anything?"
"A hen, dear. Let's hope it was too old for
laying."
Anne gurgled delightfully. "You'll be the death
of me, Christine."
"If I am, Anne, I shall probably be merely get-
ting my own back. I am noted for my powers of re-
taliation."
Miss Ebbisham repeated the gurgle. "' With
your permission' I'm going to stop here for a
moment, Cherub. We're quite near 'The Cross-
ways,' another five minutes'll do it. I am going,
Miss Massingham, to powder what Francis Mor-
daunt always describes as my singularly attractive
nose." The young lady immediately suited the
action to the words. "He is not, I may add, alone
in that respect. I always tell him he has catholic
tastes. I know no surer way of getting him into a
'snork' than by saying that." She gave her
deliciously tip-tilted nose another dab. "All the
same, Christine, I was deadly serious just now in
what I said and lingering here won't purchase new
apparel for the necessitous infant. Inspector Bad-
deley suspects somebody! Somebody definite, I
mean. That's Anne Ebbisham's one-horse snip.


22
THE CRIME AT
Send five pounds for my unbeatable certainty that's
running on Saturday next at Sandown Park—a
veritable ' rod in pickle '—and turn the bookmaker's
complexion from pale yellow to a deeper saffron.
What did I give you for the Lincoln in 1928—when
every other sporting "Anne spoke with the
utmost nonchalance, but again Christine threw her
a glance of strong curiosity as she interrupted her.
"Suspects somebody! What do you mean,
Anne? I believe you know something. Do you
mean somebody that you and I know or are you
just"
Miss Ebbisham pushed the self-starter. "I'm
not saying any more, Cherry Blossom—my lips are
sealed—but keep your ears and saucy eyes open.
Old Baddeley looked at Francis as though he were
hungry and had been invited to a good meal and
when she saw it—as I'm cast iron sure she did—
Jane Mordaunt, who had been hanging round,
looked about as happy as a canary rubbing beaks
with a chinchilla. And she's quite a resolute little
person usually. Serve old Lady Craddock right,"
she added, "shouldn't leave her 'pretties' lying
about with ' Creeping Jenny ' knocking round. Some
people oughtn't to possess anything more valuable
than 'bus tickets and tiddledy-winks counters, and
then somebody should hold their little hands for
them when they cross the road." Anne slowed the
car down. "There's 'The Crossways,' Christi-
linda, just ahead of us. That noble pile. So look
your dainty best and don't appear too enviously
green when Molly Mordaunt first shows you the


THE CROSSWAYS
'Lorrimer Sapphire.' In case your virgin verdure
should be hopelessly misunderstood and the wrong
construction placed upon it. By the way—I've been
going to ask you several times—how do you like
my godfather—Adrian Challoner?"
Christine smiled at the question and if possible
her determined little face grew in attractiveness.
"Very much, Anne. It takes one a little time
perhaps to know him thoroughly and to understand
him properly—but when you do, I think he's very
charming. He's giving me quite a good chance in
the new play. You agree with me, I know."
"Oh, yes, Christine. I think he's as white as
they make them, but it's a bit different for me to
think so, isn't it? I've known him so long, you see.
Of course he likes himself a lot but one gets used
to that and perhaps in the end it makes him even
more attractive."
Christine nodded. "He's terribly fond of the
Mordaunt girls, isn't he?"
Anne Ebbisham showed unmistakable agreement.
"Too true. Particularly Jane. She told me once
when I suppose she felt very confidential that he'd
do anything for her. You see he's Henry Mor-
daunt's closest and oldest friend. Supposed to
have been 'dippy' over the first Mrs. M. You
know the old stunt, Christine, 'how happy could
she have been with either, etc'—she married the
barrister but the actor loved her still—and after
her—her children. Since then he's been the stern,
silent figure in the background who loved but once
and who ever since has been wedded to the what


24
THE CRIME AT
might have been. Dear, dear, very distressing, my
precious, very distressing, but it has added to his
attraction for the 'first-nighters' and at the same
time he's had the exquisite felicity and supreme
compensation of being godfather to yours truly.
After all, the man can't have everything." She
laughed and the mischief danced in her blue eyes.
"He's a good sort, though, my angel—coming back
to serious things again—and nobody could have been
kinder to my brother and me than he has—and you'll
find he'll help you no end at your job. If you've
really got the talent, Christy Minstrel—be perfectly
assured that Adrian Challoner will develop it.
There's not a man on the London boards to touch
him as far as that's concerned. But here we are.
Hop out, my chicken. Francis and the girls will be
wondering where the dickens we've got to, and we
owe it to them to beautify the place as much as
possible."
As she spoke her eyes narrowed perceptibly, a
fact that her companion noticed immediately.
"What's the matter, Anne?" she asked.
Miss Ebbisham's mouth set in the serious lines
of determination. "Look, my angel," she returned.
"Gaze lingeringly long upon the gentleman who has
just finished his morning call at 'The Crossways'
and then give me a reverential pat. Extend to me
a gesture of congratulation."
Christine Massingham followed the direction of
Miss Ebbisham's eyes with her own, and she saw
without difficulty the man whom Anne had indicated.
It was Inspector Baddeley. She turned again to


THE CROSSW AYS 25
Anne and marvelled at the glitter in her eyes. But
whether it was of doubt, daring or defiance, she
found it impossible to decide. Wherein she was
not alone, for others had endeavored to read Miss
Ebbisham and signally failed.
"Wouldn't it be a ' spree,' " murmured that lady,
"if 'Creeping Jenny' did a job of gate-crashing
at' The Crossways ' and lifted the famous Lorrimer
sapphire?"


26
THE CRIME AT
CHAPTER III
«
Peter Daventry has been heard to remark
many times since, that Molly Mordaunt's "twenty-
first and betrothal" dinner was the cause of giving
to him the most curious little thrill of his life. He
had worked with Anthony Lotherington Bathurst
upon one of the latter's strangest investigations,
namely "The Black Twenty-two," but the ad-
venture and excitement that had been produced
by that case was different from what he was
destined to feel ultimately at "The Crossways."
Dinner itself had been entirely delightful. Well
cooked, well served and garnished by a company of
manifold charm. For there were no very obvious
passengers in the social boat that put out that eve-
ning under the command of Henry Mordaunt K. C.
On the left of the host sat Jane his elder daughter,
Molly, the " principal " of the evening, flanking him
on his right. Next to Jane Mordaunt and in order,
came John Raikes, who had been at a preparatory
school and afterwards at Winchester with Francis
Mordaunt, Christine Massingham, Russell Streat-
feild, solicitor of Hyde, Streatfeild and Digby, Anne
Ebbisham, Francis Mordaunt, Olive Mordaunt,
Adrian Challoner, the famous actor-manager, Mary
Considine, Peter Daventry, Mrs. and Mr. Raikes,


THE CROSSWAYS
27
parents of the John Raikes previously mentioned,
Mrs. Lorrimer, (Captain Lorrimer's mother) and
Captain Cyril Lorrimer, M. P., next, of course, to
Molly herself. It said something for Adrian Chal-
loner's quality of distinction and power of personal
magnetism that they should show so unmistakably in
a gathering of this kind. Anne had hoped secretly
to have been seated next to her godfather for she
found him invariably an intellectual stimulus, but in
spite of her disappointment she found Russell
Streatfeild, her right-hand neighbor, extremely
entertaining.
"You know, Miss Ebbisham," he said, with a
twinkling grey eye and in his rather curiously high-
pitched voice, "one should never let a host feel
that one's first duty is to the cook. The ideal con-
versationalist should be conscious of three duties—
the first to his immediate neighbors—in my own
case this evening that particular duty has become a
most pleasing one "—he bowed gallantly to Anne
and Christine—" the second to his host and hostess
—the third to the company in general."
Anne laughed delightfully. "I believe I'm going
to like you, Mr. Streatfeild, and at first I was afraid
that I shouldn't. I thought you looked a bit"
She paused and screwed her nose up as though in
doubt of her selection of the word.
Streatfeild smiled. "A bit what? Don't spare
me, Miss Ebbisham, if the adjective in question
makes a strong appeal to you. I assure you that I
of all people"
"A bit ' legal,' " decided Anne triumphantly.


28
THE CRIME AT
"Would you have preferred me then—to have
conveyed the impression of being—' illegal'?"
The lines of his mouth rippled humorously.
Before Anne could reply Adrian Challoner's
voice came across the table to them. "Don't be-
lieve a tenth of what she says to you, Streatfeild.
Let me tell you that I never do. I daren't! She's
very nearly my worst production. Only my most
meticulous care and painstaking assiduity in what I
promised for her at her baptism have saved her
from being "He shrugged his shoulders in
effective completion of the sentence but there was a
smile on his face and laughter in his words.
Anne grinned at Challoner's remark, the imp as
usual on duty in her eyes.
Christine answered for Streatfeild who had
turned laughingly to Miss Ebbisham herself.
"If Anne's 'very nearly' your worst production,
Mr. Challoner, what's your really worst? I'm
intrigued."
"Himself," snapped Anne, turning the tables
with ready retaliation; " don't ask questions that are
so obvious, Christine. That was apparent from the
first."
Challoner joined heartily in the general laugh at
his expense.
"How's the new show going?" questioned
Streatfeild.
"Which one—' Broken Threads '—or the one in
rehearsal?"
"The new one—the one that follows 'Broken
Threads.'"


THE CROSSWAYS
29
"Not too badly—ask Miss Massingham. She
should be as good a judge as anybody."
"Very well!" said Christine. "Everybody
seems quite pleased with it."
"There's only one thing, Streatfeild," put in the
actor-manager, "it's a strong play; the big scene
in the second act when I'm assassinated is immensely
powerful, but, all the same, I'm thinking seriously
of altering its title."
"Why? What's it called? I can't remember for
the moment."
"' Sin and a Woman.'"
Russell Streatfeild pursed his lips in the con-
sideration of appraisement. "I don't know," he
said eventually, "not a bad title as titles go. Why
alter it? What's the alternative if you do?"
"'Two women,' surely?" Challoner smiled.
Anne's spontaneous explosion was accompanied
by the more decorous laughter of the others. Mrs.
Raikes laid her hand on her husband's arm with her
usual gesture of proprietorship.
"Defend my sex for me, George, against Mr.
Challoner's most unjustifiable attack. The next
time I sit in the stalls I shall remember it throughout
the whole of the performance. It will probably
spoil the entire evening for me."
"Do you find us so alluring then, Mr. Chal-
loner?" The question came from Mary Considine
and as she spoke Peter thought that the answer
would have come very easily if it had been demanded
from him. He found himself wishing fervently that
it had been.


3»
THE CRIME AT
"Not I only, Miss Considine, I am but one of a
battalion," replied Challoner, "and as a champion
of your own sex you yourself are irresistible.
Besides, look round the table! What do you see?
Each one of us is enslaved to one of you, at least.
Who would have it otherwise?" He smiled and
proceeded to amplify his statement. "Consider my
proofs. Lorrimer is hopelessly in love with Molly.
You've only got to glance at him to see that. Jane,
my own little Jane whom I have ardently and openly
worshipped from her cot upwards, has flagrantly
entrapped Jack Raikes. Henceforward I walk in
the shadows."
"Go on," said Mary, "I find this distinctly dar-
ing and decidedly interesting. I had no idea you
would be so personal."
"I knew that you would at once be interested if
I were. A woman always is. To the average
woman these suggestions are like the scent of the
earth to the husbandman. What must they be to
you therefore? But where was I—how far had I
travelled round the table?" He looked round and
found his bearings again. "Christine will dangle
poor old Streatfeild's scalp from her belt consider-
ably before midnight—Anne will—by Jove—I be-
lieve the hussy's listening."
"You bet I am," interposed that lady, "and
everything I hear you say about me in that connec-
tion will be used as evidence against you. And in
the near future at that. If Mr. Mordaunt"
Challoner waved her remark away lightly.
"Anne, Miss Considine, as I have often stated to


THE CROSSWAYS
31
my most favored friends, is very probably definitely
and unashamedly polyandrous. Make out a list,
will you? You can put down Francis, Peter
Daventry"
"You beast," flamed Miss Ebbisham, "of all
the "He dodged something that she threw
dexterously at him.
"I'm next, Mr. Challoner—what about me?"
It was Olive Mordaunt who spoke.
Challoner's eyes met hers and he spoke a little
cynically. "Your husband is your slave, Mrs. Mor-
daunt, as he should be. Now." It is doubtful
whether the last word carried to her ears for even
Mary Considine and Peter Daventry, who were
leaning nearer to the speaker than she was, scarcely
caught it.
"I come after Mrs. Mordaunt," Mary smiled
the statement at Challoner.
"You, Miss Considine?"
"Yes."
"Surely it is obvious whom you have enslaved—
count me your eternally faithful servant." He in-
clined towards her with a gesture of irreproachable
courtesy and simulated homage. As he did so Lor-
rimer rose from his seat bending down for a second
or so to whisper to his mother.
The likeness between mother and son as their
two heads ranged side by side was strikingly ap-
parent to everybody who watched them. They
were of equal height. There was the same clean-cut
profile, the same raven hair and large, dark eyes,
the same laughing charm of countenance. Mrs.


32
THE CRIME AT
Lorrimer, proud of her son and perhaps prouder
of his success, patted him encouragingly on the arm
as he bent down to her, almost as it were challeng-
ing Molly Mordaunt for the prior right of posses-
sion. The gesture of the ages!
Lorrimer, as she did so, stroked his thick, almost
turbulent hair, and faced the company. Adrian
Challoner found himself inwardly complimenting
Molly Mordaunt upon the soundness of her matri-
monial choice. Lorrimer's forehead was broad and
intellectual and his eyes held alertness and steadi-
ness in addition to their other qualities. Challoner
discovered in him unusual combinations. There
were vigor and some refinement of taste, he
thought, and the more usual alliance of intellect and
character. But at the same time also a strong hint
of sensuality. Looking more closely he considered
that he could see besides both knowledge and
capacity. Distinctly out of place in the House of
Commons, thought the actor-manager.
Lorrimer commenced to speak.
"Mr. and Mrs. Mordaunt," he said, "and
friends. You have heard what Mr. Mordaunt has
said this evening about Molly—how he has wished
her all the luck possible now that she has reached
the age of twenty-one and how he has coupled my
name with hers and formally announced our engage-
ment. I am both gratified and honored. I want
to thank him both on behalf of Molly and myself.
The chief thought uppermost in my mind as I speak
to you is that I'm a wonderfully lucky dog. At the
moment I wouldn't change places with any man in


THE CROSSWAYS
33
England—or in any other country of the world—
come to that. At the same time I am going to ask
you to be witnesses to a little ceremony, a ceremony
that has fallen into comparative disuse. I refer to
the ceremony of betrothal. Stand up, Molly,
please." Molly—radiantly beautiful—obeyed the
request of her lover with sunshine in her smile.
"The ring I'm giving Molly for her engagement,"
continued Captain Lorrimer, "is the famous Lor-
rimer sapphire that is known all over the world,
and I'm perfectly certain that you will all agree
with me when I say that I couldn't possibly find a
more lovely hand upon which to place it." He
turned to his fiancee and slipped the ring on her
finger. "And thereto I plight thee my troth," he
quoted gallantly. "Show them, Molly," he said,
"let them see the sapphire—next to you and my
mother I would rather lose anything in the world
than that."
Molly Mordaunt held up her left hand upon
which was the great gleaming sapphire and a burst
of clapping from the table immediately greeted her
action.
"Thank you, Cyril," she said very prettily and
daintily, and then turning to the company. "It's
perfectly sweet of you all to have come to wish me
luck and it only adds enormously to my happiness
to see you here. I am sure Cyril feels the same."
She resumed her seat, but her lover remained stand-
ing.
"Before I sit down," he proceeded, "I want to
tell you something else. Something that is doubt-


34
THE CRIME AT
less unknown to most of you. It may seem a
strange thing for me to say but in a way the Lor-
rimer sapphire has come home. Mr. Mordaunt
knows full well to what I refer."
The speaker paused for a moment to glance at
his host at the head of the table and during that
fleeting second of time Adrian Challoner, exercising
his usual habit of retrospection, took stock of the
faces of the various people upon whom his eyes
rested. Olive Mordaunt at her end of the table
looked troubled—her eyes were heavy with an
undoubted apprehension as they flickered from her
husband to Molly and subsequently from Molly to
Jane. Molly and her father were listening to and
watching Lorrimer with eager rapture and keen
interest, respectively—each giving Challoner the
suggestion of hanging upon the speaker's words.
On Jane's strong and determined face there was the
usual air of quiet resolution to be seen even more
plainly than normally. Anne Ebbisham's eyes still
held the dancing lights of mischief, but Mary and
Christine had their features in admirable control.
Each was listening intently. He heard Lorrimer's
voice again.
"To us, gathered here to-night the history of the
Lorrimer sapphire is more than interesting. For
the Lorrimer sapphire has a distant connection with
the Throne of England and must be at least three
hundred and fifty years old. Although it is not
known how she came by it, it belonged to Queen
Elizabeth and was given by her as a mark of
appreciation to Sir Gervaise Mordaunte, the famous


THE CROSSWAYS
35
ancestor of the gentleman at whose table we are
privileged to sit to-night. But Sir Gervaise of the
wild and wayward spirit during a carousal one
evening diced it away to a certain schemingly
avaricious Gregory Lorrimer who happened to be
an ancestor of mine. For him, ladies and gentle-
men, I make no apology. My father, who told me
the story when I was a lad, told me also how the
loss of the great sapphire in these circumstances
had rankled down the years in the Mordaunt family
and how they had attempted many times, by both
fair means and foul, to get it back. But they always
failed. We Lorrimers, direct descendants of the
grasping Gregory, nurture a habit of holding fast
to what we have and we kept the great sapphire.
Ladies and gentlemen, once again a Lorrimer has
taken from a Mordaunt a most valuable possession.
But neither by dice nor daring." Captain Lorrimer
gestured gracefully towards the girl seated next to
him. He went on. "And let me say—I do not
think that I can find a better way of expressing
what has happened than by saying that the Mor-
daunts have got the sapphire in exchange. They
have got it back at last. By fair means! By the
fairest means in all the world!" He placed his
hand on Molly Mordaunt's shoulder.
As he took his seat to the accompaniment of
uncontrolled enthusiasm he passed an arm round his
mother and slipped the other into Molly's.
"Lucky young beggar," whispered Adrian Chal-
loner to Bertha Raikes on his left, "two women
like that at his feet."


36
THE CRIME AT
Mrs. Raikes nodded but threw out a defensive
prophecy. "My John will prove just as successful
as Cyril Lorrimer when the time and chance come,
Mr. Challoner, and if they don't come he'll make
them. You mark my motherly words."
Challoner laughed and was about to reply to the
lady when Henry Mordaunt rose with a curious ex-
pression on his face and began to speak. The
famous K. C. used the cold, incisive, almost passion-
less tone that was inseparable from him whenever
he spoke to a number of people. It might be
described as his "coram publico " voice.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "it is now
my turn. Captain Lorrimer, my future son-in-law,
has told you something of the history of the Lor-
rimer sapphire. That history it was already my
privilege to know. To me and to all loyal members
of my family, true descendants of Sir Gervaise—
which name by the way I prefer to Gregory—it has
always been known not as the Lorrimer sapphire
but as the Mordaunt sapphire." He smiled. "We
must regard, therefore, Molly's engagement as
singularly felicitous. But what I have to say to
you now touches more upon the present than the
past. There is a fashion, nowadays, to deride the
present, sometimes at the expense of the future,
more often perhaps at the expense of the past. But
its importance to my mind can never be over-
estimated—because it is real—it is always certain—
it is with us! So apparently is ' Creeping Jenny.'"
The silence that followed the anti-climax of his
last remark was definitely cold in its intensity. Mor-


THE CROSSWAYS
37
daunt, as though keenly appreciative of the fact and
of its influence on the situation, lost no time in pro-
ceeding with what he had to say. He was always
a keen judge of the possibilities of a situation and
the talent had contributed largely to his success.
Taking a square piece of paper from the inside
pocket of his dress coat he startled the company
with his next statement even more than he had done
with his previous one.
"I make that assertion," he said, "with the
utmost confidence, for on this occasion the lady to
whom I have just referred has been kind and con-
siderate enough to notify me of her intentions in
advance. I received this communication about an
hour ago through the usual channel of the post. I
will read it to you. 'The announcement in the
papers concerning the Lorrimer sapphire fascinates
me tremendously. I find myself dwelling on the
subject to the exclusion of all other interests. So
much so in fact that I have decided to honor your
house with a visit in my professional capacity. Ex-
pect me some time after eleven o'clock to-night.
Creeping Jenny.'"
Mordaunt replaced the paper in his pocket with
a grave air and turned to his younger daughter and
her fiance. "My boy," he declared, addressing
Lorrimer, "we are warned. And forewarned is
forearmed. Shall I take the necessary precautions
to guard the ring on behalf of Molly, or are you
content that I should leave them to you?"
Captain Lorrimer raised his hand with a gesture
of defiance. "I am quite content that you should


38
THE CRIME AT
leave the matter in my hands,1 sir," he cried. "We
Lorrimers have kept the sapphire for three hun-
dred and fifty years. I think I can be trusted to
keep it a bit longer, ' Creeping Jenny ' or no ' Creep-
ing Jenny.'"
The buzz of conversation prevented him saying
any more but suddenly Adrian Challoner's voice
could be distinctly heard above the rest.
"Well," he cried, "whoever she is—or perhaps
whoever 'he' is—for you never know in these
cases—' Creeping Jenny's' a good plucked 'un and
a rare sport, say what you like about her. 'Pon
my soul I wouldn't be greatly surprised if she suc-
cessfully carried out her threat."
"Not she," cried Lorrimer, "not she, nor any-
body else while I hold the sapphire."
As he looked at the faces of the people facing
him Challoner saw Jane, Christine and Francis
shake their heads doubtfully and almost in unison
in consideration of the opinion that he had ex-
pressed.
"You think not?" he cried, with a seemingly
sudden impulse. "Well then, I wouldn't mind
betting a level hundred that ' Jenny' pulls it off."
Anne Ebbisham leaned across the table with out-
stretched hand, her eyes aflame with excitement.
"Done," she exclaimed, "done! That's a bet.
Book it with me. I'll call on you for the hundred
in the morning."
Peter Daventry couldn't help noticing the expres-
sion on Russell Streatfeild's face as he watched her
fascinatedly.


THE CROSSWAYS
39
CHAPTER IV
*
When Jane Mordaunt opened her eyes on the
following morning, it was with a dim and vague
sense of foreboding. The morning in question held
the first touches of autumn that the year had so far
given, but although Jane noticed the fact, the im-
pression that it made upon her mind was but an
ephemeral one. She would have found it utterly
impossible to explain how she felt had she been
interrogated, but the feeling had first come to her
perhaps at the dinner-table on the previous evening
when, following upon her father's sensational state-
ment and Captain Lorrimer's subsequent challenge,
Anne Ebbisham had made that somewhat fantastic
wager concerning the Lorrimer sapphire with her
father's old friend Adrian Challoner. She herself
had known Challoner since the earliest days of her
childhood-remembrance and something had told her
when he gaily flung out the suggestion of the bet
in his usual cavalier manner that he would be suc-
cessful and not Anne Ebbisham. It was a mystic,
shadowy and indefinable something, perhaps, but
nevertheless she had had it and had known that it
was there and John Raikes, at her side with his
hand on her arm and his eyes looking into hers, was
equally conscious that she was engulfed temporarily
by a wave of emotion. When he had first noticed it


4°
THE CRIME AT
he had pressed her, half-seriously and half-laugh-
ingly, for an explanation but she had shaken her
pretty and determined little head and successfully
evaded the issue of a direct answer. As she propped
herself up in bed upon her right elbow the events
of the previous evening came racing back to her one
by one—at first nebulously—and, after that, with a
distinct measure of clarity. What had Russell
Streatfeild meant when he had whispered to her a
few minutes after Anne had held out her hand
across the table to The flowing current of
her thoughts was checked suddenly, almost pre-
cipitately. There was a knocking upon the door of
the room next to hers and when she heard it Jane
Mordaunt sat straight up in her bed. The knock-
ing was repeated—once, twice, thrice, and grew in
the nature of its attack. Then she heard her
father's voice in the corridor and its tone held for
her an unusual petulance.
"What is it, Rayner?" she heard him say.
"What is it? If you knock any louder you'll dis-
turb everybody. Show a little common sense; do!
What is it?"
Rayner's voice came in immediate reply and the
maid's voice contained a note of agitation that Jane
even from the recesses of her bedroom detected at
once.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't wake the mistress.
This is the third time I've tried, sir, and I can't
get any answer from her at all. I don't mean the
third time I've knocked, sir; I mean the third time
I've come upstairs, sir. I must 'ave knocked a


THE CROSSXPAYS
41
dozen times all told. I don't like it, sir, truth, I
don't. It seems to me that something must be
wrong.".
"What on earth do you mean, Rayner? How
can anything be wrong? Your mistress is asleep;
she was very tired last night. I know that because
she told me so before we came to bed. The time
was only a quarter to twelve." Mordaunt was con-
temptuous towards the maid's pessimism. But
Rayner stuck obstinately to her point.
"I've never known the mistress not to be awake
a good hour before this time, sir! Besides, there's
another thing that's not quite usual."
"What's that?" Jane heard her father ask
sharply.
"Her bedroom's closed, sir. I can't get in.
The door's locked, and that's not an ordinary thing
for the mistress. I always take her tea straight in to
her, sir, long before this time."
If it failed to impress Henry Mordaunt, Jane
realized the truth of the remark and slipped on her
dressing-gown.
"I will go into your mistress's room to satisfy
you, Rayner," said Mordaunt, with the air of a
man who is settling a vexed question for all time.
He returned to his own apartment which evidently
he had recently left somewhat hastily to interrogate
the maid and passing quickly through the door that
connected the two bedrooms entered the one
ordinarily occupied by his wife. A moment's glance
around it was enough to assure him that the room
was empty. The door leading out on to the cor-


42
THE CRIME AT
ridor had no key in the lock on the inside as he
had half-expected to find. He tried it; it was
locked. Then his eyes travelled instinctively to the
bed. Here again he was puzzled, and it must be
confessed somewhat shocked—the bed had not been
slept in. It was—to all intents and purposes—
untouched. He walked right up to it and save for
a slight depression on one side as though some
object had lain there for some little time it was as
tidy and trim as though newly made. Where in the
name of goodness, he asked himself, could Olive
be? He turned to find his daughter Jane behind him.
"I heard Rayner knocking, Father. I heard
what she said to you. I came out of my room at
once. Where's Olive? What does it mean?" She
was breathless as she asked the two questions.
Mordaunt shook his head blankly and the puzzled
expression on his face became even more pro-
nounced.
"I can't make it out at all, Jane. I can't under-
stand it. I last saw Olive about a quarter to twelve
last night. She came up about twenty minutes or
so before I did—she was tired and had a bit of a
head, she told me. She also intimated that she
wouldn't require her maid. As to this position this
morning and her absence from this room, I can't
make the slightest "He stopped and shook
his head as though to emphasize his complete in-
ability to understand the situation with which he
found himself confronted.
"What do you propose we do?" queried the
practical Jane.


THE CROSSW AY S 43
"Suppose we must have a look all round; she
may have been taken queer in some way. Perhaps
she's downstairs somewhere. Tell Francis—but try
to keep it from the others—including Molly. For
goodness sake don't let us disturb the guests if we
can possibly help it. Don't tell Francis all we know
either when you go to him—just let him see that I
want him for something that's pretty important.
Don't particularize."
Jane disappeared immediately upon her errand.
It was quickly executed and very soon Mordaunt
had his son and elder daughter at his side in Mrs.
Mordaunt's bedroom.
"I had to tell Rayner," he announced, "that
Olive wasn't here. I had to—it was imperative—
there was no alternative. I've also told her to keep
her mouth shut." He spoke to Jane and looked
from her to his son at the same time with a sugges-
tion of inquiry.
"I just told him that you wanted him, Father,
and that it was urgent—no more," explained his
daughter, dutifully anticipating the remark that
Henry Mordaunt was about to make.
"We can't find Olive," Mordaunt informed his
son, coming to the point at once, " and what is much
more significant as I see it, is the alarming fact that
her bed has not been slept in. I tell you frankly,
Francis, I am at a complete loss what to make of
it. I thought I had better send for you."
Francis frowned as he digested the information.
"Are her clothes gone? " he asked.
His father stared at him for a second or two.


44
THE CRIME AT
"There are no clothes to be seen in the room—if
that's what you mean. You can see that for your-
self, surely?" He gestured impatiently round the
room to point his remarks.
"I mean outdoor clothes, Father, in case she's
had to go out somewhere. Have you looked in her
wardrobe?"
Mordaunt favored him with another stare.
"What could she have wanted to go out for, Francis
—and where? Be sensible, my boy, please! I'm
afraid I'm in no mood at the moment to listen to
moonshine and exaggerated theories like"
Francis quietly intervened. "I'm sorry, Father—
but you'll pardon me pointing it out to you, I'm sure,
but you never know, do you? It's a pretty clear
thing she has gone somewhere, isn't it? For in-
stance, I've an idea! Goodness knows why, but it's
just come to me. Supposing she got on the track of
'Creeping Jenny '—and followed her—or 'him'
as Challoner said—for all we know. Eh? How
about that for a possibility? Supposing too"
Mordaunt's face paled, and his hand shook a
little as he grasped his son's theory and all that it
might mean.
"Don't suggest that, my boy, whatever you do.
The position as we know it is quite bad enough.
For Heaven's sake don't make it any worse. Don't
put ideas like that into my head."
"Let's get to work then," exclaimed Francis.
"Standing here arguing amongst ourselves won't
find her—there's nothing more certain than that.
What about the grounds?"


THE CROSSWAYS 45
Mordaunt reluctantly concurred. "Yes, I sup-
pose we'd better have a look round. You're quite
right, Francis. Get Bennett at once; tell him we
think that Olive may have been taken ill somewhere.
Don't tell him any more than that. I'll be down
and join you in a few moments. Get back to your
room, Jane, and don't let Molly get wind of any-
thing being wrong."
He turned quickly away and his son and daughter
did as he had directed them. Within the space of
a few moments Mordaunt joined Francis and Ben-
nett, the gardener, at the door of the garage and
heard his son tell the latter that Mrs. Mordaunt
was not in her bedroom. Beyond the mere state-
ment of that fact he said nothing.
"My father and I think we ought to have a squint
round outside, Bennett, in case anything's wrong.
So come along with us, will you?"
The gardener, who was a quiet, undemonstrative
and uncommunicative man, lifted his cap to the elder
Mordaunt and gestured an assent.
"Have you been all round the garden this morn-
ing, Bennett?"
"No, Mr. Mordaunt. I haven't been a step
farther than the hothouse. There's been several
jobs to see to in there for some time now and I
never moved out of there till Mr. Francis here
come along just now and told me as how you wanted
me. So I've not been anything like round, sir—not
yet, not by any manner of means."
The tour of the garden of "The Crossways"
yielded nothing of any importance, and the sugges-


46
THE CRIME AT
tion to return was already being considered when
Francis Mordaunt had another idea.
"What about the old well?" he exclaimed.
"We haven't thought about that? Could Olive
have?"
His father interrupted him sharply. "What are
you talking about, Francis? Do you realize what
you are saying? How could she possibly have gone
down there? It will be a terrible thing if she
has"
Francis saw immediately what his father was
thinking. "Of course I don't mean anything like
that, Father. It was only the idea of searching
everywhere that came to me and made me say what
I did. I'm sorry if I upset you."
The gardener looked at the elder man and shook
his head as though in remonstrance. "After all,
sir, look at it how you will, Mr. Francis is quite
right. The old well's a right-down dangerous place,
there's no gainsayin' that fact. Many a time I've
said to folk round here that it ought to be covered
up. In fact, I as good as said so to Mitchell only
the other afternoon. Perhaps the mistress has had
a fall or something. If so we ought to go and
see."
"I suppose you're right, Bennett. Anyhow, you
and Mr. Francis between you have persuaded me
that we ought to go to have a look. So don't let's
waste any more time but get along there as quickly
as possible."
The well to which reference had been made was
situated beyond the orchard at the eitjeme eastern


THE CROSSWAYS
47
edge of the grounds belonging to " The Crossways."
It was old and disused as Bennett had stated, and
was a good ten minutes' walk from the house itself.
As the three men made their way towards it over
the grass, heavy with the autumnal dew, passing the
apple trees with their windfalls at their feet each
felt, although in a different way, that something had
happened at " The Crossways " during the last few
hours that would have the inevitable effect of chang-
ing it for evermore. None of the three by some
strange sense of anticipation as they more nearly
approached the old well, entertained any doubt
whatever that it was going to afford them some ex-
planation of Olive Mordaunt's extraordinary ab-
sence. Each felt the strange certainty that this last
errand would not turn out to be fruitless. As they
turned the last twist in the path that eventually
brought the well into actual view there appeared to
be nothing visible that could be termed in any way
out of the ordinary. The grass all round sparkled
with the sheen of the sun on the dew as it slowly
triumphed over the curling wisps of mist that
heralded chill October and the quick coming of
autumn. Francis Mordaunt, unable to restrain his
impatience, broke into a run for the last hundred
yards or so and came first to the destination. If
there were anything dreadful lying ahead he desired
to face it first and be able on that account as it were
to assume the greater part of its responsibility.
When he came to the edge of the well and looked
down into its depth, he was grateful for the few
seconds' grace that his speed had given to him. The


48
THE CRIME AT
body of his stepmother lay there at the bottom of
the well in a huddled heap of horror, and Francis
Mordaunt knew beyond any powers of contradiction
that she was dead. But he kept his head and in a
second his common sense asserted itself. He waved
his father and the gardener back a few paces and
cried to them sharply.
"She's here. She's fallen down in some way.
Perhaps she's only injured. We must get back to
the house for help. We must have ropes and a
hurdle."
But Henry Mordaunt faced the shock that he
knew the sight would give him before he turned
with them upon the journey back to the house. Like
his son before him he knew too that his wife was
dead. He fell to worrying and wondering in the
transient moments of his sorrow as to how her
death had been encompassed, for it was grotesque
and not in the order of things; she was years
younger than he. When after considerable labor
and difficulty the body was raised and brought back
to the house and his son entered the library where
he himself had retreated during the carrying out of
the unhappy task, he put the question to him that
had agitated his mind from the first moments of
the discovery.
"How did she die, Francis? From the fall
only?"
Francis Mordaunt shook his head gravely. "I'm
afraid not, sir—although, of course, I can't say
definitely till a doctor has seen her. I've sent Ben-
nett along for one—also for the police. But to all


THE CROSSWAYS
49
appearances she has been murdered—stabbed—
through the heart."
"Good God!" cried Mordaunt, "what does it
all mean? What can it mean?" He paused and
turned over in his mind another aspect of the matter
that had occasioned him some anxiety. "Tell me,
Francis," he said eventually, "how was she dressed
—was it her evening cloak that I saw as I"
"Yes, Father. She had her ermine cloak over
her evening dress. She must have put it on on
purpose to go out. Apparently she took her hand-
bag as well, for we have found that also." He
looked at his father and then quickly went on once
more. "Have you thought of what I said, Father,
when you first called me into the bedroom this morn-
ing? I can't help referring to it again. About
'Creeping Jenny,' I mean—don't you think this af-
fair all points that way? Supposing Olive did hear
something? And then"
Mordaunt bit his lip before shrugging his shoul-
ders. "It hardly seems to me likely or even pos-
sible that Olive would—still"
A tap sounded on the door and there was also to
be heard the buzz of voices.
"Come in," he called. The door opened.
"Good morning, Mr. Mordaunt," said the man
who entered, "you sent for me, I believe?"
It was Inspector Baddeley.


THE CRIME AT
CHAPTER V
♦
"I did, Inspector, or rather my son here did.
We are in serious trouble. My wife, I fear, has been
murdered." Mordaunt's voice broke as he made
the announcement. "Did you bring a doctor with
you, Inspector?"
"Doctor Elliott will be here in a few moments,
Mr. Mordaunt. I telephoned to him directly I
received the message that your man brought. But
tell me all you can, please, as quickly as possible.
What are the circumstances of Mrs. Mordaunt's
death?"
Mordaunt told the story in detail as he knew
it—from the moment that Rayner had first sounded
the alarm, to the finding of the body in the well.
He also mentioned when he had last seen his wife.
Baddeley listened with the keenest attention.
"Stabbed through the heart you think, sir," he said,
addressing Francis. "Have you found the weapon
that was used, by any chance?"
Francis Mordaunt shook his head. "No.
Haven't looked for it, Inspector. Haven't had time
to look for it. It isn't half-an-hour since we got the
body out of the well. My father and I have just
waited for you to come. We haven't really had any
time to do anything else."
"I see." Baddeley rubbed his chin with his


THE CROSSWAYS
Si
thumb and forefinger. "Any trouble that you know
of during the night? Any alarm, for instance,
that might have disturbed Mrs. Mordaunt and
caused her to dress herself, lock her bedroom door,
and go out of the house?"
Father and son shook their heads in simultaneous
denial of the Inspector's suggestion.
"Neither of us heard anything, Inspector. I
have asked my son about it," answered the elder
man, "and my bedroom is, of course, connected
with my wife's. If it were so, why should she take
the key with her? Anything that might have hap-
pened to upset or disturb her should most certainly
have affected me in precisely the same way. And as
it happened I was particularly on the qui vive last
night."
Baddeley noted the last remark but for the time
being tried another tack. "Had Mrs. Mordaunt
any personal trouble that you are aware of, sir?"
"No, Baddeley, none whatever as far as I know.
Certainly nothing that she has confided to me or
that—provided that were not the case—I have ever
observed."
"Been in good spirits lately?"
"Yes, I think so, Inspector. Much as usual I
should say. Certainly there was nothing noticeable
the other way. Of course we've been pretty busy
for the last few days over the arrangements in
respect of my younger daughter's engagement. But
I should say that—making allowances for excite-
ment and pressure of household responsibility—my
wife's spirits had been quite normal."


52
THE CRIME AT
"No!" The interruption came from Francis.
His tone was sharp and short. His father turned
to him with surprise.
"No? What do you mean, Francis? That Olive
was not in good spirits? If what you hint at is
true it's news to me."
Baddeley turned to the young man. "Tell me
what you want to tell me—I shall be pleased to hear
it. Perhaps it will assist me a great deal."
Henry Mordaunt looked curiously at his son.
"Surely, Francis, you aren't referring to that
'Creeping Jenny' business that I mentioned last
night at dinner? Because if you are, I can tell you
candidly"
"No, Father, I'm not. I made up my mind to
leave that to you to tell the Inspector later on.
What I am about to say has nothing whatever to do
with that. It is something quite different. But
Olive was not herself all day yesterday. I am able
to make that statement without fear of contradic-
tion and with no reservations whatever. I noticed
the fact on several occasions and I'm perfectly cer-
tain that if you taxed them about it and told them
what I have said that my sisters would confirm it—
especially Molly. Because they noticed it, too."
"How was the lady then, Mr. Mordaunt, prior
to yesterday—all right?"
Francis considered the question for a minute.
"As far as I can judge, yes. That is to say that
I didn't notice anything untoward or abnormal
about her then like I did yesterday. But at the
same time, Inspector, I should like to warn you that


THE CROSSWAYS
53
that evidence of mine isn't worth very much. For
I was out in the car nearly all Saturday and Sunday,
so that I didn't see very much of her on those two
days."
"H'm, I see." Baddeley turned to the elder
man. "And you noticed nothing of what your son
has mentioned, Mr. Mordaunt?"
"Nothing, Inspector. But what he says has
rather disturbed me. It has made me even more
worried than I was."
Before Baddeley could develop the question, how-
ever, a knock on the door heralded the entrance of
Doctor Elliott. He intimated to the Inspector that
he desired to see the body of the dead woman im-
mediately.
"Where is it, Baddeley?"
"In the garage, Doctor. Young Mr. Mordaunt
here gave orders for it to be taken in there. I quite
see his point that the body had to be taken from the
well to make sure that she was past help, but all
the same I wish I had been on the spot when they
did it. You had better come with us, Mr. Mor-
daunt," he added addressing the K. C. "I'll
have a chat with you later on about what you
were on the point of telling me." As Mordaunt
raised his eyebrows at the remark, Baddeley con-
tinued in explanation, "About 'Creeping Jenny,' I
mean."
The four men entered the garage where the body
of Olive Mordaunt lay. Doctor Elliott's inspection
was quickly made.
"A clear case of murder, in my opinion," he said


54
THE CRIME AT
after a comparatively brief examination of the body.
"And death, I should say, must have been almost
instantaneous."
"Stabbed through the heart, Doctor?" inquired
Baddeley.
"There is a deepish wound above the heart," re-
plied the doctor. "The dagger or knife that has
been used has been driven in with a good deal of
force by the assailant. It has entered close to the
breast-bone between the second and third ribs. The
left lung has been punctured and the aortic arch
almost divided. So great was the force of the blow,
the pulmonary artery has also suffered severely. It
would have been impossible for the victim to have
lived more than a few seconds."
Henry Mordaunt's face was colorless. He looked
like a man who had seen a ghost.
"One question, Doctor Elliott. Is it possible
from what you have seen for my poor wife to have
laid violent hands on herself?"
The doctor rubbed his forehead. "Yes, just
possible I think, perhaps—but highly improbable.
Very, very highly improbable. So much so that you
can rule out the bare possibility. It is quite true
that the wound might, judging solely from its posi-
tion, have been self-inflicted—but all my medical
knowledge and experience prompt me to say that
in my opinion it was not. For instance death would
come to the victim so quickly—almost as I said just
now—instantaneously, that I think the weapon that
had been used would be found, of a certainty, either
clasped in the hand or at least lying close beside the


THE CROSSWAYS 55
body. There would be no time to rid oneself of
it after it had been used."
Baddeley uttered an explanation. "We can't say
yet that it isn't close to the body, Doctor. It strikes
me very forcibly that the weapon that was employed
to murder Mrs. Mordaunt may be still down the
well. What do you say, Mr. Francis?"
"I think not, Inspector. There's just the possi-
bility of it, I grant you, but I think we should have
spotted anything in the nature of a dagger or knife
when we recovered the body, had it been there.
However, you can make certain on the point, In-
spector, when you have a look yourself."
Baddeley nodded with some suggestion of em-
phasis. "I shall have to, there's no question about
that." He turned again to the doctor. "Another
point, Doctor Elliott, before I forget it. How long
would you say that this lady has been dead?"
"About twelve hours, Baddeley," replied the
doctor, "perhaps more." He looked at his watch.
"I should put the crime down to have taken place
somewhere about midnight, say at a stretch between
twelve and three."
"Thank you, Doctor. What about the body
generally? Are there any signs of a struggle hav-
ing taken place before the blow was struck?"
Doctor Elliott went back and looked at the dead
woman's wrists and hands. "In my opinion, no,
Inspector. The body is bruised very considerably,
but the bruises are quite consistent with the fall, I
should say, and entirely what I should have expected
having regard to the circumstances of how, I im-


$6
THE CRIME AT
agine, she met her death. I think it came to her
suddenly and was too surprising for her to struggle.
There is a severe bruise on the left elbow, three
scratches on the right wrist, an abrasion at the back
of the skull and several bruises in the lumbar region
of the back. I should assert without hesitation that
directly the blow was struck, Mrs. Mordaunt fell
backwards into the well and death came to her al-
most at once."
"H'm, I see," said Baddeley, as they left the
building. "Now, Mr. Mordaunt, before I walk
over to the scene of the crime, tell me, what was this
'Creeping Jenny' business about which you were
talking? You can guess why I'm interested; apart
from the murder of your wife."
Mordaunt put his hand to his breast pocket and
took out his wallet. From the wallet he extracted
the letter he had received the day before and handed
it to Baddeley.
"There you are, Inspector," he said. "This is
the matter to which my son referred. Read what
the letter says."
Baddeley read it with grim intentness. "Got the
envelope, Mr. Mordaunt?" he asked somewhat
curtly.
"Here it is, Inspector." Mordaunt handed it
over.
"H'm. Address typed like the contents. Cran-
wick postmark. The sender was on the spot in
advance then, in all probability." Baddeley rubbed
the ridge of his jaw as he spoke. "Very interesting,
sir. Very interesting indeed. And makes me won-


THE CROSSWAYS
57
der quite a hat-full, too. I should be very pleased
to hear what you think of it yourself, Mr. Mor-
daunt."
"Well, that's a bit of a poser for me to answer,
Baddeley. I may surprise you when I tell you, but
I incline to the opinion that this letter that I re-
ceived was authentic, something in the nature of a
real warning. I think that this criminal—' Creep-
ing Jenny '—was undoubtedly attracted by the Lor-
rimer sapphire and intended, if possible, to get hold
of it. As to the sending of the letter—well, history
holds many instances of criminals giving warning of
crimes that they intended to commit, and usually
it was the victim you will find who received this
advance information."
"Yes, I'll concede its possibility. Did anybody
besides you and your son know that you had re-
ceived this letter? Did Mrs. Mordaunt know it
herself?"
"Yes, she did, and every one of my guests, every-
body, Inspector. I told them all at dinner last
evening."
"I see! So that the 'Creeping Jenny' threat
may be said to have been public property, eh?"
'" Absolutely, Inspector. I think that if ' Creep-
ing Jenny ' had put in an appearance at ' The Cross-
ways ' last night a warm reception would have been
in store."
"There was no alarm of any kind you say in the
night?"
Mordaunt shook his head firmly. "None what-
ever."


THE CROSSWAYS
59
damage hasn't been done after all. I shall have to
make a thorough investigation. But here we are, I
fancy; let me have a look at the well-bottom." Bad-
deley walked to the side and looked over. "De-
scribe as accurately as you can if you please, sir, how
your stepmother was lying and the exact place
where her body was when you first looked down
and saw her."
Francis indicated the position. "Just there
where I'm pointing. She was lying slightly on her
left shoulder."
"H'm—h'm—and her evening cloak was on?"
"Yes."
Baddeley took out his note-book and made an
entry. "It means me going down there if I want
to be sure of one or two points. All the same it's
not a single-handed job, that's very plain." He
turned away, his eyes fixed once again on the green
expanse of grass that surrounded the old well. Sud-
denly they saw him stoop.
"Hallo—hallo, Mr. Mordaunt! What's this,
eh? What's the meaning of this?" He picked
something very carefully from the top edges of the
grass.
Francis Mordaunt saw that the Inspector held
four or five pieces of charred paper in his hand.
Baddeley held them out to the others for inspection.
They were quite black and any writing that might
once have been on them was now indecipherable.
"Fragments of a letter it seems to me, gentlemen,
from the sizes of the pieces. May be nothing in it,
of course, affecting our case. Still, you never know /


6o
THE CRIME AT
and I'm not disposed to take any risks." He placed
the fragments with careful deliberation between the
leaves of his official note-book. "Have a glance
round, do you mind, gentlemen," he ordered. "See
if you can see any sign of a weapon anywhere about.
It isn't likely, I grant, but there's no knowing. A
murderer, very often loses his head after he's com-
mitted his crime and throws a knife or a revolver
away. Work round in all directions, will you, gentle-
men?"
Mordaunt and his son did as directed but to no
purpose.
"No luck, gentlemen," Baddeley made the an-
nouncement eventually as a matter of course. "I
think, Mr. Mordaunt," he added, " that I'll go back
to the house for the time being and come out here
again later. I should like to look into one or two
matters inside the house, sir, before they get too
cold, if it's all the same to you."
Mordaunt acquiesced immediately. "Certainly.
Anything you like, Inspector. What do you desire
to do exactly, Baddeley?" he said when they had
regained the house—" and where particularly do
you wish to go?"
Before the Inspector could frame his reply to
the two questions there came an interruption. Sev-
eral of the members of the house party, among
whom, of course, by this time the dreadful news had
spread, were grouped together in the hall. As the
Inspector entered the house with the two Mordaunts
one of the group stepped forward and accosted the
K. C. It was Captain Lorrimer.


THE CROSSWAYS
61
"Mr. Mordaunt," he said, "forgive me inter-
rupting you but I have just heard the bad news. My
sincerest sympathy to you in your trouble." He
then looked round for a second, dropped his voice
and said something else.
Mordaunt looked up at him with an unmistakable
start. "Certainly, Lorrimer, certainly," the others
heard him say. "I am in entire agreement with
you. By all means inform the Inspector at once."
He turned to Baddeley. "Baddeley! This is Cap-
tain Cyril Lorrimer, my prospective son-in-law. He
has something to tell you that he considers of the
greatest and gravest importance. He would like
to speak to you privately, that is to say with nobody
present beyond myself and my son."
"Bring him into the library, Mr. Mordaunt,"
said Inspector Baddeley. "I have an idea that I
know what it is that he wishes to tell me."


62
THE CRIME AT
CHAPTER VI
*
As the door closed behind Captain Lorrimer the
three men who had accompanied him into the room
formed the opinion that he had excellent grounds
very probably for the statement that he had just
previously made to Henry Mordaunt. It was evi-
dent to all three of them that Lorrimer's agitation
was real and sustained. There was no doubt that
he had had a shock of some kind.
Inspector Baddeley motioned him to a seat and
then took one himself at the head of the table.
"What is it that you have to tell me, Captain
Lorrimer? Let me see if it's in accordance with my
anticipations. I'll play fair, and tell you if I'm
wrong. No, I won't. I'll tell you."
Lorrimer looked at him rather curiously. "I
don't know quite what you mean by those remarks,
Inspector. Anyhow, when I've told you what I'm
going to you'll be in a position to judge for yourself
if you're right or not."
Baddeley raised his hand. "Just a minute, sir.
One will be ample, I think. Before you put me wise
as to this story of yours I'll tell you what you have
come to tell me. Then there'll be no doubt about
it. I'll tell you beforehand in order that you'll
be able to see that everything's all square and above-
board. You've come to tell me, Captain Lorrimer,


64
THE CRIME AT
At this point Lorrimer himself took up the run-
ning again. "You see the position, then, Inspector.
Now, I should have let Miss Mordaunt keep the
sapphire last night—it was my original intention
that she should but for that letter Mr. Mordaunt
here received by post from 'Creeping Jenny.' I
take it that you have already been informed of
that?"
Inspector Baddeley immediately nodded an af-
firmative. "Yes. Go on," he added.
"That letter, Inspector, made me alter my mind
and also come to a decision. I resolved not to risk
either the sapphire or perhaps the safety of Molly
herself, by letting her wear it during the night.
It wouldn't have been fair to her—and besides that
I've had plans in operation for some time now di-
rected towards the safety of my sapphire. Now,
gentlemen, I've had to inform you of these matters
so that you can understand the position better.
What I next have to tell you is this." He leaned
over the table towards the Inspector and spoke very
quietly and impressively. "Mrs. Mordaunt was
murdered by somebody for possession of the Lor-
rimer sapphire, I'm certain of itl"
The husband of the murdered woman sat bolt
upright in his chair at Lorrimer's surprising decla-
ration. "What?" he exclaimed incredulously.
"What on earth prompts you to say that? What
do you mean?"
Before Lorrimer could reply Henry Mordaunt
went on, mastered temporarily by his excitement
and emotion. "You will have a very difficult task


THE CROSSWAYS 65
to convince me of that," he said with definite chal-
lenge in his tone.
Lorrimer's quiet response was intensely sympa-
thetic.
"I can understand you saying that, sir," he re-
joined, "and I feel for you tremendously. But I
know what I'm talking about. Listen carefully,
please. After I left you last night, sir—you remem-
ber my last words, by the way, in all probability—
Mrs. Mordaunt sought me; she begged me to let
her watch the sapphire during the night. Her ex-
planation was that she felt absolutely certain that
the attempt would be made to steal it from me that
night and that if she had it, it would be quite safe.
Well, Inspector—not to put too fine a point upon*
it—I was puzzled. I may as well admit that at
once. But I laughed at her fears, I told her that in
my opinion the sapphire was in no danger whatever
—that I had been successful in keeping it so long
that I wasn't going to lose it now—and moreover
when I had been warned—in the bargain. But try
as I would, gentlemen, and argue as I might, I
couldn't shake Mrs. Mordaunt's belief in what she
was sure was going to happen. She was obsessed
by the idea."
"Just a minute, Captain Lorrimer," put in In-
spector Baddeley, "did she seem certain that
'Creeping Jenny' was going to do the stealing?
Emphasizing my point. Did she mention ' Creeping
Jenny ' by name, can you remember?"
"Oh yes, Inspector, every time. That undoubt-
edly was the trouble. 'Creeping Jenny's' letter


66
THE CRIME AT
had done the trick as far as Mrs. Mordaunt was
concerned, there's no doubt about that."
"Thank you. Go on, sir, if you don't mind."
Baddeley was getting more and more interested.
Perhaps, after all, his theory wasn't going to prove
so very wide of the actual mark. Things seemed
to be shaping towards that direction.
"Well, I stuck to my guns, Inspector, and poor
Mrs. Mordaunt stuck to hers. I think that each of
us had been born with more than an average supply
of obstinacy. But in the end, I compromised—al-
though, of course, Mrs. Mordaunt wasn't aware of
that fact."
"Compromised, Lorrimer?" asked Henry Mor-
daunt, with a frown on his brow. "I don't follow
you. How did you manage to do that?"
"In this way, sir! For a long time now I have
possessed a paste imitation of the Lorrimer sap-
phire. It has formed the basis of my plan for keep-
ing the original and is—I may tell you—an exact
facsimile. I know the difference'" between the two,
but it would take an expert to detect it when shown
the two rings for the first time. Consider this fact
alone. Geldarstein himself was seven seconds dis-
tinguishing the real one. When I realized last night
that Mrs. Mordaunt was in such deadly earnest an
idea came to me suddenly, and at length I satisfied
her by giving her the paste stone to mind, letting
her imagine, of course, that she had the real Lor-
rimer sapphire in her possession." Lorrimer rose
and paced the room in extreme agitation. "Mr.
Mordaunt, I shall never be able to forgive myself


THE CROSSW AY S 67
for what I did for I fear that by doing so, I un-
wittingly sent her to her death. For as I said just
now I am afraid that Mrs. Mordaunt was murdered
for possession of that sapphire. Doesn't it seem so
to you, gentlemen? What else can I—in my position
—think?"
There was silence for the matter of a few seconds
as each man contemplated the possibilities of what
they had just heard. Then the elder Mordaunt
broke it.
"What I can't understand, Lorrimer, is this.
Why on earth did my poor wife want to mind the
wretched thing? Even if 'Creeping Jenny' had
taken it, how would it worry her—beyond the fact
of ordinary loss? In what way did it concern her
more than me, for example? Why should she have
been so perturbed about the prospect of it being
stolen? That I find incapable of adequate answer."
"And I agree with you, Mr. Mordaunt. Just
what I think myself." Baddeley spoke crisply and
curtly. "In fact," he continued, "it seems to me
that there's only one possible explanation. What
I've just listened to is corroborative. The key to
the ' Creeping Jenny' puzzle will be found to be in
this district somewhere, I'm pretty sure of it. And
I'm sure of this too, Mrs. Mordaunt knew some-
thing!" He brought his hand down on to the
table in sharp emphasis, and drummed with his fin-
gers on its surface. "And by Moses I'll find out
what it was before I'm finished. What time did
this interview take place?"
"About a quarter past twelve," replied Lorrimer.


68
THE CRIME AT
Baddeley turned to Francis. "Here we begin
to progress, sir. This may account for her being
somewhat unsettled on the Monday as you sug-
gested, sir? Don't you think so?" Before Fran-
cis could reply, Baddeley fired a second question at
him. "I suppose she didn't confide in you at all,
eh?"
But Francis answered the question with the ut-
most coolness. "She did not, Inspector. I should
have told you if she had when I first mentioned
the matter. Also I can't see myself that my step-
mother's anxiety or worry or whatever you choose
to call it could have had anything to do with this
'Creeping Jenny' business. At the time of which
I speak my father hadn't received 'Creeping
Jenny's' letter."
"Very likely you can't, which doesn't concern
me." Baddeley turned his attention to Captain Lor-
rimer. "Where were you, Captain Lorrimer, when
you handed this imitation sapphire of yours over to
Mrs. Mordaunt? I'm interested to know that."
"I gave it to her in the corridor outside her bed-
room door."
"Directly after your interview with her?"
"Immediately, Inspector. It was the natural
conclusion to the interview. I finished by saying
that I would do as she wished and give way to her
in the matter and go and get her the stone. I did
so at once."
"Nobody could have seen you in the corridor, I
suppose?"
"I hardly think so, Inspector. There was cer-


THE CROSSWAYS
69
tainly nobody about that I saw. I think several of
the house party had gone to bed."
Baddeley changed his tactics again. He came
back to Mordaunt the elder. "Something you said
when I first arrived this morning has come back to
me. You stated, if I remember your words correctly,
that you were specially alert during the night. 'On
the qui vive' was the expression which I think you
used. Am I to understand that that was so out of
compliment, shall we say, to the threat from ' Creep-
ing Jenny,' or had you any other reasons for being
so?"
It was a moment or two before the K. C. es-
sayed an answer. It seemed to those that awaited
his reply that he was making up his mind about
something. When he at length commenced to speak
his words came very slowly.
"Your question and the way in which you have
put it, Inspector, bring me to something rather curi-
ous that happened last night at dinner. Perhaps
that was in my mind when I spoke to you before."
"Curious? Please explain, sir."
"I will," rejoined Mordaunt. "I don't know
whether I told you the details before, but I read
the letter that I had received from 'Creeping
Jenny' to my company as they sat at the dinner-
table. Naturally the reading of it created a good
deal of interest and excitement. Captain Lorrimer
expressed his opinion that ' Creeping Jenny' would
be unsuccessful in her attempt; that he would hold
his sapphire against her. The atmosphere was not
only tense and dramatic—but also I think a little


70
THE CRIME AT
theatrical—which is different. Then the incident
happened that I just described as curious. It was
born no doubt of this touch of the theatre. One of
my guests is a very old and dear friend of mine—
Adrian Challoner, the celebrated actor-manager of
the Ramillies Theatre, London. You can imagine
how he, of all people, reacted to this atmosphere
that I have just described. He offered to bet a
hundred pounds that 'Creeping Jenny' would get
away with the Lorrimer sapphire. I think he stated
that he was making the bet because her pluck—and
—er—grit appealed to him. The challenge was
a general one." Mordaunt stopped and wiped his
forehead with his handkerchief—the three condi-
tions of suspense, anxiety and grief through which
he had travelled and through the last of which he
was still journeying were proving a little too much
for him.
"Go on, Mr. Mordaunt," said Baddeley. "This
is very interesting indeed. I should also like to
know whether that bet was taken by anybody."
"Challoner's bet was taken," replied Mordaunt.
"It was taken by a very charming girl who is stay-
ing here and who happens strangely enough to be
Challoner's goddaughter. Her name is Ebbisham
—Anne Ebbisham. Her people were close friends
of my first wife."
Baddeley furrowed his brows thoughtfully.
"Anne Ebbisham?" He repeated the name slowly
after Henry Mordaunt and the tone in which he
said it held not only a definite question but also, it
seemed, a doubt. "The name is familiar. I rather


THE CROSSWAYS
fancy I've had the pleasure of meeting that young
lady before. Am I right in stating that she has
recently been staying at Cranwick Towers, the resi-
dence of Lady Craddock?"
"That is so, Inspector; my two girls were staying
there with her."
"I thought so," added Baddeley. "I remember
that particular young lady very well indeed. I don't
think she'd want anybody to hold her hand crossing
the road. I shouldn't say that she was afraid to
go home in the dark either. And she took this Mr.
Challoner's bet—eh? Bet him a hundred pounds
that ' Creeping Jenny' wouldn't bring the job off—
eh? And that the Captain here wouldn't lose his
sapphire? Well now, I quite agree with you, Mr.
Mordaunt, that is curious." He rubbed the ridge
of his jaw again. "You will observe, gentlemen,"
he continued pleasantly, "that this young lady has
apparently won her bet. Mr. Challoner has for-
feited his hundred pounds. Just now I was won-
dering what Mrs. Mordaunt knew. Now I'm won-
dering what Miss Ebbisham knew." Baddeley stood
at his chair by the head of the table for a few
moments deep in thought. Then he turned to Cap-
tain Lorrimer. "Thank you, sir," he said warmly,
"for your information. As you stated, it is of the
utmost importance, especially at this stage of the
case. It may serve to put me on the right track
when I get the threads of the affair into my hands.
You have probably saved me a great deal of time.
At any rate it has made me alter my arrangements.
Please excuse me, gentlemen, for the time being."


72
THE CRIME AT
The Inspector made a hurried exit from the library
and made his way to the telephone in the hall.
From there he quickly established communication
with the men he wanted and outlined to them all
what he desired them to do for him. In less than
an hour's time he met them at the old well and
further operations were at once commenced there.
Roper, the Inspector's first assistant, carried them
out very painstakingly and thoroughly. Despite the
most assiduous search there was no weapon to be
found within the well, but away in one corner lay
two burnt match-ends which Roper brought to the
top and handed with triumph to his Chief.
Baddeley's eyes brightened perceptibly at the find
and after examination he carefully placed the two
ends in his pocket. "No sign of any weapon down
there, Inspector," said Roper, "you can bank on
that."
"Quite sure, Roper?"
"Absolutely, sir. I've been over every inch of the
ground."
"Well then, I'll say this, Roper, I think it's very
strange. I should have expected a weapon of that
kind to have been flung away by the murderer di-
rectly after the crime had been committed, wouldn't
you? Seems to me to have been that kind of mur-
derer."
"Yes, I think I should, Inspector. But you can't
say! Which way did he go?" Roper looked round
as though expecting to find the answer to his ques-
tion plainly written somewhere or other for all to
see.


THE CROSSWAYS
73
"My dear Roper," replied Baddeley, " a herd of
elephants couldn't have left more traces behind of
their movements than the people here have done
this morning. Anything of last night's origin has
been beautifully obliterated. It's only in books that
these wonderful footprint clues are found. I'd hug
myself to be a detective in a book."
Ten minutes later he pushed open the door of
the library. As he did so his face registered sur-
prise. Henry Mordaunt and his son were seated
almost exactly and in the same places as they had
been when the Inspector had left. But Captain Lor-
rimer stood on the rug in front of the fireplace and
faced them. Real as had been his agitation before,
it had now increased tenfold, for the distress in his
voice was evident to everybody present.
"Inspector," he cried as Baddeley entered the
room, " I'm very glad you've returned. I am sorry
to say that my confidence has been misplaced. I
have just discovered that the Lorrimer sapphire has
been stolen during the night—stolen from my bed-
room. 'Creeping Jenny' must have been in 'The
Crossways' after all." He turned and sank into a
chair..


74
THE CRIME AT
C H APTER VII
Baddeley's eyes danced with excitement and his
fingers went instinctively to caress the trim, military
moustache of which he was secretly rather proud.
It was a gesture of his that always followed a feel-
ing of satisfaction.
"Things are moving, Captain Lorrimer! What
did I say when I spoke to you before?" He looked
across at Lorrimer who seemed extremly cut up at
the realization of his loss. "Come, sir," continued
Baddeley, "we must unite our best forces to get it
back to you. And if we work together that will be a
very good reason why we should be successful. For
there's one thing, gentlemen, that I'm pretty well
certain about." He paused and looked at the com-
pany of men as though challenging any one of them
to ask his meaning.
Henry Mordaunt sensed this and came to the
question. "What's that, Inspector?"
"That the Lorrimer sapphire isn't very far away
—yet. I don't think it's had time to be." Baddeley
brought his fist down on to the table with one of
his emphatic thumps. Following up the action al-
most immediately he swung round on to Captain
Lorrimer. "By the way, Captain Lorrimer," he
asked, "it's just occurred to me, any sign of the


THE CROSSWAYS
usual 'Creeping Jenny' visiting-card in your bed-
room? You know what I mean, don't you?"
Lorrimer jerked up his head with signs of sudden
and almost startled interest, his eyes wide open.
"By Jove, I never thought of that. I didn't notice
any, Inspector, now you come to mention it, but I
don't know that I can be said to have looked very
carefully. I was so amazed when I discovered the
loss that I just came straight down here to find you
and tell you." ,
Baddeley rubbed his cheek with the knuckles of
his left hand. "Quite so, sir. I can understand
that. Well, there's nothing like making sure. We'll
have a look ourselves. And now—at that. Lead
the way to your bedroom, sir—do you mind?"
Although it was to Lorrimer that Baddeley had
addressed his last remark, Henry Mordaunt acted
upon the instruction and piloted the three men up
the stairs to the bedroom in question. As they
ascended Baddeley spoke quietly to the man just
in front of him. Mordaunt listened and nodded.
"I will see that that is attended to, Inspector, in
fact, I thought about issuing orders myself to that
effect. Everybody shall be here when you want any
of them."
Entering the bedroom Francis gave a cry of quick
discovery. His eyes alert and keen had picked up
something that Lorrimer's in the first agitation of
the loss had missed. Propped up against a photo
frame that stood on the dressing-table was a visiting-
card, or, to be exact, a card that looked like one.
Baddeley swooped on to it, like an eagle descending


7<5
THE CRIME AT
triumphantly upon its prey. What he read upon the
card appeared to convey to him a certain measure
of satisfaction for he turned to the others and ac-
claimed his acquisition.
"The usual typed message, gentlemen, and the
usual name at the bottom. I say 'usual,' although
I don't suppose anybody here has seen it before.
But no doubt you've heard of it. It's the greeting
that 'Creeping Jenny' always leaves behind her."
The three men looked over the Inspector's shoul-
der. The message they read was short, sharp and
to the point. "With 'Creeping Jenny's' compli-
ments. She takes but one."
"As per invoice," remarked Baddeley. "The
mixture as before. Now, Captain Lorrimer, tell me
at once: you discovered the theft about half-an-hour
ago, I presume?"
Lorrimer became thoughtful. "Yes, it would be
about that, Inspector. Not much more than that,
certainly. But I think I had better explain one or
two things to you before we go any farther. I shall
save time in the end."
"Just my idea, sir. For instance—you previously
mentioned to me that you had made certain plans
or arrangements—anything you like to call them—
with regard to safeguarding your sapphire. May I
ask what those particular plans were? That ques-
tion, you see, arises now very pointedly."
"Exactly what I was about to explain, Inspector
Baddeley. Candidly I feel an awful ass about it
now—speaking to you as I did." He looked at
Mordaunt as he spoke and embarked at once upon


THE CROSSWAYS
11
a venture that was almost in the nature of an apol-
ogy. "I'm tremendously sorry, sir," he exclaimed
sympathetically, "it must seem to you very much
as though I'm putting my own slight loss before
your loss—you know what I mean, sir. Please don't
think that of me, it's just the fact that the loss of
the sapphire has come along at this moment and
taken ' center stage ' as it were for the time being."
Mordaunt recognized the appeal in his voice and
paid due deference to it. "I understand perfectly,
Lorrimer, so don't worry about it. I can guess ex-
actly how you feel about everything. There is no
need for you to reproach yourself over anything
that you have said."
Lorrimer wiped his forehead with his handker-
chief. "Thank you, sir. What you say makes me
feel a lot easier. It's very generous of you to put
it like that. Now I'll out with what I was going
to tell you, Inspector. My plans for keeping the
sapphire were excessively simple. You see those
two sticks of shaving-soap?" He pointed to two
sticks of shaving-soap of the ordinary variety, shape
and size, that stood on the side of the table.
Baddeley's and the eyes of the others followed
his indicating finger.
"Yes," snapped the first-named brusquely.
"What about them?"
"The first one—this one nearer to me—is a stick
of soap that you could purchase in any shop that
stocked it so we can pass over it. But look at the
second—you'll see that it's somewhat different.
Pick it up." The Inspector obeyed the bidding,


78
THE CRIME AT
took the second stick and examined it. "Notice
anything about it? " inquired Lorrimer eagerly.
"It's a bit light," confessed Baddeley. "In
weight I mean—certainly lighter than the other
one." He tested one against the other in his hands.
"Right," said Lorrimer. "Turn the second one
upside down and look at the bottom of the stick."
Baddeley did as ordered and what he saw sur-
prised him. The soap had been hollowed out at the
bottom something after the manner of a certain
type of wine-bottle and there was a cavity into
which the Inspector had no difficulty in inserting his
finger.
"That cavity there, Inspector, was my hiding-
place for the sapphire," said Lorrimer sadly, "and
it's always turned up trumps up till now for I have
reason to believe that more than one attempt has
been made in the past to steal it. I'd have laid a
thousand to one against anybody getting away with
it—' Creeping Jenny' included. But there you are
—the impossible has come off this time."
Baddeley looked up and fingered his chin reflect-
ively. "I am going to ask you a very pertinent
question, sir," he said, " and I want you to give me
a very frank answer. Who else besides yourself
knew of this secret of the shaving-stick? Don't
except anybody—no matter how intimate that
particular person may be." As he spoke Bad-
deley watched Lorrimer's face. Was it fancy on his
part or did a shade of anxiety cross it? However,
there was no hesitation in Lorrimer's voice when
he answered:


THE CROSSWAYS
79
"The only other person in the world who knew
of the hiding-place of the Lorrimer sapphire was
my mother—which is equivalent to my saying—
'nobody else.' That is to say from your point of
view, Inspector."
"Not quite, sir—speaking as an Inspector of
Police," returned Baddeley, " although I appreciate
your meaning. Is Mrs. Lorrimer—I presume that
is the lady's name—staying here now?"
"She is," replied Lorrimer with some show of
surprise, "but I don't quite follow why you
should"
"That's all right, sir. But if you'll allow me to
say so again, my standpoint in the matter must be
dissimilar to yours. I'm sure you won't mind me
pointing that out to you."
It seemed that Mordaunt was about to speak as
Baddeley finished his sentence, but the latter, pro-
ceeding again almost immediately, was too quick
for him.
"For instance, Captain Lorrimer,"—Baddeley
seemed now to be speaking with a sense of great
responsibility—" have I your word of honor that
your fiancee, Miss Margaret Mordaunt, was un-
aware of your method of hiding the sapphire? The
sapphire, mark you, which you were going to pre-
sent to her."
Lorrimer flushed at the Inspector's question.
"You have my word of honor, Inspector Baddeley!
That should have been clear to you from my first
answer. Only my mother knew! I have never
discussed the matter with Molly in any way at all.


8o
THE CRIME AT
The question of my losing the sapphire while stay-
ing down here was never definitely considered be-
tween us prior to Mr. Mordaunt here getting the
letter from ' Creeping Jenny.'" He turned impul-
sively to the man to whom he had just referred.
"You can corroborate that for me, sir—or at any
rate you can"
Mordaunt nodded. His face was now showing
very obvious signs of the trouble that had come to
him. To Francis it seemed that he had aged years
in the short space of twelve hours.
"I can't contradict you, Lorrimer," said the K.
C. to the man that had appealed to him, "and I'm
certain that the Inspector is quite satisfied on the
point. Aren't you, Baddeley? But that brings me
to something that I was about to say a moment or
two ago. Something that came to me a little while
back which I think Baddeley should know, although
I must admit that I don't know why I think so," he
continued wearily, "except for the fact that the
more you tell a man in a case of this kind, the more
chance you give him of obtaining results."
Baddeley expressed his agreement with a quick
movement of the head. "I'm all for that, Mr.
Mordaunt. And I must say that I wish everybody
thought in the same way as you do. It's the tight-
lipped variety of people that so often ties a man's
hands almost as soon as he's started. Makes you
put up a couple of stone over-weight right from the
beginning. I'm listening to what you've got to
say."
The K. C.'s drawn face grew a shade more trou-


THE CROSSWAYS
81
bled. But he turned to Lorrimer as though eager
to revive a memory in the latter's mind. "I'm going
to take you back a stretch, old man—to a semi-
private sort of conversation you had with me after
I'd read 'Creeping Jenny's' warning to you all at
the dinner-table."
Lorrimer wrinkled his forehead in consideration
of Mordaunt's statement and Francis looked anx-
iously at his father—evidently in great wonderment
at what was coming next.
"Do you mean directly after or some consider-
able time after? Because I'm not altogether sure
that I"
Mordaunt cut in. "Not directly after—I don't
mean then at all. I mean towards the end of the
evening when I spoke to you about Challoner's
wager with Anne Ebbisham. Can you remember
the terms of your reply to me?"
"By Jove, sir,"—Lorrimer brought his two
hands together under the stress of his excitement—
"now you mention it I should just think I do. And
I think I begin to see where you're heading! You're
referring to the terms of my projected wager—if
'wager' it could be called."
Mordaunt held up his hand to check any further
explanation upon which he might venture. "You
said to me that if 'Creeping Jenny' were success-
ful in the threat that she had made, you wouldn't
shave again while you were here. Tell me now,
Lorrimer—so that Baddeley here may entertain no
doubt upon the point—when you spoke in that face-
tious way—were you thinking of the sapphire's hid-


82
THE CRIME AT
ing-place? What was uppermost in your mind at
the moment?"
Lorrimer broke in, his impetuosity mastering
his patience. "Oh yes, sir. Of course I was. I'm
perfectly willing to admit it. The place where I
was going to put the sapphire that night was un-
doubtedly uppermost in my mind as I was speaking.
All the same I don't see for the life of me how
anybody could freeze on to an oblique reference
like that. Even if anybody had been near enough
to us to hear what I said. Which I'm pretty certain
did not happen." He spoke with most decided
emphasis.
"What have you to say with regard to that, Mr.
Mordaunt?" The question came from Baddeley.
"I shouldn't like to say, Inspector. Because for
me to confirm what Captain Lorrimer has just said
to you will conflict with the theory with which I've
been toying now for some little time."
Baddeley regarded him curiously. "What theory
is that, Mr. Mordaunt?" he asked very softly.
"That somebody did hear Lorrimer's remark con-
cerning his shave?"
"And not only heard it but was smart enough to
put two and two together. Although I agree with
him that I saw nobody near us."
Francis Mordaunt intervened here unable to re-
strain himself. "But, Father," he said, " don't you
see what that means? It means that 'Creeping
Jenny's' somebody inside this house, which is ri-
diculous." He lowered his voice as he spoke again.
"Such a thing can't be."


THE CROSSWAYS
83
At this last expression of opinion Baddeley looked
up and threw out a disagreement. "Oh, why not?
Tell me, please, why not? It's my turn now to
make a confession. As a matter of fact that's a
little idea that has commended itself to me for a
matter of some days now. Surprised?"
But Henry Mordaunt did not answer the question
put to him. A tap sounded on the door and instead
of replying he looked across the room in that direc-
tion. Baddeley motioned to Francis Mordaunt to
open the door.


84
THE CRIME AT
CHAPTER VIII
♦
Adrian Challoner stood on the threshold. Al-
though as well groomed as ever and just as fault-
lessly attired his face nevertheless was not entirely
unperturbed, for his striking features bore unmis-
takable signs of worry and trouble.
"May I come in, Mordaunt? " he asked, as Fran-
cis opened the door to his knock. "Believe me, I
wouldn't trouble you had I not a very grave reason
for so doing." The likeness of the words he used
to those that Lorrimer had employed struck Henry
Mordaunt immediately. As Challoner spoke he
held out his hand for the hand of the man to whom
the words were directly addressed. Mordaunt
understood the meaning of the gesture and extended
his hand in obedience to it. Challoner pressed it
in silent sympathy. His eyes then travelled towards
Inspector Baddeley, who, if appearances went for
anything, was far from being pleased at what he
evidently considered an unfortunate interruption.
But Adrian Challoner excelled at the handling of
difficult, delicate and even embarrassing situations;
it must be remembered that he frequently numbered
two "Star" actresses in his casts and the female
of that species is certainly more deadly than the
male.
At this moment—realizing the meaning of the


THE CROSSWAYS
f
look on the Inspector's face—he brought the bat-
tery of his personal charm to bear upon Baddeley.
"I ask your pardon, Inspector," he said, with de-
lightful and disarming candor, "for what must ap-
pear in the nature of an interruption. I fear that
I have disturbed what was perhaps a most important
conference. You must forgive me. But, as I hinted
to Mr. Mordaunt here a moment ago, my reason
for so doing is neither whimsical nor fantastic.
When you hear what I have to tell you I am sure
that you will instantly acquit me of anything like
unjustifiable interference—a quality nobody hates
more fervently than I do."
Baddeley bowed somewhat stiffly. "At the pres-
ent moment, sir, I should like to point out that you
have the advantage of me. I do not even know
your name. If Mr. Mordaunt will remedy the
omission—well then perhaps "The Inspector
stopped and looked inquiringly at the man whose
name he had mentioned.
Mordaunt repaired the breach. "I am sorry,"
he apologized, "I forgot. This is Inspector Bad-
deley of the Sussex Constabulary; he has come over
from Lewes to investigate matters. Mr. Adrian
Challoner, of the Ramillies Theatre, London."
Baddeley was impressed and bowed rather jerkily.
"Pleased to meet you, sir, although I'm sorry the
circumstances are such as they are. Needless to
say I've very often heard of you, although I've
never had the pleasure of seeing you on the boards.
I'm afraid I don't get as far as London very often.
Not, of course, that it's too late for me to pop in


86
THE CRIME AT
to see you one night. What was it that you were
desirous of telling me, sir?" He indicated a chair
at the side of the table which Adrain Challoner
promptly accepted. The actor surveyed his audi-
ence carefully before he commenced to speak. By
now he was entirely at home and his atmosphere es-
tablished. When he spoke his tones were measured
and quiet.
"The news of Mrs. Mordaunt's death is, of
course, known now all over the house. These things
are exceedingly difficult to keep secret. Rumors fly
quickly, I'm afraid. And already there is an ugly
word being whispered in connection with it—mur-
der. The gardener—Bennett—has found it difficult
to keep silent about what he knows. It is in rela-
tion to that rumor that I have intervened in your
conference. I will begin, Inspector, by asking you
a question. How was Mrs. Mordaunt killed? Or
if you prefer it at this stage—how did she meet her
death?"
"How have you heard that it happened? " Bad-
deley countered question with question.
"Very well, Inspector, have it your way." Adrian
Challoner was the personification of urbanity. "I
have been informed that Mrs. Mordaunt was
stabbed to death. Is that correct?"
"Near enough," replied Baddeley, "go on."
"In that case, Inspector, may I ask you if the
weapon with which the lady was killed has been
found, or what you imagine may be the weapon? I
will come to the point. Has any weapon been
found?"


THE CROSSWAYS
87
Baddeley rubbed his lip with his fingers. "We
have not made a thoroughly exhaustive search yet,
Mr. Challoner. That has been impossible. The
grounds of 'The Crossways' are extensive, and
there have been several other things to do. But
the weapon is not anywhere near where the un-
fortunate lady's body was found. I have been over
the approximate ground thoroughly and have been
able to establish that fact. I presume though that
you have some special reason for asking the ques-
tion that you have done?" He caressed his mous-
tache, inviting Challoner's reply. The latter pulled
the chair upon which he was sitting a trifle nearer
to the table and lowered his voice.
"You are right, Inspector, I have. A very
special reason as you call it." He turned to the
others who were listening intently. "You, my dear
Mordaunt, are aware, I know, that I have a new
production in rehearsal at the present time. But I
will assume that Inspector Baddeley has no knowl-
edge of the fact. This, then, for his information.
I am putting on ' Broken Threads' at the moment
but six weeks' time will see the premiere at the
'Ramillies' of my next play. It is called 'Sin
and a Woman.' I tell you these seemingly irrele-
vant facts in order that you may grasp the true
significance of my next piece of information. 'Sin
and a Woman' is a political drama and I play the
part of a great statesman who becomes virtually the
uncrowned King of England—a sort of British Mus-
solini, if that will help you to understand the idea
better. The climax of the play arrives at the third


88
THE CRIME AT
act curtain when I am assassinated and the scene of
the assassination is staged outside the Houses of
Parliament. The author has followed as far as
possible the assassination of Julius Cssar by the
conspirators before the Capitol. There are modern
counterparts in the play of Brutus, Cassius, the
envious Casca, Marcus Antonius and the others.
Now I come to the significant part of my story.
In the script the playwright has given directions that
the daggers used should be as nearly as possible like
those used by the conspirators—on the basis of
history inevitably being forced to repeat itself. I
refer, naturally, to such matters as appearance,
shape and size—actually they will be 'props,' of
course. But I have made it my business to obtain a
dagger of the old Roman pattern, and it was my
intention to have the 'prop ' daggers manufactured
to resemble this particular weapon in every detail.
When I came down here, I brought it with me as I
had very recently called upon the particular firm
that I am employing to make the others and whom
I also intended to see again immediately upon my
return. That dagger, gentlemen, was taken from
my room sometime last night and for all I know it
may have been used to kill Mrs. Mordaunt. That's
why I'm here now." Adrian Challoner paused to
watch the effect of his ominous words upon the man
to whom he had primarily addressed them.
"Where did you keep this dagger?" Baddeley
put his first question promptly.
"Do you mean habitually, Inspector, or where
did I keep it down here?"


THE CROSSWAYS
89
Baddeley frowned. "What I mean is—where
had you put it in your room—in your bedroom, I
presume you mean. The room from where you say
it has been taken?"
"There, Inspector, I must plead guilty to a cer-
tain amount of carelessness. When I unpacked my
suit-case upon my arrival, I took the dagger out—
among other things—and left it on the dressing-
table. I intended to show it to Miss Massingham—
one of my cast who is staying here. It was my
intention to replace it in the suit-case later. But I
forgot my intention and went down to dinner
without it. When I went to bed later on all
thoughts of the wretched thing slipped from my
mind. It was not until this morning that I missed
it."
The Inspector knitted his brows again. "So
that—strictly speaking—you couldn't swear whether
it was there on your dressing-table when you went
to bed or not?"
Challoner tossed his head impatiently. "I sup-
pose I couldn't, Inspector, and I know it's con-
foundedly careless of me. All the same I'm certain
in my own mind that it could not have been there,
and I'll tell you why. If it had been, I should have
been bound to have seen it and I should have put
it away in accordance with my original intention.
I'm convinced that the fact of it not being there was
the real cause of my temporary forgetfulness. It's
like everything else of that kind, if the"
Baddeley interrupted him. "Perhaps, perhaps
not. But you can't prove that and it's waste of


90 THE CRIME AT
time trying to. Let's get on with the job, leave
conjecture out of it and confine our attention to
definite facts. Now one point about your story
strikes me very forcibly. Did anybody know you
had this dagger with you? You say that you didn't
show it to this lady you mention."
Adrian Challoner drummed with his fingers upon
the table in front of him. "I was afraid that you
would ask me that question, Inspector, and I realize
that I cannot blame you for doing so. Must I
answer?"
Baddeley's face was set as he made his reply.
"It is not in my power to bring any compulsion
against you, Mr. Challoner, at this stage of the
case, and I've no doubt that you know that very
well. You must please yourself what you do. I
imagine you will find it no new experience. But if
your duty isn't plain enough for you to see in front
of you—ignoring the fact of your friendship with
Mr. Mordaunt here, which should make the call of
duty even more imperative to you—well then all I
can say "The Inspector broke off abruptly
and shrugged his square shoulders with a wealth of
meaning.
Adrian Challoner, however, was not the man to
be rattled by remarks of that sort. He was always
the complete master of himself and Baddeley's in-
sinuation was launched in vain against his unruffled
imperturbability. When he next spoke he did so
with as much dignity as ever before.
"Very well, Inspector Baddeley. I accept the
position as you point it out to me. I will give you


THE CROSSWAYS
91
the information for which you have asked. There
were three people in 'The Crossways' who knew
that the dagger was in my bedroom. They knew
because I told them. I use the past tense delib-
erately—you will understand why when you hear
their names. It came about like this. We had
made up a bridge four and the subject of my new
play cropped up in conversation just as it had done
at dinner an hour previously."
"Their names, if you please, Mr. Challoner,"
rapped Baddeley, all excitement.
"Mrs. Mordaunt, the lady who we believe has
been murdered, Mr. Russell Streatfeild and Mrs.
Lorrimer—this gentleman's mother."
"Nobody else?"
"Not to my knowledge, Inspector, unless of
course my remarks were overheard which I don't
think could have been the case," Challoner stated
firmly.
Baddeley's next question was startling in the
extreme. "Who is the author of your new play,
Mr. Challoner? This murder play that you men-
tioned just now?"
Challoner eyed him with studied composure.
"Why do you ask? What's the point?"
Baddeley scratched his cheek. "Just an idea,
Mr. Challoner, that's all. You can never tell where
you'll get by following up everything."
"I'm sorry then, Inspector, but I can't tell you.
That's why it struck me that it was strange you
should have asked. The play came to me from an
agent—Surtees White, a well-known man—after


92
THE CRIME AT
having been previously tried out by the Thespian
Society. The author's name as shown on the type-
script is Essex Kent—but it is an open secret to all
of the people who are concerned with it, that this
is a nom-de-plume. There is a rumor, I may
inform you, however, that the pseudonym covers the
identity of a woman who is well-known on the Turf,
but I do not know if reliance can be placed upon it."
"H'm, that doesn't get me very far, I'm afraid.
Can you give me the address of this agent chap?"
"Quite easily. Nine, Portsmouth Walk, Covent
Garden."
"Thank you." Baddeley produced his note-book
and jotted down the information that Challoner had
given him. After doing this he appeared to study
something which had already found a place within
his notes. Suddenly he looked up.
"Mr. Russell Streatfeild?" He pronounced the
name as an inquiry and looked in the direction of
Henry Mordaunt.
"A friend of mine, Inspector." Mordaunt's
reply to the glance came at once. "He is staying
here at my especial request."
"What is the gentleman by—er—profession,
Mr. Mordaunt?"
"A solicitor, Baddeley, senior partner of Streat-
feild, Hyde and Digby."
The words came fluently and smoothly enough
but Baddeley's sharp ears detected something in
Mordaunt's voice that was not quite normal. Was
it his imagination or was Mordaunt for some reason
chary with regard to passing on the required in-


THE CROSSWAYS
93
formation? He determined to leave the matter
fallow for the time being without, however, dismiss-
ing it from his mind altogether. There might come
opportunities in the future for a successful re-
opening. He referred again to his list and evi-
dently found what he wanted.
"There is a Miss Christine Massingham staying
at 'The Crossways' I believe, Mr. Mordaunt.
The lady, I take it, is the one Mr. Challoner men-
tioned just now?"
"That is so, Baddeley. She is a friend of the
Miss Ebbisham who is Mr. Challoner's god-
daughter."
"Yes! I am aware of that fact. I've met the
latter young lady very recently. Am I right in
imagining from what Mr. Challoner said that these
two young ladies are actresses—that is to say pro-
fessional actresses?"
"Not altogether. Miss Massingham is an actress
certainly as Mr. Challoner informed you. Miss
Ebbisham is not."
Challoner proceeded to amplify Mordaunt's
answer. "Christine Massingham is resting at the
present time, Inspector Baddeley. But she goes
into the cast of my next play ' Sin and a Woman.'"
Baddeley's eyes opened wide. "That's very in-
teresting, Mr. Challoner. Did this Miss Massing-
ham know by any chance of the existence of this
dagger of yours?"
"Miss Massingham certainly knew of the dag-
ger's existence—she could hardly rehearse without
knowing of it—but she equally certainly did not


94
THE CRIME AT
know that I had the dagger in my possession down
here."
"Might she not have overheard what you say
that you told the others? The slightest hint in
her case would have urged.her to connect matters."
"Christine Massingham was not in the room
when I was playing bridge so there was no pos-
sibility of what you suggest." Challoner was de-
cisive.
"I can vouch for that," put in Francis. "I saw
her with Jane and Anne Ebbisham. They were
going to have some music or something while your
four were playing bridge."
"Very well, then, gentlemen," declared Baddeley,
"I won't detain you any longer. Thank you, Mr.
Challoner, for your information and you too,
Captain Lorrimer. The problem that I have to
solve is by no means a pretty or an easy one and
it will take a lot of looking into. There are still
several matters I want to attend to here so I'll
arrange to call back in an hour or two's time. If
convenient to you, that is, Mr. Mordaunt."
As Mordaunt nodded acquiescence, Baddeley
made his exit and closed the door behind him. The
uppermost thought in his mind as he made his way
out was this: Not only had Mrs. Lorrimer known
the secret of the shaving-soap but she was also one
of three people who knew the facts of the dagger
that Adrian Challoner had brought with him to
"The Crossways." In other words, she fitted into
both sides of an equation. Baddeley decided that
the case as a whole was looking a little brighter.


THE CROSSW AYS
95
CHAPTER IX
❖ .
Peter Daventry received the news of the mur-
der of Mrs. Mordaunt with a sense of acute shock.
Upon previous occasions when he had been con-
cerned in the company of Anthony Bathurst with
cases of a similar nature his association had been
somewhat more indirect. He had, as it were, ap-
proached the matter from the outer circle. But in
this instance he found himself actually within the
circle when the crime had been committed, and this
consciousness aroused certain feelings within him
that he had previously not experienced and which
he now found somewhat difficult to analyze satis-
factorily. His first thoughts after the full realiza-
tion of what had occurred had come home to him
were naturally of Anthony Bathurst. This surely
would be a case after old Bathurst's own heart!
Francis Mordaunt, in the temporary absence of his
father who was in consultation with Russell Streat-
feild, (and partly relieved no doubt from the op-
pression of horror and suspense by the opportunity
of recital,) had confided to most of the men of the
house party at " The Crossways " the cardinal facts
of the case as they had so far been elicited and
would have proceeded to add more of the details
had it not been for the advent upon the scene of
Anne and Christine and his own two sisters. Peter


THE CROSSWAYS
97
eminently delicious with her laughing vivacity and
almost audacious charm, and this last-mentioned
quality of her appearance had not deserted her now.
The challenge still lurked in the dark-blue depths
of her eyes and her delightful little nose had not
lost its soupgon of aggressiveness but Mistress Anne
was certainly not quite so " care-free " this morning
as was her wont. It seemed to Peter Daventry as
he watched her face that she was endeavoring to
explain something to herself; that something was
troubling her for which she was making continued
and abortive attempts to discover a satisfying solu-
tion. But she was on guard and obviously had
strict hold upon herself and also upon her feelings.
All the same this look that Peter Daventry noticed
made fugitive appearances upon her face and in
Peter's secret opinion, only served to enhance her
adorableness. Christine Massingham, more used
than her companion to public ordeals and conditions
of "nerve-strain," was perhaps the least affected
of the four girls; that is to say outwardly. But
inwardly she felt the dreadfulness of the situation
as keenly as any. She loved Beauty and beautiful
things and her whole nature frowned with uncom-
promising finality upon wanton wickedness whenever
it disturbed her enjoyment of this power of loving.
As Peter's glance left the roguish charm of Miss
Ebbisham—it must be conceded with some re-
luctance—and came to rest upon the more dignified
loveliness of the inimitable Miss Massingham, he
formed yet another opinion. If there were some-
thing that was puzzling the former lady—then most


98
THE CRIME AT
certainly this latter lady had noticed the fact just
as he himself had done, for several times Christine
had cast a swiftly penetrating look in the direction
of her friend. Anne Ebbisham, unconscious of this,
and as unconventional and daring as always, ap-
proached Adrian Challoner with the directness of
habit and somewhat startled Peter Daventry with
her opening remark. She had gone right up to her
godfather.
"Mr. Challoner," he heard her say impetuously,
"I don't want to seem or sound too utterly dreadful
for anything, but there's something that I feel I must
say to you. Let's try for the moment to forget about
Mrs. Mordaunt. After all we shan't do her any
harm if we do—shall we?" Her fingers worked
nervously for a moment or two as she faced Chal-
loner, and then she went on in a sudden burst of
candor. "I'm not a callous cat—really I'm not—
though I expect I sound like it and all of you are
dotting me on the list as one. What I wanted to
mention was my bet with you. It's perfectly awful, I
know, that things should have turned out as they
have—it seems like a judgment on some of us—but
that isn't to say that we're very much to blame—is
it? I said last night I'd call on you for the hundred
in the morning—didn't I?" She surveyed him with
vivid eagerness, commanding the attention of the
whole group of onlookers as she did so. For a
moment or so there was an intense silence. Chal-
loner replied to her gravely.
"You did, Anne."
"Tell me," she said, as eagerly and as tensely


100
THE CRIME AT
ment with an almost exaggerated nonchalance. But
Anne Ebbisham to whom he had spoken seemed to
pay no regard to its actual meaning or significance.
"I wasn't thinking about the murder so much,"
she said quietly. "I was concerned more with the
robbery."
She stood there for a little while biting her lip
and the look of puzzledom that Peter Daventry had
detected on her face before returned for just a brief
instant. Suddenly, however, she jerked up her head
and looked at Challoner again.
"I'm not paying the bet that I seem to have
lost—yet a while. I'm not being unsporting. I've
an idea that's almost a—I'm going to claim—what
is it you call it in banking—three days grace? For
I'm not sure that 'Creeping Jenny' did steal the
sapphire. Despite what Inspector Baddeley knows
or even thinks he knows. Come, Christine, my
cherub, for I feel that I'm wanting your companion-
ship. It's not going to be good for me to be alone."
She linked her arm in Christine Massingham's and
the two of them walked off slowly.
Challoner commenced to quote. "One like the
Rose when June and July kiss," but Peter let go a
low whistle, as he watched them saunter away and
the actor broke off to watch them likewise. But
when the two girls were out of ear-shot Peter gave
way to a sudden inclination.
Lorrimer, Adrian Challoner, Francis Mordaunt,
John Raikes and his father were standing together
in a group. Peter Daventry went up to them and
addressed the first named.


THE CROSSW AY S
101
"Lorrimer," he opened a trifle nervously,
"Heaven knows I'm far from wanting to butt in
on this business and when I do shove my oar in
it's only from a strong desire to lend a helping
hand, so to speak. I hope you realize that's so and
all that But are you open to receive sugges-
tions, old man?"
Lorrimer showed signs of surprise but nodded in
semi-acquiescence. "That's quite all right, Daven-
try. I understand what you mean. But what is it
you want to say to me?"
"I was wondering if an idea of mine would find
favor with you—that was all. I take it nothing
would please you better than to get to the bottom
of this affair. Apart from the loss of your sapphire,
you see there's the other"
Lorrimer broke in eagerly upon Peter's expres-
sion of opinion. "I shall leave no stone unturned
to get to the bottom of it, Daventry—if it takes me
all my time and best part of my money. You can
rest assured on that. I feel "He clenched
his hands in emotion. "I can't tell you how I
feel," he concluded.
"Good man—likewise good egg," returned
Peter. "That's the kind of stuff I like to hear,
because it clears the way so beautifully for what I'm
going to say. Ever heard of Anthony Bathurst?"
"Bathurst?" Lorrimer wrinkled his brows in-
terrogatively. "Bathurst? You're referring to
the"
"Crime-investigator—that's the chap. He's
cleared up at least half-a-dozen cases that had


102
THE CRIME AT
Scotland Yard guessing properly and running round
with their noses down to terra firma. I happen to
know for an absolute fact that Sir Austin Kemble,
the Commissioner of Police, simply swears by him
and has called him in off his own bat for very
awkward cases. One was the affair of the 'Pea-
cock's Eye' at Seabourne. Remember it?"
Lorrimer nodded and the men round him moved
their heads in support. Francis observed that his
father and Russell Streatfeild had by now joined
the company and were evidently listening attentively
to what Peter Daventry was saying. The tall clean-
shaven solicitor seemed keenly interested and spoke
in an undertone to Henry Mordaunt. Peter Daven-
try, unobservant of his two additional hearers who
stood some distance behind him, proceeded to sup-
plement his suggestion.
"Well, it's like this—cutting a long story short—
I'm a close, personal friend of Anthony Bathurst
and I'm pretty certain that a word from me would
induce him to take up this case for you, Lorrimer.
I can assure you that you couldn't put it in better
hands."
"This is tremendously good of you, Daventry.
There's nothing that would please me better. As
I told you just now I'll move heaven and earth to
probe this mystery to the bottom. When do you
think you could fix things? Is Bathurst in a posi-
tion to"
Before he could complete the question Henry
Mordaunt took a step forward towards him. To
the onlookers it seemed that he was not too well


THE CROSSWAYS
103
pleased with something. When he spoke, this im-
pression was confirmed.
"I quite appreciate Daventry's offer, my dear
Lorrimer, and also the spirit that prompted it.
But if I may be allowed to say so, my own interest
in this terrible affair is the paramount one. What
I have lost can never be replaced. That I think
would be conceded by anybody. I know that it
would be by you, for it never occurs to me to doubt
your generosity. That fact established, I must ask
you then to consider my wishes before anybody's.
I say emphatically, that I do not wish that a private
investigator should take up the case. Certainly not
at this juncture. Later on, if nothing transpires and
the cloud still remains I might perhaps reconsider
my attitude. I could not, however, even promise
that, unconditionally." Mordaunt's voice was hard
and his face a model of impassivity. "For the
moment," he added very clearly and decisively,
"I am very well content to leave the case in the
hands of Inspector Baddeley. What do you say,
Streatfeild?"


THE CROSSWAYS
you're quite right about this Baddeley Johnny.
He'd skip like a regiment of rams and young sheep
combined if he thought Bathurst and he were going
to work in double harness. The mountains and the
little hills wouldn't have an earthly with him—and
for the best of all reasons, too." Peter Daventry
emitted a reminiscent chuckle as Raikes regarded
him inquiringly. "Because I happen to know that
the very first case old Bathurst handled was down
in Sussex here and this self-same Baddeley was the
Police Inspector in charge. He was eating out of
Bathurst's hand by the time the final curtain came
down. Don't think old Bathurst told me so—he's
not that sort—I've had it from others who know
what they're talking about." Peter shrugged his
shoulders sagaciously. "Still—there you are—if
Mr. Mordaunt won't budge in the matter—there's
an end to it—it's no use talking about it any more.
After all, as he pointed out to us just now, it's his
pigeon and that being so he's entitled to handle it
in his own way. I'm sorry, Lorrimer."
The man addressed shook his head slowly. "No
need for you to apologize, Daventry. But I can't
very well close with your offer in face of what was
said, can I? Mr. Mordaunt may change his mind
later on. If he does I hope your offer will still
hold good. I certainly shan't forget it."
Later, in the privacy of his bedroom, Peter began
to examine the various facts as Francis Mordaunt
had presented them to him. He started at the
beginning and marshalled them in some order.
Mrs. Mordaunt had been found at the bottom of


io6
THE CRIME AT
the old well wearing her evening cloak and with
her handbag near to her; according to medical evi-
dence stabbed through the heart, killed almost in-
stantaneously. She had also, the evening before,
been sufficiently interested in the safety of the
famous Lorrimer sapphire to beg Captain Lorrimer
to allow her to mind it for him during the night.
Why? That was a poser. Disturbance on account
of the threat from "Creeping Jenny"? If so—
what kind of disturbance—ordinary, such as might
be reasonably expected from anyone—or specially
particular, arising from the possession of definite
knowledge? Peter silently debated the two pos-
sibilities for a moment or two. Then Anthony
Bathurst's oft repeated maxim came home to him—
"never commence to theorize in the absence of
data." Its truth and effectiveness were more ap-
parent to him now than they had ever been before,
if only for the fact that on this occasion it was
he himself who was in control of the thinking-
machine. He determined to abandon the theoretical
therefore and content himself for the present with
a review of the facts and of the facts only. Surely,
if Bathurst were here himself, he would concentrate
for the time being upon the two "main" features
of the case—" main," that is to say as far as in-
vestigations had by this time reached. These, Peter
concluded, were the stealing of the "pukka"
sapphire from Lorrimer and the theft of the dagger
from the bedroom occupied by Adrian Challoner.
Who among all the people at "The Crossways"
had the necessary knowledge to be able to obtain


THE CROSSWAYS
107
either? That question appeared to him as- the crux
of the whole affair. Peter embarked upon a process
of elimination affecting the two categories. Whom
could he eliminate from (a) Knowledge of the
authentic sapphire's hiding-place and (b) Knowl-
edge of the existence even of Challoner's dagger?
Not having been placed by Francis in possession of
the whole of the evidence given by Captain Lor-
rimer and Adrian Challoner to Inspector Baddeley
his adventure of embarkation finished very soon
after it began. As far as he could see from the
knowledge that he had at his command the only
people whom he could fairly confidently place in his
first category were Mrs. Lorrimer and Molly Mor-
daunt. Concerning the second, the only suggestion
that his brain could harbor was that possibly—
only possibly, mind—Christine Massingham had
known that Challoner had brought down the dagger
from the Ramillies Theatre to "The Crossways."
It soon became clear to him that he could insert
no one person into each of the two divisions. Out
of which conclusion there certainly came no help!
It seemed to him that he was very much as he had
started. He was about to indulge in a further
survey of the incidents of the case when there came
a knock upon his bedroom door. To his invitation
of "Come in" there appeared Henry Mordaunt
and Inspector Baddeley. The latter appeared to
be exceedingly preoccupied, but the host of "The
Crossways" seemed eagerly alive to the exigencies
that the case was going to demand from him. He
had recovered somewhat from the shock of the


io8
THE CRIME AT
first stroke that had been dealt him and was living
now in a state of mental emotion—his mind, it
might be said, under the potent influence of the drug
of excitement.
"Daventry," he opened quickly, "Inspector
Baddeley wants to have a word with you. He has
seen all the others and desires to complete his round
of inquiries as soon as possible. I am sorry to
intrude upon you, but of course, you quite realize
that in affairs of this "Mordaunt stopped as
though at a loss to continue.
Peter helped him out. "I understand, Mr. Mor-
daunt. Don't worry about that sort of thing. I've
been expecting something of the kind. I shall be
pleased to hear what the Inspector has to say.
Chair, Mr. Mordaunt? Chair, Inspector?" Peter
motioned the double invitation and each of the
men accepted.
The Inspector's eyes sought those of Mordaunt.
"Where's Mr. Streatfeild got to? He was very
anxious to be present at the other interviews, why
isn't he with us now? Is he one of those people
that soon get tired?" There was a spice of
resentful sarcasm in his tone. "Or does he exempt
Mr. Daventry from the necessity of being inter-
viewed?"
Mordaunt shook his head with a suggestion of
cold annoyance. "I am sure I don't know and can't
tell you. He has gone downstairs again, Baddeley.
He informed me that he wished to have a look at
something down there. I don't think that Mr.
Daventry or your proposed interview with Mr.


THE CROSSWAYS I00
Daventry had anything to do with it for a moment.
And I fail to follow you when you refer to such a
thing as Mr. Daventry's exemption. I'll leave you
to it."
Baddeley opened his mouth as though to reply
to Mordaunt's statement but evidently thought
better of his intention for he desisted as Mordaunt
walked from the room. Instead he turned to Peter
Daventry. "Just a few questions, Mr. Daventry—
and the usual ones that fall to the lot of us police
in matters of this kind. They're more or less a
matter of routine, you know. Can you throw any
light upon the murder of Mrs. Mordaunt?"
Peter shook his head slowly but very certainly.
"I can't, Inspector, and that's a fact. Haven't the
foggiest! As a matter of fact when you came in
here just now I was trying to piece things up a bit
without being at all successful, I can tell you. I've
missed the turning properly. It seems to me you
know"
"Tell me this, Mr. Daventry. Were you with
the deceased to any extent, during the last day or
two? I mean, did you have much opportunity to
observe if she were pretty normal, as it were? In
her usual spirits and so on? Nothing happened,
for example, to upset her in any way?"
Peter twisted his mouth to one side. "No, In-
spector," he declared after due consideration.
"No, I don't think so! Although perhaps—mind
you, I only say 'perhaps'"
"Perhaps what?" snapped Baddeley. "Please
be as explicit as you can, Mr. Daventry."


THE CROSSWAYS
III
heard a medley of voices outside. One was un-
doubtedly Lorrimer's, the other Peter Daventry was
unable immediately to recognize.
But evidently Inspector Baddeley did for he
crossed the room with rapidity and pulled open the
door. "What is it, Roper?" he queried. "Do
you want me?"
The man addressed labored under the stress of
an excitement. His cheeks were flushed and his
eyes alive with interest.
"Yes, Inspector. I asked this gentleman here to
find you for me. Shall I come in?"
Baddeley nodded. Roper entered followed by
Captain Lorrimer. Before Roper spoke he looked
askance in the direction of the last-named.
"That's all right. You can speak before* these
gentlemen, Roper," explained Baddeley in answer
to the look. "What is it you have to tell me?
Out with it, man."
"Right, sir. In accordance with the orders you
gave me and the others, a thorough search has been
made at the bottom of the old well. There is no
weapon to be found down there, Inspector—I'll go
bail on that! Every inch of the ground has been
turned over and been combed absolutely thoroughly.
There's no weapon down there such as we've been
seeking. But while we were looking for it we've
found this, Inspector." He opened his hand and
displayed a ring that held a huge blue stone.
"This was down the well, Inspector, right away in
one of the corners."
Lorrimer's eyes blazed with excitement as he


THE CROSSWAYS
"3
CHAPTER XI
♦
Whatever talents Mr. Russell Streatfeild may
have possessed in the direction of strict veracity,
they were certainly not overwhelmingly in evidence
when he excused himself to Henry Mordaunt a
short time previously. For the errand of im-
portance which he had mentioned to Mordaunt and
Mordaunt to Baddeley as requiring his immediate
presence downstairs was entirely non-existent. That
is to say one must suppose so, judging by his sub-
sequent actions. For having quitted the company
of Mordaunt and the Inspector and having carefully
watched them from a coign of vantage enter Peter
Daventry's bedroom, Mr. Streatfeild quietly made
his way upstairs again and slipped into another
bedroom altogether. It happened to be the bed-
room of his host. Passing quickly through the con-
necting door that has been described before, he
next entered the bedroom lately occupied by the
woman that had been murdered. Once inside he
made straight for the dressing-table. Prominent in
the front thereof were several articles of cosmetic
significance and inseparable these days from a lady's
toilette. There were lip-stick (chanel-red), hare's-
foot, powder-bowl, rose-ochre, Rachel soleil, eye-
brow pencil and tiny lash-brush. As they had been
left, an investigator would have been pardoned had


THE CRIME AT
H4
he formed the opinion that Mrs. Mordaunt had
paid great pains towards the adornment of her
complexion very shortly before she met her death.
Russell Streatfeild nodded as though with a certain
amount of satisfaction. He took from his pocket
the torn corner of an envelope that had obviously
passed through the hands of the Postal Authorities.
It bore upon it three stamps—three half-penny
stamps over-marked with the usual date, time and
place. Looking carefully round the room and at
the same time listening intently he walked across
to the grate and went down upon his knees in front
of it. But to no purpose. The grate was innocent
of everything that he hoped he might have found
there. He thought carefully over what Henry
Mordaunt had told him. He dared not stay long
in the room in case Baddeley finished with Peter
Daventry over-quickly and then chanced to take a
stroll in this direction. That was the last thing he
desired to happen. He ran his eye over the bed,
gave the dressing-table another quick glance and
slipped out of the room as adroitly and noiselessly
as he had entered. His next operation was one that
required the greatest possible care. Mr. Streatfeild
descended one flight of stairs and came to the turn
that led to the next. Here stood a superb statuette
of Polhymnia which Henry Mordaunt had had in-
stalled there many years previously out of compli-
ment to the profession that had made him famous.
As is usual with statues of the Muse of Eloquence
she was shown holding her dainty forefinger to her
equally dainty lip. The other hand, fingers upwards,


THE CROSSWAYS
"5
was extended to the onlooker with an expressive
gesture. Mr. Streatfeild approached the statuette
and bent down to read the inscription upon its base.
He thought he knew it but resolved to refresh his
memory. "Apt Silence sets off Language to the
best Advantage," he read. Once again he nodded,
seemingly in enjoyable and even fastidious agree-
ment, and then looked round about him almost
stealthily. The coast was clear, he concluded. As
far as he could judge there was no one whatever to
be seen or heard anywhere near to him. He stood
and listened for a moment. All was quiet. Mr.
Streatfeild inserted the finger-tips of his left-hand
into the corresponding pocket of his waistcoat and
took out a key—in size, shape and general appear-
ance an ordinary key of an ordinary door. This
key he hung carefully upon the raised fingers of
Polhymnia and in the same second glided away
silently and retraced his steps upstairs. "The
Golden Silence is the Silence which is the Fruit of
Patience," he murmured to himself. Outside Peter
Daventry's door he paused and listened—for dan-
ger lurked for him inside. He could hear the voices
of Peter himself, Henry Mordaunt, Inspector Bad-
deley and Captain Lorrimer. There was also an-
other voice in occasional action which for the
moment he failed to recognize. But when he heard
the Inspector address it in reply as "Roper" he
realized and understood that it must belong to the
man who seemed to be Baddeley's chief assistant.
Mr. Streatfeild smiled in satisfaction. The con-
ference from what he could gather seemed to him


THE CRIME AT
to be almost in its initial stages. The eyes of the
listening Mr. Streatfeild gleamed with adventurous
excitement as he decided there and then to take
another chance. A matter of a few seconds more
saw him inside Captain Lorrimer's bedroom, the
door of which however he carefully left ajar.
"I'm on more certain ground in here, at least,"
he said to himself upon entry. "Mrs. Mordaunt's
bedroom may shed little light upon her murder—its
actual relationship to it may very possibly be in-
significant—but here was the sapphire—the Lor-
rimer sapphire—from here it was taken—why on
earth wasn't I more careful last night "His
meditations ceased abruptly as he glanced quickly
round the room. Facing the bed was the dressing-
table. On the left of the dressing-table was a large
basket-chair. The only other article of furniture
of any size was the great carved wardrobe on the
left of the entrance door, standing almost flush
with the wall. An idea struck Mr. Russell Streat-
feild as he stood there and as a result thereof he
took another rapid glance at the land outside and
then he tiptoed across the room to the wardrobe.
He opened the doors as though about to venture
upon an experiment but shook his head decisively
and quickly shut them again. Walking round to the
side of the big wardrobe he peered behind it. Then
he tried to squeeze his body between the wardrobe
and the wall. It was impossible. All the same, he
considered, that wasn't to say necessarily that a
feat impossible physically for him was impossible
for everybody. He was a tall man and well-made


THE CROSSWAYS
117
in addition to his height. A smaller man might find
the attempt well within his power—much more so a
slimmish girl or woman. He put his shoulder to
the piece of furniture and with a steady heave
shifted it slightly from its previous position. Was
he mistaken or did the dullish line of almost in-
visible dust that the wall behind bore as a result
of the wardrobe's proximity show signs of a recent
slight disturbance? He looked carefully at what
he fancied he saw and even as he did so something
at the back of the heavy wardrobe caught his eye.
On a small projecting splinter of dark wood such
as constantly adorns these articles of furniture there
was caught a tiny wisp of flimsy something. Russell
Streatfeild bent down with extreme care and with
thumb and forefinger gently removed it. It was a
minute piece of filmy biscuit-colored lace. He
knew now what he had very much desired to know.
Captain Lorrimer's bedroom ceased to interest him.
He replaced the wardrobe and as he pulled the door
of the room quietly behind him his thoughts turned
to Inspector Baddeley. Should he inform the In-
spector of what he had discovered behind the ward-
robe? Or not? Perhaps it would be safer from
his own point of view if he kept his own counsel.
It might prove awkward if Baddeley got to know
certain other things as he very well might if he
were informed of this. Streatfeild pictured the
unsuspecting Lorrimer watched from behind the
wardrobe as he had put away his precious sapphire
in its cunning hiding-place! Watched by whom?
If he could answer that question it would solve


n8
THE CRIME AT
perhaps more problems than one. Mr. Streatfeild
rubbed his cheek with his finger. He cast his mind
back to the evening before the murder. His reflec-
tions were sartorial. Could he remember the
dresses of the various ladies? He had always
prided himself upon the accuracy of the power of
his visualization. Anne Ebbisham had worn a
dainty frock of pale pink georgette with a deepish
cascade at the waist line. Jane Mordaunt's frock
had been a very attractive sleeveless pearl grey
crepe-de-chine embroidered with linked circles of a
light canary yellow. "Not bad for a mere man,"
said Russell Streatfeild to himself. "I don't know
whether my descriptions would pass muster in a
Society weekly but that's how they appeared to me
at any rate. 'Twill serve my purpose at the
moment." Who else of the ladies was there? Five
more he counted. Mary Considine, Molly Mor-
daunt, Christine Massingham, Mrs. Lorrimer and
Olive Mordaunt herself. Even she could not be
eliminated in this connection. Miss Considine had
worn a frilly sort of skirt with rows of pleated tulle
(he thought the stuff was) and Molly Mordaunt a
sort of beige taffeta, with a pronounced "dip" at
the back and !Lace to intensify the dip! Yes
—that was undoubtedly so! He must remember
that. Now for the others that remained. Mrs.
Lorrimer had been attired as became her years, in
black velvet, Christine Massingham with an eye no
doubt to her dark hair and creamy skin had worn
very pale green—realizing that pale neutral tints
and clear cold colors heightened her very definite


THE CROSSWAYS
119
allurement—while Mrs. Mordaunt herself had
worn the frock in which she had been found dead.
Streatfeild had seen it. It was entirely innocent of
lace of any kind. Only Molly then could be defi-
nitely placed in the lace category. And Molly was
Lorrimer's fiancee! As far as he could see she, least
of all, had occasion to covet possession of the Lor-
rimer sapphire for it had been given to her. What
reason could she have to steal it? He made his
way from the bedroom stealthily, pondering over
the situation as it now presented itself to him. On
the whole it had changed somewhat, for his clan-
destine investigations had yielded a good deal. He
had seen what he wanted to see in Olive Mordaunt's,
bedroom—he had discovered something highly im-
portant in the bedroom from where the sapphire
had been stolen, and best of all he had very cun-
ningly disposed of that tell-tale keyl For he had
felt very uncomfortable all the time that he had
retained it in his possession. If Baddeley had dis-
covered the fact—Mr. Streatfeild smiled grimly to
himself. He had been exceedingly foolish he told
himself to have retained it for so long as he had—
and shook his head gently. As he did so he nearly
collided with the gentleman whom he had just been
considering. Evidently the conference in Peter
Daventry's bedroom had terminated, for the In-
spector was walking fast, obviously bound at once
for another destination.


120
THE CRIME AT
CHAPTER XII
❖
"Christine, my very beautiful one—sharer of
my chintz-curtained bedroom and fellow-artiste,"
murmured Anne Ebbisham following upon her in-
terview with Adrian Challoner that has been de-
scribed, "I am tempted to doff my bonnet." She
patted her hair.
"Doff your bonnet? " queried Miss Massingham
with uplifted eyebrows. "Explain, darling, do."
"In recognition of true and undoubted worth, my
sweet!' You're a better man than I am—" Creep-
ing Jinn." '" Miss Ebbisham quoted her atrocious
parody with delicious nonchalance. But for all that
—and despite her consummate ease—a discerning
observer would have detected something other than
nonchalance in her tone. Anne's puzzle was not yet
solved satisfactorily.
"What do you mean, Anne, really and truly?"
Christine knitted her brows and her eyes were full
of her question.'
"I mean just this, my pet of the harem. You
heard what Cyril Lorrimer said last night at dinner,
didn't you? You heard of his precautions for keep-
ing his sapphire—and you heard me make my bet
that Jane the Serpentine would be an also ran if
she entered for that particular handicap. I thought


THE CROSSWAYS
121
I was on a good thing, Christine; for frankly I was
very sceptical indeed of 'Jenny' pulling the deal
off in a house like this and under those conditions.
Yet it appears that she has done it! Therefore I
elevate my toque. Comprends-tu?"
Christine's answer was not what Miss Ebbisham
had expected.
"Anne," she said quietly, but very directly,
"you're 'rattled.' I've never seen you quite like
this. 'Creeping Jenny's' getting on your nerves,
my girl! You're worried over it."
Anne Ebbisham knocked the ash from the end
of her cigarette and extended the hand that held it.
The gesture was almost regal. "Look at that hand,
my child. And mark it well. Does it shake or is
it tremulous? No? Where then are those nerves
of which our Christine speaks? I am still Anne, one
hundred per cent."
She was coolness personified. But Christine Mas-
singham refused to be shaken off by her attitude.
She reiterated her statement. "I don't care about
that. I'm positive I'm right and I'm positive some-
thing's worrying you. I've noticed it for hours now.
You may be able to bluff old Baddeley, Anne, but
you certainly won't bluff Christine."
Miss Ebbisham's eyes flashed as she shot a glance
at her companion. "Over-confident, aren't you, O
Beauty of the Chorus? To call you a super-optimist
would be hopelessly inadequate. The bright young
friend of mine who makes it his practice to find ' the
first three ' in a big race with a fork, having gradu-
ated from the first stage of winner-finding with the


122
THE CRIME AT
common household pin, pales into insignificance
beside you, my world-beater." Miss Ebbisham
dropped her banter suddenly and found a new
seriousness. "Apropos of what you're saying
though, Christine, has it occurred to you that mur-
der's been done here while we slept; that our hostess
of all people has come to a most horrible death?
It isn't exactly a stupefying surprise therefore that
I should be a bit jumpy, is it? I'm not used to hav-
ing my friends stabbed or thrown down wells."
Christine opened her lips as though about to re-
ply, but then changed her mind and closed them
again. Anne noticed the hesitation and according
to her habit came at once to the challenging point.
Miss Ebbisham usually saw her objective and went
straight to it regardless of ordinary obstacles.
"Well, what were you going to say, Christine?"
Miss Massingham ran her forefinger along the
lace square that did duty as her handkerchief. Then
she shook her head dubiously. "I don't think I'll
say it, Anne. After all I'm only judging by"
Miss Ebbisham's interruption was very definite.
"You certainly will say it, Christine, whatever it
was! You aren't going to arouse my curiosity like
that and then coldly ring off. Not in these cami-
bockers! What was it, my angel?"
Christine Massingham looked straight in her com-
panion's eyes. But she could read nothing in them
to cause her to alter the opinion that she had
formed. "As you please, then, Anne. Have it
your own way. It may as well come out now as
later. What I was about to say was this. It isn't


THE CROSSWAYS 12j
Mrs. Mordaunt's murder that has made you
'nervy,' it's something else."
"Really, Christilinda! Aren't you perfectly mar-
vellous?" Miss Ebbisham's sang froid was by now
a little too overwhelming to be sincere. She helped
herself to another cigarette, but this time the hand
that took it wavered a trifle. "And upon what
particularly dazzling exercise of the science of de-
duction do you base that statement?"
"Don't be sarcastic, Anne," replied Christine.
"It doesn't suit you. Remember you asked for my
statement and you got it. So don't be unsporting
about it. And it wasn't anything brilliant on my
part either—come to that. For you were 'nervy'
and 'rattled' first thing this morning; some time
before you knew about Mrs. Mordaunt's murder.
I noticed it when you were dressing. Well, how
now—my child?"
Anne grimaced to hide her discomfiture. The
twin devils of mischief danced in her eyes, for she
never knew defeat till the whistle. She made a last
attempt to defend the position that she had taken
up.
"Oh," she declared lightly, "so it's Christine of
the Ever-Open Optics, is it? And such beautiful
ones at that. What a gorgeous stroke of luck for
all the boys in the world. How I wish the fairies
would change my sex for me. But how does our
Christine of the Secret Service know when I first
heard of Mrs. Mordaunt's murder? I await her
statement thereon."
Christine kept steadfastly to her course. "I pre-


124
THE CRIME AT
sume that you heard of it at the same time that we
all did. When Francis brought in the news! You
were with me then; we were standing together in
the morning-room. How is it possible for you to
have known of it before? To have done so could
only mean one thing, that you"
Anne Ebbisham laughed. "Of course, of course.
I'd forgotten that. I'll be good and confess nicely.
I can see now it's the only thing for me to do. It
wasn't the murder of Mrs. Mordaunt that put me
on edge. It's something else. I say ' it is ' because
I'm still like it." She lowered her voice consider-
ably as she approached the kernel of her confession.
"Have you noticed, Christine, that this 'Creeping
Jenny' person—whoever she or he is—seems to be
following us about? Or me to be more exact and
truthful."
Christine nodded gravely but with evident com-
posure. "I have noticed it lately, Anne, I admit.
But I can't remember all the early cases in which
'Creeping Jenny'"
"Listen, cherub," cut in Anne using her finger-
tips in emphasis, "I was at old Grantham's when
'Creeping Jenny' bumped off his diamond tie-pin,
and I was at Flora Medlicott's when the pearl neck-
lace vanished. Played two—won two! Don't you
remember I wrote to you about each of the cases?"
"Perfectly, Anne, and I've thought of it many
times since. I was resting at the time those two
happened. What came after them? Can you re-
member?"
Miss Ebbisham wrinkled her dainty forehead,


THE CROSSWAYS
125
before proceeding to her next finger. "Then came
the affair at the Midwinters' when the diamond
pendant was stolen; then the Topham-Garnett rob-
bery—earrings, wasn't it; and after that the busi-
ness at Cranwick Towers last week. Now I'm in
the thick of it again."
"So am I," said Christine, "come to that! I've
been with you on the last four occasions, remember!
So that I can claim almost equally with you to have
been"
"Don't be feeble, Christine," returned Miss
Ebbisham aggressively. "Pull yourself together.
I'm on the bill every time. Jolly old Roast Beef
and Yorkshire! The gladsome Baddeley can go
right through the card with me; 'never absent,
never late.' It's like taking money from a blind
man. That's what's been whanging the grey matter
about this morning, if you must know. You can't
get away from it; I must be Balm in Gilead to a
really bright detective—money for chocolate—a sit-
ting pheasant—a miner's dream of home—a"
Suddenly her tone changed as though a new idea
had taken hold of her. "Christilinda, my Queen
of the Eastern Sea, has anything struck you about
what I have just been saying?"
"Don't know that it has, Anne. What's the idea
now?"
"I can see a ray of hope. The blue sky is peep-
ing through. I've just thought of something very
strange, my chee-ild, and also very peculiar."
"Let's hear it, then."
"Well, it's just occurred to me that I am not the


126
THE CRIME AT
only pebble on the foreshore! I am not the only
soap-sud down the sink. I am not"
"My dear Anne," expostulated Miss Massing-
ham, "don't be so frightfully cryptic. Explain
yourself—do."
"That's exactly what I am doing, my sweet.
Can't you see what I'm getting at? I am not the
only Chili in the jar of Piccalilli—there are three
others who have been present on every occasion
when the ubiquitous ' Jenny ' has crept abroad. The
honors are divided. Dost realize that, my Pride
of the Circus?"
Christine frowned. "Three others?" she ques-
tioned.
"Three! The Mordaunt Trinity—Francis,
Molly and Jane. Yet not one Mordaunt, but three
Mordaunts! I'd forgotten all about them! So
after all I may only be Baddeley's alternative selec-
tion—' if absent—Anne Ebbisham' just an each-
way proposition—he may only have a 'to place'
bet on me."
She rocked herself to and fro. "That's a comfort-
ing thought, Christine, that is. A very comforting
thought, my pet. I feel a wee bit better and
brighter. Things may not be so bad as I was im-
agining they might be."
"Anne," assented Miss Massingham with a dis-
tinct touch of severity, "you're talking a lot of
'punk.' You're just babbling. Think—think—
think! There were mud-stains in Lady Craddock's
room. Don't you remember what the detective said
—the rugs showed them unmistakably—and besides


THE CROSSWAYS
127
the glass of the bedroom window had been broken.
Those burglaries were all done by a professional
thief working on the outside. I'll bet that with my
trifling knowledge of the cases. When the truth
comes eventually to be discovered—if, of course, it
ever is—you'll find that ' Creeping Jenny' is a well-
known cat-burglar or something working these
'coups' under another name. And no doubt it's
all a matter of putting the police off the scent. You
see if I'm not right. I don't know much about this
sort of thing, but I'm confident I'm correct here."
Christine grew quite heated in the development
of her suggestion.
"Perhaps, Lovely; perhaps not. I wouldn't bet
on it myself, confident though you say you are,
Christine. Now I'm going to surprise you again.
Do you know what I've been thinking?"
"Oh Lord—you're a perfect devil for holding
things, MacEbbisham. Tell me straight out and
have done with it."
"This," replied Anne very deliberately.
"' Jenny' might conceivably be substitute for
'Jane '—don't you think? Nothing wildly improb-
able in the idea, is there? Ever thought of it your-
self?"
Christine whistled and the action gave her lips an
adorable archness. "Hop away, Anne—hop away!
Jane Mordaunt? I can't stand for that—it's incred-
ible. Hand me out something better—do!"
"Idiot," retorted Miss Ebbisham. "I didn't
actually accuse Jane Mordaunt, did I? Don't put
words into my mouth"


128
THE CRIME AT
"There's never any need to, Anne darling," put
in Christine sweetly, "you're never tongue-tied, are
you? But that's what I read into your remark.
What else did you mean if you didn't mean that?"
"Nothing," came Miss Ebbisham's short reply—
"all I meant was that ' Jenny ' was short for Jane."
"Really?" returned Christine. "You surprise
me—is that so—really short?"
Miss Ebbisham's cushion was well and truly
thrown. "Well 'long' then, you tantalizing fat-
head."


THE CROSSWAYS
120.
CHAPTER XIII
*
Inspector Baddeley looked carefully at the
dead woman's bag as Roper held it out to him, and
thought over what had just been said.
"I think I can see what you mean, Roper," he
remarked at length. The bag was cream color in
moire with a gilt catch on each side to open.
Roper pointed to the two catches. "Those stains
are undoubtedly blood stains, sir," he announced.
"I've seen Doctor Elliott and shown them to him,
and he says there's no possible doubt about it. When
the bag came from the bottom of the well it was
dirty as you know and it was extremely difficult for
anybody to say what the marks were. They might
have been caused in several ways. But I cleaned
it up a bit and scraped some of the dust off and then
I could see that these stains here were different.
It seems to me, sir," said Roper waxing unusually
eloquent and warming to his subject, " that the point
is that there are no others like 'em anywhere else
on the bag. See what I mean, sir?"
Baddeley looked at him searchingly. "Roper,
you'll make a detective yet; you're a credit to your
mother and the Force," he declared. "I think I
see where you're driving. But go on. Let me hear
some more. Let me see if I'm thinking the same
way as you are."


THE CROSSE AYS
You're still in the goose stage after all. You ought
to know well enough, Roper, that Mrs. Mordaunt's
hands and fingers have no blood stains on them.
That was one of the first things I looked for when
we recovered her body from the well. I made sure
that you noticed me."
Baddeley cupped his chin in his hands and looked
fixedly at the handbag again. Roper, shrugging his
shoulders under the implied reproach but by no
means discouraged thereby, came back to his orig-
inal point and the opinion he had put forward with'
regard to it.
"That means then, sir, when it's all boiled down,
that you're inclined to hold in with my theory?"
"Oh yes—come to that, Roper, I am. Not that
you've given me anything fresh to think about. As
a matter of fact it fits in rather with an idea of
my own; an idea that I had already formed about
the manner of the lady's death. Have a look at
these, will you, Roper?" The Inspector took from
his pocket his note-book and from the leaves of his
note-book the few pieces of charred paper that he
had picked up on the grass near to the well. He
held them out to his subordinate in the palm of his
hand. "I picked these up close to the scene of the
murder. How about the idea that there were pa-
pers in this handbag that Mrs. Mordaunt carried?
That these were documents affecting or possibly
incriminating 'Creeping Jenny' and that she was
murdered for possession of them and not for the
'dud' sapphire as was supposed? How does that
strike you, Roper?"


132
THE CRIME AT
Roper nodded. "Shouldn't be surprised if you're
right, sir! It certainly would appear to fit the case
and the circumstances."
"If that's so, then, Roper," continued Baddeley,
waxing enthusiastic as his theory began to assume
more definite shape, " the question arises—did Mrs.
Mordaunt keep an assignation with somebody?
That is to say—purposely—deliberately. The odds
are very much in favor—seeing the time, how she
was dressed and assuming she carried what we sug-
gest she did. Did she know the identity of ' Creep-
ing Jenny'; did she suddenly find it out, perhaps;
or did somebody else, by chance, discover who
'Creeping Jenny' "Baddeley came to an ab-
rupt stop. Then, as the new idea took hold of his
imagination, "By Jove, Roper," he almost whis-
pered, "that's a very different idea—that is—still
—all the same"
"What is, sir? " inquired Roper with dutiful re-
spect and becoming appreciation. The Inspector
frowned and then shook his head.
"Wait, Roper; wait. Perhaps I'll tell you in a
day or two; that is if things go as I hope they will."
"You're fairly optimistic then, sir? " questioned
Roper again. "You're on to something?"
Baddeley smiled enigmatically. "I wouldn't say
that, Roper; I wouldn't go as far as to say that at
this stage of the case. I've been at the game too
long to build castles. But this talk that we've just
had together has set me thinking and it's just on the
cards that I may have been able to put two and two
together." He rubbed the ridge of his jaw with his


THE CROSSWAYS
133
fingers. "I'm not going to tell you everything I'm
thinking, Roper, but there's no reason as far as I
can see why I shouldn't tell you some things. For
instance, here's a piece of information that's by way
of being news to you. I called at this very house—
'The Crossways '—days before the murder. You
didn't know that, did you? That's a surprise for
you, my boy, isn't it?" Roper's eyes opened in
plain incredulity.
"You called"
"Ay, Roper. I interviewed Mr. Mordaunt him-
self. You weren't aware of that, were you?"
"I don't understand even now, sir," contributed
Roper sturdily. "I don't quite see what the idea
is that you're trying to"
Baddeley embarked on an explanation. "As you
know, Roper, I was put on to the ' Creeping Jenny'
business after the robbery occurred at Sir Gilbert
Craddock's place—the people at Lewes hoofed me
into it at his request—and certain facts which came
to my notice over at Cranwick made me call here.
Made me have a chat with Mr. Mordaunt. An
interesting little chat it was too. Then, by Moses,
there comes another 'Creeping Jenny' business in
the very house where I've just called—followed by
a murder! A damn funny coincidence, Roper; say
what you like about it. Funny if my call fanned the
flames, what?"
Roper stared at the Inspector fixedly. The fasci-
nation of the idea that Inspector Baddeley had pro-
pounded to him was beginning to grow in his brain
as well. He licked his lips and was surprised to find
/
1


134
THE CRIME AT
how dry they were. An ordinary constable has
enormous advantages over a " plain-clothes " unless,
of course, he's a member of the Local Band of Hope
and at that precise moment the arid Roper remem-
bered the fact.
"You mean, sir," he commenced, but Baddeley's
eagerness and interest in his theory prevented Roper
completing the sentence.
"I mean this, Roper "—Baddeley's hand came
down heavily on the table in front of him in
emphasis of his statement—" that the key to the
'Creeping Jenny ' business lies here in ' The Cross-
ways' and this last affair has brought matters to a
climax. I'd lay a guinea to a gooseberry that some-
body else discovered the fact and that's why"
"They murdered Mrs. Mordaunt?" Roper was
unable to restrain himself. The words leaped to
his lips.
Baddeley eyed him steadily, and the look had a
touch of queerness and even of reproach about it.
"I didn't say so, Roper. I wasn't going to say
so, even. Other things happened in this house on
the fatal night besides the murder of Mrs. Mor-
daunt. Remember her strange, almost unaccount-
able apprehension about the safety of this Lorrimer
sapphire? Why on earth should she be so anxious
about ' Creeping Jenny ' unless she knew something,
or, on the other hand, unless "He paused,
reflecting on the various points of the case as he
marshalled them in his mind. "But that's my se-
cret, Roper—for the time being at any rate."
Roper's disappointment at the Inspector's abrupt


THE CROSSWAYS
135
termination was manifestly acute. But he made one
more attempt to fathom Baddeley's opinion.
"Tell me one thing, sir. What's your real idea?
Is this 'Creeping Jenny' person a woman as she
makes out to be—or a man? That's the point I
can't make up my own mind over, sir, because one or
two features of all the affairs in which she's been
concerned don't seem to tally with what I might call
my idea of 'femininity'—don't you agree, In-
spector? After all a woman's a woman and when
she"
Baddeley shook his head. "I am not satisfied
myself yet. But ' femininity,' as you call it, Roper,
is a darned peculiar thing." The Inspector laughed
reminiscently. "I knew a woman who was elected
an Alderman on her local Council. She was so full
of the triumph of her sex as she called it that she
swore she'd eventually live to be Mayor of the
Borough and nominate her old man as Mayoress
—to teach him his place, so she said."
"Did it come off? " queried Roper.
"No," said Baddeley laconically. "It came un-
stuck."
"Why?"
"The old man taught her something instead. She
resigned her seat in less than six months."
"What made her do that?"
"Twins—although she didn't know there were
two of 'em when she resigned."
Roper chuckled at the Inspector's pleasantry.
"All the same," went on Baddeley, "coming
back to our little discussion, there's one gentleman


136
THE CRIME AT
in 'The Crossways' ' giddy throng that puzzles me
con-siderably." He drummed with his fingers on
the table. "I can't quite get him or his business and
inquiries in his direction don't help me. Quite the
reverse, in fact—they tend rather to increase my
suspicions."
"Who is the man?"
"Mr. Russell Streatfeild," returned Inspector
Baddeley quietly.
Roper nodded slowly. "I'm listening, sir."
"Yes, Roper, Mr. Russell Streatfeild causes me
a certain amount of wonderment and—I may as
well admit it—uneasiness. In the first place—what
is he, Roper?"
"I understood, sir, that he was a solicitor—an
old friend of the Guv'nor—Mr. Mordaunt."
"That is the story that is told me, Roper. But
here's rather a curious fact. Bennett, the gardener,
who expanded wonderfully under the influence of
a little flattery regarding his horticultural efficiency,
has been in the Mordaunts' service for just on
eleven years, so he tells me. But although Streat-
feild is represented by Mr. Mordaunt as an old
friend—Bennett tells me that he has never seen him
before! Funny, don't you think, Roper, that this
old crony—you've seen how thick they are—Mor-
daunt and Streatfeild are always together—has
never stayed at' The Crossways ' before? What do
you think yourself?" Baddeley rubbed his hands
and continued. "Now a second point—take the
solicitor part of the question. Russell Streatfeild
is certainly not old Mordaunt's own solicitor, that is


THE CROSSWAYS
137
to say in the sense of transacting his legal business.
I've made it my business to establish that fact and
also to find out incidentally who is. I put an inquiry
or two—round Cranwick and district—discreet in-
quiries of course, Roper—and I have discovered
that Henry Mordaunt's solicitor is Reuben Older-
shaw of Lewes. You know the man I mean—his
place is at the ^nd of the High Street. Oldershaw
has been solicitor to the Mordaunt family for two
generations. Mrs. Raikes, one of the ladies staying
here, happens to have been a Miss Oldershaw; she's
the sister of this Reuben Oldershaw."
Roper nodded again. "I'm beginning to see
things a bit clearer. It's all of a piece."
"It is, Roper—and I haven't finished yet.
There's a third point about Russell Streatfeild still
to come. According to Mr. Mordaunt, Streatfeild
is a partner in a firm called 'Hyde, Streatfeild and
Digby.' I'm certain that they were the names I had
given to me. But when I casually inquired where
their place of business was, Mordaunt told me
'London '—just that—vaguely—no more. Quite a
small place, I believe—London. But I didn't press
him for any more information at the time. I de-
cided to wait a bit longer and go into the matter
again myself. Well, Roper my boy, I've already
done a bit of nosing round and I can tell you this.
There's no such firm as 'Hyde, Streatfeild and
Digby' to be found in any London directory.
Therefore, friend Roper, I find myself saying—
'what's this gentleman's game?' Also incidentally
—what is Mordaunt's game?"


138 THE CRIME AT
Not without reason," concurred Roper. "It's
certainly a thing that wants a bit of looking into;
sifting, so to speak. You can't do too much sifting
in cases of this kind. The bloke that I was under
up in the North was a fair devil for it. He'd go
so far as"
"That's what I'm going to do; also have a look
round the history of the first Mrs. Mordaunt and
then the antecedents of the second Mrs. Mordaunt;
the one that's been killed. I can't get it out of my
head that there's a lot about her that wants explain-
ing." Baddeley walked to the door and opened it
to find Mitchell the butler on the point of knocking.
"I beg your pardon, Inspector, but Mr. Mor-
daunt would like to see you in the library at once.
He sent me to tell you so, Inspector."
Baddeley frowned as he considered the message.
"Is he alone?"
"No, Inspector. Mr. Streatfeild, Mr. Francis
and Captain Lorrimer are with him."
"Any idea what he wants me for?"
"No, Inspector."
"Very well. Take me to your master, will you?"
When the Inspector entered the library, Mor-
daunt was seated with Russell Streatfeild and Cap-
tain Lorrimer on either side of him. Francis Mor-
daunt was standing. Mordaunt's greeting to Bad-
deley was ready and rapid.
"Something very strange has come to light, In-
spector. My son here has just discovered it. Come
this way, will you, Baddeley?"
Mordaunt beckoned him out of the room, the


140
THE CRIME At
CHAPTER XIV
«
Recovery soon came to him. "Where the hell
did that come from?" he demanded pointing to the
key.
"I wish I could tell you, Baddeley. My own
curiosity would like that question answered as much
as yours. But what do you make of it?"
Baddeley ignored Mordaunt's question and took
the key from the fingers of the statuette. "Who
did you say called your attention to it—your son?"
"Yes, Inspector, my son. Would you care to
ask him any questions about it? He's here to an-
swer them should you consider it necessary. I told
him to come along with us."
The Inspector examined the key with great care.
"I suppose you are quite aware what this key is,
Mr. Mordaunt?" he asked.
The man addressed eyed his questioner steadily.
"I think I know what you mean, Inspector, but I
haven't actually tested it yet. But I take it that this
key is the key of my wife's bedroom-door. Per-
sonally I haven't the shadow of a doubt about it."
"Exactly what I think myself, Mr. Mordaunt.
And to find it on the fingers of this stone image
fairly beats the band. There's somebody in this
house here trying to pull the wool over my eyes.
Somebody who thinks he's damned smart." He


THE CROSSE AYS
141
turned to Francis Mordaunt. "Do I understand
that you discovered this business, sir?"
Francis nodded rather negligently. "That is so,
Inspector. I imagined that my father had made
that clear to you. I must say that / understood
what he said."
"H'm! When did you first discover the key?"
Francis Mordaunt consulted his wrist watch with
an exaggerated assiduity.
"Approximately a matter of half-an-hour ago,
Inspector. A little less, if anything."
"Did you happen to be walking upstairs at the
time or coming down?"
The young man looked at Baddeley curiously.
"I was going upstairs, Inspector Baddeley, and my
birthday's on the seventeenth of October. My fa-
vorite flower's the gardenia."
"Thank you for the information, Mr. Mordaunt,
and there's no call for a gibe on your part, either.
I had a reason for my question—though perhaps
your intelligence didn't realize the fact."
A spot of color burned in each of Baddeley's
cheeks while Francis Mordaunt whitened under his
usual tan. The latter seemed to be on the point
of replying but his father, seeking to pour oil on
troubled waters, summarily checked him with raised
hand.
"Confine yourself to answering the Inspector's
questions as they are put to you, Francis, please!
We have many more things to do than to indulge
in recriminations or criticism of one another."
Francis plunged his hands into the pockets of his


142
THE CRIME AT
trousers and stuck out a determined jaw. But he
said nothing.
Baddeley returned to the attack. "I'm perfectly
certain that earlier in the morning this key was not
where you recently found it. For the very good
reason that if it had been I should have seen it
myself. I used this staircase on several occasions
this morning and I'll go bail this heathen lady—
Polly Hymn-Book or whatever her name is—wasn't
playing St. Peter then. So therefore that key's been
placed there since this morning and the person that
put it there is very likely still in the house and in
all probability Mrs. Mordaunt's murderer." He
looked at the group of men to whom he ventured the
statement with an odd touch of defiance. "If any
one of you gentlemen that's with me now is able to
help me in any way—if only by the merest trifle—
may I ask you to do so in any circumstances? Any
reticence and withholding of vital knowledge will
mean me working under a very heavy handicap. I
appeal to you, one and all." His eyes rested on
Russell Streatfeild as he spoke and he saw at the
same time that Captain Lorrimer had noticed it and
was watching Streatfeild as intently as he was. But
» Streatfeild, seemingly unconscious of the two scru-
tinies, gave no sign and the Mordaunts also main-
tained silence. Baddeley made a last attempt.
"I'm quite aware, gentlemen, that it's unlikely that
anybody among us here knows anything about this
key business. At the same time it's very evident
that there's somebody in the house that does, and
it's possible that one of you may suspect that some-


THE CROSSWAYS
143
body. I know quite well you gentlemen's ideas of
what you call ' playing the game.' You're all a bit
tight-lipped when it comes to a question of what
you consider is 'telling tales.' I took the Boys'
Own Paper for years when I was a boy and revelled
in Talbot Baines Reed, so I think I can honestly say
that I know what I'm talking about and I under-
stand how you feel. Granted all that, however—
there's another side to the question if you'll allow
me to say so."
Mordaunt answered him immediately. "Rest
assured, Inspector, that each one of us here is only
too anxious to help you all he knows how. I can
assure you, too, that Captain Lorrimer intends to
leave no stone unturned to recover his jewel and
I will avenge the murder of my wife if it takes me
years to do it. So rely on each one of us,
Baddeley."
"Very good, sir. I'll work on that understand-
ing." Baddeley turned away from Mordaunt.
"Oh, while I think of it, sir, could you give me your
address in town, sir? I fancy Mr. Mordaunt did
give it to me a day or two ago but I've been careless
and mislaid it?" Baddeley made a pretence of
searching through his pockets. His request was ad-
dressed to Russell Streatfeild.
"In town?" queried the solicitor casually.
"Yes, sir. The address of the firm of which
you're a partner, what we'll term your professional
address. Did Mr. Mordaunt tell me it was in Ely
Place or was it?"
Streatfeild interrupted him. "I'm afraid you're


144
THE CRIME AT
running past yourself a bit, Baddeley. I have noth-
ing whatever to do with Ely Place. Mr. Mordaunt
could never have told you that. Hyde, Streatfeild
and Digby went out of business some years ago. For
excellent reasons, too. Both Hyde—er, and—er—
Digby are dead. I am the sole survivor."
"Sorry to hear that, sir, but I seem to have some
recollection of a solicitor named Digby dying now
you mention the fact—about four years ago—wasn't
it? Would that be about the time or am I a
triBe"
"You haven't any recollection of it at all, In-
spector Baddeley. I am quite certain on the point.
You are entirely under a misapprehension. Mr.
Digby's death was unreported and aroused no com-
ment worth mentioning."
Baddeley bit his lip at his discomfiture. There
was a note in Streatfeild's voice that seemed to hold
a hint of warning. What the devil was this man
playing at; what was his little game? The Inspector
decided for the moment to steer a middle course;
danger always seemed to lie near extremes. He
therefore retreated a little.
"Suppose my memory must be playing me false
then, sir, and I'm mistaken. How long ago was
it?"
"What, Mr. Digby's death?"
"Yes."
"I really couldn't give you the exact year, In-
spector. Is it dreadfully important?"
Baddeley laughed but there was a strong sugges-
tion of effort about the performance. "Not a bit,


THE CROSSWAYS
145
sir. At my game I suppose questioning other people
becomes a sort of second nature and we lose our-
selves sometimes. Did Digby die before Hyde?"
"They died together, Inspector. In one an-
other's arms, which was the end that each of them
would have chosen had he been asked. Quite touch-
ing, I assure you, Baddeley. They were kicked to
death by wild butterflies."
He turned on his heel and left the speechless Bad-
deley almost purple with volcanic indignation. The
other saw the back of Streatfeild's shoulders mov-
ing convulsively.
******
Coincidentally with the seeds of wonderment be-
ing sown in Inspector Baddeley's mind concerning
the puzzling behavior of Mr. Russell Streatfeild,
the man with two dead partners, Peter Daventry
was deciding upon taking a certain step. He had
been considering this particular action for some
little time and at last he had determined to take
the bull by the horns and move in the matter. Tak-
ing fountain pen and a sheet of note-paper he ven-
tured upon the writing of a letter. For a period he
wrote easily and smoothly but after a time the task
would have appeared to a careful observer to have
become a matter of much greater difficulty. Even-
tually, however, he completed his letter to his satis-
faction and read it through carefully. This took
an appreciable time for the letter was a lengthy one.
Had the same careful observer before-mentioned
been present and looking over Peter Daventry's


146
THE CRIME AT
shoulder at the completed effort this is what he
would have read in Peter's small but distinctive
handwriting.
"' The Crossways,'
"Near Cranwick,
"Sussex.
"October nth.
"My dear Bathurst,
"Salaam, Sahib and many of 'em! If this
letter is in the nature of a surprising incident to you
cast your weather-eye upon the address. When you
have digested the valuable information therein con-
tained—say unto yourself 'whose image and super-
scription is this?' For I, Peter, of the ilk Daventry,
erstwhile companion of your noble self in much
dirty work at the cross-roads and other unsavory
resorts, am once again involved in a sinister piece
of business. You have doubtless had full Press in-
formation re ' The Crime at " The Crossways " '—
the looting of the Lorrimer sapphire and the mur-
der of the poor lady who was my hostess. I know
what a glutton you are for the columns that crawl
with crime. But it has penetrated to my dull brain
that if I provide you with the data right from the
gee-gee's mouth as it were, (from the 'os' of the
'oss—not bad that) you will help me more than
anybody—knowing you as I do—' O my Hornby
and my Barlow—long ago'! Therefore, open
thine ears to hear the law, O my Bathurst, and in-
cline them to the voice of little Peter. For in choirs
and places where they can't sing here followeth the
anthem. I blew down here last week—for the week-
end! Joy! But short-lived!' It melted like a cloud


THE CROSSWAYS
147
on the silent summer Heaven.' Personnel—varied
—but distinctly select. I got my invitation, of
course, through being an old friend of the Mor-
daunt family—the Guv'nor and Henry Mordaunt
were very thick for years, used to divide doughnuts
in the Tuck when they were boys and when the oc-
casion of Molly Mordaunt's 'twenty-first' rolled
along they honored yours truly with the alluring old
R. S. V. P. Now for the names of the gallant band
that sat down to dinner on the night when the trou-
ble began to warm up. Men first. Adrian Chal-
loner—the Adrian Challoner—no need to describe
him (remember his 'Aubrey Tanqueray' that we
saw together?); a man named Raikes—his son Jack
Raikes—dippy on Jane Mordaunt, and who had
been at Winchester with Francis Mordaunt. He'll
talk for hours if you'll let him on Rockley Wilson
and how there never was his like—or ever will be.
But not to me! I choked him off after a bit and
thought of you. Uppingham for ever! Captain
Cyril Lorrimer, M. P.—Molly's fiance—seems a
very decent sort although perhaps inclined to put on
a bit of roll—properly taken the count though over
what's been happening down here these last few
days; Russell Streatfeild, a tall, grey-haired, clean-
shaven solicitor, friend of old Mordaunt's—they
follow one another about—he and H. M.—like
the lamb and Mary, proper Damon and Pythias sort
of business—and lastly the two male Mordaunts—
Henry, the famous, and Francis his only son. The
women are mixed—as usually happens at this sort
of crush—but taking everything into consideration,
distinctly above the average in qualities of attrac-
tion. We have the two daughters of the house who


148
THE CRIME AT
floated about (prior to the murder of course) with
their twain swains, Lorrimer and Raikes, Mary Con-
sidine (a peach of a girl this)—any relation to your
Considines by the way, of Considine Manor—I in-
tended to ask her as a matter of fact, but the idea
skidded somewhere; a Miss Anne Ebbisham who
strikes P. D. (that's me) as being extremely ef-
ficient and equally charming (unusual combina-
tion) ; Christine Massingham, the actress, played in
'Purple Depths '—remember—and a winner all
over from a looks' standpoint; Mrs. Lorrimer—
Lorrimer's mother, and Mrs. Raikes, mother of the
'Manners Makyth Man' merchant who reveres
Rockley. I think that little catalogue covers the
whole menagerie. Now for doings up to the fall
of the last wicket. Bowlers' names and full analy-
sis. Everything went swimmingly till Papa Mor-
daunt poked the breeze up us at dinner. 'Creeping
Jenny' entered the arena via the Post! Quite
openly, she advertised herself as 'positively appear-
ing' at 'The Crossways' that night; her objective
being Lorrimer's sapphire which seems to have been
pinched by the way by a strange coincidence many
moons since from the jolly old Mordaunt clan.
'" Convey" the wise it call.' Well, Lorrimer
turned pasty-white—real floured Albino—when he
heard the news and swore that Jenny would toil
all night and catch nothing—or words to that effect.
You know the old stunt—' what I have I hold, by
Gad—and my dripping sword for the scurvy knave
that comes a-pilfering'! Well, anyhow, old Chal-
loner rose to the spirit of the occasion and offered
to bet that the ' Jenny' girl pulled it off—a hundred
Jimmy O'Goblins I fancy was his offer. To my


THE CROSSWAYS
149
utter surprise the Ebbisham girl snapped it like a
shot; licked it up like a Tortoise-shell Tom well
away with his daily dose of Alderney cream.
'Done,' she gurgles, ' and I'll have the money in the
morning.' Most of us opened our eyes, I can tell
you—the Ebbisham girl seemed so sure of her
ground. Why? That's the point that's got me
guessing. It had when she made the bet and it still
has. Who had been telling tales to little Anne? A
hundred of the best—mind you—not a box of choc-
olates with hard centers. Well, we all slid off to
Uncle Ned and personally I slept like the proverbial
old peg, whip or humming, whichever you like to
put your shirt on. But the news quickly buzzed
round in the morning that something was vitally
wrong; that Mrs. Mordaunt's bed hadn't been slept
in and that Mrs. Mordaunt herself was missing.
You've doubtless read how she was found—in the
old well down at the end of 'The Crossways'
grounds—stabbed through the heart. Wearing her
evening cloak and with her 'pochette' affair found
lying near her.
"Now for some additional startling details that
have reached me down here but which aren't re-
ported in the Press as far as I have been able to see.
(a) Lorrimer had two sapphires—one a 'dud.'
Mrs. Mordaunt had some strange premonition or
something the night before she was murdered that
the gallant would lose his ring if he didn't keep his
eyes skinned and 'watch out.' She begged him to
let her mind the family keepsake during the night.
Lorrimer compromised on her suggestion by giving
her the imitation. This imitation has been found
down the well by Baddeley and close, I believe, to


150
THE CRIME AT
Mrs. Mordaunt's dead body. So much for the sap-
phire! (b) Adrian Challoner has had a dagger
stolen from the dressing-table in his bedroom. Just
such a weapon as indicated by the wounds on the
dead lady. So Francis Mordaunt tells me. More-
over there is no sign of this dagger anywhere about.
At least so report has it. (c) What has happened
to the 'pukka' Lorrimer sapphire? This question
is influenced by the fact that it has been stolen from
a very cunning hiding-place in Captain Lorrimer's
bedroom. One devised by Lorrimer himself! It
was concealed in a stick of shaving-soap but the
thief apparently knew this little bit of news and
profited thereby—no doubt it was child's play for
'Creeping Jenny.' Or perhaps there are two of
'em and they hunt in 'Pears.' (Damned good
that.) Anyhow—she left her usual card and joyous
greeting—but that's by the way. The whole thing's
got me whacked to a frazzle—although I've been
trying to use your methods in order to freeze on
to something. Not a hope! Not an earthly! I
haven't the foggiest! Can you suggest anything?
As a matter of fact Lorrimer's rather keen on you
butting into the case but Papa Mordaunt isn't hav-
ing any and properly choked him off when he
coughed up the idea. Of course it was mine in the
first place as you may guess. Still, as I said, Papa
M. won't hear of the idea so there's an end of it. It
was like a carmine cloth to an Andalusian. If you
can possibly spare the time, drop me a comforting
line and if it's not asking too much of you, let me
know what you think about the whole bag of tricks.
If you can suggest any line of action that I can
conveniently take up, with reasonable hope of sue-


THE CROSSWAYS
cess, don't hesitate, old man. In the meantime bags
of apologies for having troubled you. Au 'voir,
old son!
"Chin Chin and likewise Tinketty-Tonk,
"Peter Daventry.
"P. S. The Ebbisham girl's eyes are wonderful.
They make me all 'swimmy.' So are Christine
Massingham's if you catch 'em in the right light.
I'm going to try this evening."
******
Having dropped the epistle in an out-of-the-way
pillar box (Peter had resolved to take no risks in
the matter but to post it himself) he started to
cross the broad expanse of heath and common that
lay between him and "The Crossways." He had
over three miles to cover as he had purposely come
some distance for his postal tryst. For a matter of
twenty minutes or so he had swung along jauntily
thinking over his letter to Anthony Bathurst and the
sinister events of the last few days. It was quite
on the cards, he reflected, that Bathurst would see
a glimmer of light shining through the haze of the
puzzle as he had presented it to him and be able
to put him on the road to a solution. It was amaz-
ing how old Bathurst could pick out the right strand
from the tangled ends of problems like this one and
although on this occasion his attack would be as it
were from a distance, Peter hoped secretly that his
precis of the case would be sufficiently illuminating
to counteract this condition and achieve results by
correspondence. He was so engrossed in this traffic


152
THE CRIME AT
of thought that he was hardly conscious of the ap-
proach across the coarse, tussocky grass of the man
who accosted him.
"Pardon me," said the stranger, raising a broad-,
brimmed hat, "but would you be good enough to
tell me if I am going in the right direction for ' The
Crossways'? I've come over from Cranwick and
I seem to have gone amiss somewhere. I'm not sure
that I haven't taken the wrong turning somehow or
the other."
Peter looked at him curiously. The man was a
gentleman—that is to say in the usually accepted
sense of that much-abused word. His speech was
cultured and his clothes, although old, " right." He
was fair with a fresh complexion and "tooth-
brush" moustache. Peter put him down as some-
where in the early twenties, a year or so junior to
himself.
"Certainly," he replied. "But you need not
worry. You can make ' The Crossways ' quite easily
this way. When you get to the edge of the heath
cut across the road that you'll find directly in front
of you and then cross the stile and turn sharply to
your left. Carry straight on from there, past the
church and then on beyond an old cow-byre and you
can't miss it."
"Thank you," said the young man. "Thanks
awfully. Sorry to have"
Then Peter said something which, immediately it
had been spoken, he regretted and also the impulse
that had prompted it.
"As a matter of fact," he said carelessly, "I


THE CROSSWAYS
153
happen to be going to 'The Crossways' myself.
I'm staying there as it happens. If you care to
accompany me—delighted."
At once he could have sworn that the young man
was taken aback and that a strange look of
something very much like annoyance flitted across
his face. Simultaneously Peter Daventry began
to wonder—that look—that expression—where the
devil
But his period of wonderment was very brief. It
was summarily checked by the stranger. "I—I—
I'm afraid I've misled you. I suppose I must have
spoken as though my personal destination was
'The Crossways.' I'm sorry, although it was quite
unintentional on my part. I'm not really going
there, you see. I simply wanted to have a squint
at the place as I passed through. I'm on a sort
of walking tour, I suppose you'd call it—and hear-
ing such a lot and reading so much about 'The
Crossways' these last few days set my curiosity
going. I thought I'd like to Put it down
to morbid inquisitiveness," he broke off rather
lamely and evidently waiting for Peter to say some-
thing.
Without appearing to do so Peter looked him
over. Save for the ground ash that he carried in
his right hand he had nothing at all with him. Of
impedimenta he was beautifully free. Travelling
light for a walking-tour, concluded Peter Daventry.
He had known two fellows up at Oxford with him
who had once tramped best part of the way across
England with a safety-razor, shaving brush, two


154
THE CRIME AT
tooth-brushes and one suit of silk pajamas between
them. They had joyously explained afterwards to
an admiring and interested circle, that had hung
upon their words, that one had worn the jacket and
the other the trousers when bed had been really
essential. Peter Daventry, who had been one of
the above-mentioned circle of auditors to which
reference has been made, had formed the opinion
that these occasions of dormancy must have been
extremely rare—the beer had been too good for any
time or opportunities to be wasted. But this chap
had no signs of "personal props " of any kindl
"That's quite all right," declared Mr. Daventry.
"I understand perfectly and it doesn't matter in
the least. But you can come along with me just the
same as I suggested. When we get there I'll"
"You're very kind but I couldn't think of it and
if you'll excuse me I'll push on at once. I've got
to be in Pyfold by this evening, and I've none too
much time now." Turning on his heel he waved a
valedictory hand and walked rapidly ahead; leav-
ing a rather irritated Mr. Daventry behind him.
Peter followed his figure with a look of sorely-
puzzled interest, for the last glance he had had of
the man as he turned had only served to strengthen
his curiosity and intensify his previous feeling of
wonderment. "Now where the devil "—he said to
himself as he stared after the stranger—" have I
seen your face before?"


THE CROSSWAYS
155
CHAPTER XV
❖
The next twenty-four hours yielded nothing to
Inspector Baddeley—nothing that is to say that he
considered of any importance. It is true that the
key that had been discovered on the fingers of the
Muse of Eloquence fitted the lock of Mrs. Mor-
daunt's bedroom door but he had felt certain of that
before he tried it. Just as he was beginning to get
a trifle despondent, for several lines of inquiry that
he had followed up had proved barren and profit-
less, something unexpected turned up. And as is
very often the case in affairs of the kind that he
was investigating, it came from near at hand quite
spontaneously and not as the result of any direct
piece of investigation on his own. part. On the
Thursday morning following upon the murder he
had called at "The Crossways" with reference to
the inquest on the body of Mrs. Mordaunt which
had been fixed to take place on the following day.
Henry Mordaunt received him in his study and
from his manner it was quickly apparent to the
Inspector that Mordaunt had news for him. The
K.C. came to the point almost immediately. "Some-
thing's turned up, Baddeley, and from a most un-
expected quarter too. I heard of it last night first
of all but as I knew you intended coming along
this morning I thought it would keep till you came.


i56
THE CRIME AT
Very likely there's nothing in it, so many of the
stories that are brought to one's notice peter out
into nothing directly they're looked into, that I've
grown chary of accepting anything at its face value.
But you never know; the unlooked for is always
happening, and you'd better hear this yarn for
yourself. I think you'll be able to assess it better
if you do than if I give it to you second-hand."
He touched the bell on his desk for Mitchell to
appear.
The butler looked even more pale and cadaverous
than usual. "Tell Bennett to make himself present-
able—if it's necessary, that is—and bring him in
here to me, Mitchell."
"Yes, sir." Mitchell bowed stiffly and withdrew.
"Bennett's my gardener," added Mordaunt to
Baddeley, by way of an explanation that was un-
necessary. "He was with my son and me when
we found my wife's body. A story has been brought
to him which he felt forced to bring in turn to me.
You shall hear it yourself when he comes."
"Reliable man?" queried the Inspector.
"Absolutely, as far as I know. I've no com-
plaints against him, if that's what you mean;
always found him efficient and trustworthy."
"Been with you a long time, hasn't he?"
"Several years. Recommended strongly by Sir
John Harrison, the banker over at Pyfold. As I
said, he's suited me."
"H'm," muttered Baddeley, "all right as far as
it gaps."
Mordaunt came to what was almost an expostu-


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157
lation in defence of his servant. "Bennett's a man
far above the average and right away from the
ordinary gardener. He's more of an all-round man
than most of them. For instance I'll give you an
example of what I mean. I run my gardens as far
as practicable upon what I try to make business
lines. It interests me to work that way. Especially
the kitchen garden. Bennett prepares a statement
in the nature of an inventory for me at the end of
every year. All vegetables grown and er—pro-
duced, are priced as they are gathered and used in
the kitchens at the market price reigning at the
time, Such things as potatoes and onions and all
vegetables that are husbanded for the winter, are
also priced before they are stored. So far he has
produced eminently satisfactory results and I am
more than pleased with him and his work. There's
not much leakage, I can tell you."
Bennett upon arrival wasted no time and came
to what he had to say very quickly. "What I'm
going to tell you, Inspector, is not my own story.
I'd like you to understand that at once. If it had
been you wouldn't have had to wait so long for it.
I'll tell it you as it was told to me—then you can
decide for yourself what you'll do about it." His
face grew more serious. "What I've got to say,"
he proceeded, "goes back to the night of Miss
Margaret's engagement and the dinner that you,
sir, gave in honor of the event." He gestured
towards his employer. "Which is, I suppose, the
night that the mistress was murdered or at any rate
just before. Cook hadn't been feeling too well for


THE CROSS WAYS
159
woman a few paces ahead of her going in the direc-
tion of the old well."
Baddeley whistled. "She does, does she? This
is getting interesting, Bennett. Go on."
Bennett shook his head somewhat despondently.
"There isn't much more to tell you, Inspector. I
wish that there was. All that Ada—that's the maid
Perkins, her daughter,—can get out of her is that
the woman she saw was wearing a yellow dress.
That is how the old girl describes it, anyhow. She
says she just managed to get a glimpse of the <olor
once, before she turned off through the gate. The
old lady never remembered this till yesterday, so
Ada says. I should think she guzzled too much
port and got a bit fuddled. You can't tell me, that
if that had happened"
"One minute"—Baddeley interjected almost
fiercely—" did she see this woman's face at all? Do
you know? Could she recognize her if"
"Can't help you there, Inspector," answered the
gardener almost lugubriously. "I've told you all
I know. If you want to know any more you'll
have to talk to the old girl herself. Ada says she
can't get any more out her, so if she can't, I'm
darned sure there's not much more to be got. If
you're thinking of going down to the house, I'll be
pleased to direct you."
Here Mordaunt put a question to the gardener.
"There's one thing I don't quite understand, Ben-
nett. There may be nothing in it, I admit—but
why did this girl Perkins confide in you? Why
didn't she come up here directly she had heard her


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161
Baddeley raised his eyebrows. "Expected?"
The gardener explained. "I told Ada I should
have to tell the master and I expect she's passed on
the news to her mother. That's what I meant by
you being expected. Nothing morel They won't
kill no fatted calf for you. Is it O.K., sir?" He
referred his last question to Henry Mordaunt.
"Certainly, Bennett. Take the Inspector down
to Mrs. Perkins whenever he wants you. Dulver-
bury, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir. About half-an-hour's walk, sir, on
the straight road to Pyfold."
"Very well then, Bennett," clinched Baddeley,
"I'm ready now and we'll waste no time. Take me
along at once, will you?"
The lady who had assisted at the eleventh hour
to celebrate Molly Mordaunt's betrothal was short
and stout. Her heaviness was not only physical.
Her face was lined and creased and she was
obviously not a joyful mother of children. She
wiped her hands on her coarse apron upon the
arrival of Inspector Baddeley and "Mr. Bennett
from the big house," and then used the same article
to dust two chairs in the "best room" in order
that her two visitors should be seated, albeit not
too comfortably. Her story of the incident that
she had witnessed in the grounds of "The Cross-
ways" was virtually as the Inspector had had it
from Bennett. All the same he determined to put
one or two additional questions to her now that he
had the woman herself in front of him.
"Was this woman you say you saw a stranger to


l62
THE CRIME AT
you, Mrs. Perkins? Could you state that with cer-
tainty?"
"Oh, yes, sir! It was nobody I knew, sir, and
nobody I'd ever seen before." Mrs. Perkins wiped
her expansive mouth in an attempt to emphasize her
statement.
"This was about ten minutes to one, you say?"
"Yes, sir."
"What sort of a woman was it? Could you
describe her at all, do you think? Was she tall,
short, fair, dark, thin"
Mrs. Perkins, the mother of the romantic Ada,
shook her head. "I couldn't answer any of them
questions, Mr. Inspector. I was walkin' behind
her, you see. But she 'ad on a lovely dress. Kind
of a yaller dress it was. The sort of dress that you
see when you're going"
Baddeley interrupted her. "What about her
face? Did you catch a glimpse of her face at all?
I know what you said just now, but could it have
been Mrs. Mordaunt herself? That's a point I'd
like cleared up."
The fat face of Mrs. Perkins grimaced as she
pondered over the question. Finally, after some
consideration, she ventured on a decision.
"It wasn't Mrs. Mordaunt, I'm dead sure of
that. It was a white face—or whitish—you know
what I mean—pale. It was a lady right enough, I
could see enough of her to be able to tell that. But
more than that I couldn't say, Mr. Inspector, not
if I was promised a sackful of money, so it's not
a bit o' use you askin' of me." Mrs. Perkins rubbed


THE CROSSWAYS
163
her nose with the back of her hand to the accom-
paniment of a very audible sniff. With this expres-
sion of opinion Baddeley had perforce to be con-
tent. But he was not done with yet. On his way
back from the cottage at Dulverbury to "The
Crossways" he thought of a plan, simple in opera-
tion, but which nevertheless might prove very effec-
tive. Upon his arrival he outlined it and Mr.
Mordaunt listened to it gravely.
"Have you any objection, sir?" inquired the
Inspector, when he had finished.
"I don't like it, Baddeley, I won't pretend that
I do. This old woman may be imagining things for
all we know. The idea doesn't appeal to me at all."
"What harm could it do, sir; and the good it
might do would be incalculable."
Mordaunt hesitated. Baddeley saw it and the
advantage he had gained, and hastened to follow
up his point. "It's only fair to everybody here,
sir. After all we ought to make use of the chance.
It's our duty lying straight and plain in front of us.
Think of your late wife, sir; think of your daugh-
ters; think"
Suddenly Mordaunt threw up his head and
yielded to the Inspector's persuasion. "Very well
then, Baddeley. I'm agreeable, have it your way."
The mention of his daughters by the Inspector
had been sufficient to sway his judgment and to turn
the scale in Baddeley's favor.
"Any objection to the method I adopt?" Bad-
deley put the question bluntly as was his habit when
dominated by an idea.


i66
THE CRIME AT
insist on those conditions being observed absolutely.
After all, I've a right to"
"All right! That's agreed, sir," conceded Bad-
deley. "I'm willing to stand by that. I'll be in
here, sir, so the report can come in to me at once.
I'll leave that part of the business in your hands,
sir." He gestured towards the room they had just
vacated. "That's settled then. I'll be along this
evening." Baddeley waved a good-bye and de-
parted.
******
It was with an exceedingly grave face that Henry
Mordaunt some hours later reported the result of
the Inspector's experiment. Baddeley, sampling one
of "The Crossways' " best cigars in one of its best
chairs answered the light tap on the study door
when it came with unconcealed eagerness. He was
about to speak directly Mordaunt entered the room
but the look on the K. C.'s face checked him.
Although Mordaunt looked so concerned he showed
no hesitation about reporting what had transpired.
"Mrs. Perkins has identified one of my guests,
Baddeley. And it would be idle for me to pretend
that I am not very" much disturbed thereby. I
simply can't believe what she says, but in justice to
the woman and the story that she tells I must admit
that she appears absolutely certain with regard to
it."
"Who is it?"
"Mrs. Lorrimer! This Perkins woman picked
her out at once, without the slightest hesitation."


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167
"By her dress?"
"No, Baddeley. Not by her dress! Mrs. Lor-
rimer is wearing black this evening. By her face!
And also she says by the way she walked."
Baddeley's eyes glinted. His face grew hard as
he pondered over this latest aspect of the affair.
"What action do you intend to take, Inspector?"
Mordaunt's tone betrayed his anxiety.
"For the moment, sir, none. I'm going to watch
points and make a few inquiries." He took his hat
from the table. Mrs. Lorrimer again! She it was
who had known of Challoner's dagger and the secret
of the shaving-soap. Why had she been in the
grounds that night? What had she to do with
"Creeping Jenny"?


THE CROSSWAYS
169
As you no doubt surmised I have studied the affair
at 'The Crossways' very keenly—having no idea,
of course, that you were going to write to me about
it. As a matter of fact most recent newspapers
would have been exceedingly dull without it.
Duller, I think, than usual. Your apologies, there-
fore, my dear chap, for worrying me, were totally
unnecessary. Indeed I must thank you for a very
clear exposition of several points in the case of
undoubtedly grave importance. Which alas have
not been made too clear in the daily Press. The
affair has an additional fascination for me since my
old friend Inspector Baddeley from Lewes has, I
understand, been placed in charge and Mary Con-
sidine who figured with him in the very first affair
that I eyer investigated, also appears to have been
a guest in the house when the murder took place.
Please remember me to each of them if you get a
favorable opportunity. I may even get you to
whisper something in Baddeley's ear for me. But
more of that later.
"You ask me if I can give you a line upon which
to work with a view to solving the mystery. Rather
a tall order, my dear and ingenuous Daventry, see-
ing how much I don't know, but here's trying. It
seems to me from what you tell me in your letter
that the three most significant features that sort
themselves out from all the others are the adven-
tures of the two sapphires, the stealing of Adrian
Challoner's dagger and the rather extraordinary
bet made by Miss Ebbisham. Made with Chal-
loner—note. I have considered this last item very,
very carefully, for I confess that I find it eminently
instructive and intriguing. It seems to me to be a


170
THE CRIME AT
whole course of instruction in itself. Remember,
my dear fellow, what you may perhaps have been
inclined to forget! Namely—that Miss Ebbisham
wagered against 'Creeping Jenny.' At least that
is what I gather from the terms of your letter.
Take my advice and concentrate on the conditions
of the wager. How for instance has the lady ap-
peared since the murder? Remember, laddie—' the
turn of a phrase,' 'the slightest gesture' and
'the most trifling occurrence.' These are the hinges
upon which the solution of a case so often swings.
Think of the immortal Holmes and the curious in-
cident of the dog in the night time. 'But the dog
did nothing in the night time.' 'Exactly, my dear
Watson. That was the curious incident.' But
happily you are on the spot; you can study the
various personal 'psychologies'; you have the
'human ' factors right in front of you and they help
one so much to assess accurately. They are almost
the sine qua non in a case of this kind. I tell you
candidly, my dear chap, that I have sifted as well
as I can from the information at my disposal the
various members of 'The Crossways' circle as
described by you—ignoring, of course, such irrele-
vant details as the eyes of either Miss Ebbisham or
Miss Massingham (no matter what the light may
be) because I cannot see that they can have any
bearing upon the case. What about the Mordaunt
menage itself? How do the two girls strike you,
for example? Is Molly (the younger, I believe) in
love with her gallant cavalier? If so, does he
return it? Is Jane's nose (or rather 'was')
diverted at all by her father's second marriage?
All these conditions suggest possibilities. See how


THE CROSSWAYS
171
I consider the humanities! Humanum est errare,
my dear Peter, and human frailties are many and
complex. Then—what is Francis like? With
whom is he in love? With any of the girls down
there? Surely you aren't the only victim of the
eyes of Miss Ebbisham? Then there are Raikes
and his wife and son, Challoner and this Russell
Streatfeild whom you mention. Why is he so thick
with Mordaunt? What is their connection or
common interest? With Mordaunt—mark you—
who scouted the idea you say of me being called in
to have a look at things. A nice little problem,
Peter, my boy, full of strange twists that may lead
you anywhere but down the right path. I must say,
however, that this Russell Streatfeild of whom you
speak, interests me considerably. I constantly find
myself wondering about him. Is he all he pretends
to be? What does Baddeley think about him—any
idea? It might eventually prove a profitable stunt
to attempt to find out. On second thoughts I fling
this forward as a highly reasonable suggestion. In
fact, you might do as I hinted previously in my
letter. Whisper in his ear an inquiry about Mr.
Russell Streatfeild. Just in general terms. It
would be interesting to hear what he has to say.
Then there's another point it would certainly be as
well for you to watch. Pieces of evidence in an
affair of this sort are bound to come to people from
time to time. The question is, are they recognized
as such when they do appear? I might recognize
them—you might do likewise—but there are others!
See what I mean? Now just, pour encourager les
autres, if anybody came to you with any evidence—
or hint of evidence—detrimental to this man Russell


174
THE CRIME AT
which to work because it meant the discarding of
certain obvious people, the segregation of whom in
this way would undoubtedly help him when it came
to the time for considering others. Unnecessary
burdens were always best flung off whether in crime
investigation or in anything else. He would begin
with the Mordaunts. Assuming that the murder of
Mrs. Mordaunt were committed for the sake of
possession of the Lorrimer sapphire, which assump-
tion Peter considered was a distinctly reasonable
one, surely he could eliminate Henry Mordaunt.
If Henry Mordaunt by any strange chance had
desired—" oh, curse it," muttered Peter, "I'm
snookered from the 'pistol'—right from the very
word 'Go.' If I only knew who this blessed
'Creeping Jenny' was I might hope to make some
progress—as it is I'm properly up a 'gum-tree.'"
He looked up disconsolately to see Russell Streat-
feild making his way past Bennett's store-hut
towards him. Funny he should happen to be going
by at that particular moment. The very man on
to whom old Bathurst seemed to be shedding the
"spot" light.
Evidently the inquest was over, for within a few
moments Challoner, Lorrimer and Francis Mor-
daunt joined him.
"All over? " queried Streatfeild.
"Adjourned," replied Lorrimer. "The police
followed their usual plea," added Challoner. "Bad-
deley did as I expected he would do. The Coroner
took formal evidence of identification and imme-
diately after that the Inspector asked for the usual


E CRIME AT

contradiction. We are keeping a strict watch on
all the likeliest places where it might be expected
to pop up, but so far it hasn't broken cover as you
might say. Still time's young yet and there's no
knowing what the morrow or the next day may
bring forth. I'm going up to the house now to have
a word with Mr. Mordaunt."
"I'll come with you, Inspector, if I may. I'd
like to walk up with you. No objection, have you?"
Peter spoke lightly but Baddeley detected a vein
of seriousness behind the levity.
"Very good, sir. Come along then. I'm going
up now."
Peter fell into stride beside him and after a
moment or two's walking in silence ventured to
break the ice.
"I expect you guessed, Inspector, that I had
something to say to you, didn't you? Probably I
made it pretty obvious."
Baddeley acquiesced with a smile. "I won't say
that I didn't, Mr. Daventry."
"Well," continued Peter, thriving on this semi-
encouragement from an official source, "I'd better
lead off by announcing that I've nothing to tell you.
I've got no new information for you if that's what
you're thinking. So don't get bucked too quickly.
As a matter of fact the boot's on the other foot.
I walked along with you because I wanted to ask
you something. Regrets and all that if I'm a dis-
appointment."
Baddeley frowned and he took no pains to con-
ceal the frown. "Ask on then, although I'll give


THE CROSS WAYS}
177

-
you no guarantee that I'll answer your question.
Or questions," he added with a touch of pessimism
and remembrance.
"Only one," replied Peter brightly and hope-
fully, "and quite a simple one at that." He bent
down and whispered something in Baddeley's ear.
It was the text that Mr. Bathurst had dictated in
his letter. "What's your private opinion of Mr.
Russell Streatfeild?"
Baddeley immediately became eagerly alive.
"And what in thunder do you mean exactly by that
question, Mr. Daventry? What do you know?"
"Nothing!" replied Peter ecstatically. "Ton
my honor, Inspector! All I've got is a lingering
doubt or two. Do you agree with me that the
gentleman's worth watching?"
Baddeley looked at him very steadily. "Since
you've asked me, I'll be quite candid with you. I'm
not at all satisfied in that direction, Mr. Daventry.
His behavior puzzles me. And when anything like
that happens, I sit up and take notice. You can
put your shirt on that every time."
Peter rubbed his hands. Bathurst had put his
finger on the old spot, it seemed! At any rate it
was plain to a blind man that he and the Inspector
saw eye to eye concerning Mr. Russell Streatfeild.
Somehow Mr. Daventry felt conscious of a greater
measure of contentment.


i78
THE CRIME AT
CHAPTER XVII
*
As Baddeley came away from his interview with
Henry Mordaunt he was determined upon a certain
course of action. No sooner had he come to the
decision than he resolved to carry it out at once.
He wanted to see the gate through which Mrs.
Perkins had stated that she had gone and its exact
geographical position in relation to the gardener's
store-hut and to the path which led down to the old
well. According to Mrs. Perkins' statement the
women that she had seen on the night of the murder
had been in front of her as she herself had turned
off through the gate into the meadow on the way
to the Pyfold road. He was resolved now to test
all the conditions that the statement had implied.
As he turned the corner of the gravelled path that
would bring him to Bennett's store he saw the tall
form of Russell Streatfeild a few yards in front
of him. A sudden idea took possession of the In-
spector and he resolved to translate it into practice.
He quickened his pace and caught up with the man
in front. Streatfeild turned at the sound of Bad-
deley's approaching footsteps. The Inspector
nodded affably.
"Having a look round, Mr. Streatfeild?"
"I wouldn't say that, Inspector," returned the


THE CROSSWAYS
179
other in his unusually high-pitched voice. "Walk-
ing along quietly, slowly, and steadily in the garden
can hardly be described accurately as having a look
round, can it?" •
Baddeley laughed easily at the reply.
"You're a stickler for accuracy then, Mr. Streat-
feild? Ah, well, I can't blame you. A man who
has lost his business partners as unfortunately as
you tell me you have done no doubt has to strain
a point in most cases. It means that he has such
a responsibility thrown on his own shoulders." He
changed his tone. "It was seeing you along here
that induced me to say what I did. A question of
association of ideas. It struck me as a coincidence,
you see."
Streatfeild wrinkled his brows as though attempt-
ing to fathom the inner meaning of Baddeley's
statement. Then he shook his head slowly. "Once
again I'm afraid you have the advantage of me.
Candidly I fail to follow you."
"Really? Is that so now? I thought perhaps
the news might have travelled to you. Apparently
it hasn't. As it hasn't, treat what I am going to
tell you as a confidence. One or two people here
have evidently learned the trick of keeping their
mouths shut—you can make another one." He
looked round. Then he shot the remainder of his
speech directly at Streatfeild. "A woman was
seen here—just here where we are now—on the
night of the murder. Not Mrs. Mordaunt. Some-
body else.'\
"Really," rejoined Streatfeild. "Well, I can't


i8o
THE CRIME AT
say that I'm surprised. After all, Baddeley, you
know, there's the old imperative cherchez la femme.
It's as true to-day as it was when it was first
coined."
Baddeley watched him as a cat watches a mouse.
Was it a surprise to him? Or had he been aware
of the fact before the Inspector had told him?
"Whose evidence is this? From whom has it
come?" interrogated Streatfeild.
"That question I'd rather not answer for the
time being, if you don't mind, sir. But you can
take it from me that it's reliable—absolutely."
"Was the er—lady that walked abroad at so
late an hour, identified by the person who saw her?
Pardon me, who claims to have seen her. Let us
be strictly accurate, Baddeley, as you pointed out
just now—there is always my reputation to"
"No, Mr. Streatfeild, she was not." Baddeley
ignored the sally and confined his reply to the ques-
tion that mattered. He considered that he had told
Mr. Streatfeild enough in that direction. "She was
pale, my informant tells me, and wore a yellowish-
colored frock. That's about all there is to it." He
was fully determined now to make no mention of
the experiment with Mrs. Perkins upon the stair-
case.
"Yellowish," repeated his companion. "I don't
think I remember any of our ladies here wearing a
frock of that color during that evening, though, of
course, there may be nothing in that. A change
could have been rapidly effected. Ladies, I believe,
have been known to change their clothes as well as


THE CROSSWAYS
181
their minds. I'm going in here, Baddeley, if you
don't mind." Streatfeild pointed to the door of
Bennett's store-hut which they had just reached.
The gardener himself stood in the entrance, pipe
in mouth. Although the October afternoon was
chilly he wore no coat or waistcoat, just a cardigan
jacket over a heavy grey, woollen shirt. His hands
with their shirt sleeves rolled over the elbows were
thrust deep into the pockets of his trousers as he
leaned against the lintel of the door-frame and
puffed at his pipe.
Baddeley came to another quick decision, the
second of that afternoon. "You are, Mr. Streat-
feild? So am I! You're properly down my street
this afternoon, blessed if you're not."
Bennett touched his forehead to Russell Streat-
feild as he crossed the threshold. Baddeley's en-
trance seemed to occasion him less pleasure. He
returned the Inspector's greeting somewhat sourly.
Immediately he found himself inside, Baddeley
became acutely aware of the strategy of Mr. Streat-
feild, for the tables were now turned upon him very
adroitly.
"Inspector Baddeley wants a word with you,
Bennett," opened the solicitor, turning towards the
Inspector.
The gardener and he awaited Baddeley's first
move. But this was the reverse of what the In-
spector had intended. For it had been his intention
to listen to Russell Streatfeild's overtures to Ben-
nett, and unhappily for him that gentleman had very
definitely resigned to him the offensive. He sought


182
THE CRIME AT
refuge therefore in subterfuge, but with only
moderate success.
"Seen no suspicious characters knocking about in
the village, I suppose, Bennett?"
"No," replied the gardener; "have you?"
The smiling Streatfeild meanwhile had com-
menced to wander round the building. Baddeley
watched him from the corner of his eye. Back-
wards and forwards he travelled. On a board at
one end of the hut onions had been laid. Streat-
feild picked one up and examined it.
"James's Keeping?" he inquired of the gar-
dener.
Bennett nodded. "Yes, sir. I don't know a bet-
ter. You can't beat it."
Streatfeild passed on to a heap of parsnips.
"These should be good, Bennett. They're show-
ing the first touch of frost, too, which means so
much to the flavor of a parsnip. 'The Student,' I
fancy. Am I right?"
"Quite right again, sir. I dug those first thing
this morning. Mr. Mordaunt's very fond of them."
"Ever make parsnip wine?"
"No, sir. Very tasty though I believe, sir. I've
heard my grandmother talk about it."
"Excellent for gall-stones, Bennett. I knew a
very bad case that was completely cured by it, when
everything else had been tried and had failed."
Baddeley began to chafe with the irritability of
impatience. This man was playing with him, with
all this horticultural " punk" ;making a toy of him.
And what annoyed him all the more was the


THE CRIME AT
especially as he came back to stop again in front of
the shelf on which were the parcels.
"Let me see," said Streatfeild. "How long
have you been here, Bennett?"
The gardener grinned. "That's funny! The
answer's on that shelf, sir—if you only knew it. I
complete eleven years' service for Mr. Mordaunt
on the sixth of next January. Every one of them
ten parcels on that shelf in front of you counts a
year."
"Do you know that's very interesting, Bennett?
As a matter of fact something of that was in my
mind when I asked you." Mr. Streatfeild paused,
rubbed his chin, and flicked the ash from his
cigarette as he looked into the gardener's eyes.
"Especially as there happen to be eleven parcels on
the shelf and not ten."
Bennett looked incredulous. "Eleven?" he
muttered.
"Eleven, Bennett," reiterated Streatfeild.
"What shall we call it—the Leap Year parcel—
this one that has no business there?"
The realization came home to Inspector Bad-
deley that it was high time that he took a hand.
He accordingly ranged himself alongside the solici-
tor. He thought that he was beginning to see
through that gentleman's little plan. The gardener
still looked blankly at the pile of parcels on the
shelf.
"I can't understand it, sir," he muttered. "I've
never put any other parcel on this shelf, sir. Some-
body else must have been in here and"


THE CRIME AT
me. Open it, will you, Inspector? Satisfy an over-
mastering curiosity of mine to which I will cheer-
fully admit."
Baddeley frowned. He didn't at all relish Streat-
feild's tone but he untied the string that fastened
the parcel and unwrapped its brown paper cover-
ing. He disclosed a number of papers and read
out the writing on the top one. "Stock of Potatoes
(Main Crop) at 31st December, 1923." Baddeley
uttered an exclamation of dismay.
"You've struck a mare's nest this time, Mr.
Streatfeild, and no mistake. This is one of Ben-
nett's own parcels, one of those he's just been telling
us about. The label's come off it, that's all."
Streatfeild rubbed his chin with his fingers as he
considered Baddeley's remark. There was a curious
look in his eyes which as the Inspector looked up
he was quick to notice. "May I see the papers,
Inspector?" he asked with a cold quietness.
Baddeley handed them over without comment.
Streatfeild looked carefully at each sheet from
Potatoes to Jerusalem Artichokes and passed them
back to the Inspector.
"Hand me the brown paper that was outside this
parcel, will you, Inspector? The paper that you
took off. I'd like to have a look at it for a
moment."
"Certainly—want the string as well?"
"No, Inspector! If I did I should have asked
for it. Thank you."
They saw him examine the brown paper and rub
the surface with the tips of his fingers.


THE CROSSWAYS
l87
"How do you stick these labels on, Bennett?
Do you use gum of some kind?"
"Yes, sir. There's a bottle on the shelf there.
It's not half-an-hour ago since I used it. Shall I
get it for you?"
"Not for the moment, Bennett. I don't fancy
I shall require the gum. You will get me something
more important, if you don't mind. Give me the
parcel with the label ' 1923' on the outside, will
you?"
Bennett looked a trifle puzzled at Streatfeild's
request. He expressed his doubt in words, evi-
dently at a temporary loss what to do. "1923,
sir? I don't quite Haven't you got the 1923
lot?"
"Think of what I said. I haven't the parcel
that is now bearing the '1923' label, Bennett,
which is surely a very big difference. Don't you see
now what I mean?"
The gardener scratched his head and began to
turn over the brown paper packages that remained
on the shelf.
"Here you are, sir," he announced eventually.
"Right at the bottom, last one of all."
"This, Baddeley," declared Mr. Streatfeild,
"will, I fancy, contain a certain interest for us all.
Will you open it, Inspector, or shall I? Just as
you please!"
Baddeley took it with an ill grace and ripped off
the covering string. As he did so he gave a quick
gasp of astonishment. The parcel contained a
woman's apricot-colored evening frock and Bennett


THE CROSSWAYS
CHAPTER XVIII
♦
First the key of Mrs. Mordaunt's bedroom turns
up and now this frock!
"There's one thing, gentlemen," continued the
Inspector, with flashing eyes, "I'll kill two birds
with one stone when I do finish with this case. I'll
not only solve the mystery of Mrs. Mordaunt's mur-
der but I'll lay ' Creeping Jenny ' by the heels. Be-
cause that's what this means." He pointed to the
frock that he had uncovered. "Blood stains on a
woman's frock! The owner of this frock murdered
Mrs. Mordaunt. I'll lay a million to a mouse-trap
on it and 'Creeping Jenny' has broken another
commandment this time. She's gone back two places
in the Sinai table." He paused and looked at Streat-
feild who ventured no immediate reply. Instead he
picked up the frock and carefully examined it.
"Woman or no woman," continued Baddeley,
"she's clicked for the nine o'clock walk this journey,
for I swear I'll have her before I'm finished." At
this moment the Inspector decided that Streatfeild's
silence worried him. When he spoke again he spoke
very quietly. "Wonderful intuition of yours, Mr.
Streatfeild! Come to think of it you couldn't have
done better if you had known there was this evidence
in here. No offence, sir, but there's an old saying


I90 THE CRIME AT
'those that hide can find.' Of course there's no
suggestion on my part of anything like that in your
case, but what put you wise? I'm dying to know."
Streatfeild shrugged his shoulders. "I make a
point of thinking things out for myself, Inspector.
Let me commend it to you as a diverting and in-
variably instructive practice. In my case it's been
forced upon me. I lost my two partners, you see,
some years ago and it threw me on to my own
resources. Did I ever tell you about it? It was a
sad business." Mr. Streatfeild, having delivered
himself of the shot, turned on his heel and made his
exit.
Baddeley glared at his retreating figure.
"He's a rum 'un," remarked Bennett, "and I'd
like to know what he's up to. Old friend of the
Guv'nor'sl" He spoke contemptuously. "I don't
think I He's never stopped at 'The Crossways'
before in his life. Leastways, not since I've been
here. What do you think he asked me this
morning?"
"What? " demanded Baddeley.
"What kind of collar-stud I wore!"
The Inspector grew curious again. "Tell me
about it," he ordered.
"Oh, he rolled in here this morning with a
special kind of back collar-stud in the palm of his
hand. Did I wear one like it? Was it mine? He
seemed quite pleased when I told him it wasn't."
"Damned funny how he put his hooks into this
frock," declared Baddeley. "That's got me guess-
ing, I don't mind admitting it. I'll take this parcel


THE CROSSWAYS ICji
»
with me, Bennett. Good afternoon. If you hear
any more of Mr. Russell Streatfeild at any time, let
me know, will you?"
Having declared himself of this parting remark,
Baddeley tucked the tragic parcel under his arm
and walked rapidly away towards the house. He
determined to strike while the iron was hot and to
go at once to what he himself termed " the fountain
head."
He was shown immediately into Henry Mor-
daunt's study. The latter was sitting at the table
and showed signs of the strain of the recent ordeal
connected with the inquest.
"Well, Baddeley," he said, " what is it you want
now? And I do hope you won't keep on adjourn-
ing this inquest business. The affair's got on my
nerves too much as it is. I can't stand much more.
I don't know what I shall be like if I've got to en-
dure this suspense indefinitely with a succession of
adjournments."
"I don't think you need worry over that, sir.
The next fortnight may teach us a lot, should, in
fact, enable us to clear up the entire affair. Actually
speaking things are moving pretty quickly." He laid
his parcel on the table in front of Mordaunt and
nodded towards it. "Have a look at that, Mr.
Mordaunt, if you don't mind, and be prepared for
a bit of a shock."
Mordaunt jerked his head back, startled and sur-
prised. "Why? What do you mean, Baddeley?
Is it anything that I shall"
"Look here, sir," Baddeley lifted the parcel and


192
THE CRIME AT
slipped off the string. Unwrapping the brown paper
he took out the frock with its telltale blood stains
and spread it out on the dark table.
"Good God, Baddeley!" exclaimed Mordaunt,
"where in heaven's name did you find this?"
Baddeley related the story of Streatfeild's dis-
covery in Bennett's hut with little attention to detail.
"Wonderful man, your old friend Streatfeild," he
stressed. He proceeded at the same time to jog
Mordaunt's memory. "Remember Mrs. Perkins'
story and her definite evidence afterwards? 'A yel-
lowish dress' and 'that's the woman that just
crossed the corridor'—Mrs. Lorrimer. The evi-
dence now is damning against her, and yet I'm not
satisfied." He moved his shoulders to express his
dissatisfaction. "No, I'm not satisfied, no good
saying I am. It's the ' Creeping Jenny' part of the
business that gets me down because I'm certain in
my own mind that there's a connection somewhere.
But where? I can't find the answer, Mr. Mordaunt,
and that's a fact. Do you know what I've a good
mind to do?" He paused and looked at Mordaunt
as though he were inviting the latter's answer.
"What?" asked the K. C. curtly.
"Show this to Mrs. Lorrimer and ask her if she
can identify it as her property. We needn't say
anything of the story about her having been seen
in the grounds on the night of the murder and we
needn't tell her anything of the circumstances in
which this frock was found. Merely show it to her
and then ask her the question."
"What's the idea?" demanded Mordaunt.


THE CROSSWAYS
193
"Wouldn't it be better if we kept this to ourselves?
Surely we shall then"
Baddeley considered for a moment or two but in
the end stuck to his guns. "I don't think so, sir,
and I'll tell you why. Circumstances alter cases, you
know. Sometimes in our game it pays us to let
certain information leak out. It forces the criminal
sometimes to take a certain action and in doing so
to show his hand. In this instance something may
happen out of this that will give me a line to work
on."
Mordaunt raised his eyebrows. "When do you
purpose doing this?"
"Now, if convenient to you. There's no time
like the present, sir. That's a motto that applies
with equal force to most things. Suppose you send
for Mrs. Lorrimer this minute? Ask her to come
down here to see you. You needn't let her know
I'm here. Let her think you're alone. I promised
you when I tried that other experiment with Mrs.
Perkins that I wouldn't move any more in the mat-
ter without consulting you and I've kept that prom-
ise—I haven't moved. Quite frankly, Mr. Mor-
daunt, I'm still not sure of my ground and I'm
hoping the interview I suggest with this lady will
help me a good deal."
"All right," conceded Mordaunt, although some-
what reluctantly, " as long as you stick to what you
say and don't go any farther, I'll do it. I'll send
for Mitchell and tell him to ask her to come along
here." He walked across the room and rang the
bell.


194
THE CRIME AT
Mitchell obeyed the summons and accepted the
instructions. He did know where the lady was.
"I will inform Mrs. Lorrimer of your wishes im-
mediately, sir. She is in a deck-chair in the garden
in conversation with Mr. Francis and Miss Jane,
sir. I happen to know that because she asked me
some time ago where Miss Jane was and I directed
her accordingly."
The Inspector replaced the stained frock within
the parcel. Mordaunt sat back in his chair and
quietly awaited Mrs. Lorrimer's coming.
When she entered the study after a few minutes'
interval her habitual self-possession did not desert
her. Surprised as she undoubtedly was to a certain
extent to find Inspector Baddeley there, she never-
theless betrayed no sign of the fact.
"You want me, Mr. Mordaunt? What is it,
please?" By now she was decidedly more at ease
than Mordaunt himself, for by this time he wished
heartily that he had not embarked upon Baddeley's
venture. In his mind he called it a damned delicate
position. He gestured towards the Inspector.
"I'm sorry to trouble you, Mrs. Lorrimer, and
I hope I haven't seriously disturbed you. But you
must blame the Inspector here rather than me. He
wishes to ask you a question."
Mrs. Lorrimer raised her head ever so slightly,
but the movement was significant for it contained
the essence of combat. She sensed that Baddeley
was antagonistic.
"Yes, Inspector," she said coldly, "what is it
that you have to ask me?"


THE CROSSWAYS
195
Baddeley coughed. "Firstly, madam, a very
simple question, indeed. I admit at the same time
that it's rather a personal one. But you must for-
give me that and remember that I'm conducting an
inquiry into a case of murder. A case that, as a
proposition, is far from simple. Do you possess
an evening frock of what I should call an ' apricot-
ish' color?"
Mrs. Lorrimer's surprise at the Inspector's ques-
tion was very obvious. She took no pains to conceal
it. Her answer was prompt and frank. "I thought
my wardrobe was my own concern, but I do, In-
spector. And I'm at a loss"
Baddeley held up his hand. "All in good time,
madam,—we'll come to the whys and wherefores a
little later. Did you bring the particular frock with
you to 'The Crossways'?"
Mrs. Lorrimer nodded. "I did, Inspector. It
was one of several frocks that I brought with me.
I'm rather extravagant in that direction, I'm afraid,
like most members of my sex. And this was a rather
special occasion. But in the case of that particular
frock it has been waste of time for I have never put
it on. It clashed, you see, with one of Miss Eb-
bisham's and it's a habit of mine to avoid that sort
of thing if it's possible. So it had its journey for
nothing." She held the edge of the table tightly
with her right hand and Baddeley noticed how white
her knuckles were.
"You never wore it?" he queried. "Where is
it now, then?"
"In my wardrobe, I presume, where I hung it


196
THE CRIME AT
when I unpacked my case. Where else should"
"Have you actually seen it in your wardrobe
lately?"
Mrs. Lorrimer shook her head blankly. "I don't
know that I could answer that question. I don't
think I could say that I had actually seen that par-
ticular frock. It's difficult—you see. It is hanging
up with at least half-a-dozen others of mine. That's
the point. Does one notice"
Baddeley made no answer. Instead he picked up
the brown paper parcel and took out the frock.
"Is that your frock, madam? " he asked quietly
as he held it up to her.
The lady addressed gave a low murmur of aston-
ishment. Then she slowly nodded her head. "It
is, Inspector. But how does it come to be here?"
But even as she spoke her eyes caught the tell-
tale stains and the words froze on her lips. Mor-
daunt could see that her eyes were fixed on and never
left the gruesome marks. What did Baddeley in-
tend to do now? he wondered. It seemed to him
that Mrs. Lorrimer's natural curiosity would take
a deal of satisfying and he didn't see for the moment
how the Inspector would be able to carry out his
original intention and avoid saying any more. Be-
fore Mrs. Lorrimer could find more words to ex-
press her feelings Baddeley spoke again.
"There must be no mistake about this, madam,
for there are more frocks than one in the world.
Please go up to your room, look in your wardrobe,
and see if your frock is there. Let there be no
doubt whatever that this is your frock."


THE CROSSWAYS
1.97
There was an ominous gravity in Mrs. Lorrimer's
tone as she replied, "I will do what you say, In-
spector. But there is no doubt about it being my
frock and it must have been stolen from my ward-
robe. I wish there was a doubt, but there isn't."
She closed the door quietly behind her.
"You heard what she said, Baddeley," exclaimed
Mordaunt, as soon as they were left alone. "She
hasn't worn that frock since she's been down here.
What do you make of that?"
Baddeley twirled his smart little moustache.
"Mrs. Perkins says differently, Mr. Mordaunt. She
was right about the frock, remember! Why
shouldn't she be as right about the woman that wore
it? Seems to me she ought to be—other things be-
ing equal."
The door opened softly for Mrs. Lorrimer's re-
turn. Her face was white and drawn. "It is as I
said," she declared quietly—" that frock is mine.
It has been taken from my wardrobe by somebody
—but for what purpose?" She pointed to the gar-
ment as it lay on the table—itself a silent accusa-
tion. "Tell me, Inspector," she said, "are those
marks I can see on it—blood stains?"
"They are, madam," returned Baddeley with
heavy dignity, "although I hadn't intended to tell
you as much. This frock was worn by the woman
that stabbed Mrs. Mordaunt, and it's my job to find
her."
Tangible accusation almost had crept into his
words. This Mrs. Lorrimer sensed, as her reply
showed.


198
THE CRIME AT
"Then I, at least, am innocent, Inspector, for as
I told you, I have never worn the frock at 'The
Crossways.' And I know of no reason whatever
why I should have murdered Mrs. Mordaunt. Can
you think of one?"
Baddeley found the question disconcerting. He
made no reply.


THE CROSSWAYS
199
CHAPTER XIX
*
Just about the time that Inspector Baddeley was
interviewing Mrs. Lorrimer in Henry Mordaunt's
study over the matter of a blood-stained frock, Peter
Daventry received something in the nature of a
shock. Coming round by the tennis courts he ran
full tilt into Miss Ebbisham who was obviously in
a hurry. Before Peter could formulate an adequate
apology for what he described as his abominable
clumsiness, Anne Ebbisham had waved his attempt
on one side and asked him a question.
"Mr. Daventry," she said, "please tell me, did
you go to the inquest to-day?" She looked at him
engagingly and as she did so Peter definitely came
to the conclusion that his adjective "wonderful"
did her eyes considerably less than justice. He
jerked himself from the idyllic to the ordinary.
"Er, no, Miss Ebbisham, as a matter of fact I
didn't. It's rather a beastly, sordid business, you
know, and I managed to give it a miss. Why do
you ask?"
"Oh, nothing," she replied, rather unconvinc-
ingly. "I just wondered how things had gone,
that was all. Just feminine curiosity on my part.
Of course I had no particular reason for asking."
Peter proceeded to explain. "But I can tell you
how things went if that's all you want to know.


THE CROSSWAYS
20I
The afternoon was warm and sunny, well in keeping
with the reputation of St. Luke, who had made many
"former treatises" similarly and Miss Ebbisham
was taking full advantage of the Saint's kindliness.
She caught the look in Peter's eyes and wondered
what he was thinking. Simultaneously he in his turn
sensed what she was doing.
"What do you think of the affair now, Miss
Ebbisham?" he questioned.
"You heard what I told Mr. Challoner the other
day, Mr. Daventry. I haven't shifted my position
since then one little bit, I assure you. How could
I? Nothing has happened as far as I know to
cause me to change my opinions."
Peter determined to take a chance. "Don't think
it too utterly low-down of me to ask you, Miss
Ebbisham. It was a private matter really, I know,
although there was a certain amount of publicity
attached to it, but have you paid up yet?"
Anne wrinkled her nose. "Paid up? To what
do you?
"Your sporting bet with Mr. Challoner about
'Creeping Jenny.'" Peter felt his cheeks redden
as he made his meaning clear. The actual sound
of the words seemed to stamp them with an even
more colossal cheek than they inherently possessed.
But Miss Ebbisham appeared to harbor no resent-
ment. If she did she hid it successfully. She
laughed a little nervously. But there was no trace
of this nervousness in her reply when it came.
"No, Mr. Daventry." Her mouth set firmly in
lines that her companion hadn't seen before. She


202
THE CRIME AT
went on in an attempted vindication of the position
that she had taken up. "You were there that night,
you heard the terms of my bet with Mr. Challoner.
When I am convinced that it was ' Creeping Jenny'
who stole Captain Lorrimer's sapphire then I'll pay
Mr. Challoner what I've lost. Till that's proved,
I'm not paying. And I consider that I'm perfectly
justified and quite sporting over it. In other words
I'll pay when I hear the 'all right' called." The
color flooded her cheeks and Peter became an ir-
retrievably lost soul and additionally Miss Anne
Ebbisham's most humble and obedient servant.
"Every time," he supported warmly. "I'm with
you all the way with regard to that, Miss Ebbisham.
Anybody with the slightest sense of decency must
be. This ' Creeping Jenny ' business may be some-
body throwing dust in the eyes of the police for all
we know. You wait before you settle—and don't
pay till everything's settled."
She nodded and hurried off. As he watched her
making her way in the distance he thought of the
coatee again. Old Bathurst was absolutely on the
old spot again with regard to them—they undoubt-
edly were the goods. "Chic" to the extreme. He
felt sorry that he hadn't spoken to her about Russell
Streatfeild while he had had the chance. He'd like
to know what she felt in that direction and her
opinion was worth something, too—he felt sure.
Miss Ebbisham was a very capable young lady.
While he was thus communing with himself he
was approached by Captain Lorrimer and Adrian
Challoner.
L


THE CROSSWAYS
205
Something definite has occurred that has caused you
to hold such views?"
Lorrimer jerked his head emphatically. "You
can take it for granted that that is so although I'm
not going to make any direct statement. I don't
go about with my eyes shut any more than you do,
Daventry, and as I said just now I've noticed more
than one thing about Streatfeild that I regard as
extremely suspicious to say the least of it. Some-
thing always seems to turn up where Streatfeild's
been kicking around. Things happen! Maybe mere
coincidences, of course—all the same I for one am
not satisfied."
Once again Peter harked back mentally to the
letter that he had had from Anthony Bathurst.
How right he had been all round as things had
subsequently worked out. Peter resolved to stand
firm.
"Well, gentlemen," he declared with steady com-
posure, "you asked me for an opinion and I'll give
it to you. I think you're making a mistake. In
fact, I'll go farther even than that—I'm sure you're
making a mistake."
"Mistake? How do you mean?" The question
came from Adrian Challoner.
"In working with Streatfeild. If you do that
you may be forced to give something away to him
that may eventually prove disastrous to your plan
of campaign. It seems to me to be essential that
Streatfeild should be in the opposite camp to that
of the investigators."
Challoner bit his lip. "I certainly see your point,


206
THE CRIME AT
Daventry, but I don't know that I altogether share
your views there. Still, I asked for your opinion
and you're perfectly entitled to give it. We can't
then count on your er—cooperation?"
"Not with the man under discussion, Challoner,"
replied Peter promptly. "Under other conditions
I might be disposed to offer my services if you still
wanted them. Shouldn't care two hoots."
"Very well, Daventry. That's all I wanted to
know. Come along, Lorrimer. We'll see what
Jack Raikes has to say on the suggestion."
He spoke somewhat curtly and turned on his heel.
Lorrimer followed him.
"I seem to have disturbed the serenity of the
consomme," murmured Mr. Daventry to his irre-
pressible self. "Ah well, we shall see who's right
in the long run. I may be able to give Mr. Streat-
feild a little attention from the front row of the
pit; we'll leave the dress circle to the Challoner
combination. Sometimes you see a bit better when
you aren't too close; don't see the ' three-and-a-half'
so clearly."
An hour later saw him engaged upon his second
epistle to Anthony Bathurst. In it he found time to
satisfy that gentleman's somewhat strange curiosity
concerning the coatee and also to mention what he
had heard regarding Mr. Russell Streatfeild.
Mr. Bathurst, as always with correspondence, re-
read the letter more than once before he essayed
the art of reply. When this latter reached "The
Crossways," Peter Daventry confessed to a certain
amount of disappointment. For all that Mr.


THE CROSSWAYS
207
Bathurst told him this time was not to watch Russell
Streatfeild as he had expected would be the case,
but on the other hand, to watch Inspector Baddeley.
To Mr. Daventry's way of thinking this was a most
unattractive proposition. What on earth had hap-
pened to make Bathurst change his mind?


2io THE CRIME AT
an arrest was made in each instance that wasn't
actually for the"
Baddeley interrupted him with a movement of
approval. "In the first case the murderer was ar-
rested on a comparatively trumpery charge relating,
I believe, to an insurance matter and in the second
case one of the murderers was arrested on an ordi-
nary charge of 'drunk and disorderly.' But great
events from little causes spring, Roper, and each of
the birds was carefully kept in cold storage. Pre-
served till the time came for the big attack to be
launched on him."
Baddeley's sharp eyes twinkled. "Caught the
'bus, Roper? " he queried.
"I think so, sir. Though I don't yet know the
particular route."
"Don't worry about that; you will in a minute,
because you'll be seeing the destination-indicator.
That's where these lists come in." The Inspector
tapped the pieces of paper that lay in front of him.
"I've made it my business," he continued almost at
once, " to collect this information. Goodness knows
why it wasn't done systematically before by Bell
because the evidence that made three of the 'jobs'
look like ' outside ' business may have been so easily
faked. That was evident to me right from the first.
Now, Roper, here comes the crux of the question.
There are no less than four names that occur in
every one of these lists. How does that strike you?
Damned peculiar, isn't it?"
"Four?" murmured Roper, questioningly.
"That seems rather"


THE CROSSWAYS
211
"Yes, it does, doesn't it? Nevertheless there
are four and talking won't alter it."
Roper moistened his lips, his interest by now most
thoroughly aroused. "Whose are they, sir?"
"Look for yourself." Baddeley pushed over the
six slips of paper. Roper made the necessary ex-
amination.
"Mr. Francis Mordaunt," he said slowly,
"Miss Jane Mordaunt—Miss Margaret Mordaunt
—and Miss Anne Ebbisham. That correct, sir?"
"You've hit them, Roper. Now, what do you
say about it, eh?"
Roper shook his head doubtfully. "I'd rather
listen to you for a bit, sir. I never was much good
at 'finding the lady,' not to mention the fact that
there's one too many here to pick from."
Baddeley smiled a smile of intense self-satisfac-
tion. "Four names, Roper! Think of them again
in case any one of 'em should elude you. Seriously
though, doesn't anything suggest itself to you in
a great hurry?"
"Do you mean the three Mordaunts all being
there?"
"I do, Roper. I said the other day that 'The
Crossways' contained the key to the 'Creeping
Jenny' mystery and to-day I'm more certain of it
than ever. Everything points to it! Supposing, for
argument's sake, Mrs. Mordaunt discovered the real
secret of the burglaries some time before she was
murdered and the criminal took this very effective
means of closing her mouth? Dead women, Roper,
are just as uncommunicative as dead men." Bad-


212
THE CRIME AT
deley sat and studied Roper's face as the full sig-
nificance of the Inspector's remarks gradually came
home to him.
"Quite right. What are you going to do, then,
sir? " eventually questioned Roper.
"What do you think, Roper? What would you
do if you were in my place? If you made any move
at all what would it be?"
"I don't know, Inspector, now that you've asked
me, and that's a fact. It's difficult to say. For in-
stance, taking the story that you told me just now
at your own valuation and accepting that the Mor-
daunt car was used in the Cranwick Towers affair
—what's the motive? That's where I'm stumped.
Surely, none of"
Baddeley turned over the leaves of his note-book
in rapid search.
"Francis Mordaunt has been gambling for
some months now and according to my informa-
tion has only had two winning weeks since Ascot.
That's four months ago, Roper. I won't say
that he's lost large sums but his total losses must
have caused him a serious amount of financial em-
barrassment. His father's not a rich man by any
means. Also—don't forget the name of his elder
sister—' Jane '—short for 'Jenny,' my lad, and it
doesn't take a Holmes to cotton on to that." He
snapped the elastic of his note-book as he closed it
in emphasis of his next remark. "Roper, I'll con-
fide in you, I'm going to take a chance. I'm going
to apply for a warrant for the arrest of Francis
Mordaunt." He rose and paced the room.


THE CROSSW AYS 213
Roper screwed up his face in surprise. "On
what charge, sir?"
"On the charge of being primarily responsible
for the various 'Creeping Jenny' robberies, of
course. I shall charge him with being 'Creeping
Jenny' himself, or herself if you prefer it. Then
the fat will be in the fire. Then the fur will fly.
I guarantee that that will loosen the tongues of
more than one of 'The Crossways' crowd. I'll
call the tune and some of them will dance."
Roper started to shake his head but rubbed the
lobe of his ear instead. "Yes—I see what you
mean, sir—although I can't say that I'm as con-
fident as you are over it. Still—that's neither here
nor there."
"You see, Roper," continued Baddeley in evident
extenuation of his contemplated move, "where am
I in the murder case proper? I've set inquiries
going in at least a dozen different directions.
There's somebody inside that house that knows a
great deal more than is healthy; that's plain to any-
body with half an eye. Take the key incident alone.
That key was deliberately hung on that blooming
statue while I was actually on the premises. Then
take the frock business. Mrs. Perkins is prepared
to swear that Mrs. Lorrimer was in the garden that
night. Mrs. Lorrimer swears that she has never
worn the frock that Mrs. Perkins says she was
wearing. Where's the weapon that was snaffled
from the theatrical chap's bedroom? Not a sign
of it anywhere up to the moment. I'm like the old
farmer, Roper, who kept on drinking claret at the


THE CRIME AT
214
Harvest-home—' I don't get no forrarder.' But if
I arrest Francis Mordaunt I'll go bail I do. I'll
bet you things will move—somehow." Baddeley
spoke with an immense amount of confidence.
Roper thought of something. "When did you
get on to the Craddock burglary, Inspector?"
"What do you mean by 'when'?"
"How long after the actual theft?"
"Two or three days—not more."
"There were mud-stains on a rug in Lady Crad-
dock's bedroom, weren't there, and some glass
broken?"
"Quite correct, Roper."
"Did you actually see the broken glass, sir?"
"No, I heard about it from Inspector Bell."
"You don't know then for certain where the
broken glass was? On the floor of the room inside
or on the ground beneath the window—outside?"
"Yes, I do. It was inside on the floor of the
bedroom."
"Well then, sir, that looks to me pretty con-
clusive—that proves"
"That proves nothing, Roper, absolutely noth-
ing whatever. And I'll tell you why. The thief
could easily have leaned through the window next
to the broken one—they're casements as it happens
—from the inside and given it a blow from the
outside. And that was what he did do; I'm pretty
certain of it"
"Still, pity you didn't see the broken glass your-
self." Roper spoke slowly.
"Why?"


THE CROSSWAYS
215
"It might have made you more sure of your
ground. There's nothing like seeing things for
yourself—first-hand."
Baddeley laughed at Roper's evident misgivings
and the laugh was intended by him to brush them
aside. "Trust me! I know what I'm talking
about, Roper, and those that live longest will see
the most."
Within two days the projected blow fell. Bad-
deley armed with his warrant arrested Francis
Mordaunt as he had foretold that he would. To
say that his action created consternation through
the County generally and at "The Crossways" in
particular is to put the matter very mildly. Henry
Mordaunt—the boy's father—was stupefied. Fran-
cis himself openly laughed at the Inspector's action
and hurled bitter sarcasm at the head of Baddeley.
The recently-devised combination of investigators
comprising Challoner, Lorrimer and the younger
Raikes, suspended the operation of its inquiries
sine die. Peter Daventry found himself—almost
against his will—obeying the injunctions of Anthony
Bathurst—namely—watching Inspector Baddeley.
Was this last surprising stroke the action that
Bathurst had anticipated? In Russell Streatfeild's
eyes there seemed to lurk a glimmer of amused
satisfaction. If he said nothing there was no doubt
that he thought a lot. Among the ladies the con-
sternation reigned in an even more marked condi-
tion. Anne Ebbisham appeared to be more puzzled
by the march of events than ever and Christine
Massingham was not slow, once again, to observe


2l8
THE CRIME AT
but how I can't say. To a great extent therefore,
on that account, my movements are necessarily
hampered. What is more I fancy that Daventry
also is keeping his weather eye on me so you see
between the pair of 'em "He broke off and
shrugged his shoulders.
"Is Daventry the man you think put?"
Mordaunt's sentence was unfinished but Russell
Streatfeild knew exactly all that he had intended to
convey.
He laughed lightly in reply. "Oh no—not for
a moment. You need have no fears on that score.
If I only knew what to do with "Suddenly a
light came into his eyes and he bent over and
whispered to Henry Mordaunt.


THE CROSSWAYS
219
CHAPTER XXI
*
The first results of Inspector Baddeley's unex-
pected thrust were to say the least somewhat sur-
prising. The second results were much more than
surprising—they were staggering. It has been said
already that the two Mordaunt girls were very
naturally the victims of fierce indignation. This
was the predominant feeling that they harbored.
Francis and they had always been tremendous pals,
particularly so in the case of Molly the younger.
Jane, as befitted an elder sister among children
who possessed no mother, had always been stronger-
minded and as a natural sequence more self-reliant.
It would have been strange had circumstances not
made her so. She sympathized intensely with her
sister's anger at this latest development of the situa-
tion but she was perhaps less fierce and certainly
much less vindictive. Whereas Molly Mordaunt
would have prescribed for Baddeley either the
nethermost dungeon or something with boiling oil
in it that she herself would cheerfully have ad-
ministered, Jane was a firm disciple of more
moderate methods. She urged her sister to wait
patiently for the inevitable dawn that would follow
the darkest hour, and pointed out with a patient
submissiveness that Baddeley's position in the mat-
ter was very different from their own. Molly, re-


220
THE CRIME AT
fusing to be comforted, flounced away to her lover.
She found him in a contemplative mood.
"Cyril," she commenced impetuously, " can't you
do anything?"
He looked at her curiously, wondering to what
exactly she was alluding. "I?" he demanded.
"How do you mean, sweetheart?"
She stamped an imperious foot.
"About Francis. What's the good of being a
Member of Parliament if it doesn't help in cases
like this? Can't you tell this utter fool of a police-
man how absurdly ridiculous it all is?"
"My dear child"
"I'm not a child." She stamped again and an
earwig, late of a dahlia, entered Valhalla instan-
taneously. "For goodness sake talk sensibly. If
you"
"My dear girl, please be sane then and tell me
what I can do. I can't move with nothing to sup-
port me. I must have proof to take to a man like
Baddeley, 'evidence' that he's bound to recognize.
I can't go to him and demand your brother's release
because I'm an M. P., or because I'm engaged to his
sister. Now, can I? Surely you don't want me to
tell you that."
She twisted and untwisted her handkerchief round
her fingers. "It's all your fault," she stormed at
him, after the manner of women. "If you hadn't
brought your beastly, mouldy, rotten old sapphire
down here, none of this would have happened and
poor Olive wouldn't have been murdered."
This was too much. Lorrimer lost his temper.


THE CROSSW AYS
221
"Be quiet, Molly," he cried. "If you can't discuss
the matter reasonably and sensibly, please don't dis-
cuss it at all. Try to be just, too. You are well
aware of the reason that I brought it. When I
think of that and of what it meant to you—to us—
and of what you so unjustly said just now—it makes
my blood boil. I'm sorry as much as you are about
Francis, even if I don't allow it to turn my head.
We are all sorry—but we don't make the exagger-
ated fuss about it that you do."
She winced at the stroke, but Lorrimer, unheed-
ing, went on. "After all, the fact remains, there's
been a murder and I've lost my sapphire. That's a
side of the question that you don't seem able to
appreciate." He turned away from her moodily
as she burst in.
"Your sapphire! It's as much ours as yours
when all's said and done. On your own showing!
It belonged to our family before one of yours stole
it from him—you admitted that yourself, when you
told the people its history."
<l That isn't true," he cried heatedly. "Why do
you twist words? It wasn't stolen at all. It was
won from him in a dicing contest."
"Same thing," she interrupted, with more than
a tinge of spite. "I haven't your Nonconformist
mind for making such nice distinctions. I consider
it belonged rightfully to my father much more than
it ever did to you."
As she spoke a thought flashed through Lor-
rimer's mind and he decided there and then to men-
tion it to Challoner and Jack Raikes. When he


222
THE CRIME AT
turned to answer he placed his hand upon her
arm.
"Molly," he commenced, "whether you look at
it"
But the younger Miss Mordaunt was in no mood
to listen. She flung off the hand of her lover un-
ceremoniously and dashed away from him straight
down the walk that ran by the yew-clipped hedge.
Lorrimer watched her with a twitch of the shoul-
ders. On the point of turning his eyes caught sight
of Anne Ebbisham coming towards him in company
with Christine. Molly dashed by them with an
impulsive wave of her handkerchief.
"What have we here?" remarked Miss Eb-
bisham to her companion. "A lover's tiff? Tut-
tut!" She half-turned and looked after the hur-
riedly-escaping Molly. "Trip it gently, pretty
sweeting," she murmured, " even though your jour-
ney doesn't look like ending in the generally ap-
proved fashion."
Christine laughed deliciously. "My dear Anne,"
she murmured sweetly, " don't jump to conclusions.
It's always an unsafe proposition. There's more
than one man in the world."
Anne eyed her quizzically. "For Molly Mor-
daunt, do you think?"
Christine smiled as she considered the question.
"Perhaps not," she- conceded. Then the imp of
roguishness entered her soul and overcame her.
"Any more than there is for Anne Ebbisham."
Dark lightning flashed from the Ebbisham eyes.
"Explain yourself, Christine, please," she coun-


THE CROSSWAYS
223
tered. "Who and where is this Adonis? I confess
I'd like to meet him."
Christine laughed lightly. "At the moment I
know not, Anne darling. But I shall be pleased to
tell you his name. I was thinking of Inspector Bad-
deley. Although I admit he fills the bill in another
way."
A little pink flush tinged the Ebbisham cheeks as
Miss Massingham's delicate shaft winged home.
"Touchee," she grimaced. "With things as they
are—one has to be"
By this time Captain Lorrimer had come up to
them and Anne's sentence went unfinished. Whether
his recent interview with his fiancee lent enchant-
ment to the present view or whether the events of
the past few days had tended to disturb the accuracy
of his previous judgments in the Courts of Love,
Lorrimer for the first time found himself in the
same gallery as Peter Daventry and supremely con-
scious of Miss Ebbisham's attractions. He formed
the opinion that to linger for a little while would
be far from a waste of time. After all, there was
much about which he could legitimately talk. Anne
seemed to divine what was passing through his mind
as she rallied him.
"What have you been saying to Molly, Captain
Lorrimer?" she demanded half-reprovingly, and
with a shake of an accusing forefinger. "I know
that you must have been saying something. The
poor lamb scuttled past us just now as though the
mint sauce was only a matter of a few minutes be-
hind and its dainty aroma already in her nostrils.


224
THE CRIME AT
Christine here fairly blinked at her. The pace was
so alarming."
Lorrimer was frankness itself. He laughed
brightly and outlined what had transpired between
Miss Mordaunt and him. "What could I do?"
he asked, suppliantly. "I can guess of course how
Molly feels and I suppose it's only natural that she
should, but surely she must see that I am as helpless
in the matter as she herself is. There's no doubt
Francis will be cleared in time, but"
Anne Ebbisham regarded him shrewdly. "You
feel certain that Francis is innocent, then?" she
asked of him.
Lorrimer raised his eyebrows in unaffected aston-
ishment. "Why, Miss Ebbisham, what do you
mean? Aren't you certain of it yourself?"
The lady moved her hands in silent eloquence.
"In a way I am, I suppose, but you see I can't forget
that I have a certain amount of respect for this
Inspector's ability. He doesn't strike me as a man
that would take any step without very good reason.
Therefore I find myself asking the question over
and over again, 'Why has he arrested Francis
Mordaunt?'"
"Without getting an answer, I suppose," re-
turned Lorrimer.
"No," flashed back Anne, " that's the poisonous
part about it. I do get an answer and when I do
I see the Baddeley mind working which only makes
matters worse."
Lorrimer looked puzzled. "Why? I don't
know that I"


226
THE CRIME AT
"One other?" he queried eventually. "Whom
do you mean?"
Miss Ebbisham spread out her hands in self-
introduction. "I," she exclaimed dramatically, "I
—Anne Ebbisham! The girl who has often stood
at the cross-roads and "She paused.
"And what? " asked Lorrimer eagerly curious.
"Powdered her nose," replied Anne solemnly.
"What did you imagine I'd done? Out Turpinned
Turpin? Good gracious no."
Lorrimer's admiration was now very evident.
"Yet you could steal with success, Miss Ebbi-
sham. That is, of course, if you seriously set out
to try."
"I don't think I understand you, Captain Lor-
rimer," replied the lady.
Lorrimer laughed with gay gallantry and
shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps I expressed my-
self crudely," he ventured. "I will endeavor to
explain my meaning more clearly. Let me put it
like this. While 'Creeping Jenny' is stealing—
shall we say—diamonds—you could be stealing—
shall we say—hearts? Do you understand me
now?" His glance now was quite frankly admiring.
Anne crowed with delight. "How bee-yutifully
expressed! All the same though, you misjudge me
and I think perhaps you are inclined to underrate my
humble intelligence. Do you know how?" Her
eyes brimmed with undisciplined mischief as she
put the question to him. Had he seen it and them,
Peter Daventry would have feverishly ransacked the
etymological store to find more adequate adjectives


THE CROSSW AY S
227
with which to frame further eulogy. Either to
Anthony Bathurst or any other.
Lorrimer shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't,"
he answered.
"No? Then I'll tell you. Because I've never
yet found a heart worth the stealing. My version
is 'who steals hearts, steals trash.' Unfortunate
perhaps, but nevertheless true. And for Truth I
have invariably been a stickler. Isn't that so,
Christilinda? Support me, my child, or I am
undone."
Lorrimer smiled and cut in before Miss Mas-
singham could reply to Anne's question and request.
"I believe you, Miss Ebbisham. There is no need
for Miss Massingham's corroboration. Your word
shall be unchallenged always, as far as I am con-
cerned. Still I'd like to say this: if you were not
the truth-teller that you claim to be and whom I
have accepted as such—but exactly the opposite—
one would be quite within one's rights in calling you
a 'lovely' fib-teller, wouldn't one? For that de-
scription would fearlessly defy contradiction."
Anne tossed her head in indignation. "Don't be
personal, Captain Lorrimer. That isn't what we
were discussing. Please keep to the point. And
you, Christine, please stop that idiotic giggling."
But Christine finished her laugh, an effort in
which Lorrimer joined heartily. He was evidently
unabashed at Miss Ebbisham's intended censure.
About to reply again he was arrested by the sight
of Mitchell, the butler at "The Crossways," com-
ing slowly towards them. Mitchell never hurried


228
THE CRIME AT
and would have accepted the Crack of Doom with
philosophical calm. The two girls caught the look
in Lorrimer's eyes and turned to see what had at-
tracted his attention. Mitchell came on slowly but
surely and the three people who awaited him were
by this time able to see that he carried something in
his hand. When he reached them they observed in
more detail that he carried in his right hand a small
square box-shaped brown paper package, tightly tied
with string and with a red daub of sealing-wax show-
ing on the center of the crossed string. Mitchell
spoke to Captain Lorrimer.
"I beg your pardon, sir. But Mr. Mordaunt
suggested that I should bring this out here to you,
sir. It has just come by parcel post. If you look
you will see that the package is marked 'urgent'
in the top left hand corner above where your name
and address have been printed."
The butler handed over the small package which
Lorrimer took and eyed with some curiosity. Then
he frowned in uncertainty. "What's this that's im-
portant enough to be marked 'urgent'?" Taking
out his pocket-knife he quickly cut the string and
removed the outer covering of brown paper. It
revealed a small square cardboard box, the kind of
box usually used by jewellers for the transport of
their trinkets. Lorrimer removed the lid somewhat
gingerly and almost simultaneously uttered a cry of
profound astonishment. The two girls watched him,
interested in what they saw, and Anne, at least, was
surprised at the effect that the apparently trifling
incident had caused upon their companion. Lor-


THE CRIME AT
come Christmas Day, on Christmas Day in the
morning."
Anne Ebbisham's eyes glinted keenly as she saw
it. "This makes me more certain of my opinion
than ever!" she exclaimed triumphantly. "The
sapphire itself may be authentic but this 'Jenny's'
a fake. Did you ever read such piffle? I'll guaran-
tee this robbery was not pulled off by the 'pukka'
'Creeping Jenny' at all." As she spoke the color
flooded her cheeks and Lorrimer looked at her
in flagrant approbation. Inspector Baddeley's move
had set things humming in many more directions
than one, and Christine Massingham closely observ-
ing her two companions of the moment formed cer-
tain rather fascinating conclusions.


THE CROSSWAYS
231
CHAPTER XXII
❖
Some hours after the sensational return of the
Lorrimer sapphire to its owner, Challoner, Jack
Raikes, Peter Daventry and Captain Lorrimer him-
self were still arguing about this latest surprising
turn of events. As may be well understood, it had
provided a never-ending topic for discussion. The
entry of Russell Streatfeild into the room caused the
conversation to dry up a little for a brief period,
only to break out again even more heatedly ten min-
utes or so later. In this conversation Streatfeild
himself took little part. It seemed that he pre-
ferred to listen to the opinions of others than pro-
ject his own. He had heard from Henry Mordaunt
what Lorrimer had told the latter with regard to
the act pf restitution performed by "Creeping
Jenny" and found the views of the various mem-
bers of the party on that particular point distinctly
interesting. Inspector Baddeley had expressed the
wish that "The Crossways" visitors should stay
on for a few days more and Mordaunt had asked
them to fall in with the request.
"There's one thing," remarked Raikes, "it's an
ill-wind and so on—this latest business clears old
Francis—that's one comfort we can extract from it."
Challoner regarded him seriously for a moment


232
THE CRIME AT
before replying to his statement. "Speaking quite
impersonally and leaving Francis out of the argu-
ment, purely as Francis—you see what I mean, don't
you—may I ask why you say that?"
"Well, doesn't it?" asked Raikes with a stare
of wonderment. "If Francis is in ' jug' it couldn't
have been he who sent the sapphire back to Lor-
rimer, could it? And if he couldn't have sent
it back it's equally pretty obvious that he couldn't
have"
Challoner stopped him with a quick gesture.
"Just a minute, Jack! That's all very well, as far
as it goes. Which isn't too far to my way of think-
ing. Let's examine all the circumstances for a mo-
ment. How about the possibility of an accom-
plice?"
Raikes rubbed his chin. "I admit that I hadn't
thought of that."
"Let me explain myself again," added Challoner,
"for I don't desire to be misunderstood. The idea
of Francis being guilty of these thefts seems absurd
to me. For several reasons. For instance how does
Baddeley explain the murder? And that's only one
thing that I could mention. But letting x = the per-
son under arrest, my accomplice theory re the res-
titution of the ring still holds good, it seems to me."
Lorrimer nodded. "I quite agree with you. I
happened to be talking to Miss Ebbisham when
Mitchell brought out the package to me containing
the sapphire. She seemed to think that the return
of the ring was quite on all fours with her own
theory."


THE CROSSWAYS
235
Peter shook his head but whether in dissent or
assent Raikes was unable to say. Peter was passing,
to his own surprise, through an unusual mental emo-
tion. During the morning of that day he had been
reminded by something which by the coming of the
afternoon he was unable to remember, of the man
he had met on the heath last week and of the resem-
blance which he had so far failed to identify. As
Streatfeild had stood at the door and asked that
last question another haunting, fugitive idea passed
through his brain and strive for its capture how he
would, it nevertheless persistently eluded him. He
thought over and over again of the stranger who
had accosted him and asked the way to "The Cross-
ways " and then he turned his attention to thoughts
of this other man, Streatfeild. At last he threw
the problem aside and gave it up. He had just
reached this decision when he was brought back to
contemplation of the present by the sudden entrance
of Henry Mordaunt and Inspector Baddeley. It
was the first occasion that the former had seen the
Inspector since the arrest of his son and, as may be
readily guessed the atmosphere was far from con-
genial.
"Lorrimer," exclaimed Mordaunt testily, "In-
spector Baddeley is the bearer of more astounding
news. In fact I find it difficult these days to dissoci-
ate him from the sensational. But it will interest
you, Lorrimer, to know that you are not alone, as
I believe you are imagining you are. I understand
that the fact is that ' Creeping Jenny' is going the
whole hog and has served all her clients alike."


THE CROSSWAYS
239
ings looked at the clock on the mantelpiece and
frowned. He received no inspiration from the ef-
fort. Who was this that knocked at this time of
the evening?
"See '00 it is, Clarice," he sang out to the wife
of his bosom—" and if it's the Salvation Army
come a-begging for something tell 'em I'm a strict
R. C. and a little critical of some of their doctrine."
He cocked his ear attentively as he heard his wife's
tones in conversation at the front door. Then she
called him.
"'Orace! You're wanted. Here's a gentleman
to see you. Shall I take him in to the front room
or will you be coming to the door?"
Mr. Hutchings drained his Bovril and rose with
deliberation solemnly to his feet.
"Blasted fool," he muttered under his breath—
"where's 'er tact, conversin' with sanguinary
strangers—when will women learn to 'andle situa-
tions—'tain't as though I ain't taught her neither.
She ought to know better."
He straightened himself and called along to her,
"All right! I'm coming. Who is it? His Maj-
esty or The Harga Karn?" He made his way up
the passage.
"Good evening, Mr. Hutchings," said the visi-
tor, "but I should be extremely obliged if you
could spare me just a few moments of your valu-
able time. As I was explaining to this lady when
you came up, I shall be very pleased to recognize
your services suitably should you be able to assist
me in the direction I require."


240
THE CRIME AT
"Suitably." Mr. Hutchings pondered over the
word. It seemed to have a pleasant ring about it.
Taken on the whole and reflecting on the extraor-
dinary success that had attended the morning efforts
of " Robin Adair" he looked like having a "good
day." He peered up at his visitor's face. "I go
on duty at nine, sir," he remarked, "depends what
it is you want. You see I ain't got a lot of time.
If it lays in my power"
"'Adn't you better arst the gentleman in? " sug-
gested Clarice Hutchings. "You can't very well
talk business on the mat, can you now? Where's
your ettykwet?"
Her husband, seeing the social quality of his eve-
ning caller, accepted the justice of the suggestion
and Russell Streatfeild followed him into the little
living-room. Mrs. Hutchings herself was just in
time to slip through the door of the said room be-
fore the privacy-seeking Horace could close it in
her face. A matter of a short head, no more.
There was just the possibility, she considered, that
she might be "in" this. Streatfeild took a note
from his wallet and held it up to Hutchings between
his fingers.
"This pound, Hutchings," he said, wheedlingly,
"is yours, provided you can give me the informa-
tion I desire. First of all how long have you been
night-porter over at Radway Mansions?"
"Ever since a little argument I took part in with
a few ruby 'Uns. I was demobbed the latter end of
1919 and got this job in the February of 1920.
That's your first question answered, sir."


THE CROSSWAYS
243
that gentleman on the right there anything like the
Mr. Galloway whom you knew?" He pointed to a
group-photo cut from an illustrated paper.
"That's 'im," declared Hutchings. "That's my
lord the Dook. The one 'olding 'is arms out. So
Vs back from Burma, is 'e, planted all the tea there
is to be planted, eh?"
Streatfeild handed over the promised price of the
information. "I hope to turn what you have told
me, Mr. Hutchings, to very satisfactory account,"
he declared. "Good evening."
On his way back from the home of the night-
porter he reflected with extreme pleasure upon the
fact that he had slipped away from "The Cross-
ways" (and Inspector Baddeley) just in time. But
he shivered a little as he thought of the key of the
murdered woman's bedroom door. That might have
turned out to be a very nasty business!


244
THE CRIME AT
CHAPTER XXIV
♦
November had already reigned for nearly a week.
One by one the various members of the house party
had followed the example of Russell Streatfeild
and found their respective ways back to the normal
routine. Francis Mordaunt awaited trial for the
"Creeping Jenny" robberies and Inspector Bad-
deley became less and less confident of the result
thereof as the days went by. The case that he had
prepared to bring against the accused man was a
strong one from many points of view, but he was
perfectly well aware that he had taken a distinct
chance when he applied for his warrant and made
his arrest. It was idle for him to pretend that the
results for which he had hoped had materialized
and he was quite unable to assess accurately the
meaning of the sensational restitution that " Creep-
ing Jenny" had so surprisingly made. In every
instance there was no doubt whatever that the ar-
ticle she had returned was the very same article
that had been stolen, and in no case did it appear
any the worse for the theft. Truth to tell Baddeley
found himself growing more and more uneasy.
Whatever his arrest of Francis Mordaunt had
brought about with regard to the burglaries there
was another very plain fact to be faced—it had
achieved absolutely nothing in respect of the mur-


THE CROSSWAYS
245
der. Here Baddeley was forced to admit reluctantly
that he had reached the very end of his tether.
Nothing that he had followed up had been pro-
ductive. He contemplated the situation as it now
appeared to him, very ruefully. However, had he
known, succor was at hand and from (to him) a
most unexpected quarter. On the fifth day of No-
vember that was ushered in with a mixture of rain
and fog, Peter Daventry, throwing aside all con-
sideration of Guido Fawkes and his "Gunpowder,
Treason and Plot," decided to take a morning off
from his not too exacting duties in Cornhill and run
along to have a palaver with Anthony Bathurst. He
had not seen him at all since their interchange of cor-
respondence, although he had called at his flat on
one occasion when Mr. Bathurst had been out.
This time he happened to be more fortunate as the
man he very much wanted to see was in. Cheered
at the news, Peter ascended the stairs like an elated
eland. Bathurst greeted him in his own inimitable
manner and waved him to the recesses of the big
armchair by the fireside.
"Curl up in that, Daventry, and make yourself
comfortable. There are cigarettes and tobacco at
your elbow. Also what will you drink? I think
there's plenty of Scotch. Sir Austin Kemble hasn't
dropped in to see me for some little time."
Peter named his poison and settled down luxuri-
ously. Anthony looked at him quizzically.
"Well, laddie, come to settle the 'Crossways'
puzzle? I can conceive no other reason for a visit
at this time on such an absolutely filthy morning."


250
THE CRIME AT
CHAPTER XXV
*
"Murillo's," murmured Captain Lorrimer to
his fair companion as he gracefully gestured her
to a seat, "is unequalled for a little dinner such
as we want to-night and such as I am fortunate
enough to have quite constantly when I am staying
in London. Although of course this evening's meal
will be the 'finest Elphberg of them all.'" He
looked into the dancing eyes of the lady to whom he
spoke.
"Why?" asked Anne Ebbisham artlessly of her
escort.
"Need you ask?" replied Lorrimer as charm-
ingly as he could. "There is a mirror facing you.
The mere inclination of your head will surely sat-
isfy"
Anne tapped him on the arm with her theatre-
programme. "That's very nice of you but"
Miss Ebbisham paused as a waiter seemed to ma-
terialize from nowhere and present himself at Cap-
tain Lorrimer's side.
Lorrimer frowned as he looked at the man.
"You're not my usual waiter—where's Benito?"
he asked.
"I do not know, sir," replied the waiter in a tone
that bordered upon the apologetic. "I 'ave not


THE CROSSWAYS
seen 'im. Perhaps 'e is not 'ere this evening. But
if you wish it, sir, I will ask the maitre d'hotel."
"Thank you, if you would." Lorrimer turned to
Anne at his side. "I must have Benito if I can
possibly get him. It's more than a mere whim on
my part. He's incomparably the finest waiter I ever
struck and I want this evening's dinner to be perfect
in every way." He smiled at her meaningly. "Do
you mind me wanting that?"
"I hope he isn't old and withered, been with the
firm since the Flood, so to speak. These hardy fix-
tures and faithful retainers bore me stiff." Anne
Ebbisham laughed merrily.
"On the contrary," replied Lorrimer, " he's—but
here comes the maitre d'hotel."
"Benito will be here in one minute, sir. He was
engaged elsewhere when you came in, otherwise he
would have attended to you as usual. Because he
knows Monsieur is particular over the dishes what
he chooses. But I will give him orders." He turned
to depart.
"Good," said Lorrimer, "tell him to bring a
Bronx and a Martini directly he comes."
When the much-heralded and belauded Benito
did arrive bearing the two cocktails Miss Ebbisham
began to understand why her escort favored him so
markedly. Tall, for an Italian, his touch was fault-
less. Perfect in suggestion, assiduous in advice,
Benito was as anxiously-fastidious to please his pa-
tron as his patron was fastidiously-anxious to be
pleased.
"I was in the seventh heaven of delight to get


THE CROSSWAYS
255
lin, a brandy that the Guise had supped on the Eve
of St. Bartholomew—a brandy that had induced
Marie Antoinette to Captain Lorrimer in-
dicated that he and Miss Ebbisham would attach
themselves to the distinguished company that had
preceded them. That is, of course, according to
Benito.


256
THE CRIME AT
CHAPTER XXVI
♦
Lorrimer's prognostications proved to be accu-
rate. The case against Francis Mordaunt collapsed
and several observant visitors to the white-washed
Court formed the opinion that Inspector Baddeley
deliberately allowed it to take this course. Certainly
he took no especially violent steps to prevent it.
Peter Daventry had travelled down for the trial
and much to his delight had succeeded in enlisting
as his companion Anthony Bathurst of all people.
Most of "The Crossways'" house party attended
—in various capacities—with the exception of Jack
Raikes and Russell Streatfeild.
Henry Mordaunt heard the result with unalloyed
delight and gave the impression to those around him
that a great weight had been removed from his
shoulders. The four girls, Anne, Christine, Jane
and Molly Mordaunt were just as frankly overjoyed
—a condition which seemed almost universal around
the countryside. Challoner motored bade to town
in his Daimler, and dropped Henry Mordaunt at
"The Crossways" on the way. He had been par-
ticularly anxious that Mordaunt should accompany
him and had prevailed on Jane to drive her brother
home in Mordaunt's car while her father travelled
with him. As he alighted from the Daimler Mor-
daunt was seen to shake his head.


THE CROSSWAYS
257
"It's very good of you, Challoner," he said—
"and I know you mean it with the best intentions,
but don't expect me on Friday, although I may
change my mind. Francis and the girls can pop
along if they choose. But while this horrible
mystery hangs over this house, over me, and over
the lives of so many of us I feel that everything has
become more or less futile. Thank God—one cloud
has lifted to-day. Perhaps the other will soon follow
suit. I will take to-day as a favorable omen and
trust that the Fates will be kind." He waved his
hand to Adrian Challoner and walked sharply up
the drive leading to the house as the car sped
towards London.
******
The premiere of "Sin and a Woman" was a
triumphant success. It was a far finer play than
"Broken Threads" which had preceded it. Its
reception by pit, gallery and stalls was overwhelm-
ingly enthusiastic and there was early evidence to
the initiated that it was destined for an unusually
long run. The dialogue was crisp and clever, the
characterization clearly-definite and the big scenes
built up with intense power. The well-advertised
assassination scene outside the House at Westmin-
ster was a personal triumph for Adrian Challoner
himself. The critics praised it with one exception—
Shannon Skoffer of the Daily Bugle. He said that
Challoner's performance would have been wonder-
ful if he had only been assassinated directly the cur-
tain went up. He added that the play as presented


258 THE CRIME AT
was appalling, but if the maid had moved the wine-
glass in the second act to the side-table instead of
placing it on the tea-table (center), the play would
have taken rank as the greatest drama since the days
of Garrick. But Brodribb St. Clair in the Morning
Message wrote—" Adrian Challoner in plays of this
nature is incomparable. He exalts us to the heights
and he drags us to the depths by sheer projection
of personality—in his case a flaming trinity of con-
sciousness, power and will. 'Sin and a Woman'
should play to capacity for a very long time." At
the close of the performance there were the usual
cries from a packed house for the "Author." For
a long time these met with no response. At last so
long-repeated did they become and so impatient the
audience, that Challoner came before the curtain
and thanked the audience courteously for the won-
derful reception. He informed them that as far as
he knew the lady who was responsible for the play
was not in the house. But he assured his hearers
that he would convey the opinion of the audience
to her at the first possible moment. Eventually the
audience dispersed. Half-an-hour later Challoner
motored to Murillo's in his big car. He had pre-
viously arranged that Anne should come into his
dressing-room immediately after the show and ac-
company him and Christine Massingham down to
the restaurant. As he entered, a girl on either side,
the maitre d'hotel came forward obsequiously to
meet him.
He favored Challoner with a low bow.
"But it is that I have arranged your tables with


260
THE CRIME AT
to say and nodded, evidently in approval. Looking
up quickly he caught Anne Ebbisham's eye upon him
and he flashed her a glance that invited approbation
from her of his prophecy of the previous week con-
cerning Streatfeild. The lady evidently understood
the significance of the glance for she replied with
her eyes to that effect.
Murillo's is famous for the quality and assort-
ment of its hors-d'oeuvres and it was easy to under-
stand on this particular evening how this reputation
had been achieved and how moreover it was entirely
justified.
Peter Daventry made himself the recipient of
self-congratulation. He was seated, he discovered,
between Anne Ebbisham and Christine, than which
at the moment he desired nothing better. Both he
and Anne were in their best form, they suited each
other admirably and each brought out the best from
each.
"What mood are you in to-night, Miss Eb-
bisham," he rallied her, "after a show such as
we've seen?"
"The imperative," she riposted, " so I warn you
to beware, Mr. Daventry."
"If thou lov'st me—then beware," he retorted,
turning to his other neighbor; "and you, Miss
Massingham?"
"Mood?" she queried.
"Yes," he repeated.
"Don't classify me in a mood," returned Chris-
tine. "I don't think I altogether like it—put me
down as just ' tense.'"


262
THE CRIME AT
that seemed to hold a tinge of something like
defiance. "I am responsible for that. I invited
him to the theatre. At our first meeting the In-
spector happened to tell me in the course of con-
versation that he had never seen me on the boards.
So you see, I remedied that at my first available
opportunity. I think I owed it to Baddeley to do so.
Although as a matter of fact I fancy it was Anne
here who prompted my memory in the matter."
As Baddeley's name cropped up for discussion
after he had so unconsciously set the ball rolling,
Peter Daventry's eyes happened to stray across to
the other table where Henry Mordaunt and Russell
Streatfeild were sitting. At the mention of Bad-
deley's name by Jack Raikes he saw a peculiar look
come into the latter's face. Henry Mordaunt him-
self looked preternaturally grave and worried.
Peter looked across to Challoner and listened at-
tentively to what the latter was saying relative to
Baddeley and the theatre. Then his eyes shifted
back almost spontaneously to Mordaunt's table. To
his utter surprise he saw Russell Streatfeild rise
from the table very quietly—almost stealthily in
fact, turn and then disappear from the room
through the curtained space. Amazed at this
strange occurrence Peter looked round among Chal-
loner's other guests to see if the exit had been
observed generally. Evidently it had not—for none
remarked upon it and all seemed to proceed with
their dinners ignorant of Streatfeild's surprising
defection. Mr. Daventry fell to considering the
possible meaning of this unusual incident. But a


THE CROSSWAYS 263
minute later a remark from Miss Ebbisham jerked
him back to the immediate need of the moment.
Evidently she for one hadn't noticed Streatfeild's
furtive movement.


266
THE CRIME AT
ing.'" He seemed a trifle disappointed at having
to supply the information.
Anne laughed at his mock sorrow. "I see-
Sorry I let you down. I'm not usually slow. But
it can't be as you say. I expect you'll find that
there's quite a simple explanation in the end.
You're suffering from an excess of the melo-
dramatic. It's because of the show you went to
this evening. It's been imposed upon you by Adrian
Challoner."
Mr. Daventry wagged his head oracularly. "We
shall see. But the relentless fist of dear old Father
Time will eventually prove the truth of the words
of P. Daventry Esq. The moving Finger will write
and having writ—I have spoken. Shall I peel you
a straight banana ?" .
Anne made a rather delightful grimace. "You
may not. I loathe the things. They remind me of
the taste of scented soap and how I used to be
washed with it in my nursery days. The beastly
stuff used to get into my mouth and I can never eat
or even smell a banana without thinking of those
times and feeling downright sick."
"All my suggestions you summarily dismiss.
You squash them. You turn them down. I am
abject." Peter replied to her with an affected
ruefulness. "Unless, of course, there's any
other "His eyes examined the dish of dessert
under the brightening influence of Hope.
Anne Ebbisham leaned over and tapped him on
the arm. "Bear up," she said. "There is still
work for you to do—pare me a pear."


THE CROSSWAYS
267
"I begin to live again," murmured Peter. "The
burden of my existence has become less intolerable.
The wind and the rain are, after all, still my brother
and sister." He changed his tone. "I always think
that 'William' is an unsatisfying Christian name
for the juiciest of the juicy, don't you? Why
should we be forced to say a 'William Pear ' when
we might have said a 'Lancelot' Pear or a 'Mar-
maduke' Pear?"
As he spoke Benito entered through the curtained
space that was on Mr. Daventry's immediate right,
the space towards which Henry Mordaunt kept
looking, and walked slowly to Adrian Challoner at
the head of the table. The waiter's usually
vivacious face was so grave and he seemed to walk
with such definite purpose that those of the party
who watched him temporarily ceased their chatter
and conversation and listened through a sense of
instinct to the words he addressed to the host of
the evening. But the message he had seemingly
been charged to deliver, although perhaps surpris-
ing, was nevertheless eminently commonplace. Most
of the people who heard it were ashamed inwardly
that they had listened. On the other hand it
appeared to annoy Adrian Challoner when he
heard it.
"I beg your pardon, sir," said Benito in his
curious English accent, "but there are a lady and
a gentleman in the foyer below asking for a Mr.
Barr-ing-ton Gallo-way." His precise articulation
of the names jointed the syllables almost absurdly
to English ears. There was no doubt whatever now


THE CROSSWAYS
269
Massingham, caught sight of Jack Raikes and Jane
Mordaunt gazing at each other as though startled
from a condition of comparative lethargy into an
excess of excitement. For the next few minutes that
followed the exit of the peerless Benito the pro-
ceedings went on under the shadow of what was a
most pronounced lull. Peter attempted to recapture
the mood that had been his and his companion's
before the beginning of the incident.
"A witty remark," he announced gravely to Anne
and Christine, "will often revive the soul of a
languishing conversation. I will uplift my mental
spade and delve for one. For there is no doubt
that the waiter Johnny with his message from the
realms below was to our genial host as a goblet of
foaming castor-oil. As a beaker of halcyon hem-
lock. Let me ask you a question. What is the
plural of Galloway?"
Before Miss Ebbisham could frame the words for
a reply, there once again entered the immaculate
Benito. "It is sorrow to me, most profound, sir,"
he extenuated to Adrian Challoner, "but I cannot
convince the people in the foyer that the Mr. Gallo-
way they ask for is not here. I have implored them
to go away, to depart. I have assured them that
they are disturber-ers of Monsieur's party. It is of
no use. They swear that he was seen by them to
come in—that he has not come out—and that it is
a matter of the life and the death for them to see
him, immediately, at once. They implore me to
listen to them."
Challoner began to show signs of losing his


THE CROSSW AYS 271
brook no denial? Why is their long-suit persist-
ence?"
Anne shook her head. "Ask again," she mut-
tered—" and something easier than that. I'm not
good at conundrums." She spoke quite calmly but
as Mr. Daventry's eyes fell on her hand as it rested
on the white cloth of the table he was very surprised
to see that Miss Ebbisham's fingers were trembling
violently.
"Why," he exclaimed impetuously, "what's the
matter with?"
Benito entered again and walked straight up to
Adrian Challoner. "I have been able to obtain
information that was desired, sir. The lady and
gentleman who say that they must see this Mr.
Barring-ton Gallo-way call themselves Mr. and
Mrs. Orace Utchings."
"But this is absurd," cried Challoner, pushing
back his chair from the table. "I know of no
people of that name either and I am sure nobody
else here does."
"Is it possible that it's Russell Streatfeild whom
they want? " Raikes rose and addressed his remark
direct to Challoner. "The idea has just struck me
for he seems to have vanished into thin air. Per-
haps he's this Galloway person and doesn't desire
to meet any old friends. Seems to me it's more
than likely." He pointed over to the empty chair
next to Henry Mordaunt in emphasis of this remark.
"Where is Streatfeild, Mr. Mordaunt, do you
know? It certainly appears to me that he's cleared
out for some reason or the other."


272 THE CRIME AT
Mordaunt showed signs of uneasiness at these
pointed statements. "He excused himself some
minutes ago, it is true. Perhaps he's not feeling
too well. But I understood from him that he would
be back very shortly."
Lorrimer decided at this moment to take charge
of the situation; he evidently thought it was high
time somebody did. "I'll tell you what," he an-
nounced. "To save any more argument I'll go and
see these people. Raikes may be perfectly right in
his surmise. Perhaps if they describe the man to
me it may fit Streatfeild." He waved to his mother
and Molly as he crossed the room. "Don't trouble
to come down, Benito. I'll find them all right."
Benito stepped back from the curtained exit as
Lorrimer slipped quickly out. Then he moved his
head irresolutely as though thinking over something
and followed in Lorrimer's wake. When he
reached the foyer Lorrimer saw two people stand-
ing apart from the voluble groups that were either
entering or leaving. Even from the distance he
guessed from their general appearance that they
must be the man and woman whom he had come
down to see.
"Are you Mr. and Mrs. Horace Hutchings?"
he inquired as he approached them.
Hutchings half-turned at his voice and then
jerked his hand above his head. A familiar figure
slipped like lightning from the middle of a scattered
group of people and caught Lorrimer firmly by the
wrists.
"You are arrested, Captain Lorrimer," said In-


278
THE CRIME AT
of her presence there, I am informed. A tiny piece
of biscuit-colored lace from her coatee was caught
on a thin wooden splinter at the back of the ward-
robe. From her hiding-place she was able to see
Captain Lorrimer place the sapphire in its cunning
hiding-place which of course became at once no
hiding-place at all."
In the room now there reigned an almost deathly
silence and more than one of the five senses of the
people who listened appreciated it. Anthony
Bathurst continued.
"I imagine that what happened next is this.
Awaiting a favorable opportunity, the lady who had
watched from behind the"
Anne Ebbisham could restrain herself no longer.
"You're very clever, Mr. Bathurst, but you're
wrong. Just as though I should have gone into
Captain Lorrimer's bedroom when he was in there.
Really, I blush for you, Mr. Bathurst! I watched
his door from inside my own bedroom—my door
was ajar when I saw him go out of his room and
disappear. I saw my chance and slipped into his
room. I had no real idea then where the sapphire
was. All I had to go on was a remark that I had
heard Captain Lorrimer make to Mr. Mordaunt
that very evening. Something about 'shaving' or
'a shave.' I had felt convinced when I heard him
make it that it had a double meaning and perhaps
a bearing on the sapphire's hiding-place about which
he had so recently boasted. When I walked to his
dressing-table and found two sticks of shaving-soap
—apparently identical—I had an inspiration. Why


282
THE CRIME AT
CHAPTER XXIX
*
A BRIGHT red spot burned in each of the lady's
cheeks. But she kept her head and her nerve.
"Thank you for your kind words, Mr. Bathurst,"
she said with a charming smile. "Also I must con-
gratulate you on your skill. You have discovered
the truth. I am 'Creeping Jenny.' Or rather I
was, because that notorious lady died nearly six
weeks ago. I will tell you the whole history—then
you must tell me how you found it all out, for to
tell the truth I've no idea how you did it. But let
it be clearly understood from the beginning that
'Creeping Jenny' was never a thief, although she
may have appeared to be such." She stopped and
looked round the circle of faces with a proud self-
possession. "She was merely a borrower and when
you hear the rest of my statement you will realize
the truth of what I have just said. In August, my
only brother came to me for five hundred pounds.
He's not all that I should like him to be—and never
has been—from the days when we were in the
nursery together. But he's my brother—and my
only one." Her voice broke a little here and she
faltered. Recovery, however, was rapid. "It was
hopeless him going to my father for any more—and
he told me I was his last chance. When he first
approached me I couldn't look at the amount and


THE CROSSWAYS 283
told him so. He let me see pretty plainly that he
intended taking desperate measures. So in the end
I promised that I would help him—though how on
earth I was going to was more than I then could
say or even imagine. He said that he must have
two hundred pounds by the following Monday to
stave off disaster. I went to my bankers and asked
for a loan. They demanded security. I suggested
my jewellery. The Manager was awfully kind and
said that he would try to meet me if he- considered
the security was good enough and I lodged it in the
bank's strong-room. When I got home and col-
lected it together my heart sank. I realized that
I had small hopes of realizing the amount Frank
wanted. I was at my wits' end. Then you came
into it, Anne." She turned to Miss Ebbisham. "I
determined to come to see you to borrow from you.
Although I loathed the idea like poison. You see
—I'm different from my brother—although we're
very much alike facially."
"Mr. Daventry will be interested to hear you
say that, Miss Massingham"—put in Anthony
Bathurst—" he even mistook your photograph for
your brother. He had run into him near Cran-
wick." Christine nodded.
"Frank told me he'd met somebody from 'The
Crossways' and that it had rather scared him.
But to get back. When I went down to see Anne
she was staying at Lady Grantham's. I got to the
house and felt that I simply couldn't worry her—
the idea was positively humiliating to me. I looked
at my watch, guessed that they were at dinner and


284
THE CRIME AT
decided to catch the first train back to town. As I
passed the front of the house I saw a ladder leaning
against one of the front room windows. An idea
came to me and try as I would I couldn't dismiss
it all the way home that evening. I was resting at
the time and had invitations to two country houses
before the rehearsals of ' Sin and a Woman' were
due to come on. But the first of these invitations
was three weeks ahead. And Frank wanted money
at once. I resolved to 'borrow' one article of
jewellery from Lady Grantham's the next night, fol-
low on with one two evenings later at Critchley
Lodge where I knew Anne was going and carry on
one at a time until I had sufficient for my purpose.
When I could I would return them all. I wasn't
going out for big things that I should find difficulty
in disposing of and I meant to make the whole
thing as ' sporting ' as possible. I invented ' Jenny,'
got my first card typed in order to mystify people a
bit, slipped an old mack, on and tootled off that
evening to Cumberlege Court. I timed myself to
arrive at the same time as I had the previous eve-
ning. It really was too easy. The ladder was still
there—there were repairs to the roof being done in
the daytime. The window was easily negotiated and
I was away from the house with a diamond tie-pin
in four minutes. At Mrs. Medlicott's two evenings
afterwards I had a thrill and a narrow escape. No
sooner had I found a ladder and entered the bed-
room than I heard somebody coming. I got under
the bed, Anne—not behind a wardrobe! But that
was the only occasion when I had anything like a


THE CROSS WAYS 285
narrow squeak. I saw my bank people and they
lent me three hundred pounds on my own stuff plus
what I had already 'borrowed.' Frank was saved
for the time being. Well, I had to look ahead so
I told the bank that I hadn't brought along all my
stuff but was keeping back some of my jewellery in
case I wanted a further loan later on. My next
three efforts were sufficient to give me all that Frank
wanted. Much easier, too, of accomplishment, be-
cause I was actually staying in the houses. I raised
the entire sum for which he had asked me. In the
case of Lady Craddock's ring I faked the evidence
of the window and the rug as Inspector Baddeley
suspected. I thought it best to vary my methods
somewhat and give the impression that the now
notorious ' Creeping Jenny ' might after all be some-
body working from the outside. It was the line I
always took whenever the affairs were discussed."
The man to whom she had referred leaned for-
ward towards her. "Just a minute, Miss. Why
did you use young Mr. Mordaunt's car that night?"
"I had arranged to let Frank have his second
instalment of money that night. He had written
from Brighton that it was very urgent and that he
would come that night for it. I didn't want him
at Cranwick Towers and told him to meet me at
the top of Hangman's Hollow. I popped up to
town—rehearsals had started so it didn't put me
out very much—and went to the bank with what I
had taken from Crawley and Rustington. I was
late—' Creeping Jenny' had pulled off another job
on her return—and it hadn't been as easy, either, as


286
THE CRIME AT
the two just previous. So I borrowed Francis's car
from the garage."
Mr. Bathurst smiled. "And that night ' Creep-
ing Jenny' died—eh, Miss Massingham?"
"Yes, Mr. Bathurst! Really speaking! I had
no designs on the Lorrimer sapphire. I had 'bor-
rowed' enough. But strangely enough, my best
friend had—although I didn't know it. I was awake
when she returned with the spoils and as I couldn't
possibly allow substitute 'Jennys' to be running
wild, I had to relieve her of it when she went off to
sleep. I thought it would teach her a lesson."
"You little cat," muttered Anne, " and there was
I worrying my pretty head nearly off."
"What put you in the position of being able to
return the borrowed articles?" asked Anthony.
"Ask Mr. Challoner," replied Christine de-
murely.
Adrian Challoner looked rather aggrieved. He
had not been " on" in this last act and the position
galled him. It made him feel that something was
radically wrong. "Miss Massingham is the author
of my new play, Mr. Bathurst—' Sin and a Woman.'
Although, to be strictly truthful, I only discovered
the fact a week or two ago. When I was at 'The
Crossways' and also on the first night itself I was
unaware of it."
Christine smiled gaily. "When I got my advance
royalties (blessed word—like 'Mesopotamia')
from Surtees White—they're my agents—' Creep-
ing Jenny' was not only dead but buried with a
firing party. I flew up to the bank, reclaimed my


THE CROSSWAYS
287
guilty hoard and returned all the respective parts
of it to the rightful owners—see, Mr. Bathurst?"
Anthony nodded. The lady went on.
"And I couldn't resist as a sporting touch giving
the clue to my identity in the information about my
birthday. But tell me, Mr. Bathurst—not only how
did you discover all that you have—but how you
come to appear in the affair at all."
Anthony smiled at Miss Massingham's mystifica-
tion. "That won't take long. Look at me care-
fully, all of you, and listen to me at the same time."
He addressed Jane Mordaunt in a curiously high-
pitched voice. "My dear Miss Mordaunt, if at
any time you feel that you are unable to"
A cry of amazement broke from Jane and Chris-
tine simultaneously. The voice was the voice of
Russell Streatfeild. Miss Massingham cried the
name.


THE CROSSWAYS
289
to clear off, I cudgelled my brains at the time to
think who it was of whom he reminded me—but to
no purpose. Something happened, I think, to make
me forget all about it."
Anthony smiled. "A slice of luck for me. But
now I must satisfy the curiosity of all of you and
let you into my bag of secrets. I began well. For
I immediately dissociated the murder of Mrs. Mor-
daunt from any connection with 'Creeping Jenny.'
I will tell you why. Mrs. Mordaunt gave no signs
whatever of having gone out that night in a hurry
sucl as one might expect had she gone out after a
thief whom she suspected or whom she had sur-
prised. Her face still retained the touch of cos-
metics and her lips showed signs of the application
of lip-stick. Her bedroom told a similar story. In
fact the whole affair pointed to something far re-
moved from mere robbery. It was obvious that the
last thing she had done before going out to her
death had been to attend to her complexion. She
had deliberately prepared to go out. There was a
slight depression on her bed where she had tossed
her evening cloak before she sat at her looking-glass
'to freshen up ' and the various cosmetic accessories
were scattered on the table in front of it." Mr.
Bathurst leaned forward to the company who lis-
tened to him and put a question—eagerly. A ques-
tion that he answered himself. "For whom does a
woman study her physical appearance to that extent?
I told myself—either a lover or an old lover—' old'
in the sense of ' previous.' It's a remarkable thing
but a woman always has a feverish desire to look


296
THE CRIME AT
tions have proved to me that Captain Lorrimer and
your wife had, in the years before she met you, lived
together as man and wife under the name of Gal-
loway. She knew him as Barrington Galloway.
They parted, however, and she had not seen him for
a considerable time when he appeared at your house
in the capacity of your daughter's fiance! Imagine
the shock that it must have been to her. But she
behaved splendidly. She gave Lorrimer her ulti-
matum. He must give up your daughter, Molly, or
she would tell the truth even at the cost of her
own happiness. The 'Paula Tanqueray' position
over again, Challoner. Also she held the whip-hand.
She had kept some of his letters. Whether he knew
this or not I can only conjecture. But he feared
that she would denounce him and that he would lose,
not only Miss Mordaunt, but also his Parliamentary
career. Anyway he made the assignation with her
at the old well. She probably fixed the rendezvous
and she took the letters with her as an instrument
to enforce her terms with regard to Molly. As we
know now she went to her death. She may never
have seen the figure of her murderer approaching
her. It was very dark and I suspect that he crept
up in his disguise and stabbed his victim with an
almost silent rapidity. Then he took her handbag,
opened it by the presses, and removed the letters
that he wanted. Also the key of her bedroom door.
He then threw the body and the bag down the well
and burnt the letters."
"Just a minute, Bathurst." Henry Mordaunt's
voice showed the distress that he was feeling.


300
THE CRIME AT
"Well, Miss Massingham—when that first warn-
ing came, I suspected somebody was about to wear
her mantle. The fact that it had been typed on a
different machine from the usual one strengthened
my suspicion. By the way, where was your typing
done, Miss Ebbisham?"
"I used the secretary's machine at Lady Crad-
dock's just before I left there."
"Ah, I thought it might have been something
of that kind when you took up Challoner's bet so
eagerly. I marked you down as the probable
'Jenny, the second.' But when in the morning you
were so unmistakably worried and puzzled, I, in
turn, began to wonder what it was in your plans
that had miscarried. Had the murder made you
too frightened to return the spoils or had the real
'Jenny' turned up and relieved you of them? If
so, she must obviously be somebody very intimate
with you to have the knowledge that the sapphire
was in your possession. I then found the fragment
of lace behind the wardrobe. Frankly, at the time
when I found it, I was unable from memory to as-
sign it with certainty to anybody. But was it part
of somebody's apparel that I hadn't seen being
worn? It struck me it might have come from such
a thing as a lace coatee so when I replied to Dav-
entry's letter I threw out a feeler. Four eyes are
better than two anywhere. The answer came as I
expected but it didn't really matter for when it came
I had already seen for myself what I wanted to see.
You look very charming in it by the way." Mr.
Bathurst bowed his appreciation. "My next step


THE CROSSWAYS 301
was to obtain lists of the various people present at
the houses where the robberies had taken place. The
name of your close friend appeared in four of them.
I then regarded her as a very definite possibility.
But I waited to make sure. When the 'restitution
acts ' came my suspicions increased tenfold and when
I read the message that accompanied them, I real-
ized that Truth is very often unrecognized and that
this might be a genuine and sporting gesture on her
part. I put some more inquiries round in the lady's
direction and learned in the process a number of
highly interesting facts. Have I her forgiveness?"
He turned to the lady.
"You have," murmured Christine, "and I think
everybody else's too. For we are indebted to you
for the truth, Mr. Bathurst. It is only right that
everything should be cleared up."
"There's just one point, Bathurst," put in Adrian
Challoner. "How did he come to use my dagger?
How did he know of it?"
"That point has occurred to me. It is mere
conjecture, of course, but I imagine his mother may
have told him. She was with me at the card-table,
remember, when it was first mentioned. It has since
been found, by the way, in a drawer at his flat. Is
there any other question that anybody wants an-
swered?"
"Yes—one." It was Peter Daventry who had
spoken. "What was that picture you showed me
that I mistook for the man that met me on the
heath? Who was it?"
Anthony motioned towards Christine. "This


302
THE CRIME AT THE CROSSW AYS
lady in 'As You Like It.' When you called that
day I had just finished those inquiries of which I
spoke, and had learned of her brother's existence.
It was a longish shot, perhaps, but it came off."
******
Anne rose from her chair when most of the com-
pany had gone and faced Peter Daventry. "Tell
me, Mr. Daventry—it's your turn to answer a ques-
tion now—going back to the night of the dinner—
something has been worrying me ever since and
made me ever so curious. What is the plural of
Galloway? What did you mean when you asked
me?"
Peter Daventry looked extremely uncomfortable.
"Well—er—Miss Ebbisham, I hate to pose as a
prophet—one of the jolly old 'I told you so bri-
gade '—and er—all unconscious of it at that—but
surely there can be only one possible plural—
what?"
Anne wrinkled her nose. Then she shook her
head. "Tell me then. I don't"
"Well—er, Miss Ebbisham, what I meant was
'Gallows-way.' Sorry and all that."
He ducked just in time and the book from Miss
Ebbisham's hand sailed gaily but mercilessly into
the tray of glasses.
"It's time you two went home," declared Mr.
Bathurst.
T,HE END