LIARD-RGDM
MYSTERY





era
i





The
BILLIARD ROOM
Mystery





THE
BILLIARD ROOM
MYSTERY
BT
BRIAN FLYNN

GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK


BRIAN FLYNN MYSTERIES
THE CASE OF THE BLACK TWENTY-TWO
THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
FIRST PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES,
OCTOBER, 1929
Manufactured in the V. S. A.


J.J o - tcc
CONTENTS
I Mr. Bathurst as an Aid to Memory 9
II In the Billiard Room . . . . 21
III Mr. Bathurst and the Bed-clothes 31
IV Under the Billiard Room Window 43
V The Methods of Inspector Badde-
LEY • • • • • • • • ^6
;' VI Lieutenant Barker Attempts to
'Remember 69
s VII Lady Considine Complicates Mat-
^ ters 83
'VIII Mr. Bathurst Has a Memory for
, Faces 96
*. IX Mr. Bathurst Calls Upon the
Postmistress 110
X Walk into My Parlor . . .124
XI What was Found on the " Spider" 138
XII Major Hornby and the Venetian
Dagger 147
XIII Mr. Bathurst Pots the Red . .162
XIV Mary Consults Mr. Bathurst . 176
XV Mr. Bathurst Takes His Second
Look—with Mr. Cunningham's
Assistance 190
XVI The Inquest 204
XVII Inspector Baddeley Puts His
Cards on the Table . . .218
5


CONTENTS
XVIII Mr. Bathurst Partially Emu-
lates His Example . . . 229
XIX Mr. Bathurst's Wonderful Sym-
pathy 237
XX Mary Receives Her Second Pro-
posal 246
XXI Mr. Bathurst Waves His Hand . 255
XXII Mr. Bathurst Reminiscent . .261


The
BILLIARD ROOM
Mystery





THE BILLIARD ROOM
MYSTERY
CHAPTER I
MR. BATHURST AS AN AID TO MEMORY
Seeing Bathurst this evening, after a lapse of
eight years, has given me a most insistent inclination
to set down, for the first time, the real facts of that
cause celebre, that was called by the Press at the
time, the "Billiard Room Mystery." Considering
the length of the interval, and regarding the whole
affair from every possible point of view, it is suf-
ficiently plain to me that an authentic history of the
case can harm nobody and can prejudice no inter-
ests. I therefore succumb to the temptation, serenely
confident that, no matter what shortcomings there
may be in the telling, the affair itself as a whole, is
entitled to rank as one of the most baffling in the
annals of criminology.
Inasmuch as I was a member of the audience to-
night at a private theatrical performance and An-
thony Bathurst was playing lead for the company
(amateur of course) that was entertaining us, I had
no opportunity for conversation with him, but I am
certain that had I had this opportunity, I should
have found that his brain had lost none of its cun-
9


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
ning and that his uncanny gifts for deduction, infer-
ence, and intuition, were unimpaired. These powers
allied to a masterly memory for detail and to an un-
usual athleticism of body, separated him from the
majority—wherever he was, he always counted—
one acknowledged instinctively his mental suprem-
acy—he was a personality always and everywhere.
A tall, lithe body with that poised balance of move-
ment that betrays the able player of all ball games,
his clean-cut, clean-shaven face carried a mobile,
sensitive mouth and grey eyes. Remarkable eyes
that seemed to apprehend and absorb at a sweep
every detail about you that was worth apprehending.
A man's man, and, at the same time, a ladies' man.
For when he chose, he was hard to resist, I assure
you. Such, eight years ago, was Anthony Lothering-
ton Bathurst, and such had he promised to be from
comparative immaturity, for he had been with me at
Uppingham, and afterwards at Oxford.
Which latter fact goes to the prime reason of my
being at Considine Manor in the last week of July
of the year of the tragedy.
At Oxford we had both grown very pally with
Jack Considine, eldest son of Sir Charles Considine,
of Considine Manor, Sussex, and although Bathurst
had to a certain extent fallen away from the closest
relations of the friendship, Jack and I were bosom
companions, and it became my custom each year,
when the 'Varsity came down, to spend a week at
Considine Manor, and to take part in Sir Charles'
Cricket Week. For I was a fairly useful member,
10


MR. BATHURST AS AN AID TO MEMORY
and had been on the fringe of the 'Varsity Eleven;
indeed many excellent judges were of the opinion
that Prescott, who had been given the last place, was
an inferior man. But of that, more later.
Bathurst never took his 'Varsity cricket seriously
enough. Had he done so he would probably have
skippered England—he's the kind that distinguishes
whatever he sets his hand to—but it was cricket that
took me to Considine Manor, and it was cricket that
took both Prescott and Bathurst—but not in the
same direction.
Sir Charles that year was particularly anxious to
have a good team—which got Prescott his invita-
tion. An invitation that he had certainly not lin-
gered over accepting. For he had met Mary Con-
sidine at Twickenham the previous autumn, and had
improved upon that acquaintanceship at Lords' in
the first week of July. Mary was the third and
youngest child, Jack coming between her and her
sister, Helen, who had married a Captain Arkwright
—a big, bluff Dragoon. Now whatever Prescott's
feelings may have been towards Mary, I had no idea
then, what hers were to him. Decidedly, I have no
idea now; I can only surmise. But Mary Considine
with her birth, her breeding and her beauty was a
peach of peaches. She had grace, she had charm,
and a pair of heavy-lashed, Parma violet eyes that
sent all a man's good resolutions to the four winds
of heaven and to my mind at least, it was something
like presumption on Prescott's part to lift his eyes to
her. Still that was only my opinion. As I said,
II


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
what encouragement he received I have little knowl-
edge of.
The Cricket Week passed off comparatively un-
eventfully. The first three one-day games—I forget
whom against, except one against the "Incogs "—
were relatively unimportant. That is, to Sir
Charles! His piece de resistance was always kept
for the Thursday and Friday, the last two days of
the week. Then came the hardy annual—Sir
Charles Considine's Eleven, versus "The Upping-
ham Rovers." Prior to this last game I had failed
lamentably, my bag being 3, 7 and a couple of bal-
loons. Two of the days were wet and real cricket
out of the question. Prescott had a lot of luck and
got a couple of centuries and a 70 odd in four times.
Which of course gave him a good conceit of himself.
"Bill," said Mary to me on the Thursday morn-
ing, "I do hope you see them all right to-day—
Gerry Prescott's getting a bit of ' roll' on, charming
man though he be."
I finished my fourth egg and remarked, "Thanks,
Mary—I'll have a good try, but I don't seem able to
do anything right lately—still my luck must turn be-
fore long. Thanks again." She slipped over to the
sideboard and helped herself to some Kedgeree—
smiled—and then replied, " I think it will—to-day."
The rest of the crowd then joined us—Jack, Gerry
Prescott, Helen and Dick Arkwright, Sir Charles
and Lady Considine, three boys from the 'Varsity,
Tennant, Daventry and Robertson, and two Service
men, friends of Arkwright, Major Hornby and
12


MR. BATHURST AS AN AID TO MEMORY
Lieutenant Barker—the last five all pretty decent
cricketers—the rest of the eleven being recruited
from the Manor staff.
It was, I remember, a perfectly glorious summer
morning. One's thoughts instinctively flew to the
whirr of the mowing machine and a real plumb
wicket. The insects hummed in the sun, and there
was a murmur of bees that gave everybody a feeling
that an English summer morning in Sussex could
give anything in Creation a start and a beating.
"Toppin' mornin'—what?" said Prescott.
"Feel like gettin' some more to-day, if we bat."
"You won't," said Dick Arkwright. "You'll
field, and this big brute of a Bill can get rid of some
of his disgraceful paunch. He hasn't had much ex-
ercise all the week. Exceptin' of course walkin' back
to the pavilion."
"Feeling funny, aren't you?" I sallied back.
"And as for 'big brutes' and 'paunches,' neither
you nor Prescott has a lot to telegraph home
about."
Actually I was about a couple of inches taller than
either of them and decidedly heavier.
"Anybody of the old crowd playing for the
Rovers, Jack? " queried Helen.
"Don't know, haven't seen the team yet."
Daventry, I think, handed the Sporting Life to
the two girls. They scanned the names.
"Only Toby Purkiss and Vernon Hurst that we
know," from Mary. "What a pity."
"I £m very keen on winning," boomed Sir
13


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
hands as usual, they had been only too glad for him
to help them.
Everybody, of course, was delighted, for Consi-
dine Manor had heard much of Anthony Bathurst
from both Jack and me.
Sir Charles immediately issued an invitation.
"Stay on, my dear fellow! I shall be charmed,
I assure you. Stay till the Bank Holiday—then
motor over."
"Thanks, I will. It's good of you." Anthony
accepted the offer.
Thus, it was that the Friday evening saw Anthony
still at Considine Manor, and the stage set for what
happened subsequently. When I reached the
drawing-room that night I had a fit of the blues.
The game had ended in a draw and once again, I
had not reached double figures. Prescott had got
another 50 odd and, in the opinion of most, had
saved our side from a beating. Conversation was
desultory as it had been at dinner.
As usual most of them were listening attentively
to Anthony Bathurst. He was well launched on a
theme that I had heard him discuss many a time be-
fore in his rooms at Oxford. "The Detective in
Modern Fiction." It was a favorite topic of his
and like everything that aroused his interest, he
knew it thoroughly—backwards, forwards, and
inside out.
I caught his words as I entered the room.
"Oh—I admit it quite cheerfully—I look for-
ward tremendously to a really good thriller. I'm
16


MR- BATHURST AS AN AID TO MEMORY
intrigued utterly by a title like 'The Stain on the
Linoleum.' But, there you are, really good detec-
tive stories are rare."
"You think so?" interjected Major Hornby,
"what about those French Johnnies, Gaboriau and
Du Boisgobey?"
"Like the immortal Holmes," replied Anthony,
"I have the greatest contempt for Lecoq. Poe's
• Dupin' wasn't so bad, but the majority"
"You admire Holmes?"
"Yes, Mr. Arkwright, I do! That is to say—the
pre-war Holmes!"
"You don't admit that his key is always made to
fit his lock?"
"Of course," replied Anthony, "that must be
so! But he deduces—he reasons—and thereby con-
structs. The others, so many of them, depend for
success on amazing coincidences and things of that
nature."
"You think Holmes stands alone?" queried
Mary.
"Not altogether, Miss Considine, as I've often
told Bill Cunningham." He turned to me,
"Mason's M. Hanaud, Bentley's Trent, Milne's Mr.
Gillingham, and to a lesser degree perhaps, Agatha
Christie's M. Poirot are all excellent in their way,
but oh!—the many dozens that aren't."
"I could mention three others," said Jack Con-
sidine.
"Yes? Who are they?"
"Bernard Capes' ' Baron' of The Skeleton Key,
17


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
Chesterton's Father Brown, and H. C. Bailey's
Reginald Fortune."
"I am willing to accept two," said Anthony, " but
Father Brown—no. He's too entirely 'Chester-
tonian.' He deduces that the dustman was the mur-
derer because of the shape of the piece that had
been cut from the apple-pie. I can't quite get him."
The company laughed merrily.
"Ah, Mr. Bathurst," remarked Sir Charles.
"There is a great gulf between fiction and real life.
Give me Scotland Yard every time."
"I am ready to. Scotland Yard is a remarkably
efficient organization—but"
"Well, Sir Charles, I think thisl Give me a fair
start with Scotland Yard, and its resources to call
upon, if necessary, and I'll wager on my results."
"What about that trumpeter?" from Gerry
Prescott.
"Never mind that. I was asked for my opinion
and I gave it."
"In the event of your being on the spot at a
murder case, then, you consider that you would solve
the mystery quicker than trained men?"
"Under equal conditions, yes, Captain Ark-
wright! Again, what is a trained man? I am a
trained man. I've trained myself to observe and to
remember."
Here, Lady Considine interrupted with " Pardon
me, Mr. Bathurst. But these girls won't sleep if
you keep on discussing murders. Besides, Sir
Charles wants his game of Auction."
18


MR. BATHURST AS AN AID TO MEMORY
Two tables started, the military party playing
solo. And gradually the hum of conversation sub-
sided as the games got under way. Helen Ark-
wright played while her sister sang. Jack Considine
and Anthony went into the garden to smoke cigars.
I stayed and watched the cards. Prescott won
steadily from most of them, but from Lieutenant
Barker chiefly. And when after a time, I saw a look
of more than ordinary chagrin pass over the latter's
face and following that, an I. O. U. handed across
the table to Prescott, I felt that they had played
long enough. For neither Sir Charles nor Lady
Considine cared for such happenings as that. So at
eleven-forty or thereabouts, I suggested they stop.
The others assented readily.
"I'm for bed," I said, " after just one ' spot'!"
I walked to the French windows that commanded
the garden and looked out. The rain that had come
on just before seven, had ceased and there was a
moon with a sparkling retinue of stars.
I swallowed my whisky.
"Good-night, you fellows."
"Good-night, Bill!"
At the foot of the staircase just in the shadow of
the heavy banisters, I passed Prescott and Barker,
deep in conversation. The conversation stopped as
I approached.
"Coming to bed?" I interrogated.
"Not yet," replied Prescott. "Time's young
yet. Besides I have"
I didn't wait for his sentence to be finished.
19


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
Our bedrooms were on the second floor—seven of
them in a row along a long corridor that ran the
length of the house. All the men were together.
Jack was in the biggest—the first—that night he was
sharing with Anthony—then came in order, Daven-
try and Robertson together in No. 2, Hornby, Pres-
cott, Tennant, myself, and Barker last. On the first
floor was the billiard room, directly facing the stairs
as you ascended, and the bedrooms of the other
members of the family.
Each one of the bedrooms on the second floor was
fitted with a bathroom and shower. There was a
connecting door in each room, leading to the bath.
This connecting door in each instance faced the door
of the bedroom opening out on to the corridor. It
was a fancy of Sir Charles Considine, this, and much
appreciated by all those privileged to enjoy the hos-
pitality of Considine Manor. I shall never forget
that night.
I slept but little, a most unusual state of affairs
for me.
I was strangely uneasy, and it was not till close on
five o'clock that I fell into a doze.
And if I never forget that night, I shall never
forget the memory that followed it!
For I was awakened by a piercing scream that
echoed and reechoed through the house. It came
from the floor below!
"Murder! Murder! Help! Help! Murder!"
20


CHAPTER II
IN THE BILLIARD ROOM
It was a woman screaming! Not that I'm in
the position of having frequently heard men scream.
But the feminine note in the voice was apparent to
the most careless listener.
I hastily threw on a blazer, pulled on a pair of
slippers, opened my bedroom door, and came out
into the corridor.
Everybody's door seemed to open simultaneously.
Leaning over the banisters, it was easy to tell
that the screams were coming from the billiard
room.
We dashed down the staircase, the crowd of us—
white-faced and anxious—as men and women are,
when suddenly aroused by shock! And as we came
to the billiard room door, I was conscious that we
were one short—and something told me whom we
lacked. I was soon to know for sure.
For as I entered the room that held the horror
that had brought us flying from our beds I could
hear Sir Charles Considine's voice rising authorita-
tively above the hum of excitement, "Gentlemen,
gentlemen—please—whatever the trouble is—one of
you stay outside and keep the ladies from entering."
Across the bottom of the table face downwards,
the right arm hanging limply over the side, lay


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
Gerry Prescott. He lay partly on his right shoul-
der, and it was easy to see how he had met his death.
A dagger had been driven fast into the base of his
neck, at the top of the spinal cord.
The shock hit us all hard, and the chatter of the
girls, querulous and interrogative, although just out-
side the door, seemed vaguely distant.
# Marshall, the maid, who had given the alarm,
stood shaking against the wall, her affrighted eyes
staring at the body of poor Prescott.
"Get back to your room, Marshall," said Sir
Charles. "I'll see you again later." His ordinary
pomposity of manner seemed to have deserted him.
"What can we do, sir? " said Arkwright.
"He's past all earthly help," muttered Anthony.
—" Been dead, I should say, some hours."
"Terrible, terrible, in my house too," went on
the old man. "I shall never . . ."
"May I suggest, sir, that perhaps Jack and Ark-
wright should get a doctor and the police here, as
quickly as possible?" said Bathurst.
"Yes, yes, my boys, excellent!"
"And of course we must touch nothing. Look!"
He pointed round the room. Then went and whis-
pered in Sir Charles's ear.
"Certainly, Bathurst. Capital suggestion. You
and Jack get along, Arkwright. And all the rest of
you go, please, to the garden except Mr. Bathurst
and Bill Cunningham. No good can be done by
crowding round."
Hornby, Barker, Daventry and the others did as
22


IN THE BILLIARD ROOM
they were bid, very pleased I think to get into the
wholesome fresh airl And I turned to look at
what Anthony had pointed out.
Three chairs were overturned on the floor, the
other side of the table, and by the side of one lay
the poker from the billiard room fireplace.
The window at the further end of the room, over-
looking the gravel drive that ran along that side of
the house was open at the bottom—at least, «a
couple of feet. Prescott was fully dressed. As
far as I could judge in the same clothes as he had
worn the previous evening. Dinner jacket, wing
collar, bow tie, dress shirt, to my eye exactly as he
had dined. An exclamation from Anthony arrested
my attention.
"What's he wearing brown shoes for? Eh "—
rubbing his hands—" Bill, I fancy I've got my
chance after all. Do you see that, Sir Charles?
Brown shoes! And what is more "—he crowed
with excitement—" one hasn't got a lace."
"My God!" said Sir Charles, "you're right.
Perhaps he dressed in a hurry."
Anthony was shaking his head. "Perhaps," he
muttered, "but "Sir Charles turned to us,
agitation on his face.
"It has just occurred to me," he said, "you don't
think anybody in the house . . .?"
Anthony shook his head again. "It's a bad
business, and I can't tell you anything till the police
come. There are several questions I require an-
swered."
23


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
This time it was my turn to provide the sensa-
tion.
"Sir Charles," I cried, "look at the dagger!
Don't you recognize it?" He adjusted his pince-
nez, and went across to the body.
"Good God, Bill! It's the Venetian dagger off
the curio table."
"What's that?" Anthony's eyes gleamed with
excitement. "Your property?"
"Been in the family two hundred years. An an-
cestor of mine brought it from Italy."
"Where was it kept?"
"On a table in the drawing-room!"
"I don't like it," murmured Anthony. "Why
was it brought up here?"
"I have it," cried Sir Charles. "It's burglars
after all. Poor Prescott heard them and . . ."
"It's no good theorizing, Sir Charles . . .
without facts to go on! When the police come and
deal with points that I can't possibly touch yet . . .
I may be able to help you."
No sooner had he finished speaking than Jack's
voice was heard outside. "This way, doctor . . .
in here."
Dr. Elliott entered. Jack followed him. Close
on their heels came Arkwright with an Inspector of
Police, and a man who was apparently his assis-
tant—in plain clothes.
"This is Inspector Baddeley, of the Sussex Con-
stabulary," said Arkwright. "I was lucky enough
to find him at the station." The Inspector assented.
24


IN THE BILLIARD ROOM
"Good-morning, Sir Charles. Good-morning,
gentlemen."
"This is a bad business, Sir Charles," declared
Dr. Elliott. "It hardly seems credible that only
yesterday this poor fellow . . ." He went to
the body.
The Inspector followed him.
"Quite dead, gentlemen—hum—hum—been dead
several hours."
The Inspector carefully withdrew the dagger.
"Try that for any prints, Roper," he muttered.
"It's just on the cards."
"Yes, sir," replied plain clothes; he at once got
to work with the " insufflator."
"Then photograph the body from both sides of
the room."
Roper retired; to return in a few minutes with a
camera.
"I think it would be better for you, Baddeley,"
declared the doctor, " if you had a good look round
before I make my examination. I can do nothing
and the cause of death is pretty obvious. The mur-
derer knew his business, too! A blow at that part
of the spinal column—effective—and to all intents
and purposes instantaneous."
"Very well, Doctor. These gentlemen—Sir
Charles? " he queried.
"My son, my son-in-law, Captain Arkwright, Mr.
Bathurst and Mr. Cunningham, guests and very old
friends."
"I understand. All staying here, I presume?"
25


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
I took a look at him, carefully. Anthony, I ob-
served, was following my example.
We saw a man of soldierly bearing, dark hair,
closely cut to the head, a small moustache neatly
trimmed, two steady blue eyes, and an alert and
thoroughly business-like manner that completed a
make-up which I was convinced belonged to one who
would make no mean opponent for the cleverest
criminal.
"Is the body exactly as found?"
"Exactly," replied Sir Charles.
"Who found him?"
"The housemaid. Marshall, by name."
"Time?"
"About half-past seven, I should say. You will
see her?"
"Shortly."
"Room as it was?"
"Entirely. Nothing has been touched. We were
most careful," said Sir Charles. "Mr. Bathurst
here," he smiled, "was most insistent on that
point."
"Really! Very good of him."
He turned and flung a quick glance in Anthony's
direction.
"Thank you," smiled back Anthony. "I'm
rather interested in this sort of situation."
"Yes. A lot of people are till they find one.
Roper, get those photographs and I'll get to work."
Roper, with camera, did his work quickly and
quietly. Baddeley went through Prescott's pockets.
26


IN THE BILLIARD ROOM
"Absolutely empty, gentlemen. He's fully
dressed, too."
"Not quite, Inspector," said Anthony. "Look at
his shoes!"
"Good Lord! Fully, but not properly, eh?
Tut—tut—extraordinary." His eyes brightened.
"And a lace missing—why, oh why, oh why?"
And then authoritatively —
"Sir Charles, none of your guests must leave this
morning, till I have seen any of them I consider it
necessary to."
"As you wish, Inspector. Tell them all, Jack."
Jack Considine slipped out.
"Got all you want, Roper?" Baddeley strode
across to the window.
"Not been touched—eh?" He bent forward
—eager—attentive; then leaned out across the win-
dow sill. Then I think he sniffed and rubbed his
hands together.
"We're progressing, Mr. Bathurst. Don't you
think so?"
Anthony joined him and I could see he was
puzzled.
"You can get on now, Dr. Elliott," declared
Baddeley. "I want to have a look outside. Come
along, Roper." They went out.
Sir Charles heaved a sigh of relief.
"Most distressing!" he said. "When he was
looking at me I felt like a murderer myself. I think
we'll leave Dr. Elliott to his job for a few minutes
and go and dress decently."
27


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
Anthony lingered for a moment or two, then fol-
lowed us out.
Within a short time he joined me in my bedroom.
Like me, he had taken the opportunity to shave and
dress.
"Sit on the bed, Holmes," I said, " the tobacco is
not in the Persian slipper, but the cigarettes are on
the dressing-table."
He took one.
"Bill," he said, " I'm worried. This is a beastly
business."
"No clues?" I said.
"On the contrary, too many! I can see too much
light. It's part of me to distrust the too-glaringly
obvious."
"Dashed if I follow you. Tell me of these clues
that have hit you so forcibly."
"Listen then. We have the following indispu-
table facts:
"(i) Prescott is found dead in the billiard room
—stabbed with a weapon with which you all appear
to be familiar.
"(2) There is evidence of a struggle.
"(3) The window of the room is wide open—
distinctly suggesting the entrance of an outsider—or
possibly the exit.
"(4) This is most important—he is fully dressed
with the exception of the shoes—one of which is
minus a lace. And there is mud on those shoes.
"(5) His pockets are empty—pointing to rob-
bery.
28


IN THE BILLIARD ROOM
"(6) He was murdered between twelve o'clock
and five o'clock—approximately. We shall learn
more from the doctor as to that." He paused.
"All very significant. And I have three other clues
at the moment which exercise me considerably.
Two in what I will term 'Group A' and one in
'Group B.' That is to say—they don't exactly fit."
He blew a smoke-ring and shook his head.
"What are they? " I queried excitedly.
He grinned. "I'm holding 'em for the time be-
ing, old son. Don't be in such a hurry. All good
Watsons have patience as their longest suit."
"I can't see any motive," I complained.
"Find that, Bill, and you'll be two-thirds of the
way to the solution. In a few minutes I'm going to
have a good look round. I'm going with Baddeley
when he comes back from the garden."
"Where to?" I asked. "Where will he go
then?"
"Well, if he's got any sense—and I'm confident
he has—to Prescott's bedroom."
I nodded my head wisely.
"To see any"
Sir Charles's voice outside, broke in upon us with-
out ceremony.
"Dr. Elliott wants us all in the billiard room,"
he called. "All those of us who were there before."
We accompanied him downstairs.
Dr. Elliott seemed to be bursting with impor-
tance.
"Tell Inspector Baddeley at once—please," he
29


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
cried. "Sir Charles, will you please arrange for
Baddeley"
"I have already done so, Doctor," rejoined our
host.
We waited, expectant. What had the doctor to
tell us that we didn't know?
Baddeley entered—Roper following.
"Well, Doctor, what's the excitement? There's
something very interesting outside. The more I see
of this case—the more it"
"Sir Charles—Inspector—I have carefully ex-
amined the body of this poor young fellow "—he
paused dramatically—it was his moment—" and I
find that he died not from a stab as we all presumed
and supposed, but from asphyxiation!
"Gentlemen, he was strangled by something tied
tightly round his throat! Look at the peculiar color
of his face—look at his tongue!"


CHAPTER III
MR. BATHURST AND THE BED-CLOTHES
"What!" snapped Baddeley. "Strangled?
Strangled with what?"
"I can't say exactly," replied the doctor.
"Look at this mark "—he pointed decisively—" it
runs right round his throat. The thing has been
tightened at the back of the neck. String! Tape!
Anything that would bear the strain. Look at the
mark on the flesh." We looked. The impressions
were certainly vivid. They had been hidden from
us, partly by reason of the dress collar, and partly
by the position of the body.
"But where is the tape?" muttered Baddeley.
"Rather, Inspector," cut in Anthony, "ask your
question in a slightly different form."
"What do you mean?"
"Say—Where is the shoe-lace?"
"By Moses—but you're on the spot, Mr. Bath-
urst." He turned with the utmost excitement.
"That's why the lace is missing! I must see every-
body, Sir Charles, I really must."
Anthony leaned over and looked up the dead
man's sleeves, with a curious, quizzical expression.
Baddeley regarded him playfully..
"I've no doubt somebody in the house has got
31


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
something up his sleeve, Mr. Bathurst, but I don't
think it can be this poor fellow." Anthony smiled
back. "He has a handkerchief—Inspector!"
The Inspector then delivered a question that was
surprising.
I confess it startled me.
"Can any of you tell me reasonably accurately,
what time it started raining here last evening?"
"I can," I answered. "The rain started about
ten minutes to seven."
"And ceased—when? " he followed up.
"It was not raining," I said, "at a quarter to
twelve."
"How do you know? Were you out?"
"No, Inspector," I replied. "I happened to look
out into the garden about that time and the stars
were shining—that's all."
"H'm! Sure of your time?"
"Quite."
"Now, gentlemen," Baddeley turned to us all
with a gesture that contained a certain amount of
defiance and, at the same time, the fleeting hint of
an apology—and he seemed to gain from it an added
sense of dignity—" I need your help. And because
I need it—I'm going to ask for it."
"Ask on," said Anthony. "I'm your man."
"Well, I feel like this, Sir Charles and gentlemen,
this isn't an ordinary case. Can any of you; you,
Sir Charles, Mr. Bathurst, Mr. Cunningham—or
you, gentlemen"—he turned towards Arkwright
and Jack—" tell me of anything you know that puts
32


MR. BATHURST AND THE BED-CLOTHES
upon our immediate right and left was the dressing-
table and a chair respectively.
With its head to the left-hand wall, as we entered,
stood the bed—that is to say, almost in the far left-
hand corner of the room. A door opposite to us
opened on to the bathroom that I have previously
described. In the far right-hand corner stood a
large Sheraton wardrobe.
"Well, he went to bed last night, did Mr. Pres-
cott," said Baddeley. "That's pretty clear at any
rate. And he got up in a hurry!"
The bed certainly showed signs of recent occupa-
tion. All the normal and ordinary signs of a person
having slept there were clearly and distinctly indi-
cated, the bed-clothes being in disarray and lying
trailingly on the floor between the bed and the door
of our entrance.
The Inspector was quickly at work.
He crossed to the dressing-table and examined it
carefully. He then came back to the bed, lifted the
pillows, and peered inquisitively beneath.
"Strange "I heard him mutter. I turned to
Anthony who was standing with his eyes fixed in-
tently on the bed. He seemed to be following an
acute train of thought.
"Sir Charles," broke in Baddeley. "There's one
thing that every man has to a degree, and yet this
young fellow Prescott appears to have been entirely
without—unless he'd been systematically robbed."
Sir Charles lifted his eyebrows. "Yes?" he
queried.
35


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"Money—cash—whatever you call it. How do
you account for this? He has no money in his
pockets, he has no note-case in his pockets. His
pockets are all beautifully empty. I say to
myself he dressed in a hurry—I shall find his
money in his bedroom. Either on the dressing-table
or under his pillow. People have different places of
putting their cash you know, gentlemen. But I don't
find it! And it puzzles me!"
"It's certainly very strange, Inspector," said
Anthony. "But there may be the possibility that
his small change had run out, and that he has put
a note-case into another jacket. Let's try the ward-
robe."
Baddeley did so. Two more coats hung there.
His deft fingers quickly ran over them. "Nothing
there," he declared.
Anthony thought again. "Try the drawers of
the dressing-table."
Baddeley opened the right-hand drawer. Ties,
collars, a handkerchief or two. He tried the left.
"Ah!"
He held a wallet—leather—the kind of wallet
that is in popular use. He opened it.
"Stamps—and private papers—no money—not
a note there—I'll run through these papers later,"
he said. "But not a cent."
"Is it robbery, Inspector?" questioned Sir
Charles. "Appearances, at least, seem to me to be
pointing in that direction."
Baddeley shook his head. "Up to now, sir," he
36


MR. BATHURST AND THE BED-CLOTHES
declared—" it's got me beat! I find out one thing
and seem to see a little light, and then I chance on
something else, equally important on the face of it,
that knocks my first theory into a cocked hat. Noth-
ing fits! Nothing tallies!"
"I confess that to some extent, I share your be-
wilderment, Inspector," said Anthony. "If I
knew"
Baddeley suddenly became vividly alive. "Of
course—there may be that explanation." He swung
round on to the three of us. "Any cards last
night?"
"Yes," I replied. "Why?"
"Never mind "—impatiently—" Prescott play-
ing?"
"Yes."
Anthony became all interest. "I see your drift,
Inspector."
Baddeley grinned. "Qualifying for a mental hos-
pital—I've been—haven't I?
"Now, Mr. Cunningham," he turned to me—
"you say you saw Prescott playing—I'll tell you
something more—you saw him lose and lose, now
didn't you? He was cleaned out of all he had,
wasn't he?" he brought his fist down on the
dressing-table triumphantly—" he lost the lot?"
Anthony's eyes held me inquiringly.
"Yes, Bill?" he murmured. "What about it?"
For a brief moment I felt majestic. I had a
curious sense of power. "This is my grand
minute," I whispered to myself.
37


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
Taking a cigarette from my case, I tapped it on
the lid with a becoming delicacy.
"On the contrary, Baddeley," I weighed my
words with a meticulous distinctness. "On the con-
trary—Prescott won! Systematically, consistently,
and heavily."
Baddeley stared as though unable to believe the
words. Anthony let out a low whistle.
"Frightfully sorry to upset your pet theories,"
I continued airily—" but I know that for an abso-
lute certainty."
"How?" snapped Baddeley. "Were you play-
ing with him?"
"No," I replied. "I was watching."
"And onlookers see most of the game, Inspec-
tor," said Anthony.
"Who was playing? " insisted Baddeley.
"Almost everybody—except Mr. Bathurst, Mr.
Jack Considine and myself."
He scratched his chin, reflectively.
Then came the question that I was half-expecting.
"Anybody in particular lose more than most?"
I hesitated before replying, and I sensed that he
detected the hesitation.
I crossed the Rubicon! "I think Lieutenant
Barker was the heaviest loser, but he would, doubt-
less, let you have that information. Surely, you
don't imagine"
"That's all right, Bill," said Anthony. "The
Inspector can easily satisfy himself."
I made a mental note to tell Anthony as soon as
38


MR. BATHURST AND THE BED-CLOTHES
the coast was reasonably clear of the Barker I. 0. U.
That had certainly not come to light.
"Any idea who was the last person to be with
Prescott, last night? " asked Baddeley.
I reflected. After all, it was best to be candid
with this man.
"I can't answer that for certain," I said, "but
I can tell you this. I went to bed about a quarter
to twelve, and on my way I saw Prescott in conver-
sation with Lieutenant Barker."
"Where?"
"At the foot of the staircase."
"Anything in the nature of a quarrel?"
"No," I answered with rapid decision, " the con-
versation as far as I could gather was just ordinary
conversation. Naturally, I didn't listen to what
they were talking about."
"H'm, I suppose not."
Baddeley sat on the chair and put his head in his
hands. "As soon as I've looked round," he ob-
served, "I shall have to interview everybody."
Anthony strolled across the room, round to the
left-hand side of the bed.
"Not much room here, Inspector," he said.
"Hardly enough space for a fellow to dress—eh?"
Baddeley looked up from his reflections, distinctly
unimpressed.
"He would find plenty of room to dress the other
side, Mr. Bathurst—there's every indication of it."
He indicated the appointments.
"You think so," replied Anthony. "So do I.
39


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
And unless I receive an unexpected set-back I really
believe things are moving."
I was frankly amazed. I turned over all that I
had heard, all that I had seen and as I pondered
over them, I couldn't for the life of me see how the
slightest light could possibly have come to him.
"I presume, Inspector, you will see the people
within a little while, eh? " he inquired.
"That is my intention, Mr. Bathurst. Why do
you ask?"
"Well, I'm going to have a little tour outside, if
it's all the same to you, and Bill Cunningham's com-
ing with me. Let's hear from you when you're
ready and waiting. Come along, Bill."
He walked out, down the stairs, through the hall
and into the garden.
Anthony took out his pipe and filled it.
"Before I do anything more, Bill," he said
slowly, "I'm going to sit on this seat and smoke
this good tobacco—and you can do likewise."
"Good!" I uttered. "Tell me what you think."
"No "—shaking his head—" I can't do that, just
yet. For Baddeley will be well on with his work of
cross-questioning before very long, and there are
some things I wouldn't tell my mother—just yet."
"Please yourself," I grunted. "But what
puzzles me," I said, "is the scene of the crime as
the journalists say. What took Prescott to the
billiard room?"
"There are three reasonable solutions to that,"
puffing at his pipe, "one—an assignation, two—he
40


MR. BATHURST AND THE BED-CLOTHES
was called, drawn, or attracted there by something
he saw, heard—or perhaps was afraid of happening
—and three—he was taken there."
"By force?" I interrupted.
"Perhaps. There were, if you remember, certain
signs of a struggle."
"The fact that he was fully dressed," I countered,
"suggests to me very strongly that there was an
assignation."
"Yes, I concede that, Bill, but against that, you
know, I must recall to you the brown shoes he was
wearing."
"Perhaps his dress shoes weren't handy," I
argued. "The others may have been nearer to his
hand."
"No. I can't have it, Bill, his dress shoes were
under his chair by the bed—just where he put them
when he took them off last night. You see, I looked
for them."
"Oh," I said, rather nettled. "You evidently
thought them important." .
"Most assuredly," he rejoined. "But not so
important as the other thing Prescott's bedroom
told us." He rose and stretched his arms.
"Yes," I assented. "That money business of
Baddeley's is very mystifying. And yet there may
be a perfectly simple explanation."
"Of course," said Anthony. "But I wasn't
thinking of that."
"What do you mean? " I broke in. "What else
was there?"
■
41


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"My dear Bill," came the reply, " I want you to
come with me now and have a look at the ground
immediately below the billiard room window."
"Yes, but—that bedroom—what else did
you?"
"What else did I notice? Let me see, now.
What was it? Oh—I found much food for thought,
my dear Bill, in the somewhat peculiar disposition
of the bed-clothes."
4*


UNDER THE BILLIARD ROOM WINDOW
"In a double sense," I grinned.
"Eh? Oh—I see "he laughed. "I wasn't
thinking of what I had said. But do look. Here
we have a distinct set of tracks that are undoubtedly
Prescott's, side by side with a similar set, undoubt-
edly again Prescott's, leading in the reverse direc-
tion. The left-hand set, as we face the window,
lead to the path, and the right-hand set lead to the
window. Agree?"
I looked attentively at the footmarks. ".Yes. It
would seem so."
"Right," he rejoined. "Then—proceeding
along that line of argument—since Prescott even-
tually reached the billiard room and stayed there, the
tracks leading to the path should have been made
first. That's elementary, isn't it?"
Once again I assented.
"Now," continued Anthony, " cast your weather-
eye over there."
He pointed to a few feet away from the tracks we
had agreed were Prescott's.
I stared and started in surprise.
"More!" I cried.
"True, O King," said Anthony, rubbing his hands
with real showman instinct, "and whose are they?
Come and look closer." They belonged to a much
smaller foot.
"A woman?" I queried.
Anthony shook his head in disagreement. "I
think not. Might be. But it's broad for a woman,
not suggestive of a woman's heel, and more gen-
45


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
erally indicative of a medium-sized man. He has
walked deliberately towards the window from the
path and then equally deliberately back again.
That's another point I'm basing my opinion on, a
woman so often picks her way, especially with any
mud about. Put it down to feminine fastidious-
ness."
"Then Prescott did have an assignation?" I
ventured.
"Perhaps! It certainly looks like it. But"
"But what?"
"Well, there's nothing to prove that the two
people that have been here were here at the same
time, is there? Of course, I'm willing to admit that
in circumstances of this kind, the balance of prob-
ability is that they were. But one never knows. I
wonder what Baddeley"
"What do you really think about it?" I urged.
His answer amazed me rather.
"Too much!"
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I say. I am actually thinking too
much about a number of points. There are too
many clues here, Bill, falling over one another. No
wonder Baddeley's mystified. My job is to separate
the true significances from the false. That's real
detective talent, Bill. In this case, there is so much
that conflicts. One set of facts, for example, points
to the North, and another set, apparently just as
authentic, points unerringly to the South. There-
fore, they can't, all of them, be authentic! See?
46


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
I nodded sagely, yet still uncomprehending; then
burned my boats.
"Down the stairs and out of the window!"
"You think so? Let's investigate. I suppose
that window, Bill, is roughly fifteen feet from the
ground—eh?"
I assented. "An easy job," I interjected, "for
an active man!"
"And when he wanted to get back," replied An-
thony, " a moderately easy climb. He could use the
water-pipe," he indicated with his hand the water-
pipe running down the wall on the right of the
window—" for a hold with his right hand, could dig
his toes in the brickwork; clutch the window-sill with
his left hand and easily draw his body up. Agree,
Bill?"
"Absolutely," I concurred. "If you like, I'll try
it here and now, to prove it's a practicable possibil-
ity."
"Done with you, Bill. You're a stout fellow!
Up you go!"
I suited the action to the words. Reaching out
with my right hand I gripped the water-pipe well up
its length, pulled myself up a bit, kicked at the brick-
work With my toes, got a momentary hold, hung for
a second, shot up my left hand to clutch the window-
sill, succeeded, and hauled myself up. Entrance to
the billiard room would have been a comparatively
simple matter.
"Satisfied?" I grinned. Then, dropped to the
ground again.
-
48


UNDER THE BILLIARD ROOM WINDOW
"Completely! So that, friend Bill, is the method
by which the now defunct Prescott, poor fellow, got
out and got back? Eh?"
"That's about the size of it," I agreed, feeling a
sense of triumph. "We've established that pretty
firmly."
Then I woke up.
"I disagree!" said Anthony curtly.
"You disagree? " I muttered in amazement.
"I do! And I'll show you why. I warned you
to get that grey matter of yours to work—didn't I?
Pay attention to what I am going to demonstrate."
"Go ahead!"
"I'm going. Now, Bill, which would be the
easier way to get out of the room? To get out,
using the reverse method by which you got up—that
is to say—leaning out for a grip of the water-pipe
with one hand, and then all the rest of the move-
ments, or as you said, a simple drop from the
window-sill?"
"A simple drop, unquestionably," I answered,
without any hesitation.
"I think so, too! Where then," he swung round
on me, alive with interest, " are the heavy marks of
his feet when he dropped? The ground is soft, re-
member. And he was a pretty hefty fellow.
There's no sign of a drop at all—only this double
line of tracks. Look!"
It was as he showed. There were no indications
whatever of anybody having dropped from the
window.
49


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
I stared at him, for the moment nonplussed.
Then turning, caught his eye. I could see that there
was more to come.
It came!" Also, Bill, I would call your atten-
tion to two very important facts. Important, that
is, in relation to the line of investigation that we
are at present conducting. Look at the toes of your
shoes."
I did as directed.
"Slightly scraped," I said ruefully, "getting up
to that window of yours."
"Exactly, laddie. Exactly. Now for important
fact number two."
"I'm all attention."
"Well, just as the wall has had its effect on your
shoes, so have your shoes had their effect on the
wall. See?"
He pointed to the brickwork. It was quite true.
My shoes had made a perceptible discoloration
where they had rubbed as I had struggled for my
foot-grip.
"And what is more, Bill," continued Anthony,
"it's comparatively dry now. Last night was wet,
remember. And it may interest you to know that
the wall was perfectly clean when I arrived here
just now, and Prescott's shoes are certainly not
scraped."
"Sure? " I queried.
"I am. I'm carrying a mental photograph of
Prescott about with me, and you can take it from
me, Bill, that Prescott never did the climbing trick
SO


UNDER THE BILLIARD ROOM WINDOW
that you've done this morning. Now where are
we?"
"Ask me another," I grunted. "I should think,
more in the dark than ever."
But Anthony dissented.
"I'm not so sure of that. I'm beginning to see
a little more light."
I surveyed him with astonishment.
"What on earth"
"I'm still holding on, Bill, so don't worry me.
Come along here, we'll do a little more prospecting."
We strolled back along the path that led back to
the French doors.
"No indication here of which way either of them
went," remarked Anthony. "This gravel path
hardly takes a foot's impression, which, at the best,
would be hours old by now."
He stopped by the French doors. "Yes, Bill,
I'm in the dark still with regard to many points. As
I said to you previously, there are so many things
that don't fit, they seem extraneous to the real core
of the crime—all the same, at the risk of becoming
monotonous, I think I can see a glimmer of light."
"What's your next move? " I questioned.
"I want to have another look around Prescott's
bedroom. I should also like to glance at his papers
—but Baddeley pouched those—his check-book
might be interesting too. Yes, I must have another
look up there."
"How are you going to manage it?"
"This way. I'm going to ask Sir Charles to
51


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
cover me by engaging me, so to speak, to clear up the
affair on his behalf. You know what I mean. Ter-
rible disgrace to Considine Manor, and all that, to
have this mystery unsolved. Poor young fellow
done to death, in a charming English country house,
where he is staying as a guest. Must get to the
bottom of it for the sake of the family name, you
know. Otherwise, if Scout Baddeley finds me pok-
ing about too much in bedrooms and around foot-
prints, he'll take the bull by the horns and arrest
A. L. Bathurst, Esq. Get me, Bill?"
Truth to tell, it did seem pretty terrible to
think that a delightful place like Considine Manor
could harbor the crime it did. It was another
English summer morning after the rain of the night
before. It seemed to breathe freshness, and grass,
and new-mown hay, and butterflies and cricket—all
that pageant of hot July that no other country in
the world can give.
"What about Canterbury? " I ejaculated.
"Giving it a miss! I can't very well rush off and
bury myself in a round of gaiety after what's hap-
pened here. Besides, I shouldn't be surprised if
Baddeley has something chatty and snappy to say
about any of us leaving yet awhile at any rate."
"Have you let them know?"
"No, I'll wire later. Let's get back now, and I'll
see Sir Charles."
We strolled back, and the reflection came to me
how suddenly our immediate outlooks had changed.
A few hours ago Anthony had the prospect of a
52


JJNDER THE BILLIARD ROOM WINDOW
glorious week at Canterbury. Similarly, I had been
anticipating a delightful time in various delightful
places—an English country house takes a bit of
beating during real summer—and now! Look at it
how you would—this sinister affair inevitably im-
pinged in some way on the lives of all of us who
were staying in the house. I, for one, try as I might,
could not shake off its shadow.
Sir Charles met us as we entered the house, a
changed man from the morning before.
"I wanted a word with you two men. I'm per-
fectly assured that you will understand—it's nothing
really to do with me, or anything—er—over which
I appear to be able to exercise any control—but In-
spector Baddeley has intimated to me—I must say,
that, for a policeman, he put the matter very, very
tactfully—I might even go so far as to say—deli-
cately—that he wishes to interview all of us in the
house, as soon as possible. I suggested we resort to
the library."
"That's all right, sir," responded Anthony. "Is
he waiting now?"
Sir Charles looked at his watch. "I have made
arrangements for the proceedings to—er—com-
mence in half an hour's time."
"Could I have half a word with you, sir? " asked
Anthony.
"Delighted, Bathurst."
"I've always been attracted by affairs of this
nature, sir, little thinking that one day I should be
swept into one. Would you be good enough to give
S3


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
me carte blanche as it were, to do a little investigat-
ing off my own bat? With your authority, you see,
acting in a private capacity as your agent, I can sat-
isfy Inspector Baddeley of my bona fides if he
catches me nosing into things." Sir Charles pon-
dered for a moment, and I fancied his reply came
after some degree of hesitation.
"I see no objection, Bathurst. Provided, of
course, that any—er—results of your inquiry—are
submitted to me before any action is taken."
"I'll promise you that, sir—readily!"
"Very well."
"Then we'll regard that as settled."
"This will entail your staying on here," continued
our host. "I've discussed the question with nearly
all the others, and I've put it to them, subject to the
Inspector's permission being granted that they leave
as quietly as possible to suit their several conve-
niences. After the interview, of course. No good
purpose whatever can be served by any of them
staying, and no lack of respect will be shown by them
to the dead, if they leave in the manner that I have
described. If any one of them should be required
for the inquest—I am sorely afraid that an inquest
is unavoidable—Inspector Baddeley will be fur-
nished with full particulars. This will enable the
authorities to get into touch quickly, should it be
necessary."
"What about Prescott's people, sir? " I ventured.
"He has no father, Bill, and is the only child of
his mother. Jack is communicating with her, I be-
54


UNDER THE BILLIARD ROOM WINDOW
lieve, almost at once. Somewhere in Blackheath, I
fancy. I dread the task of meeting her. Still more
I dread the task of telling her." He blew his nose
fiercely to cover his evident agitation.
The other members of the party came thronging
up. But a hush seemed to have descended upon
them. The conviviality of last night and the excite-
ment of the morning's awakening had departed.
They had heard, indistinctly yet definitely, the flutter
of the wings of the Angel of Death. He had passed
them by, but he had been very close to them. And
now what awaited them? Grief to the young is a
transient matter. It soon becomes impossible—
youth's ardent eagerness engulfs it. It must be so.
Grief can find no permanent habitation in the heart
of youth. Lady Considine thought of Mrs. Pres-
cott, and the news that would so soon reach her.
One mother considered the anguish of another
mother. Mary seemed terribly shaken, most of the
men looked unperturbed; no matter what their feel-
ings were, they were clever enough to mask them.
The servants did most of their work on a kind of
mental tiptoe. We waited. But not for long.
A quick step and a quick voice sounded upon our
ears.
"I am at your service, ladies and gentlemen," said
Inspector Baddeley.
55


CHAPTER V
THE METHODS OF INSPECTOR BADDELEY
"I don't suppose this is going to be a very pleas-
ant job for the ladies, Sir Charles, and you can rest
assured that as far as lies in my power, I'll make it
as smooth and easy as possible. So I propose,
with your approval, to talk to you gentlemen first.
I should prefer to see my clients separately, and, as
was your suggestion, I think the library will serve
the purpose very nicely."
He turned to Roper.
"You come with me, Roper. I may want you."
Sir Charles Considine coughed—then, very quietly
but nevertheless very determinedly—interposed.
"That seems to me a trifle one-sided as a proposi-
tion, Inspector. You have support, physical, moral,
and also no doubt intellectual," he smiled somewhat
whimsically at Roper—" and we, all of us, are, to an
extent, shaken by the terrible event that has befallen
my house, and, therefore, as a consequence are
neither so self-controlled nor so mentally alert as
normally. We appear before you to be questioned
and cross-examined. I don't think I should be ask-
ing an unwarranted favor if I suggested that you
allow, say, two members of my circle to be present
while you conduct your examination. H'm? What
do you say, Inspector?"
56


METHODS OF INSPECTOR BADDELEY
Baddeley met his gaze for a moment, as though
making an attempt to fathom his real intentions.
Then with a laugh and a shrug of his eminently
business-like shoulders, gestured his consent.
"Choose your men. On the condition that I see
the three of you first."
"Thank you, Inspector. Believe me, I appreciate
your courtesy. I should like Mr. Cunningham and
Mr. Bathurst to—er—urn—assist you in your in-
tended investigations."
"As you wish, sir, and thank you. Now, with
your permission, you three gentlemen will do me
the goodness to accompany me to the library, and
we will do our united best to see if we can't, by hook
or by crook, throw some light on this unfortunate
affair. And you, Roper! I've been lucky enough
to unravel some pretty ticklish problems in my time,
some by good luck, some, if I may say so, gentlemen,
with pardonable pride, by intelligent application to
the matter in hand. And I hope," he turned on us
all decisively, " to hunt the truth out, here."
We entered the library. Our host motioned us
to our seats. Baddeley took the armchair at the
head of the table investing himself as far as he could
with an atmosphere of the inquisitorial. Roper took
the chair on his left. Sir Charles placed himself in
front of the fireplace, while Anthony and I took
chairs at the side of the table.
The Inspector was soon in his stride.
"Now, Sir Charles, this Mr. Prescott, whose
death we all deplore, was a guest of yours?"
57.


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"Yes. For my cricket week."
"Known him long?"
"No. It would help you materially, if I informed
you of the circumstances of the acquaintanceship.
Prescott was at Oxford with my son and Mr. Cun-
ningham here, and we met him at Lords' during the
last 'Varsity Match—just a month ago. We invited
him here for our annual week."
The Inspector was impressed. "Is he G. O. L.
Prescott then—that played for Oxford against Cam-
bridge?"
"He is, Inspector! And there's one more fact
that I had omitted to mention, he had met my
daughter, Mary, some months previously."
"Where?" Baddeley's face betrayed keen inter-
est.
"At Twickenham, in December." i
"You have no reason to suspect, Sir Charles, that'
any developments had transpired from these meet-
ings?"
"None whatever. As far as my knowledge goes,
Mr. Prescott and my daughter entertained no feel-
ings for each other, beyond those of mere friend-
ship."
"I see." Baddeley fingered his chin. "You've
seen nothing during his stay here, that you consider
might have any bearing upon his death? Nothing
—however seemingly unimportant? Think, Sir
Charles!"
The old man shook his head. "No, Inspector.
I've noticed nothing at all unusual, nothing that
58


METHODS OF INSPECTOR BADDELEY
could possibly touch his death. The scene this morn-
ing came as a terrible shock to me. And as terrible
by reason of its utter unexpectedness as by reason
of its horror."
"How much money did Prescott lose last night,
Sir Charles?"
"Really, I've no idea! But nothing worth worry-
ing about—you can set your mind easy on that point.
I shouldn't allow it—in Considine Manor."
The Inspector raised his eyebrows.
"Then, in light of your answer, you may be sur-
prised to know that there was some pretty high play-
ing at Considine Manor last night."
The eyes of our host flashed with his reply.
"Very surprised and exceedingly annoyed. Had I
known, had I had the slightest inkling—you are
certain of what you are stating—pardon me?"
"I make that statement, Sir Charles, on unim-
peachable authority."
"Dear, dear! This news disturbs me profoundly."
The old man's appearance confirmed the truth of
this last statement. This unexpected revelation, fol-
lowing upon the shock of the murder, had made its
mark upon his countenance. He huddled himself
into a chair. Then braced himself to ask another
question.
"Was Prescott playing high?"
"He was, Sir Charles." Baddeley's features re-
laxed for a fleeting moment into a smile—" and
incidentally, he won a considerable sum of money."
"Whom from?"
59


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"That you shall hear, sir, during the course of
this morning's inquiry."
Sir Charles subsided again, by no means so sure of
himself as he had been. I could not help whispering
to Anthony as he lounged in his chair with his long
legs extended—" First blood to the Inspector."
He grinned, and as he did so Baddeley's next
question came.
"Now you, Mr. Bathurst. A guest here, also?"
"Yes."
"Like Mr. Prescott?"
"Didn't know him sufficiently to express an
opinion."
Baddeley evinced his annoyance. "I didn't mean
did you like him, Mr. Bathurst, what I meant to say
was, were you a guest of Sir Charles under similar
circumstances?"
"Sorry! I misunderstood you. No—not exactly.
My invitation is only a day or two old."
"Did you know the murdered man?"
"No, I did not. That is to say at all well. I've
run against him at Oxford."
"Did you see anything while you were here, or
did you hear anything during the night that you
think worthy of mentioning to me?"
"Nothing at all, Inspector."
"You were not playing cards, last evening?"
"No, after dinner when the cards started I
strolled into the garden with Mr. Jack Considine.
We were there about twenty minutes. Then we went
to bed—and like everybody else were awakened by
60


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"I left him in conversation with Lieutenant
Barker."
"And of course you heard nothing during the
night?n
"I'm afraid not."
"Bill," interjected Anthony. "Tell me this.
When Jack and I went into the garden for a smoke,
was everybody in the drawing-room? Think care-
fully."
I considered for a moment—then replied with de-
cision—" Yes—everybody."
"You didn't see anybody leave it?" he reiterated.
"To the best of my belief," I asserted, "every-
body save you and Jack was in the drawing-room."
"Right."
Baddeley pushed across a letter.
"Have a good look at that, Mr. Cunningham."
"Yes? "I queried.
"That's a letter addressed to Mr. Prescott. I
think you may know the handwriting?"
I took the letter. It seemed an ordinary enough
letter, touching upon the fact that Prescott was
shortly visiting Considine Manor, but the portion
where the signature would have normally appeared,
had been torn off.
"Sorry, Inspector," I replied, "I don't. I can't
help you."
I handed it back to him. His glance searched my
features for a brief space then
"Try Mr. Bathurst; does he find the writing
familiar?"
62


METHODS OF INSPECTOR BADDELEY
Anthony smiled and held out his hand. He read
the writing with interest and turned the letter over
with apparent curiosity.
"Where did you find this, Inspector?"
"Sorry, Mr. Bathurst, but you mustn't expect me
to give away all my secrets. Tricks in every trade,
you know." He laughed lightly. "As you were
good enough to remark just now—all in good time.
Let's come to the point, the handwriting—recognize
it?"
"I've never seen it before, so I can't. But I
think, before the case is over, that I shall probably
see it again."
Baddeley flung him a challenging glance. But
Anthony's eyes met his and never for an instant
wavered. Then they both smiled.
"Try Sir Charles Considine," countered Anthony.
"He might know it, though I don't fancy so."
Sir Charles straightened himself in his chair. He
extended his hand. "Let me look, Baddeley, though
why Mr. Bathurst is so confident that—no, no,"
shaking his head in dissent, "to the best of my
knowledge and belief, this writing is new and there-
fore strange to me. What's the date—my eyes
aren't as good as they were?"
"July 22nd," responded Anthony, with the ut-
most readiness, from the other side of the table.
I fancied that the Inspector threw him an approv-
ing glance, but I remembered his uncanny memory
for dates, and their associations. He had seen the
letter and had mastered its detail—that was all.
63


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
Baddeley gave the letter to Roper. "Keep that
handy," he muttered, "we haven't exhausted all the
possibilities." Then to Sir Charles: " I should like
to see Mr. Considine junior next, Mr. Jack Con-
sidine, is it?"
Our host bowed—" As you wish."
"Just tell him, Roper, will you? " from Baddeley
quietly.
"And as most of us have had very hasty break-
fasts, gentlemen, I'll get Fitch to bring us a little
light refreshment," chimed in Sir Charles. "We
seem destined to be here some little time." He
rang the bell, as Roper entered with Jack Considine.
Fitch followed them.
Sir Charles delivered his instructions, which were
promptly carried out.
"Mr. Considine," said the Inspector, "sorry to
trouble you—but—can you throw any light on this
business?"
He proceeded to question him on similar lines to
those he had just employed with us.
Jack told him all he knew, and I was just begin-
ning to think that it was all a business of ploughing
the sands when I was startled out of my convictions.
I had vaguely heard the question repeated for
the fourth time—" did you hear anything during the
night?" and was just as vaguely prepared for the
denial when Jack Considine gave an answer that
made us all sit up and take notice.
"Well, Inspector," he said, a little diffidently per-
haps, "now I come to think over things very care-
64


METHODS OF INSPECTOR BADDELEY
fully, I have rather a hazy recollection that I heard
something that I may describe as unusual."
"What was it?"
"I am pretty certain that I was half awakened
during the night by the sound of a door shutting.
It might have been something different, but I don't
think so. No," he continued reflectively, " the more
I try to reproduce in my ears the sound that I heard,
the more convinced I am that it was a door shut-
ting."
"Ah!" rejoined Baddeley. "Near you? Or dis-
tant?"
"That's awkward to answer. As I stated, my
awakening was only partial, it is difficult to measure
sound when one is half asleep . . . but I
should say pretty near."
"Any idea of the time?"
"None I I didn't trouble. I wondered at it in
a sleepy sort of way . . . and went to sleep
again."
Baddeley pondered for a moment.
"I understand, Mr. Bathurst, that you have been
sharing Mr. Considine's bedroom. Did you hear
anything of this?"
"No," came the reply. "I heard nothing—I was
tired and slept very soundly, as is usual with me."
The Inspector nodded.
"We may take it then," he proceeded, emphasiz-
ing his points by a succession of curious little finger-
taps on the table, "that Mr. Considine heard this
door shutting more because of his half-awake con-
65


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
dition than through any particular—er—nearness or
proximity to the place where it occurred—eh? You
grasp my point? "—turning to Sir Charles.
"You mean," interposed Anthony, " that had this
door shut very near to our bedroom, the chances are
that I should have heard it, too?"
"Exactly," answered Baddeley. "Don't you
agree with me?"
Anthony meditated for a moment. "Perhaps.
It's certainly possible—but on the other hand—per-
haps not. I might and I mightn't."
Our interrogator then came back to Considine.
"Did you hear anything after you heard this door
shut, Mr. Considine?"
"No! I simply turned over and went to sleep
again."
"Think very carefully, sir. Pardon my in-
sistence, but very often things come to us out of our
sleeping moments if we only concentrate sufficiently."
His eyes fixed Jack, and held him and once again
I caught a glance of the man's efficiency. There was
no brilliance there, no subtlety beyond ordinary
astuteness, no flashing intuition bringing in its wake
an inspired moment, but merely a species of machine-
like efficiency. I have repeated the word, I am
aware, but I can think of no other, at the moment,
that so adequately expresses the quality that I per-
ceived. I contrasted him with Anthony Bathurst.
One of the product of "the Force," hard-bitten in
the school of personal industry, bringing a well-
ordered brain to bear on the problem that confronted
66


METHODS OF INSPECTOR BADDELEY
us, the other, public school and 'Varsity all over,
with a brilliant intellect nursed by the terminology of
these institutions, treating the affair as an adventure
after his own heart. What would Baddeley have
done, I found myself wondering, with the other's op-
portunities? Where would Anthony have cleared a
passage, had he been born Baddeley? My musings
were short-lived.
"Let me have that letter again, Roper?" de-
manded the Inspector. And once again was the let-
ter produced and inspected. And once again was the
writing unrecognized; it conveyed no more to Con-
sidine than it had done to us.
Then Anthony surprised me. "Do you mind if
I take another glance at it?" he asked. "Some-
thing has just come to my mind."
Baddeley looked at him shrewdly and curiously
for a moment.
"Certainly," he agreed, and passed the letter
over.
But one look proved satisfactory.
"I'm sorry—I'm wrong," muttered Anthony, "I
can't help you."
The Inspector smiled at his apparent discomfiture.
He seemed agreeably relieved to discover that A.
L. Bathurst was human after all; and followed on to
the next stage of his investigation.
"I think that will do for the time being then,
Mr. Considine," he said. "And ask if I can see—in
order, if you please "—he referred to some notes
that he took from the pocket of his lounge jacket,
67 .


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"first Mr. Robertson, then Mr. Daventry, and then
Mr. Tennant?"
Robertson entered. He hadn't bargained for this
when he accepted the invitation to Considine Manor.
He could tell the Inspector nothing, except what
he knew concerning the cards. He could not identify
the writing of the letter.
He had known Prescott at Oxford—just casually
—that was all. He had slept soundly, only to be
awakened by Marshall's scream, as we had all been.
Daventry and Tennant, in turn followed him, only
to be similarly ignorant and similarly dismissed.
Baddeley sipped a glass of port and munched a
biscuit. Sir Charles followed suit approvingly.
"Well, what now, Inspector?" he remarked.
"We appear to have reached an impasse. What is
your opinion now?"
"Plenty of time yet, sir," came the reply. "I've
by no means exhausted my possibilities of informa-
tion yet." He referred again to his list, then looked
up—" There are three gentlemen to be seen yet,
Major Hornby, Captain Arkwright and Lieutenant
Barker, then there are three ladies, and finally some
of the servants. I'm sorry, Sir Charles,"—he
swung round in his chair and confronted him—" but
somebody in this house knows something about last
night's job—and I'm stopping on till I lay my hands
on him—or her. So ask Lieutenant Barker to step
this way."
68


CHAPTER VI
LIEUTENANT BARKER ATTEMPTS TO REMEMBER
I glanced in Anthony's direction. Evidently the
Inspector imagined that Barker knew something, or
perhaps as an alternative he fancied that he in his
turn knew something about Barker. I scanned
Anthony's face in the idea of ascertaining, if I could,
if he attached any degree of importance to the man
we were awaiting. Personally, I couldn't see Barker
as a murderer ... he was a chap whom I had
always liked, no end of a decent sort . . .
surely they didn't regard him in that light . . .
it seemed to me ridiculous . . . preposter-
ous. .
"Come in, Barker," said Sir Charles Considine
kindly. He, too, seemed to sense the hostility in the
atmosphere and appeared to be desirous of putting
the man at his ease, were such a thing possible. "In-
spector Baddeley, as you are fully aware, is conduct-
ing a little inquiry into the terrible tragedy that has
—er—overwhelmed us this morning, and would like
to feel that any information you can give him in the
matter, you will do so unhesitatingly. Understand,
m'boy?"
Barker smiled. He had one of those sunny smiles
that run, so to speak, in all directions across the
69


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
smiler's face. You know what I mean—the eyes
light up, and the whole face seems radiantly happy.
This was a blue-eyed smile, and I always think that's
the finest variety.
"Delighted, sir," he answered. "May I sit
down?"
He seated himself in the chair that Baddeley prof-
fered him. The latter leaned across the table in his
direction.
"I am relying on you, Lieutenant Barker, to be
perfectly frank with me," he said.
"Fire away, Inspector," smiled the Lieutenant.
"How many tables were playing cards last
night?"
"I really couldn't tell you, Inspector. I believe
Sir Charles Considine here was playing 'Auction'
with some of the others—Sir Charles can confirm
this if you ask him, and give you full particulars—
I really didn't pay much attention—but I was playing
'Solo ' myself with Major Hornby, Robertson and
Prescott. You've seen Robertson already, hasn't he
told you?" His teeth flashed into another disarm-
ing smile.
"And you lost money, didn't you? Con-
sistently?"
"That seems to me my business, Inspector, but
I'll be perfectly open and frank ... I did."
"Remember, Lieutenant Barker," snapped Bad-
deley, "we are investigating a murder, and a singu-
larly brutal murder at that, not the theft of two
pennyworth of tripe."
70


BARKER ATTEMPTS TO REMEMBER
"I do, Inspector," responded Barker with an al-
most affected languidity, "that was the sole reason
I answered you. Rest assured that I certainly
shouldn't have done, otherwise."
Baddeley glared. Then his experience gained the
victory over his temper.
"Do you object to telling me the amount you
lost to the dead man?"
Barker hesitated momentarily. Looked up at the
ceiling and tapped his foot on the carpet. Then,
to all appearances, came to a decision.
"I'll tell you. I suppose it's your job to nose into
things. I lost over two hundred pounds—two hun-
dred and eight, to be strictly accurate."
"Did you pay it over there and then?"
Barker flushed under his tan.
"I gave Prescott an I.O.U. for the amount," he
said very quietly.
I felt rather than saw Anthony straighten him-
self in his chair. And I was relieved to think that
Barker, having furnished the information regard-
ing the I.O.U. himself, I should be saved the un-
pleasant business of telling Anthony as I had
intended. Baddeley's voice cut into my thoughts.
It rang with expectancy.
"Now then, Lieutenant, you gave that I.O.U. to
Prescott?"
"Yes."
"What did he do with it? Do you know? Can
you remember?"
I am certain that Barker hesitated ever so slightly
71


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
over his reply, and I caught myself wondering if one
of those machines they use in France for measuring
heart-beats or something—or the time a suspected
person takes to answer pregnant questions—would
have registered and recorded this almost impercepti-
ble hesitation. The answer came, however, and per-
haps not quite what I anticipated.
"Yes! He put it into his pocket wallet."
"Certain?"
"I watched him—it meant two hundred and eight
pounds to me, did that tiny piece of paper."
"Tiny? How tiny?"
"Half an ordinary-sized envelope. I tore an en-
velope in half to write it."
"By Moses! this is important, Lieutenant Barker.
Do you realize the importance of it?"
"Possibly I do."
"I've been through Prescott's papers—I've been
through that wallet arrangement you spoke about
—that I.O.U. has vanished!"
But Barker met his almost accusing eyes—un-
flinchingly.
"How can you be positive as to that? " he urged.
"Prescott may have put it anywhere, since placing
it in the wallet—it might conceivably be in a dozen
places!"
"There is no trace of that I.O.U. in Mr. Pres-
cott's bedroom—nor among his belongings. I've
looked for it. And I can't find it. I may as well tell
you that it had a special interest for me, because I
deduced its existence, there's no harm that I can
72


BARKER ATTEMPTS TO REMEMBER
see in telling you how. I knew Prescott had won
money, several witnesses can prove that—and I knew
also that it was a good-sized sum. It was distinctly
unlikely that cash would pass for a large amount.
Therefore I suspected an I.O.U."
"I might have settled by check for all you
know," muttered Barker.
"Possible, but the chances are—no!" replied
Baddeley. "Gentlemen don't usually carry their
check-books in their dress clothes." This laconi-
cally.
"Prescott had no money anywhere, had he, In-
spector?" asked Sir Charles.
"Not a coin, sir—he was robbed as well as mur-
dered. But this is a significant fact, he was only
robbed of cash. Not of anything else."
"May I ask Lieutenant Barker a question? " from
Anthony.
Barker raised his eyebrows.
"When you gave Prescott your I.O.U. was it at
the card-table or after you rose?"
"At the card-table—directly we had finished play-
ing." The answer came promptly and abruptly.
"So that," and here Anthony spoke with extreme
deliberation, "at least two people saw it passed
over? Eh?"
"Hornby and Robertson undoubtedly," con-
tinued Barker. "There may have been others
near."
"Can you recall anybody?"
Barker reflected. "Captain Arkwright and his
73


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
wife were standing close by—Mrs. Arkwright had
just come from the piano—and I rather think her
sister was with them—I can't remember anybody
else." .
I interposed.
"I saw you give the I.O.U. to Prescott—I was
standing by the French doors."
Baddeley flashed an angry look at me.
"You didn't tell me that, Mr. Cunningham," he
remonstrated.
I " finessed." "I told you Prescott won money,"
I argued. "I couldn't think of everything on the
spur of the moment."
Anthony intervened.
"That's all right, Bill. The Inspector under-
stands that."
Baddeley, however, had not finished with Lieu-
tenant Barker.
"When you had handed your I.O.U. over, what
did you do?"
Again I imagined that I detected a certain hesita-
tion in his answer.
"I chatted for a few minutes with Prescott over
the amazing luck he had . . . then I went up-
stairs to bed."
"Prescott go with you?"
"N-no! He gave me the impression he had
something he wished to do."
"That's so," I interjected again, "I spoke to him
as I went up, and I gathered something similar."
"Then you went straight to bed?"
74


BARKER ATTEMPTS TO REMEMBER
"Yes!"
"Didn't speak to anybody after you got upstairs
to your bedroom?"
"No—yes, I did," correcting himself. "I sang
out 'good-night' to Hornby, Robertson and Cun-
ningham here. If you call that speaking to people."
"The three of them? Where were they?"
"Not exactly to them, Inspector, but as I passed
their bedroom doors. I walked down the corridor
and called out 'good-night' to them as I went.
See?"
"Why to those three?"
"Because I knew they were there. They were
the only three whom I had seen go up. Bathurst
and Jack Considine were in the garden."
Baddeley nodded in acquiescence, and accepted the
explanation.
"Did the three people answer you?" suddenly
queried Anthony.
"Lord, what a memory I'm expected to have,"
groaned Barker. "Let me think." He passed his
fingers through his hair. "I can only recall that
Major Hornby answered, with any certainty. But
that may perhaps be because I know his voice best.
I can't answer for the others."
"What do you say, Bill?" continued Anthony.
For the life of me I wondered what he could see
in a point of detail like this. I hesitated.
"Did you hear him, Bill? Did you answer him?
Is his memory correct? These little things count so
much in a case of this kind. What do you say?"
75


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
I thought very carefully. Had I any accurate re-
membrance of what Barker said he had done? Yes!
I had!
"Yes," I replied. "I heard Lieutenant Barker
go by along the corridor, and I answered him. Per-
haps he failed to hear me."
"Good," muttered Anthony. "You were occupy-
ing the last bedroom along the corridor, weren't you,
Barker, and you, Bill, the last but one?"
We nodded in agreement.
Then Baddeley cut in. "Hand the Lieutenant
that letter we found in Mr. Prescott's bedroom,
Roper," he ordered.
Lieutenant Barker took it.
"Know that handwriting?"
"Never seen it! Absolutely certain on the
point." He handed it back.
Baddeley appeared almost to have expected this
answer. Perhaps he was getting used to it by now.
He drummed on the table with his finger-tips.
"Anything more, Inspector?" asked Barker.
"For the time being, no thank you," was the an-
swer, when Anthony, who had been leaning across
the table chatting to Sir Charles, broke in.
"I'm awfully sorry to trouble you, Barker, but
I'd be eternally obliged . . . was last night the
first night that Prescott had won much?"
Barker shifted uneasily. "From me . . .
Yes!"
"That isn't quite what I asked you," continued
Anthony relentlessly.
76


BARKER ATTEMPTS TO REMEMBER
"By Moses," cried the Inspector, "this case
fairly beats the band for a lot of tight-lips."
Barker looked from one to the other. Then he
suddenly seemed to realize the value to himself of
the information that was his to give.
"The night before last," he answered a trifle ob-
stinately, perhaps sullenly is the happier word, "he
won a considerable amount from a brother officer of
mine."
"Major Hornby?"
Lieutenant Barker bowed.
Anthony turned to the Inspector. "Inspector,"
he said, "gentlemen are traditionally ' tight-lipped'
when it comes to what they regard as ' telling tales.'
I think you have misjudged Lieutenant Barker."
Barker blushed, he was the type of Englishman
that finds praise embarrassing. But Baddeley did
not take his semi-rebuke passively.
"Gentlemen do lots of funny things," he declared.
"Even to fracturing the Sixth Commandment."
"Now, I've a second question . . ." pro-
ceeded Anthony.
"You stated a few moments ago that your I.O.U.
to Prescott was half an ordinary-sized envelope.
You said you tore an envelope in half to write it.
I am not quite clear as to your exact meaning. Do
you mean that your I.O.U. was half an envelope or
half the back or front of an envelope? You get my
meaning? There's a difference if you think it over
carefully."
"I see what you mean, Bathurst. I slit an en-
77


BARKER ATTEMPTS TO REMEMBER
prosecute these inquiries . . . however much
against the grain. . . ."
Major Hornby's face remained set . . . im-
movable.
"Your apologies are unnecessary, Inspector," he
said.
"Apologies? You misunderstand me . . ."
Baddeley was floundering now, a trifle out of his
depth . . . these people were different from
those of his usual encounters ... he went
straight to his objective . . . safer, no doubt.
"We have been informed, Major," he remarked,
"that on the evening before last, you lost a large
sum of money to Mr. Prescott."
"Quite true."
"How much?"
"The amount doesn't concern you, Mr. Inspector,
that I can see."
The muscles of Baddeley's face tightened. But
despite the rebuff he stuck manfully to his guns.
"Did you pay him or . . ."
"Don't be insultin' . . ." Baddeley winced as
though he had been stung.
"You refuse to answer my question?" he re-
torted.
"On the contrary—I have answered it. I told
you not to be insultin'!"
The atmosphere had become electrical. Two or
three times Sir Charles had half-risen from his seat
in a deploring kind of manner—a venerable peace-
maker. Anthony watched with keenest interest
V
79


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
while Roper remained inscrutable, the perfect sub-
ordinate.
"I don't appreciate your attitude, Major
Hornby," insisted the Inspector, "and perhaps it
may not be extended to the consideration of this
letter "; he held his hand out to Roper, who passed
the letter across to his chief once again.
"Do you know that handwriting?" he asked in
a curt voice.
Major Hornby flung the letter on the library
table contemptuously. "I do not! It's not ad-
dressed to me, and therefore has nothing whatever
to do with me. Also, I'll wish you a very good-
morning." He left us!
"Tut, tut," commented Sir Charles. "This is
very unfortunate!"
Anthony smiled. Then burst into laughter.
"Sorry I don't possess your irresistible charm
of manner, Mr. Bathurst, nor yet your keen sense
of humor," put in Baddeley. "If all people were
like that specimen that has just departed, Justice
wouldn't often be appeased and many murderers
would survive to exult over their crimes. I'm not
sure, however, that he hasn't proved of some as-
sistance. In murder, motive must always be pursued
first. To whose benefit was the death of this man
Prescott? A burglar? Or somebody inside the
house? Which? When I can answer correctly to
those two questions, I shall be nearer a solution.
For both have possibilities." He paused. Then
turned to Sir Charles again.
.80


BARKER ATTEMPTS TO REMEMBER
"I hope Captain Arkwright will prove more rea-
sonable."
Sir Charles replied.
"My son-in-law will help you all he can . . .
for my sake."
Now Dick Arkwright was a white man. One of
the best, all the way through, and I felt assured
that whatever his father-in-law's wishes were he
would fall into line. His marriage with Helen Con-
sidine had been a love-match and it was patent to
all observers that it had brought no regrets with it.
His consideration for his wife carried with it con-
sideration for the members of her family, particu-
larly for the head thereof.
"Captain Arkwright," said Baddeley, "I have
very little to ask you, and as a consequence, I will
not detain you for more than a few moments. That
is of course assuming that you have nothing to tell
us?" He paused.
"I am sorry to think that I am unable to help
you, Inspector, by supplying any facts of impor-
tance, beyond those with which you are already ac-
quainted," Arkwright said.
"I appreciate that. Thank you. First, take a
look at that letter. Know the handwriting? No?
Thanks! Secondly, your bedroom, Captain Ark-
wright, is the nearest to the door of the billiard
room—it is on the same floor—with Sir Charles'—
did you hear any noise in the night, any sounds of
the struggle that appears to have taken place
there?"
81


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"No, Inspector! I can't honestly say that I did.
But I have a very hazy recollection that I heard
footsteps in the garden not so very long after I had
gone to bed. I can't be sure even of that—and yet
the sound of footsteps seems to belong to my last
night's sleep! Have you ever experienced anything
of the kind, gentlemen? " he appealed to all of us,—
"and I have a reason for telling you. As a matter
of fact," he continued, "the reminiscence was so
vague, so entirely nebulous, that I had decided to say
nothing about it. But something has happened to
make me change my mind."
"What is that? " demanded Baddeley.
"Mrs. Arkwright heard them too," he replied
quietly. "But she can't place the time."
Baddeley nodded his head in apparent confirma-
tion. "I'm not surprised." There was a respectful
tap on the door.
"Come in," called Sir Charles. Fitch, the butler,
entered. He went to our host. "Wants me at
once, Fitch? " muttered Sir Charles.
"If you please, Sir Charles."
"Excuse me for a few moments, gentlemen.
Lady Considine wants me immediately." Fitch held
the door open. We waited. But not for long. Sir
Charles was quickly back, agitated, breathless, but
alert.
"Inspector Baddeley," he said, "I have news for
you at last. Lady Considine has been robbed of her
pearls—the Considine pearls."
82


CHAPTER VII
LADY CONSIDINE COMPLICATES MATTERS
"I ought to tell you gentlemen, or at least those
of you to whom the Considine pearls are unknown,
that they have been in my family for several generar
tions and are of great value. My wife wears them
in the form of a necklace that she had made some
seventeen years ago. And it has been her fancy, call
it whim if you please to, to wear this necklace quite
often. The last occasion she wore it was the evening
before last—it was my birthday and it delighted her
to celebrate the affair. She informs me that she re-
placed the necklace in her jewel-case when she re-
tired that evening. I ought to mention that it goes
into a case of its own which, in turn, is placed in a
larger case. Unfortunately, she did not take the
trouble to get this second case at the time—she was
very tired. Yesterday morning she asked Coombes,
her maid, to do so for her. About half an hour ago,
it occurred to her that Prescott's death may have re-
sulted from a clash with burglars. She went to her
large jewel-case, and was amazed to discover that
the case containing the pearl necklace was not there.
Neither was it to be found—anywhere. She is ter-
ribly upset to think that her partial neglect may have
cost this poor young man his life."
83


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
Baddeley waved his hand deprecatingly.
"There is no need for Lady Considine to worry
over that, Sir Charles. None of us ever know the
result of some of our most innocent actions. But
this requires careful consideration. Coombes—this
maid of Lady Considine's—is she to be trusted?"
"As far as I can say," replied Sir Charles. "She
has been with us seven or eight years. She is des-
perately worried, Lady Considine says, and has no
definite remembrance as to whether she replaced the
necklace or not. Will you see her?"
"I will see both Lady Considine and her maid in
a few moments. But I should like to feel certain
whether I am investigating one case or two."
"Things certainly are moving, Inspector," said
Anthony. "But perhaps this latest piece of news
will help us a lot."
Lady Considine was heart-broken at her loss.
But she did her best to forget her personal loss in
the greater sorrow that had befallen others. She
was a pretty woman, and I knew that she had been
considered a beauty in her day.
"When I went to bed the night before last," she
said, "I took the necklace off and put it into its
own case, but I did not put this case into the larger
one. I was sleepy and it meant getting up and cross-
ing the room. My maid was brushing my hair. I
said, 'Coombes—put the case with the necklace
away, in the morning—never mind now. Hurry up
with my hair and I'll get to bed.'"
Sir Charles interrupted here.
84


MATTERS ARE COMPLICATED
"I understood you asked her the following morn-
ing."
"No, I asked her that night. To put the case
away in the morning."
"Did she reply? " commented Baddeley.
"She promised that she would."
"Did you remind her again the following morn-
ing? " he continued.
"Yes—first thing."
"And then what transpired?"
"Nothing. I thought no more about it. Not
seeing the case lying on my dressing-table, I natu-
rally imagined that Coombes had carried out my in-
structions."
Baddeley nodded in acquiescence. "Quite so.
And then?"
"Well, I was thinking over this dreadful business
of last night and worrying . . . and wondering
. . . when suddenly the idea of theft and bur-
glary flew to my brain . . . and as I have
just explained to Sir Charles ... I went
straight to the large jewel-case, unlocked it . .
more as a means of making sure than because I
really thought I had lost anything . . . you
know the rest. The case containing the necklace was
not there."
"Now, Lady Considine,".said the Inspector, " try
and think . . . when is your last remembrance
of seeing the missing case?"
"Yesterday morning."
"You are sure . . . quite sure?"
85


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"I am." Then turning to her husband, "I want
Inspector Baddeley to see Coombes—poor girl—
she's in a terrible way. I think she can already
visualize herself being hanged at least. But as hon-
est as the day, Inspector, so don't frighten her."
"I'll try not to, I'm sure," grunted Baddeley.
"Roper!"
The silent Roper came to life again.
"Get full particulars of this missing necklace
from Sir Charles and take the usual steps. If you
send for Coombes," to Lady Considine, "I'll see
her now."
"Enter Coombes L.U.E.," smiled Anthony. "As
innocent as the 'rathe' primrose by the river's
brim."
"Don't count chickens before the hatching stage
is completed, Mr. Bathurst. I've known crooks that
looked like choristers, and bishops that looked like
burglars."
"That comes of judging people by their looks,
• Inspector," chaffed back Anthony, "instead of by
their actions."
Coombes entered. Scared to death! She was
a tall girl, with wispy red hair and a big face. The
sense of bigness was given by the face, by a long line
of strong jaw. It was what I should have called a
"horse's face." Pythagoras would have declared
that she had transmigrated from a horse. She
opened the proceedings by bursting into loud sobbing.
"It's all my fault, Mr. Policeman," she managed
to get out between her sobs. "I'll tell the truth.
86


MATTERS ARE COMPLICATED
I promised mother when I came into service I'd
tell the truth always, so I'll tell it now, even though
I shall cop out for it—but it's all my fault and God's
own mercy that we haven't all been murdered." She
paused for breath.
"Come, come, my girl, what is all your fault?"
demanded Baddeley.
"Why, sir . . . this. ... I d-d-don't
believe I put the n-n-necklace case away at all!"
"You mean you left it lying where Lady Con-
sidine had left it?"
"Y-y-yes! I meant to put it away first thing that
morning when my Lady told me to—but something
put it out of my mind and made me forget it
. . . and I never saw it again to make me re-
member it. At least I don't think I did."
"You can't be sure of that, you know . . ."
remarked the Inspector. "Because you didn't see
it, doesn't prove it wasn't there." He turned to Sir
Charles. "Any strange characters been knocking
about lately, that you've noticed?"
"None that I've seen."
"H'm! Probably an inside job. With your per-
mission I'll step up to the bedroom in question, a
little later on, Sir Charles! Perhaps you gentlemen
would care to accompany me? I'll adjourn down
here, temporarily. All right, Coombes—you come
along with us."
We made our way upstairs—Anthony wrapped in
thought.
Lady Considine's bedroom was, as has already
87


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
been explained, on the same floor as the billiard
room. It will be remembered that the door of the
latter faced anybody ascending the stairs. Lady
Considine's room lay on the left of the landing
some twenty yards away. Between her room and
the billiard room was the bedroom occupied by Dick
and Helen Arkwright.
Baddeley entered, the rest of us following him.
"Is this the dressing-table where the case was?"
Lady Considine replied in the affirmative.
"It's near the window. Quite an easy entrance
from outside." He walked to the window and meas-
ured with his eyes the distance to the ground. "Is
the window left open during the day?"
"Quite possibly, Inspector. As you see, it's of
the casement type."
He examined it. "No signs of its having been
forced," he pronounced.
"I presume the door is open during the day?"
"It's closed, of course, but not locked, if that's
what you mean."
"I see! Most people in the house would have a
fairly reasonable opportunity of access to the room
—eh?"
"I suppose they would," admitted Sir Charles,
reluctantly. "This may sound as though we are
confoundedly careless, Inspector, but we've always
considered ourselves remote from crime. That's
the only explanation I can give."
"Surely you don't suspect anyone here . . ."
broke in Dick Arkwright. "I'm beginning to think
88


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
maid, Marshall, that discovered Mr. Prescott's body
this morning—you say she has been with you for
about three years?"
"About that time, Inspector."
"Well, I'm going to have a few words with her.
I'm not"
The door opened to admit Marshall.
She was a dark, rather pretty girl, of medium
height—I should have said of Welsh type. When
she entered, I was struck by the extreme pallor of
her face. The shock of the finding of Prescott's
body had evidently affected her considerably. Had
I not known that, I should have thought that she
was a victim of fear.
"Your name is Marshall? " opened Baddeley.
"Amy Marshall."
"You've been here some time?"
"Three years in October."
"Your daily duties, I presume, took you into the
billiard room this morning?"
Marshall shot a scared glance at him through
half closed eyes.
"I sweep and clean several rooms before break-
fast—the billiard room every morning, as it has
usually been in use the night before."
"Was the billiard room the first room you did
this morning?"
"No, sir! I had swept and polished two floors
before I went into the billiard room."
"Was the door open when you came to it?"
"No, sir, it was shut."
90


MATTERS ARE COMPLICATED
"When you got in the room—what happened?"
"Well, sir, I opened the door with my left hand,
I had my broom and things in my right, so that I
didn't catch sight of the corpse, sir, till I was well
inside the room."
"Then you saw Mr. Prescott? Eh?"
"And that awful knife "she shuddered as
the memory of the scene came home to her again.
"H'm. Was the window open?"
Her black eyes opened wide, intensifying the pal-
lor of her face.
"The window—sir?" she queried. "Let me
think." She pondered for a brief moment. "Yes,
sir," she declared. "I think so."
"Your pardon, Inspector," intervened Sir
Charles, "perhaps I can help you with regard to
that point; the window was open, I distinctly re-
member noticing it." He preened himself.
Baddeley regarded him with a mixture of approval
and amusement.
"It was open when I arrived, Sir Charles, but
I was later on the scene than you gentlemen.
"Now, Marshall," he continued, "after you saw
Mr. Prescott's body—what did you do? Did
you go and touch it at all—take hold of the dagger
—inquisitive-like—h'm?"
"Touch it!" she gasped. And then again as
though she hadn't heard him properly—" touch it?
Lord love yer"—she relapsed from her acquired
manners—" I wouldn't 'ave gorn near it for a thou-
sand quid. Touch it I"
91


MATTERS ARE COMPLICATED
as the master will tell you if you ask him! I know
my place, and what's better than that—I keep it."
Baddeley looked her straight in the eyes, but Mar-
shall never batted an eyelid.
"What Marshall says is quite true, Inspector,"
interjected Sir Charles Considine. "Her duties do
not take her into Lady Considine's room."
Baddeley accepted the situation with good grace.
He tried another tack.
"There were three chairs overturned in the bil-
liard room when you entered it. Didn't that strike
you as strange?"
"It did—when I caught sight of 'em. But the
corpse caught my eye first—you run across a corpse
on a billiard-table first thing in the morning—see
whether you notice anything else much—a corpse
seems to fill the landscape—you might say. You
don't want no ' close-up ' of it—believe me."
This was truth and truth with a vengeance, naked
and unashamed. There was no mistaking it. Mar-
shall had put the matter in plain unvarnished terms
—with all the cheap humor of her class—but her
sincerity was undoubted and it struck home. If we
had not been concerned in the investigation of a mur-
der, I think most of us would have laughed outright.
Sir Charles Considine shifted in his chair, uneasily
and disapprovingly. Anthony alone seemed com-
pletely unperturbed.
Baddeley bent across to Roper. I did not catch
all he said, but he seemed very importunate with
regard to some point or other, and I heard Roper
s
93


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
Say, " It's all right. ... I got it when you first
put me wise."
"All right then, Marshall," said the Inspector.
"You can go now; if I want you again, I'll send
for you."
Anthony leaned across the table, his forefinger ex-
tended towards the maid.
"One moment, Marshall."
"Yes, sir," she said fretfully.
"You've answered Inspector Baddeley's questions
so nicely," he continued, with a smile charming
enough to put any member of the gentler sex at her
ease—" that I'm going to ask you to answer some of
mine." His smile expanded.
Marshall eyed him doubtfully, but seemed to relax
a bit.
He scanned her face deliberately—then I saw him
hesitate as though puzzled by something. His eyes
searched her, seeking. And his glance grew more
penetrative in its quality. Something about her was
causing him a difficulty. But he threw it off.
"You had done some work this morning, before
you went to the billiard room?"
"Yes, sir."
"Would you mind telling me what work?"
"I had swept two rooms, done a bit of general
tidying-up and polished the floor of the dining-
room."
"Had you polished the dining-room floor just be-
fore you went to the billiard room?"
"Yes, sir—just before!"
94


MATTERS ARE COMPLICATED
"What with?" Anthony's voice was tense and
eager.
"Ronuk floor polish."
"By Moses!" cried Baddeley, "then it was
Ronuk."
Marshall looked the picture of amazement. She
had been led to the brink of a morass and even yet
failed to realize her imminent danger.
"You wear gloves for polishing floors?"
Anthony's tone grew sharper.
"I use a cloth . . . and wear gloves when
I'm using it. . . ." Marshall replied with a sus-
picion of sullenness.
"Then why "—cried Anthony,—" when you en-
tered the billiard room and saw Prescott's body on
the billiard-table—why did you rush straight to the
window, fling it open—and lean out over the window-
sill?"
For the space of a few seconds Marshall stared
at him in astonishment. Then she swayed slightly
and fell into a dead faint on the library floor.
95


BATHURST HAS A MEMORY FOR FACES
with the odor. When she saw Prescott's body—I
said to myself—she rushed to this window and
opened it—she leaned out—she placed her gloved
hands on the sill—why? And then, gentlemen, I was
lucky. Adhering to the wooden top of the window
frame—the part under which she had placed her
finger-tips to push up the window, was a tiny pink
fleck of Ronuk floor polish. It had come off the
glove. Now—why did she open the window?"
"Is it a crime to open a window?" The inter-
ruption came from Marshall herself. She walked
unsteadily to a chair. "I've listened to part of
what you've said. Are you going to 'ang me for
opening a window?"
"You admit you did open it, then? " urged Bad-
deley. "Why did you lie about it?"
Marshall eyed him fiercely.
"Why did you open it? " he rapped out.
"I forgot about it I What with all your questions
and all your cross-questionin' it just slipped my mind.
That was why."
"You haven't answered the Inspector's question,"
remarked Anthony. "Why did you open it?"
"For a breath of air. Seeing that corpse and
that dagger fair frightened me it did. I was struck
all of a 'eap. Thought I was goin' to faint, I did.
My first thought was air—air. So I rushed to the
window—then I screamed."
"I see," snapped Baddeley, threateningly. "You
were playing to orders—open window first, then
scream—eh? Who told you to do'that?"
97


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"What d'ye mean?" she exclaimed defiantly.
"Who told me! Nobody—I'm tellin' the truth, I
ji'
am.
"The truth," cried Baddeley incredulously.
"You aren't on speaking terms with it. Who told
you? Come on out with it. It will go all the worse
with you, if you don't."
"I can't tell you no more than what I 'ave," per-
sisted Marshall. "Seeing that corpse on the table
was as big a surprise to me as it was to you. And
what's more, you 'aven't no right to keep me 'ere."
Baddeley shrugged his shoulders.
"In a few hours' time you'll wish you'd told me
the truth, my girl," he said. "Get along now, and
don't play any tricks."
Marshall made her exit, sullen and defiant. But
she was afraid of something I felt sure.
"May I use your telephone, Sir Charles? Thank
you. I'll get on to the Superintendent to send a
couple more men up here. Marshall is worth watch-
ing."
"Very well, Inspector."
"And I won't trouble to see Mrs. Arkwright or
Miss Considine now—or the other servants. I'll
make a point of seeing them alone, later . . .
will that suit you, Sir Charles? . . . this latest
development has made a big difference. Come
along, Roper."
They bustled out. Anthony linked his arm in
mine. "We'll have a little lunch, Bill, first, and
then I'm going to smoke a pipe in the garden . . .
98


BATHURST HAS A MEMORY FOR FACES
there's something hammering at my brain that
I can't properly get hold of. ... I must be
suffering from senile decay or something. A little
good food and better drink may stimulate me. It
sometimes happens."
Lunch over, we adjourned to the garden.
"A deck-chair and a pipe, Bill—I find very use-
ful adjuncts to clear thinking."
"Has that inspiration come to you yet?" I
queried.
"No, Bill—but it will, laddie—don't you fretl"
"What's Baddeley going to do?" I asked. "Ar-
rest Marshall?"
"What for—murder?"
"Well, she seems to know something about it—
you ought to think so, you bowled her over."
"H'm—do you quite know where we are, Bill?
Let me run over things for you. Come and sit at
the feet of Gamaliel.
"Well, first of all there's the question of motive.
Find the motive, say the Big Noises and you'll find
the murderer."
"What about Lady Considine's jewels? . . ."
I broke in.
"Yes, they do complicate things a bit, don't they?
Still, they supply a motive! Prescott may have been
murdered by the thief . . . dead men tell no
tales. But there are other people with a motive
. . . there's Barker," he went on thoughtfully,
"possibly Hornby . . . these are the known
motives, what about the unknown—eh?"
99


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"The whole thing seems so damned labyrinthine
to me," I muttered.
Anthony assented. "Clear as Thames mud, isn't
it? But it won't be a bad idea if we sit down and
collect our evidence. What do we know as opposed
to what we conjecture?" He emphasized the points
with his pipe on his finger-tips.
"(a) That when Marshall saw the body—she
rushed to the window and opened it.
"(b) That Jack Considine thinks he heard a door
shutting during the night.
"(c) That Dick Arkwright (who is supported in
this by his wife or says he is), heard footsteps in the
garden.
"(d) That Barker's I.O.U. is missing. Baddeley
says so!
"(e) That the murder was premeditated."
I started. "How do you know that?" I de-
manded.
"The lace was removed from Prescott's shoe, my
dear Bill. If the murder were one of sudden pas-
sion, you wouldn't say 'lend me your shoe while I
take out the lace.'"
"Of course," I conceded. "I should have
thought."
"Let's get on! Where were we? . . ."
"(f) That Prescott appears to have crossed the
rose-bed under the billiard room window some time
between seven and his death.
"(g) That somebody else did, too—at some time
after seven.
ioo


BATHURST HAS A MEMORY FOR FACES
'' (h) That the Venetian dagger or the poker
found on the billiard room floor shows finger-prints."
"What?" I yelled. "How the devil do you
deduce that? You haven't examined them! You
haven't looked at either of them enough to know
that."
He grinned. "William, my lad, you won't al-
ways have me to hold your little hand. Didn't you
tumble to Baddeley's game with the letter?"
"What letter?"
"The letter he asked us to identify. That was
for finger-prints, old son . . . he'd prepared it
in the usual way . . . he's got excellent prints
of you and me. And of the others." He chuckled.
"He had at least two letters he was handing round."
"Why?" I asked.
"He was probably taking three or four people
to one letter. Roper was marking them as we
fingered them. Roper wrote them while we were in
the garden." He chuckled again. "That was how
I spotted it."
"How?"
"You remember they were torn, don't you, where
the signature should .have been . . . well, the
first two tears I saw, didn't exactly coincide in shape
. . . see . . . that was what I looked at
when Baddeley was asking Jack Considine . . .
it's deuced hard, Bill, to tear things exactly similarly.
Torn, that is, in the way they were torn. He proba-
bly used a third letter later on . . . but I
Wasn't concerned with that."
IOI


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"Good Lord," I groaned, "and I never knew."
"I'm now proceeding with the last of things we
know," continued Anthony.
"(i) That Lady Considine has lost her pearls.
Anything else? I think not! I think that just about
exhausts what we know."
"Prescott was robbed too," I ventured.
"Of how much, Bill?—nobody knows."
I saw his point. Then I broached a matter over
which I had felt very curious.
"You told me this morning, after we had been
first called to the billiard room that you had three
distinct clues—two I think you said, in Group A
and one in Group B. What were they?"
"Hasten slowly, William. Hasten slowly. I'll
meet you half-way. The clue in Group B was my
little triumph that resulted in the discomfiture of
Mademoiselle Marshall."
"And the other two?" I persisted eagerly.
"The other two, Bill, are now three. But I
haven't developed them properly yet. There's a
missing link, somewhere, and until I get it, I'm
floundering a bit. What do you make of Mar-
shall?"
"Well," I answered doubtfully—" I think she's
afraid of something."
He knocked the ash out of his pipe.
"I'm curious about Marshall—she knows some-
thing she hasn't divulged—why did she open that
window? Tell me that."
"How about Baddeley's theory?" I put in.
102


BATHURST HAS A MEMORY FOR FACES
"What? Acting under instructions? Open the
window—then scream?" He shook his head.
"Don't think so—somehow.'
"Do you know, Bill"... he went on,
"Sefiorita Marshall's face haunts me rather. I can't
get away from it."
"Love at first sight," I chaffed. "All good de-
tectives do It . . . think of Irene Adler."
"No—not that, Bill. Not in that way. It's a
different feeling altogether. I can't forget it . . .
because I can't place it. ... I seem to have
seen it before somehow. The question is where?"
"The Eton and Harrow match at Lords'," I sug-
gested sarcastically.
"Don't be an ass. Lords'! I keep conjuring up
a photograph—Lords'! Don't suppose she's ever
heard of Lords' ... let alone ever been there.
. . . Holy Smoke, Bill, I've got it!!! And by
a miracle of miracles, your mention of Lords' gave
it to me. Great Scott! What a bit of luck."
Now this was the manner of Mr. Bathurst's mem-
ory.
"Do you ever see The Prattler, Bill?"
"Sometimes! Always when I'm here—Sir
Charles Considine has taken it since it started!"
"He has? Better and better, laddie. I'm on
the crest of the wave. Listen! This is what I've
remembered. Do you remember the second Test
Match of the Australian tour in 1921? At Lords'."
"What are you getting at?" I said rather
peevishly. "Are you trying to prove that it rained
103


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
or something—you know it always rains for Test
Matches."
"No—I'm deadly serious. The Australians won
easily—but that isn't the point—the last ball bowled
—by Durston it was, flew out of his hand and went
somewhere in the region of 'cover.' Before the
umpire called 'wide' Bardsley, who was batting at
the time, chased after it, got to it, and promptly
'despatched it to the boundary' as the reporters
said. I remember the incident perfectly now." He
smiled with satisfaction.
"Well," I said, " what in the name of thunder has
this to do with Marshall?"
"This, Bill." His voice grew serious.
"The Prattler printed a photograph of the inci-
dent. . . ."
"Yes . . ." I remarked.
"And next to the photograph—in the adjoining
space—they printed a photograph of Fraulein Mar-
shall. Now what do you say? I can see it now."
"In what relation? . . ." I protested.
"Can't recall, William. All I can see is
Bardsley's uplifted bat and adjoining it the face of
Marshall. It's five years ago, remember. But we'll
soon find out. It's easy! Or it should be." He
sprang to his feet excitedly. "We will now proceed
to investigate. I wonder what Sir Charles does with
his old Prattlers?"
"Best way to find out will be to ask him!" I
ventured.
"Excellent advice, William, that I am going to
104


BATHURST HAS A MEMORY FOR FACES
take. Allons!" Mary Considine met us as we went
up to the house.
She looked deathly pale, I thought, and utterly
discomfited by the events of the day. I would much
rather have stopped in the garden with Mary than
gone chasing old copies of The Prattler with
Anthony. She stopped us.
"Bill—Mr. Bathurst! I have just been inter-
viewed by Inspector Baddeley, and been asked if I
can recognize some handwriting." She flung us a
glance under her long lashes. "Tell me," she ques-
tioned us, " does he suspect anybody in the house of
having done this awful thing? It's unthinkable."
"Don't you worry, Mary," I replied. "It's only
the usual official formality carried out by the Police."
She turned to Anthony.
"Who could have killed him, Mr. Bathurst? I
can't realize it—yesterday alive and in such . . .
good spirits . . . and now to-day . . ."
She broke off and shook her head helplessly.
"You're upset," said Anthony, sympathetically.
"Very naturally. It has been a shock to you. How
is Lady Considine?"
"Wonderful, considering. I think the murder
has to some extent mitigated the loss of her pearls
. . . can you understand?" She looked up at
him and then half smiled towards me. Her pallor
only seemed to accentuate her loveliness. I have
never seen eyes like Mary's—and I found myself
dreaming dreams.
"Jack has sent word to poor Mrs. Prescott—I
105


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
don't know what I shall say to her." The violet
eyes fringed with tears. "It would have been dif-
ficult," she went on, "with someone you knew
. . . it will be infinitely more difficult with a
stranger."
Anthony conveyed more sympathy with a slight
gesture.
"I am sure it will be in able hands. Can you
help me now? I want to turn up an old copy of
The Prattler. Bill tells me your father has taken it
for years. Do you keep them?"
"How long ago is the copy you want?"
"Just over five years," he replied.
"Then we can't help you. We never keep more
than those of the current year. Is it important?"
"It is, rather," responded Anthony. "Do you
know what becomes of them?"
"I am not quite sure, Mr. Bathurst, but I believe
Father sends them to the Cottage Hospital. Come
in and see Father—he'll tell you at once."
Sir Charles and Lady Considine were in the li-
brary.
"Father," said Mary, "Mr. Bathurst and Bill
want you. They want to know where the old copies
of The Prattler go?"
Sir Charles looked wonderment.
"It's rather an unusual request, I know, sir," said
Anthony; "but believe me, I have excellent reasons
for worrying you over it."
"The Prattler? They're sent to the Allingham
Cottage Hospital at the end of every year," he said.
106


BATHURST HAS A MEMORY FOR FACES
"H'm—hard luck," muttered Anthony. "The
Allingham Cottage Hospital! Far from here?"
"No," declared Sir Charles. "About five miles,
walking across the Downs. Eight and a half by
road."
"A walk across the Downs would be the very
thing for Bill ... he shall have it. He shall
accompany me."
"Which I hope will prove to be the end of a
perfect day," I grumbled.
"You look pretty tired, Bill, now I can gaze upon
you properly," he said, as we struck off across the
Downs. "But I shan't be able to rest till I've satis-
fied myself. Till then my eager excitement will keep
me going."
"I am tired," I rejoined. "And I've a very
shrewd idea that we are on a fool's errand. I don't
suppose for one moment they keep copies of periodi-
cals for five years."
"Very likely you're right, Bill. It's a long shot,
but it may strike home—there's nothing lost if we
don't—we can easily turn up the files at the British
Museum—but that will take time—whereas this is
opportune."
After about one hour and a quarter's walking, we
saw our objective. Anthony gave his card to the
porter and after a brief period of waiting we were
ushered into the presence of the Matron.
The atmosphere of Considine Manor worked
wonders. I have always noticed that the Matron
dearly loves a lord.
107


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
She could not say if she could help Mr. . . .
she referred to his card . . . Mr. Bathurst
. . . many periodicals and magazines were pre-
sented to the Hospital . . . but she didn't
know quite what became of them. She would ring
for the steward. Anthony thanked her. Yes, the
steward could help us. Most of the books of that
kind when finished with, were sold to a man named
Clarke, who kept a shop in Brighton.
"What kind of a shop? " asked Anthony.
"A kind of second-hand bookseller's, where old
magazines and periodicals of all kinds were put in
boxes in front of the shop and sold for twopence or
threepence."
"Hopeless, Bill. Perfectly hopeless!" He
turned to express his thanks.
The Matron expressed her sorrow that his quest
was fruitless.
Then the steward of the Allingham Cottage Hos-
pital had a brain-wave.
"It's just come to me, sir," he exclaimed, "that
Dr. Mackenzie—that's the doctor in the village—
used to take The Prattler to put on the table of his
waiting-room. He's a lot of office patients, you see,
sir, and isn't over particular about the date of the
news he puts in front of them. So he may have
some old ones."
"It's a chance, certainly," exclaimed Anthony,
"but a slender one.
"Thank you, Matron. Now for Dr. Mackenzie.
There are points in favor of his parsimony."
198


BATHURST HAS A MEMORY FOR FACES
The steward directed us, and ten minutes' quick
walk brought us to the house. The doctor was in.
He listened to us . . . would be pleased to help
us. As far as he knew all the Spears were some-
where in the Office Patients' waiting-room . . .
yes, and The Prattlers. Would we care to look?
There would be a couple of dozen or so on the table
—the rest would be in a pile on a book wagon
there. . . .
"June, Bill . . ." muttered Anthony. "About
the third week in June."
It was not on the table. I wasn't sorry . . .
too greasy and too well-thumbed to be exactly pleas-
ant. We divided the piles from the wagon. About
twenty each. An exclamation from Anthony!
"Here it is, Bill. This would be the one. Come
and look."
He turned the pages rapidly . . . then . . .
"There!" triumphantly, "look at that."
I looked.
There was the Test Match photograph he had
described to me, and next to it, just as he had said,
was the face of Marshall, and underneath it I was
amazed to read—" Constance Webb, wife of
'Spider' Webb, the famous jewel thief of three
countries, leaving the Central Criminal Court, at
the conclusion of her husband's trial. He was
sentenced to five years' penal servitude."
109


CALLS UPON THE POSTMISTRESS
Doctor?" said Anthony. "I shall be happy to rec-
ompense you for its loss."
"Certainly not! I couldn't hear of it," said the
doctor. He would have liked us to have stayed for
dinner, but he was very much afraid that his cuisine
might not be adequate!
"Many thanks, Doctor,"—Anthony with one of
his rare smiles—" we understand perfectly. Besides,
we are anxious to get back. Good-afternoon."
I harked back directly we were outside the house.
"I should be eternally obliged if you would ex-
plain things a bit, old man," I declared, a trifle re-
sentfully. "Surely this clears things up considera-
bly."
"This clears the robbery problem—Lady Con-
sidine's robbery—and it effectively explains that very
vexed question that bothered a number of us—why
Marshall opened the window. Beyond that"
"Tell me," I begged.
"Well, it's pretty evident that Marshall took the
case containing the pearl necklace from Lady Con-
sidine's bedroom, and it's also fairly conclusive that
she conveyed that same case to her husband—
'Spider' Webb—via the window of the billiard
room. The second set of footprints we shall very
soon discover to be that august gentleman's. And
I think they were the footsteps that Dick and Helen
Arkwright heard. But I don't think . . ." he
paused and reflected.
"You don't think what?"
"I don't think it was the billiard room door that


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
Jack Considine fancies he heard shutting." He
slashed with his stick at the grass as we walked.
"Was it Prescott's door?" I broke in eagerly.
"Did Prescott hear anything and come down to
meet his death?"
My theory excited me.
"No, Bill, I don't think so. All my intuition and
instinct, if you care to call it that, lead me away
from that idea."
"What about Marshall—or Mrs. Spider as she
is—and the window? You haven't explained that
yet," I insisted, "properly!"
"Prescott's body on the billiard-table was an
overwhelming surprise to Marshall when she opened
the door this morning. She had dropped the
'sparklers,' as Comrade Spider probably calls them,
out of the window and closed it again. Then gone
quietly back to bed in the servants' part of the
house. Now for her surprise! When she enters
the room a few hours later she comes face to face
with a greater and more sinister crime. She at
once, in her mind, connects the two things! Had
'Spider' come back for anything, encountered Pres-
cott and killed him? Had they fought? Was
'Spider' hurt? She had last seen him just outside
the window. Was he there still, wounded perhaps?
She rushes to the window and flings it open. Voila,
Bill!"
I nodded in approval. Yet
"Where does Prescott come in then? " I queried.
"Did he meet Webb outside?"
112


CALLS UPON THE POSTMISTRESS
Anthony stopped and looked at me.
"That's an idea. I never considered that. Out-
side! That's certainly a possibility."
"One more point," I said, secretly pleased to
have set him thinking, " and that may be two . . .
apparently nothing else has been stolen besides Lady
Considine's necklace . . . that is to say noth-
ing in the jewel line. . . . How comes the
Venetian dagger to be in the billiard room?"
Anthony looked grave.
"That's a poser," he commented. "But it must
not be forgotten that we are dealing with two ad-
ventures . . . 'The Adventure of Lady Con-
sidine's Necklace ' and ' The Adventure of the Death
in the Billiard Room' . . . there may be no
connection whatever between the two . . . and
yet, as you have suggested, Bill, there may."
"The Venetian dagger was always kept in the
drawing-room," I maintained. "Therefore, the per-
son that took it, went to the drawing-room to get it."
"True . . . but when? That's the point.
Also, Bill, why was the dagger used when Prescott
was already dead—strangled?"
"Perhaps the murderer didn't know he was dead.
Now I'm coming to that second point at which I
hinted just now . . . something I fail to under-
stand at all. How do you account for the absence
of blood stains? As far as I could see, Prescott
lay on the billiard-table on his shoulder, there was
no blood on the table, though, and his clothing
seemed to show very little trace. ... I should
"3


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
have imagined, though I don't pretend to know, that
a blow struck with the force that that had been
would have caused a rush of blood from the wound."
Anthony nodded. "Good for you—the same
feature struck me—but Dr. Elliot had an ex-
planation. He says that a blow struck at the top
of the spinal cord as this blow was, produced, in a
living body, almost an instantaneous paralysis, and
that he would expect, as a medical man, a very small
quantity of blood to be shed. This was a dead
body when the blow was struck, remember! But
why the dagger was ever used . . . well, I'm
in considerable doubt."
"And I," I rejoined. "And I can't see much
hope of our doubts being dispelled."
Anthony looked at his wrist watch.
"We've got time to go home through the village,"
he said. "I want to make a call."
"Are you going to tell Baddeley of this Marshall
business at once?" I asked. "He can't very well
arrest her because she's the wife of a man who was
sentenced for jewel robbery five years ago."
"It would be taking a chance, wouldn't it?" he
grinned.
"It wouldn't surprise me if she hasn't cleared by
now," I said, reflectively. "You shook her up a bit
this morning."
"All the better if she has . . . but she
hasn't, you'll find."
"Why?"
"If she's cleared, Baddeley's men will have
114


CALLS UPON THE POSTMISTRESS
shadowed her . . . and she'll lead them
straight to the ' Spider ' "... he thought for
a moment. "Still, I've an idea that she'll let me
know where he is when we've talked to her for a lit-
tle while."
By this time we had reached the village and com-
ing down the hill from the track that leads from
the Downs, we entered the main street.
"I am of the opinion, Bill," said Anthony, " that
a few discreet inquiries here may prove of interest
and advantage. I suggest that we call and see Mrs.
Hogarth at the Post Office. Does she know you,
Bill?"
"She remembers me as a guest at the Manor for
some years, at any rate," I responded.
"That's the stuff to give 'em,"—Anthony waxed
merry—" I want her to talk and tell us things—if
she knows you it will help tremendously."
The Post Office was a "general " shop that sold
everything from pins to Postal Orders.
"See that? " murmured Anthony, as we entered,
heralded by the loud clanging of the shop bell on
the door. He pointed to the telephone call-box. "I
hoped that the 'phone would be in here."
Mrs. Hogarth bustled out.
He nudged me in the ribs. "Introduce yourself
—tell her who you are."
"Good-afternoon, Mrs. Hogarth," I cried with
an air. "How's the rheumatism?"
"Why, it's Mr. Cunningham from the Manor.
Good-afternoon, sir. The rheumatics? . . .
"5


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
oh, not so bad, sir, considering my age and all that
. . . this is a terrible thing I hear, sir, what's
happened up at the Manor!"
"Yes, Mrs. Hogarth," I replied. "It isl This
is Mr. Bathurst, a very intimate friend of Sir
Charles and her Ladyship"
Mrs. Hogarth curtsied to the best of her ability—
"Pleased to meet you, sir"
"And they would be glad," I continued, "if you
would give him any information for which he may
ask you."
"Only too pleased, Mr. Cunningham."
"Thank you," said Anthony, "I shan't worry
you unduly. This 'phone call-box"... he
motioned towards it . . . "is this the nearest
one to Considine Manor?"
"Oh yes, sir. By far. The next one is almost
to Allingham ... a matter of close on six
miles."
"Now quite in confidence, Mrs. Hogarth, in the
very strictest confidence, Sir Charles Considine has
asked me to conduct a little inquiry on his behalf.
And he suggests that first of all I should come and
see you."
Mrs. Hogarth's excitement increased. "You may
rely on me, sir. . . ."
"I'm sure I can," exclaimed Anthony. "Now
my real question is this ... do you know one
of the maids at present employed at Considine
Manor, of the name of Marshall?"
"Why, yes, sir, and it's a funny thing her name
116


CALLS UPON THE POSTMISTRESS
should have left your lips so soon after you asking
me about that there telephone it is."
"Oh? Why is that, Mrs. Hogarth?" smiled
Anthony. "Has she been using it lately?"
"As sure as I stand here, sir, she was the very last
person to do so."
"This is very interesting, Mrs. Hogarth . . .
very interesting, and I must congratulate you on your
excellent memory. You are quite certain of your
statement?"
"Positive, sir! You see, it's like this. We're
a small village here, as you might say, comparatively
speaking that is, and most of the telephone custom
we get is from the betting people—there are the
Lewes and Brighton bookies you see—so I get to
know the regular customers and just about when to
expect them—which is from about half-past twelve
till about four o'clock—and not so very many after
dinner at that—see? Well, yesterday morning,
about a quarter past eleven, the bell rings and I
bustles out . . . only to find it's a 'phone call.
I could see a female in the box which was a bit un-
usual at that time o' day, as I've said ... so
I waited for her to come out ... as you might
say . . . when she did, who should I set my
eyes on but Marshall, the maid from the Manor?"
"Of course you couldn't hear anything of the
message?" inquired Anthony.
Mrs. Hogarth shook her head. "No, sir, I
couldn't . . . and I ain't the sort to listen
hard!"
117


CALLS UPON THE POSTMISTRESS
thony. M You're a veritable 'Treasure-Trove' of
information. Let's hear it."
"Well, sir, as she was a-finishing the conversation
she was having, I'm almost sure I overheard her say
'Good-bye, Emma !'"
"Thank you, Mrs. Hogarth. Nothing more?"
"No sir, I couldn't remember anything else."
"I needn't trouble you any more, then. You have
helped me considerably. Come along, Bill." We
bowed ourselves out, personally conducted by the
postmistress—a beaming postmistress now—and
started homeward.
"Well, Bill, things are plainer now with a ven-
geance," said Anthony decisively. ..." I think
if I put these facts before Baddeley he will take
action ... if necessary the call should be easy
to trace . . . then. Webb can be taken com-
fortably."
"The Spider?" I queried.
He assented. "They call him ' Spider' as much
for his physical as for the name association," he
continued. "I remember seeing his photo when he
was tried and sentenced—he has long thin arms and
long thin legs—with smallish feet."
"What was the 'phone message?" I asked.
"That she had the pearls, laddie! She has been
planted there to get them . . . the 'Spider'
flies high ... or shall we say he spins high
. . . forged references doubtless . . . she
waited three years for her chance. Yesterday it
came. Her 'phone message to the 'Spider' was
119


CALLS UPON THE POSTMISTRESS
"Sometime, we will say about one, or possibly two
—' ack Emma!'* S'that—Umpire? Is it a
hit?"
I gasped! And I had completely missed that
meaning—plain as a pike staff now I had secured
the explanation.
"Not so bad, Bill, eh? " muttered Anthony quiz-
zically. "Don't overwhelm me with your admira-
tion."
"You're a perishin' marvel," I said—" I never
thought of that—I shouldn't have expected Marshall
to use the term, for one thing."
"' Spider' probably saw Service," he replied
—" she has picked it up from him. That's the so-
lution of that. Here we are—now for friend Bad-
deley."
"You don't think then," I said, "that we are
nearing the finish of the Prescott affair?"
"As I told you before, Bill, no! I shall see
Baddeley now, put these discoveries in front of him,
let him act on them . . . he'll be delighted to
. . . it will save his face, temporarily at least
. . . then I shall turn my attention to the more
complex problem . . . which I think will prove
to be very dark and very sinister. Certainly, th«
latter."
I searched his face with my eyes, but gathered
nothing from the inspection. It was heavy and
troubled, but the clouds soon passed. Anthony
Bathurst was like that, mood succeeded mood very
'Army slang for A. It.
121


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
rapidly. In the Hall we encountered Roper. He
had a message for us from Baddeley.
"The Inspector has had the body removed to
the mortuary, gentlemen," he said, "and would
like you to . . ."
Anthony cut into his speech—" Where is the In-
spector? ... I should like a word with him
immediately ... if possible. Will you find
him and tell him?" Roper departed on his errand.
"Take a pew, Bill," said Anthony, "and watch
for his face to light up."
Baddeley was quickly with us.
"Yes, Mr. Bathurst, Roper here tells me you
want me." He looked at us with an air of inquiry.
"I have some information for you, Inspector,"
commenced Anthony as coolly as possible, " that may
help you considerably towards the recovery of Lady
Considine's necklace, and the arrest of the thief."
Baddeley favored him with a steady and sustained
stare.
"The deuce you have," he exclaimed.
"I had an advantage over you, you see," pro-
ceeded Anthony—" in the fact that Marshall's face
seemed familiar to me and awakened a memory in
me that I have been able to follow up." He paused
and then continued with deliberation . . . "to
follow up successfully." He opened The Prattler.
"Look at that, will you, Inspector? And gain
enlightenment."
Baddeley bent down in amazement. "By
Moses!" he yelled , . . "that's she . . .
122


CALLS UPON THE POSTMISTRESS
a guinea to a gooseberry on it. Smart work, Mr.
Bathurst. I'm grateful, sir, for the hint." He
wrung Anthony's hand. Anthony laughed.
"We can get this Webb, I think, Baddeley;
. . . listen." He recounted the evidence of
Mrs. Hogarth.
Baddeley was respectfully attentive. "You
haven't let the grass grow under your feet, that's a
sure thing," he declared.
Anthony smiled again. "And I don't suppose
you have either, Inspector, if the truth's known."
Baddeley grimaced.
"What do you mean, sir, exactly by that re-
mark? " he queried.
"I can't forget," pronounced Anthony, "that
there are two most important things still missing:
the Barker I.O.U. and the shoe-lace that killed Pres-
cott."
123


CHAPTER X
WALK INTO MY PARLOR
Baddeley acquiesced. "That's very true. And
the more I see of the case, the more I Still,
let's deal with the matter in hand. There isn't a rea-
sonable doubt, Mr. Bathurst, that you've put your
hooks into the right people for this jewel robbery.
And one thing at a time, say I."
Anthony bowed to the compliment. "We can
get 'Spider' Webb easily enough," he said, "in
any one of half a dozen ways. We'll discuss that in
a few moments. I'm more concerned about Lady
Considine's chance of getting her pearls back. How
do we stand there?" The Inspector thought for a
moment.
"Let's see. They were taken in the early hours
of this morning. To-morrow's Sunday. If we can
collar our man within twenty-four hours or so we
should be able to salve the spoils. Pearls, you see,
are different from silver stuff, for example—that's
in the pot before you can wink an eye. The best
market for what he's got away with might be Am-
sterdam . . . he'd probably try about the be-
ginning of next week."
"Right!" exclaimed Anthony. "I'm inclined
to agree with you. Now, how about getting our
124


WALK INTO MY PARLOR
man? Is it worth while following up Marshall's
telephone call?"
"I've got a better plan than that, Mr. Bathurst.
You wait and see and let me know what you think
of it. I've had Marshall under observation since
this morning . . ." he grinned as though the
reflection afforded him some amusement . . .
"as a matter of fact ever since I first arrived—al-
though I admit you were a step ahead of me over
that window business . . . and she's made no
attempt at communication with anybody. She's cute
enough to realize that her best plan is to say and
do nothing: just go about her ordinary daily duties
as though nothing had happened. Also she's scared
stiff about the murder." He glanced at us both
. . . almost as though he wanted us to confirm
his opinion.
Then I butted in. "You're satisfied then, In-
spector, that Webb didn't murder Prescott—despite
all this evidence?"
Anthony looked searchingly at Baddeley. The In-
spector's face grew grim and hard. But he found
time to answer me although I had half-suspected that
he would evade the question. He chose his words
carefully.
"Not despite—because of—the evidence, Mr.
Cunningham!" He turned to Anthony with the
same kind of look as before, but Anthony remained
silent. I got the impression that Baddeley would
have liked to make him talk, and that Anthony
knew it.
125


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"We'll have her in here, Mr. Bathurst." He
went to the door and called Roper.
"Bring that maid Marshall in here, Roper. Don't
tell her anything—don't even say who it is wants
to speak to her."
Marshall came, shepherded by Roper. She was
very white, but still held her head high with a sort
of impudent defiance.
"Sit down there," said Baddeley, motioning her
to a chair. "I've sent for you because I want you
to pass on a little useful information. Got that?"
She tossed her head back. "I've told you all
I know, Inspector, and that being so, I can't very
well tell you any more," and a bright red spot blazed
in her white cheek.
Baddeley waved her protestations on one side.
Here he was sure of himself, certain of what he
was going to do, confident of ultimate success.
"There's one piece of information you can give
me, my girl, and that dead smart, so make up your
mind on that," he rapped. "You might as well
know now as later . . . the game's up!!"
Marshall gasped, and her hand went to her throat
. . helplessly.
"Where's 'Spider' Webb to be found these
days?" roared Baddeley. "Eh—Mrs. Webb?"
She gazed at him affrighted, wild-eyed, with
bosom heaving. Then summoned sufficient despera-
tion to her aid to make one last attempt at fight.
"I don't know what you"
"Cut that," broke in the Inspector, "that won't
126


WALK INTO MY PARLOR
get you anything. We know you ... we
know him ... we know your little lay in the
billiard room last night when you handed over the
Considine pearls. Where is he?"
"That I'll never tell you," she retorted—
never I
"I think you will, my lady, when you've heard
all I have to say," stormed Baddeley, " if you don't
help me all you can and come across with what you
know, I'll do my level best to 'swing' your pretty
'Spider.'"
Her face went ashen, and as the full import of
his speech reached her brain, horror tinged her
features.
"You can't!" she gasped. "You can't! The
'Spider' never touched 'im, never saw 'im . . .
the room was empty when I left it . . . the
'Spider' went . . . it's God's own truth I'm
telling you. . . ."
"I want the truth," went on Baddeley, remorse-
lessly and relentlessly, "you tell the truth and help
me . . . and I'll help you . . . if I can,
that is."
"It is the truth," she sobbed. "The 'Spider'
wouldn't 'urt a fly."
"No, I know, it doesn't sound as though he
would," said Baddeley derisively. "Spiders don't,
as a rule, do they? You're trapped, my girl, and
you'll see the inside of a prison cell before supper
time to-night . . . you realize that, don't you?
. . . and if you don't tell me where this precious
127


WALK INTO MY PARLOR
"You don't know," reiterated Baddeley. "He
may have come back, run into Mr. Prescott, strug-
gled with him and killed him. You don't know, so
you can't say."
"I know I don't," she muttered piteously—" but
'e didn't. It wouldn't be like him to do no such
thing."
"Then what did you open the window for?"
cut in Baddeley decisively—" you had doubts your-
self as to what had happened after you left the bil-
liard room."
The fight was all gone from her now. "Yes,"
she said. "I was frightened. I worried about what
I knew 'ad 'appened. All the same my 'usband never
touched 'im—I'll take my dying oath on that." She
looked sullenly in front of her.
"Where is he, then?" Then as no answer was
forthcoming, "Good Lord, girl, we'll get him right
enough, whether you tell us or not . . . make
no mistake about that . . . it's merely a ques-
tion of time . . . but, mark my words . . .
the sooner he tells the truth about the robbery
. . . the more chance he has of clearing himself
with regard to the murder."
Marshall made as if to speak, but hesitated.
Baddeley saw the advantage he had gained and
hastened to follow it up. "The sooner we get to
work while the scent is hot, the greater likelihood
of finding the murderer," he said, with decision in his
tone. "Come, my girl, that must be as plain to you
as the nose on my face."
129


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
She hesitated again, and twisted her hands
nervously in her lap.
"I don't know what to do," she moaned. " You're
asking me to betray my 'usband—and if I do, it's
only to save 'im from something worse—but it's
prison for me, and prison for 'im at the best of
things."
"That's so," declared Baddeley mercilessly, "but
a ' stretch ' is better than the gallows."
"May I be forgiven then," said Marshall—i
"you'll find the 1 Spider' at 45, Peabody Buildings,
Poplar. And for mercy's sake, don't let 'im know
who told you."
Baddeley motioned to Roper. "Get her down
to the station, Roper . . . I'll be down later."
"We must tell Sir Charles, Inspector," said An-
thony, as Roper departed with his charge. "I
haven't mentioned this latest development to him
. . . I came straight to you with the news."
"Naturally," rejoined Baddeley, "naturally.
We'll ask him to step this way. Do you mind, Mr.
Cunningham?"
I found the old man in the garden with Mary.
The trouble of the whole affair was just beginning
to show on their faces. . . . Considine Manor
had by this time become the talk of thousands.
Mary seemed very grief-laden . . . they turned
as I approached.
I gave him Baddeley's message.
"Certainly, Bill, I'll come in at once. Is there
news, then?"
130


WALK INTO MY PARLOR
"Rather," I replied. "Come and hear what Bad-
deley has to say."
"What is it, Bill? " asked Mary, eagerly.
"Can't tell you yet," I whispered evasively, "but
we're on the track of the pearls—anyway!"
"This is extraordinarily good news," said Sir
Charles, as we went into the house. "How did
Baddeley manage it?"
"It was Bathurst," I replied. "You'll hear what
they have to say—and you'll get a bit of a shock."
He looked at me curiously. "Don't be alarmed,"
I said. "Nothing to worry about."
"Thank you, Bill. To tell the truth you did
startle me a bit ... I began to wonder
. . ." he wiped his forehead ..." it's been
a day of surprises."
Baddeley speedily described our discoveries (I
say "our") and the result thereof. Sir Charles
gasped.
"Marshall!" he exclaimed incredulously. "You
astound me. And she came with such splendid ref-
erences. Well, well, well, truly one never knows.
My wife's pearls, Inspector. Do you think there's
any probability of restoring them? You've done
so splendidly that one becomes quite optimistic."
His eyes gleamed. "And you say you don't really
connect the affair with poor young Prescott?"
"At the moment, Sir Charles, I'm not inclined
to link up the two . . . and as for your
praises "—he turned towards Anthony—" it's Mr.
Bathurst here that put me on the track."
I3i


WALK INTO MY PARLOR
Baddeley briefly recounted the affair, but with-
held all details relevant to the arrest of Marshall.
"Murder and robbery then as we were informed
on the 'phone by our local agent," said Dennison.
"Any arrest imminent?"
The Inspector took a moment or two to answer.
"I am holding a person," he replied slowly, "on
the robbery charge only, so far, but I should be very
much obliged, Mr. Dennison, and it will, I think,
assist me considerably, if you make no mention of
the arrest whatever. That is to say, yet awhile."
Dennison's eyes went up in interrogation.
"I will promise you," proceeded Baddeley, " that
no other paper gets the information to publish be-
fore you. I shall certainly see to that."
"You think it will assist? . . ." queried Den-
nison.
"I think it will assist the cause of justice," said
Baddeley gravely.
"That's why you ask me?"
"That's why I ask you!"
"Right you are, Inspector. I will finish my re-
port for The Message, by saying for the time being,
the Police are entirely without a clue—eh?"
"Nothing would please me better," said Bad-
deley, rubbing his palms together.
"I understand perfectly." Dennison rose to de-
part. He had his story and in a few days would
have a still better one. "Now for London again."
"One moment," cried the Inspector. "One more
thing. I would like the bewilderment of the Police
133


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
to appear in the late edition of your Evening Ga-
zette. That all right? That will be better still."
"As you wish, Inspector, and thank you. Good-
bye!" And in a brief period we heard the sound
of his motorcycle en route for headquarters again.
Press methods are short and sharp.
Baddeley turned to us and although he addressed
us as a company, the feeling persisted in me that
Anthony was his audience as far as he himself was
concerned.
"That brings me, gentlemen, to the matter of
the 'Spider.' We've got to get him, and we ought
to get him at once . . . while, I think, the
pearls are on him . . . before he takes a little
trip somewhere."
"We know where he is? " interjected Sir Charles.
"Yes," continued Baddeley, "but I don't purpose
going there for him."
"Where, then? " I interposed.
"Well, this is my plan. Get the 'Spider' back
here—then take him. It has the merits of simplicity
and comfort." He smiled.
"Mahomet and the mountain, eh?" smiled An-
thony.
"Something like it," answered the Inspector.
"But will he come?" demanded Sir Charles. "It
appears to me to be extremely doubtful. Would
any criminal walk into an obvious trap like that?
. . . You're expecting too much, Baddeley."
"I don't think so, Sir Charles, if you'll allow me
to say so. If, as I think and I fancy as Mr. Bath-
134


WALK INTO MY PARLOR
urst here, thinks, the murder of Mr. Prescott is a
complete surprise to the ' Spider,' then it's given him
a pretty nasty shock . . . he's wondering, gen-
tlemen, wondering very considerably. And he will
see in the late editions of the London papers this
evening that the Police are completely in the dark
. . . so he won't be dreaming any bad dreams
himself . . . yet awhile . . . but he'll
still go on wondering. Now, I think, gentlemen,
that my idea will bring him along quite comfortably.
I'm going to telegraph to him like this. 'Come
(—same place—same time—urgent!'"
"Whom from?" interposed Anthony. "Who's
the sender?"
"That I admit, Mr. Bathurst, is its weakness. If
I get hold of his wife's Christian name, it's just pos-
sible I might use the wrong form or the wrong ab-
breviation . . . familiar names are awkward
things to take chances with in messages—a man calls
his wife by a nickname, perhaps—still . . ." he
paused and drummed with his hands on the table,
reflecting. "How about putting Marshall?"
None of us answered. I think we were all en-
gaged in weighing up the advisability.
Baddeley went on. "If it's unusual for her to
send to him under that name, he may think she has
a special reason in light of what's happened after
the burglary. Whereas, if, for instance, her name's
'Kate ' and I put' Katie ' when the ' Spider ' always
knows her as 'Kitty'—it's bound to create doubt
and suspicion."
135


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
f
Anthony sat thinking. "I'm disposed to agree
with you, Inspector," he said.
"You think it's worth trying, Mr. Bathurst?"
asked Sir Charles.
"Yes, I do." Baddeley seemed pleased. "Get
that telegram off then. Roper will take it for us
. . . he should be back by now. But perhaps
I'd better go and see."
"What about to-night then, Inspector? " said An-
thony. "What time shall we gather around to re-
ceive our guest? Just after twelve?"
Baddeley rubbed his chin with his forefinger.
"I don't think we'll take any chances, Mr. Bath-
urst, so we had better be in our places by midnight.
He's an awkward customer, there's no doubt about
that, this 'Spider' Webb, so if you've a revolver
it might come in useful. I'll bring along a couple of
men from the station, so with Roper and Mr. Cun-
ningham, there'll be half a dozen of us. We mustn't
let him slip through our fingers."
Sir Charles looked grave. "I'll trust there will
be no shooting, Inspector. Lady Considine is suf-
ficiently upset already without . . ." he looked
at Baddeley with anxiety.
The Inspector pursed his lips together. "I'm
sorry, Sir Charles, I fully realize all that . . .
but I want this man badly . . . and I don't
think, if my plan goes smoothly, that there will be
any noise worth worrying about." Sir Charles
nodded.
"And what's more," proceeded Baddeley, "I'm
136


WALK INTO MY PARLOR
pretty confident he'll have the pearls with him. It's
worth the risk, you see, sir."
Sir Charles appeared more reconciled.
"Very well then, and may you be successful." He
bowed himself out.
"I'll get down to Roper, then," said Baddeley
to us, "and get this wire off. Then I'll meet you
gentlemen here at eleven-thirty this evening. We'll
have five men in the grounds—including both of you
—and in the meantime, I'll think out the best dis-
position of my forces . . ." he grinned at us.
"I thought you said six men, just now, Inspector,"
I ventured.
"I did," he replied. "The sixth will be in the
billiard room, of course."
"You forget, Bill," chuckled Anthony, "Inspec-
tor Baddeley is ' marshalling' his forces."
Baddeley burst into hearty laughter. "Very good,
Mr. Bathurst, very good." He waved his hand to
us. "Till eleven-thirty then."
"Will the 'Spider' come, Anthony?" I asked.
He thought for a moment before replying—" I
think he will. Curiosity is a tremendous impetus.
I think he will. And of course, he's got to think
of his own neck so he must be kept well posted.
He'll think his wife has important news for him."
"Good," I cried. "Welcome to the ' Spider '!"
"Yes," said Anthony. "Somewhere about one-
thirty, I imagine. And we'll welcome him with this."
He fingered his automatic. "If necessary."
137


CHAPTER XI
WHAT WAS FOUND ON THE "SPIDER"
Punctually at eleven-thirty, Baddeley and
Roper arrived at the Manor. They joined us in the
library. Sir Charles was worried and fidgety. "The
ladies have gone to bed," he volunteered the infor-
mation. "Let's hope they all sleep well. I'm going
to stay in here."
"Very good, Sir Charles," remarked Baddeley.
"That was going to be my own proposition. Now
we haven't got a great deal of time before getting
to our posts. You two gentlemen," he turned to
Anthony and me, "will come into the garden and
I will join you. We'll get whatever cover we can
as near the billiard room as possible—Roper will
be in the billiard room itself, and will open it when
the right moment comes. My other two men will
command the exit if he breaks through the three of
us and gets away. A contingency I'm prepared to
lay very heavy odds against, though. Revolver all
serene, Mr. Bathurst?"
"All in order, Inspector," answered Anthony
cheerfully, tapping his pocket. "Do I shoot to
kill?"
"Only as a last resource, sir. Come along. And
you, Roper, get upstairs to the billiard room."
138


WHAT WAS FOUND ON THE "SPIDER"
We emerged Into the grounds. It was a wonder-
ful July night. The sky with its clusters of shimmer-
ing stars seemed too serene, too majestic, for any
disturbance such as our adventure might prove to be.
Baddeley gave a low whistle and, seemingly from
nowhere, two plain-clothes men materialized from
the shadows. He whispered them their instructions
and they departed as quickly and as quietly as they
had come.
"Now, Mr. Bathurst," he came across to us as
silently as a cat, "what about that rhododendron
clump?" He pointed to a spot about eight yards
from the window. "We three can make for there."
As we nestled into its shade I heard the village
clocks striking twelve. I wondered how many more
times I should hear them strike before our vigil
ended.
Baddeley gripped my arm. "Don't speak, gentle-
men," he whispered, " it's a dead still night, and the
sound of the voice carries so. Be as quiet as you
can." I nodded to show him I understood and
would obey.
It was, as Baddeley had said, as still as death.
Occasionally came the hoot of an owl, but beyond
that, the only sound that reached my ears was the
breathing of my two companions. Baddeley spoke
again. "We'd better not smoke," he said. "He
might easily detect it as he comes up and you can
bet your life he'll come with his eyes skinned." We
reluctantly put our pipes away. The minutes passed
with unrelenting slowness. Once there came a sud-
139


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
den swishing sound followed by a soft thud. The
sweat stood on my brow as I watched the place from
where the noise had come, and Anthony gripped my
right arm hard. Baddeley smiled at us out of the
darkness. "A cat," he whispered—" that's all."
Half-past twelve, a quarter to one, and one o'clock
struck. Then a quarter past one.
"He isn't coming," I breathed in Anthony's ear.
Baddeley looked perturbed and glanced at his watch.
"Nearly half-past one," he muttered softly.
"How long will you wait? " I asked him.
"Don't know . . . s'sh. What's that?"
An owl hooted twice in quick succession. Bad-
deley put his finger to his lips. We waited spell-
bound. Then, as we watched, we saw a slim dark
figure slink down the garden, leave the path leading
to the drawing-room windows and come noiselessly
up the gravel path. Opposite the billiard room win-
dow he stopped, then picked his way quickly and
carefully across the bed till he reached the wall
below the window. Looking round cautiously he
bent down, picked up a handful of earth and threw
it sharply against the pane. We saw the window
raised slowly and the figure outside watching it.
"Now," said Baddeley. "We'll take him with
his back towards us."
Anthony drew his revolver, and we hurled our-
selves at the crouching figure. He was utterly and
completely taken by surprise.
"Curse you!" he snarled. "What's the game?"
But Baddeley silenced him with a buffet to the mouth
140


WHAT WAS FOUND ON THE "SPIDER
while Anthony and I flung ourselves upon him. The
scuffle was sharp but short. Three against one is
merciless odds, and each one of us was bigger than
our quarry. A few ineffective kicks and he lay
helpless on the ground. Baddeley clicked the brace-
lets on his wrists.
"Now, Mr.' Spider ' Webb," he cried, " I charge
you with the robbery, last night, or to be precise,
yesterday morning, of Lady Considine's pearls, and
I warn you that anything you say may be used as
evidence against you. Bring him inside, gentlemen."
He called to Roper. "Tell those other two it's all
right—they can leave their positions and get back."
We escorted our prisoner to the library, and on
the way I was able to get my first good look at him.
Jack Considine and Arkwright joined us.
He was a thin-faced, slim-limbed man with long
black hair under his peaked cap. One of a type
that can be seen many times over any day in the
East End of London. I could quickly see how he
had qualified for his sobriquet of "Spider." His
face twitched spasmodically as we marched him into
the library.
"A very neat piece of work, Sir Charles," ex-
claimed Baddeley ..." very neat and quite
according to plan."
Our prisoner flashed a glance full of menace at
him, malice and spite flickering over his face un-
mistakably.
"Wot am I charged with? " he grunted. "Let's
hear it again."
141


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"The theft of Lady Considine's pearls," rapped
Baddeley.
"Oh! Not cradle-snatching or boot-legging
. . . nothing fancy-like?"
"And unless you're very careful," went on the
Inspector, "you may find yourself called upon to
face an even more serious charge than robbery."
Webb whitened, even under his normal pallor.
"What might that be?" he muttered.
"The murder of Mr. Gerald Prescott, at Con-
sidine Manor," replied Baddeley with studied delib-
eration.
"I know nothink about that, guvnor, nothink at
all. S'elp me God, I don't."
"You knew of the murder then? " snapped Bad-
deley. "You aren't surprised?"
"I can read, can't I?" jeered Webb. "I ain't
exactly a savage!"
"What have you done with the necklace you
took? Got it on you still?"
"Course not. D'ye think I've come passenger's
luggage in advance?"
"Run him over, Roper." Roper's search was
rapid and thorough.
"Not in any of his pockets, sir;" he announced.
"I'll take a chance then," said Baddeley. "Take
off his coat and waistcoat." Roper obeyed, throwing
them over to Sir Charles who handed them to Ark-
wright, and I saw a look of desperation flit across
the " Spider's " face. Baddeley walked quickly over
to him. He passed his fingers carefully across his
142


WHAT WAS FOUND ON THE "SPIDER"
shirt and then thrust his hand fiercely underneath it.
He lugged at something under Webb's armpit and
all the malevolence of the underworld was revealed
in the " Spider's " eyes as he fell back a pace or two.
Baddeley tossed his find on the table. Our eyes
sought it greedily.
"There you are, gentlemen," he cried with tri-
umph. "The Considine Necklace, if I am not mis-
taken."
Sir Charles caught it up. A small oilskin bag
with two attachments of tape. He pulled the top
open. "I congratulate you most heartily, Inspector
Baddeley, the pearls are here." He counted them.
"And intact."
The Inspector flushed with pleasure. "Dress him
again, Roper," he jerked ..." and take him
along."
Arkwright handed the clothes over.
"Pockets empty? " queried Baddeley. Roper pro-
ceeded to examine them. "Packet of cigarette-pa-
pers "—he threw them on the table—" box of
matches, clasp-knife, nothing else . . . stay
though . . ." he plunged his hand into the left-
hand jacket pocket. "There's something else here
. . ." he said, "tape or something." He drew
it out!
We sat and looked dumbfounded. For there,
before our eyes, he dangled a worn brown shoe-lace!
"By Moses!" yelled the Inspector. "It's our
man after all."
Webb looked astounded. "Wot d'ye mean? " he
143


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
stammered. "Wot are yer drivin' at now?" Bad-
deley eyed him severely.
"This lace, Webb, where did you get it from?"
"Ask me another," came the reply. "To tell the
'onest truth, guvnor, I never knew it was there.
Must be an old 'un I've 'ad in my pocket some time
and forgotten. Seems to have poked the breeze up
yer though! Am I charged with pinchin' that,
too?"
The Inspector's eyes never left Webb's face.
"Mr. Gerald Prescott, a guest here of Sir Charles
Considine, was found murdered this morning by
Marshall, a maid. His body . . ."
Webb's eyes blazed at him with a mixture of de-
fiance and fear. "Wot's that you say? By who?"
he blurted out.
"By Marshall, I said," rattled back Baddeley.
"Would you prefer me to say, by Mrs. Webb?"
As the full significance of his statement sank into
the " Spider's" mind his face blanched with terror.
"She found him . . . murdered . . ." he
muttered. "How was he done in?"
"He was strangled," responded his accuser.
"Strangled by such a thing as a shoe-lace. A shoe-
lace like this." He held it in front of him.
Webb licked his lips. "Let me make a statement,
Inspector. You put it down as I give it to yer. This
is a facer, and no mistake. But on your life, guvnor,
I'm as innocent as a new-born babe."
Baddeley made a sign to Roper. He produced
his note-book.
144


WHAT WAS FOUND ON THE "SPIDER
Webb moistened his lips again. "It's like this.
You've caught me properly and you've taken the
goods off of me. There's no gainsayin' that. But
I reckon I know when the tide's runnin' against me,
and I figure out that time's now. I got the necklace
last night, or you can call it, about two o'clock yes-
terday morning. How you got on to me I can't
tell no more than Adam, but here I am with the
bracelets on me. S'elp me God, Inspector, I was
away from this place by ten minutes past two, and
never set eyes on a livin' soul. I'll take my dyin'
oath on that."
"You never met Mr. Prescott at all?" asked
Anthony.
"I never met nobody and I've never 'eard of Mr.
Prescott."
"How do you account for this shoe-lace being
found in your pocket?"
"I can't, guvnor, and that's a fact. I can't even
say as 'ow it is mine."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if it's mine, it's laid in that pocket for
weeks without me noticin' it."
Baddeley turned to Anthony Bathurst. "I don't
think we shall gain much by keeping him any longer.
I'll send him down with Roper. Yes?" Anthony
nodded. But he was apparently far from happy
at the singular twist things had taken. I could very
well imagine one or two of his preconceived theories
had toppled very sickeningly from their citadels.
"Motor him down to the station then, Roper."
145


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"Right, sir!"
"Now for an interesting little experiment," said
Baddeley. "Wait here a minute, gentlemen." He
slipped from the room.
"I hope he won't be too long," said Sir Charles.
"It's very late and I'm dead tired. What's this
experiment?"
Before either of us could answer, the Inspector
reappeared. In his hand he carried the two brown
shoes that we had found on Prescott. He proceeded
to insert the lace we had just discovered on Webb in
the shoe that wanted it. The length was just right.
"The other lace, gentlemen," he declared.
"Look for yourselves."
"You're right, Inspector," said Anthony.
"Though I must confess I had doubted it."
"Complicates things, considerably, don't you
think? Fairly beats me!"
"No," said Anthony. He put his pipe in his
pocket. "I regard this as a most interesting and
instructive development."
V


CHAPTER XII
MAJOR HORNBY AND THE VENETIAN DAGGER
The Monday afternoon following the murder
found Roper busy in the small and unpretentious
building in Considine that served as the Police Sta-
tion. As he worked he muttered to himself. "Take
a Kodak with you on your holidays. I don't think.
When I get my holidays I'll take darned good care
to leave my photography apparatus at home." He
looked at the clock. "Just on three o'clock—the
Inspector will be here in a jiffy." He held half a
dozen plates to the light—then put them down again
on the window-sill. "They'll be just about ready
for him."
"Good-afternoon, Mr. Roper."
He turned quickly. "Hallo, Griffiths," he said
as a constable entered. "Got back all right then?"
Constable Griffiths grinned. "You've said it.
Ran 'em into Lewes Jail about half-past eleven this
morning—wasn't half a mob as the van drew up.
News spreads, don't it, Mr. Roper? Nice job for a
Bank Holiday!"
Roper nodded. "Guess they won't call it a honey-
moon, that pair," he reflected. "Still, things aren't
at all clear. . . ."
"Which one did the job, do you think?" inter-
rogated Griffiths.
147


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"Which job?"
"Why, the murder, of course. What's the In-
spector think?" He went on. "I know he ain't
holding 'em yet for that job—I was here when they
were charged, but he's a dark horse, he is," he
chuckled as at some particularly satisfying reminis-
cence ..." I've known him years."
"Well, Griffiths, he hasn't confided in me . . .
yet," rejoined Roper, "but if you want my opinion,
for what it's worth, we aren't by any means at the
end of the case . . . not by a long way."
Griffiths showed signs of agreement, sagely. "I
gave Dr. Elliott a hand when they brought the body
down to the mortuary," he announced with an ob-
vious sense of importance, "unusual thing you know,
Mr. Roper, a bloke strangled and stabbed like this
one was—like the pictures," he concluded with evi-
dent relish.
"Yes," said Roper. "I can tell you it's given the
Inspector plenty to think about."
"More in it than meets the eye, eh?" Griffiths
delivered this profound opinion with a prodigious
amount of head shaking and brow knitting.
"Shouldn't be surprised—but clear out now—
here comes the Governor."
Griffiths adjusted his chin-strap. "Right-0—I'll
come and see you later."
"Did I hear you talking, Roper? " said Baddeley,
as he entered. "Who was it?" As I am entirely
indebted to Baddeley himself for the substance of
this chapter, I can say with assurance that he mis-
148


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
think?" He went on without giving his assistant
time to reply. "A man murdered in a country house,
with two weapons employed—although according to
the medical testimony the shoe-lace did the job ef-
fectively and the dagger wasn't needed. The body is
found in the billiard room on the billiard-table—
in evening dress and brown shoes. Where's the mo-
tive?"
"Ah, that's it, sir," interposed Roper. "Find
that and you'll see daylight."
"Well," went on Baddeley, " there are three peo-
ple against whom we can lodge a motive or a partial
motive." He ticked them off on his fingers.
"(One) Webb—Prescott interrupted him or was
in some way connected with him ... he had
been out that night on some pretext. (Two) Lieu-
tenant Barker—he had financial reasons for wishing
Prescott out of the way—and his I.O.U. cannot be
traced. (Three) Major Hornby—he was Barker's
friend and brother officer. And had lost money to
Prescott similarly. Also he was the reverse of can-
did when I spoke to him." He paused and con-
sidered. "They're the three I've got something
against, Roper, and one of those three had the shoe-
lace in his pocket. Pretty conclusive, some people
would say, and yet . . . and yet. I'm not sat-
isfied. Can you see the unusual features of this
affair, Roper?"
"Seem to me a large number, sir," answered
Roper. "Do you mean any particular one?"
"I mean this. Everybody in the house has got
150


HORNBY AND THE VENETIAN DAGGER
the same alibi—of course an unsupported and un-
satisfactory one, I admit—but there it is. 'I was
asleep, Inspector.'"
"I suppose if the murdered man were here and
could speak, he'd say he was asleep too!" Roper
grinned at the sally.
"Young Mr. Considine and Captain Arkwright
admitted to a certain amount of wakefulness, sir," he
reminded the Inspector.
"Yes—I know. Arkwright heard the ' Spider '—
I've no doubt on that point—Jack Considine may
have heard anything—Marshall—Mrs. Webb, if
you prefer it—possibly leaving the billiard room—
it's an idea certainly."
Roper pursed his lips together. "It's the motives
some people may have had, sir, the motives that have
to be probed for. What's that bit the French say
about looking for a woman always?"
"Cherchez la femme," said Baddeley. "I won-
der."
"Any one of tlfp people up at the Manor may be
guilty, sir, it seem! to me," continued the indefati-
gable Roper,, " and then again it may come back quite
simply and directly "^to 'Spider' Webb. The job
is to pick out the main trail and not go dashing off
into side tracks that eventually become blind alleys."
"Very true, Roper, very true," smiled Baddeley.
"But it isn't quite so easy as you imagine; one of
your side tracks may turn out to be that main trail
and what you think is the main trail, may prove to be
only a side track."
151


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"That Mr. Bathurst's a smart young fellow, sir.
He'd have done well in our line, don't you think
so r
"Perhaps! You can't always tell. What about
those prints?"
Roper took them out. "They're all numbered,
sir. And I've got the corresponding numbers in
my note-book. And I fancy we've got pretty well
everybody here. Everybody that's likely, that is!"
He paused. Then continued: "We haven't got the
'Spider's,' sir. You haven't forgotten that, have
you? . . . And I'm thinking his are the most
likely."
"No, I know, Roper. Easily get those from ' the
Yard' if necessary."
Roper arranged the photographs. "I'll put them
in numerical order, sir, that will simplify matters
a bit."
Baddeley picked up his magnifying glass and pro-
ceeded on his course of comparison. But one by one
.he laid the photos down again. Then suddenly he
shot up from his seat.
"You've clicked, Roper!" he shouted. He
looked at the back. "Number 9," he exclaimed,
"number nine for a certainty, look—the identical
loops and whorls—who in the name of thunder is
Nine—where's your note-book—quick, man, quick!"
The prints had come out clearly and distinctly. And
when compared with the photograph of those on the
Venetian dagger, there didn't remain the shadow of
a doubt that the same fingers had made them. Roper
152


HORNBY AND THE VENETIAN DAGGER
flicked the leaves of his note-book. "Number Nine,
sir?" he queried. He ran his eye down the page.
"Major Hornby!"
Baddeley gasped. "This beats the band, Roper,
but all the same, mark my words, one of the three
with a motive that's known. Well, I'm blessed."
Roper looked wise and said nothing.
Baddeley's mind went back. "He practically re-
fused all information when I questioned him, and
told me to mind my own business. If he's the mur-
derer of Prescott he reckons we've got no proof at
all . . . he'll try to put up a big bluff. Now
where do I stand? All I can put against him so
far is a motive, finger-prints on a dagger that has
played some part in the crime . . . anything
else? I can't put a truculent manner and attitude
in as compromising evidence." He paced the room
—backwards and forwards. "Gets a darned sight
more complicated every step," he grumbled.
"This dagger was kept in the drawing-room,
wasn't it, sir? " said Roper.
"So I'm told. On what they called the curio
table. What are you driving at?"
"Well, I don't somehow think the ' Spider ' ever
got into the drawing-room."
"Marshall may have taken it from the table."
"Why don't her finger-prints show then, sir?"
"True . . . Major Hornby seems to have
been the last person to have used it."
"He could easily have taken it to his bedroom,
sir," continued Roper.
153


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"Yes, he slept alone. It's feasible. But why
the deuce was Prescott outside that night?" Bad-
deley blazed. "Tell me that and I'll tell you a lot
more . . . nothing I light on seems to have
any bearing on that point. And till I know, I'm
messing round in the dark."
"Where does this Major Hornby hang out, sir?"
questioned Roper.
"Don't know at the moment, but Sir Charles
Considine will let me know at once if I ask him. I
think I will."
Anthony and I were in the garden when the In-
spector arrived. He looked worried and puzzled
but determined.
"Good-afternoon, gentlemen, Sir Charles about
and handy?"
Anthony looked at me. "Yes," I said, "you'll
probably find him in the library."
"Thank you." He passed through into the house,
and it was not for some days that I learned of the
reason underlying his visit or what transpired at his
interview with Sir Charles Considine. Our host, I
imagine, was not too pleased at Baddeley's reap-
pearance. We had had a brief period of compara-
tive quiet after the arrest of Webb and his wife, and
Sir Charles was expecting to be left alone until the
inquest. This advent of Baddeley disturbed him
and brought back the sinister influences that he had
been trying to forget.
"The address of Major Hornby? Of course you
can have it! But surely, Inspector, you don't har-
154


HORNBY AND THE VENETIAN DAGGER
bor any suspicions against a gentleman of Major
Hornby's standing?"
"Not at all, Sir Charles," replied Baddeley cheer-
fully. "I merely want a little more information
from the Major onpne particular point than he was
able to give me when I saw him previously. That is
all, sir." j
Sir Charles rummaged through his pigeonholes.
"Major Hornby is a man of unimpeachable integ-
rity, Baddeley—a British Officer—don't forget—
and—er—a gentleman". Here's the address." He
turned a card over. Baddeley took it. "Melville's
Hotel, Canterbury," he read.
"Thank you, Sir Charles. Please accept my sin-
cere apologies for disturbing you. By the way—
the inquest has been fixed for .Thursday."
Sir Charles thanked him, and the Inspector bowed
himself out.
"I want you to motor me over to Canterbury,
Roper," he announced as soon as he got back. "Ma-
jor Hornby's staying there—it shouldn't take us
too long although, being Bank Holiday, the roads
are certain to be pretty thick." A couple of hours'
journey took them over, and shortly afterwards the
car drew up outside Melville's Hotel.
The Inspector sent up his card with the request
that he might see the Manager. A tall man—dark
and rather military-looking—quickly attended upon
him.
Baddeley told him his errand. "Major Hornby
is staying here—certainly—he arrived late on Satur-
155


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
emptied his glass. This accomplished he rose as
though to go. Baddeley raised his hand.
"I want a word with you, Major," he spoke very
quietly, and not without dignity, "and, believe me,
I have come some miles to get it."
Major Hornby shrugged his shoulders. Then
he spoke very coldly. "You are imposing a distinct
strain on my forbearance, Inspector Baddeley—I
have already given you all the information I can.
That should satisfy even your fund of curiosity."
"All the information you can?" queried Bad-
deley, "or all the information you intend to give
me r
Hornby eyed him with strong disfavor. "Call
it what you choose."
Baddeley's impatience mastered him. "Look
here, Major," he said, "I'm going to be perfectly
frank with you, and I'm not going to beat about the
bush." Hornby raised his eyebrows.
"I'm afraid I'm at a loss to"
Baddeley cut him short. Lowering his voice con-
siderably he leaned right across the table, and some-
thing in his persistence compelled Hornby to listen
attentively. "You will remember, Major, that
Mr. Prescott besides having been strangled—had
been stabbed at the base of the neck with a dagger
—known to Sir Charles Considine, your late host,
and to his intimates, as the Venetian dagger?"
Major Hornby showed signs of assent. The In-
spector proceeded. "That dagger was prepared and
photographed on my instructions, immediately after
158


HORNBY AND THE VENETIAN DAGGER
I first arrived on the scene, and on the result showed
a distinct set of finger-marks." His companion
began to show evidence of interest. "Now,
Major," and here Baddeley grew grave, " I made it
my business to obtain a set of finger-prints of the
various people I encountered in the house "—he was
studying Hornby very carefully now—" and I have
compared the incriminating set with the specimens I
managed to obtain." He paused.
"I'm all attention, Inspector," said the Major.
"And you discovered?"
"That the finger-prints were yours—Major
Hornby."
"Really, Inspector—now that's most interest-
ing—when are you going to arrest me?"
Baddeley waved the sarcasm on one side. "Can
you explain what I have just told you?"
Hornby pulled at his top lip, thoughtfully.
"Quite easily to a point," he said. He looked at
the Inspector, who showed no sign. Hornby went
on. "I held that dagger in my hand on the evening
before Prescott was murdered."
"What were the circumstances?"
The Major smiled. "Nothing suspicious. After
dinner that evening, we were talking about
crime"
Baddeley was immediately alert. "What? Who
was r
"All of us. The conversation was general. Why
do you ask?"
"Who was responsible for the turn the conversa-
159


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
tion took? Anybody in particular—think carefully
—it may be of the greatest importance?"
"Well, if you ask me, Inspector, it was Bathurst
—he rather fancies himself, you know, in the sleuth
line. Can't think of anybody else. Yes, I'm sure he
began it."
Baddeley nodded. "All right! Go on!"
Hornby reflected. "Where was I?"
"Talking about crime," muttered his companion
grimly. "Only talking"
"Oh yes! Well, the conversation got pretty well
going—murders and detectives and what not, and
it didn't seem likely that cards would be started for
some little time—and I wandered round the drawing-
room. When I got to the curio table, as it was
called, my eyes fell on the Venetian dagger. I
couldn't help thinking how it fitted in with the sub-
ject of the reigning conversation. I picked it up
and examined it with some interest—and the thought
came to me that it might have sent more than one
soul into eternity."
The Inspector listened eagerly, and with some im-
patience.
"Yes, yes!" he said. "What then?"
Major Hornby shook his head—" There's noth-
ing more to tell. I put the dagger back on the table
and shortly afterwards started to play cards."
Baddeley thought for a moment. His next ques-
tion the Major thought surprising.
"Tell me, Major Hornby," he said, "when you
were examining the dagger, did you by any chance
160


MR. BATHURST POTS THE RED
as you have. And I'm going to try to help you to
endure them even better."
Mrs. Prescott smiled very sweetly. "You are
very kind, my dear," she said. "But I feel this,
Mr. Cunningham," she turned in my direction, " that
I owe it to my son's memory to leave no stone un-
turned to find the man or woman who killed him."
The look of patient resignation on her face gave way
to one of steady resolution. She continued—talking
seemed to relieve her grief a little, perhaps.
"I'm certain of one thing. I'm absolutely certain,
in my own mind, that when Gerald came down here
to Considine Manor, he had no worries, no
trouble on his mind, and that whatever dark pas-
sions encompassed his end—were awakened very
recently."
Mary's eyes brimmed with tears.
"Oh, don't say that, Mrs. Prescott," she said.
"I can't bear to think that this came to him when
he was our guest—I've just been telling Mr. Cun-
ningham the same thing."
Mrs. Prescott smiled sadly. "You have nothing
with which to reproach yourself, my dear. I just
know that when Gerald came here he was intensely
happy and glad to come. Therefore, whatever
cause brought about his death, had its origin down
here. That's all I mean." She put her arm round
Mary's shoulders. I heard a step behind—it was
Anthony. Mary introduced him.
"I am pleased to meet Mr. Bathurst," said Mrs.
Prescott. "I have heard already from Sir Charles
165


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
he said; " there are one or two things I should like
to make more sure of."
"What are they? " I inquired curiously.
"I should like to have a look at the billiard room
—and Prescott's bedroom," he replied uncon-
cernedly. "I'm building up a theory and I would
like to test it in one or two places. Come with me?"
"Delighted," I answered. "Billiard room
first?"
"As you please," said he. We ascended the
stairs. In the sunshine of the morning, there seemed
to remain no trace of the dreadful secret the room
held. The table, bereft of its ghastly burden of a
few days since, only spoke of the game it stood for.
It was a difficult matter to realize all that had hap-
pened since the last game that had been played upon
it.
"These chairs were overturned, Bill, and this
poker was lying on the floor—remember?"
I did—and I said so. He went full length on the
floor and took a magnifying-glass from his pocket.
"I'm rather sceptical about the magnifying-glass
stunts you get in detective novels," he muttered,
"but I want an extra-special look at this floor-
covering.
"No," he said as he arose, "I can't see any signs
of any struggle—there are no scratches that would
evade the naked eye, of feet moved uncontrollably
like in a fight or wrestle. And what is more, Bill,
I particularly noticed when Marshall gave the alarm,
that although Prescott's brown shoes were muddy—
168


MR. BATHURST POTS THE RED
there was no trace of any mud on the floor here.
Think of that, laddie."
"It might happen so," I ventured.
"Hardly likely, Bill! There was an appreciable
amount of mud on the brown shoes, and one would
reasonably expect to find a few traces if Prescott
had been engaged in a struggle. In a fight or a
wrestle—such as might have taken place here, there
is far more pressure of the feet on the ground and
certainly more friction than is got by ordinary walk-
ing—don't you see?"
"Yes," I conceded. "I see what you mean."
"Yet," he went on, "I am certain that there
were no mud-marks on the floor. Which suggests
a number of entertaining possibilities." He
frowned.
"You haven't told me yet," I urged, "of those
three definite clues you picked up right at the out-
set. Still liking the look of them? I'm curious!"
"One of 'em has been dragged to light, Bill, and
I'm very satisfied with its results—the other two
I'm still keeping—for the time being at all events."
I felt annoyed. All faithful Watsons were not
treated in this cavalier manner. They were always
admitted willingly and readily into the confidential
intimacies. T voiced a complaint. I thought a semi-
humorous strain might become the matter best.
"How, my dear Anthony," I began, "can you
reasonably expect to be guided by the best gleams
of my superlative intelligence and highly-powered
imagination, if you persist in withholding important
169


MR. BATHURST POTS THE RED
ball on to the spot-ball and in attempting a second
cannon I failed, leaving the red nicely in front of the
bottom right-hand pocket. Anthony smiled in ap-
preciative approval.
"Thank you, Bill!" He promptly potted the
red. "I can see visions of a nice healthy little break
here," said he, as he sidled round to pick the red
ball out. He plunged his hand into the pocket.
Then I saw his face register surprise.
"What's up?" I queried half-interestedly.
"Something down here in the pocket, Bill," he
returned. "A piece of paper." He drew out a
twisted piece of paper and smoothed it out with his
fingers—it was a portion of envelope. In a second
it flashed into my mind what it was. Something
seemed to hammer it into my brain instantaneously.
Before my tongue could give sound to the message
that was flooding my brain Anthony spoke very
quietly, and very gravely. I remember that I
marvelled at the time that he could retain so un-
disturbed an equanimity.
"Bill," he said, "Barker's I.O.U.! By Jove!"
"How the devil did it come there? " I exclaimed.
He thought for a second or two before replying.
"Well, taking all the circumstances into considera-
tion, not such an unlikely place, after all, to find it.
Prescott's body lay across this table, near this par-
ticular pocket, and it's quite conceivable that (i)
the I.O.U. fell in some manner from his coat pocket
into the billiard-table pocket or (2) the I.O.U. was
taken from the body by the murderer, and dropped,
171


MR. BATHURST POTS THE RED
was the arm—there were the three balls—there was
the dagger "he snapped his fingers. Then he
swung around.
"Got it? " I asked curiously.
"Got what?"
"Whatever was eluding you?"
He smiled. "I think so," he answered, " anyway
the three balls were there—it was impossible to see
the piece of envelope even if we had thought of look-
ing there. But, I must confess, it didn't occur to
me. And evidently also, it didn't occur to the
worthy Baddeley."
"Going to tell him? " I queried.
"Afraid we ought to! Still I don't see why we
should . . . yet. On second thoughts, I think
we'll put it back in its little nest ... in this
selfsame pocket. For the time being, William, we
will remember, we twain, that 'Silence is Golden'
and that Inspector Baddeley didn't call us a lot of
'tight-lips' unreasonably."
I looked at the I.O.U. There it was as Barker
had described it. Just a mere scrawl. But possibly
it had cost a man his life. And might cost another
his. "I.O.U. £208. Malcolm V. Barker."
Anthony held his hand out for it. "Let's put it
back, Bill. It will suit my book if it lie there for a
time." He tucked it away into the pocket. "Going
on with the game?"
I shook my head. "I've lost interest—this new
turn has done it. I don't feel anything like so keen."
"Neither do I. What about having another look
173


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
at Prescott's bedroom? You remember what I told
you just now!"
But I was reluctant to turn my thoughts from our
latest discovery. I was anxious to hear more of
what Anthony thought with regard to it. Had he
formed one of his brilliantly definite notions or was
he still groping for an elusive factor anoj groping
unsuccessfully? I determined to draw a bow at a
venture. I might, by so doing, discover something
of what lay in his mind.
"I'm afraid," I ventured with an air of wisdom,
"that this latest business brings the searchlight of
suspicion on to Lieutenant Barker again—don't you
agree?" I looked at him intently, trying to read his
thoughts.
"Why—particularly?"
"Doesn't it make it appear," I asked, "that
Prescott Was murdered for possession of that
I.O.U.? £200 odd is a pretty substantial sum, you
know, for a young officer to lose at a sitting. At
least, I'd think so."
"It's a possibility," came the reply, "but you
can't assert that the I.O.U. was a primary factor
in the murder. I know that the I.O.U. has been
discovered near the body, but after all, the explana-
tion may be perfectly simple. Prescott, we will
argue, taking the simple line that I have indicated,
took the I.O.U. from Barker at the card-table, as
we have been told, placed it in the breast-pocket
of his dress-coat, and in the struggle that took place
when he was done to death, the thing dropped from
174


MR. BATHURST POTS THE RED
its place into the pocket of the billiard-table. I told
you so just now."
"Certainly a possibility," I said, "but"
"You don't think so, eh?"
"Well, candidly," I rejoined, "I'm not con-
vinced."
"Nor am I." He smiled again. "I'm only dis-
cussing possibilities. Still "—he proceeded more
slowly, "I'm inclined to think that this discovery
tends to eliminate Barker from our list of suspects."
"Can't see it—quite," I intervened. "I think
it's rather damaging to him."
He looked at me keenly.
"I think this," he said. "If Lieutenant Barker
had been after that I.O.U.—sufficiently enthusiastic
for its possession to murder a man—that once he
had got his claws on it, he would have destroyed it."
"How?" I said—" and where? He was bound
to keep it for a time—he couldn't destroy it directly
he got it—he might have left traces—that
would have inevitably incriminated him!" I was
jubilant—I felt I had scored.
Anthony lit a cigarette. "Bill," he conceded,
"you're right—that's certainly a point that I had
not considered I"


MARY CONSULTS MR. BATHURST
long-lashed lids of hers. "What makes you think
I have anything to tell you, Mr. Bathurst?" she
asked.
He smiled one of his irresistibly-attractive smiles.
"I think it's a fairly safe conclusion to which to
come. You want a consultation with me. You
would hardly put it in that way if you required any
information from me—would you—therefore, I
imagine you have something to tell me. Am I
wrong?"
She flung herself on to the edge of the billiard-
table and sat there—dainty and well-shod. She was
always as fit as a fiddle and better at games than
a good many men. She played a smashing good
game of tennis, was a steady bat and bowled quite
a good ball—slow, with a deceptive flight that did
a little bit both ways—was a good hand with a
golf-club, and could make a hundred on the billiard-
table in double quick time. As I've said before in
this history—Mary Considine was a peach.
"No, you are not wrong, Mr. Bathurst. You
are right, of course—but now that I've decided to
tell it to you, and have arrived at the moment of
the telling—I don't know whether I should or
whether it's of the slightest importance—except to
me—and—one other."
She stopped and Anthony waited for her to con-
tinue.
It was plain to me, interested auditor that I was,
that Mary was waiting for some sign of encourage-
ment or approbation from Anthony—but it did not
177


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
come. She glanced at him, but his eyes were in-
scrutable.
"You don't help me much," she said, rather de-
liriously. "You could—you know!"
"I would much prefer you to tell your story
entirely in your own way. It is impossible for me,
at this stage of the conversation, to judge whether
it will possess any significance—please proceed."
She looked rather aggrieved at this, and I won-
dered what was coming next.
"I haven't told my father. I haven't told my
mother—the only person that knows is my sister,
Helen—Mrs. Arkwright, you know—I told her
soon after it happened. I have had a talk with her
over it, Mr. Bathurst, and she approves of my telling
you." She clasped her hands. "' Nil nisi bonum
de mortuis est' they say, don't they, and although
I'm not going to say anything at all bad—I feel
that I'm betraying a confidence—exposing to the
world something that he would have regarded as
intimate and private—that's why I hesitated and
seemed to be in a difficulty just now." She looked
at Anthony earnestly, as though probing his mind
for his opinion on the matter.
"I appreciate your diffidence, Miss Considine, and
I think I can gauge exactly what your feelings are."
She smiled with gratification. "Do you know,
that's very nice of you . . . that will make it
easier for me to know that. What I want to tell you
is this—Gerald Prescott was in love with me ..and
had asked me to be his wife."
178


MARY CONSULTS MR. BATHURST
I gasped! Consummate effrontery I called it,
even though the man was lying dead now.
Anthony appeared to take the news very quietly.
"When did he ask you that?" he queried.
"During the luncheon interval of Friday—the
last day's cricket we had."
"I don't wish to appear inquisitive, and believe
me I am not asking idly or frivolously—what was
your reply?"
Mary blushed a little and her eyes fluttered in my
direction.
"I will tell you, Mr. Bathurst, I told him that
I would give him his answer the next day—that was
all I told him."
"I am going a little further then—what was your
answer going to be?"
She looked at me again, then shook her head.
"I don't know, Mr. Bathurst. To be perfectly
frank with you, I don't really know—he was too
good an athlete to take chances with."
Anthony raised his eyes with an expression of be-
wilderment. "Too good an athlete? I don't quite
understand."
Mary blushed again—then appealed to me to
help her out.
"I forgot for the moment that you haven't been
here lately, Mr. Bathurst—tell him for me, Bill—
will you, please?"
"Mary swore a fearful oath a few years ago,"
I explained, "that she would marry no man that
couldn't beat her at cricket—single wicket and also
179


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
asked me to sit on the seat at the back of the courts.
After we had been sitting there for a little time,
I had that peculiar sensation that comes to one, when
one is being watched. There are two big trees a few
yards away from that seat—at the side of the path
that leads to ' The Meadow ' and then to the Alling-
ham Road. I turned quickly and looked. There
was a man there watching us. He was crouching
down and I am almost certain had a soft hat pulled
down over his face. . . ." She paused and
looked at Anthony.
"This is most interesting, Miss Considine—please
go on!"
"I did not tell Mr. Prescott what I had seen, but
suggested that we should walk back."
"Would you pass close to the trees on your way
back to the house?"
"No. We came up from the corner of the courts
and would have the trees on our right."
"At what distance?"
"About twenty yards away. Still, I could see
quite clearly—the figure had disappeared."
"Could you give any description of him at
all?"
She pondered for a moment. "He seemed to be
dressed in darkish clothes—that's all I can say that
I could rely upon."
"Physically—how would you place him?"
Here she shook her head. "He was crouched
down—his body wasn't in a normal position. I
couldn't place him accurately."
182


MARY CONSULTS MR. BATHURST
"Go on, Miss Considine, tell me of the other
times."
"There were two other occasions, Mr. Bathurst.
One, the Thursday evening Mr. Prescott and I were
again in the garden—it was before the Bridge party
started. I purposely walked in the opposite direction
to that we had taken on the Tuesday. We came
round by the other path—leading past the billiard
room and thence to the front of the house. When
we reached there, we didn't dally but turned quickly
i—we were afraid we should keep the card party
waiting—and I am certain that we had been fol-
lowed; I saw a figure crouching against the wall by
the turn of the house—sheltering in its shadow.
When we turned the figure dodged back quickly—
and although we walked back quickly, I never saw it
again."
"Did Prescott see it? " queried Anthony.
"He said he didn't when I mentioned it to him,
but I am not sure that he wasn't disclaiming the idea
in order to stifle any fears I might have had."
"In your opinion, Miss Considine, was it the
same man that you had seen on the Tuesday?"
"I couldn't possibly answer that, Mr. Bathurst.
Much as I should like to. On this second occasion
all I was able to catch sight of was part of a man's
body flattened against the angle of a wall."
"I appreciate your difficulty. Now tell me of the
third occasion."
"The third time was, comparatively speaking, a
trivial incident. On Friday evening—once again, not
183


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
long after dinner, I was standing with Gerald in the
opening of the drawing-room doors leading on to the
garden. We were standing just inside the drawing-
room. The others were still discussing that ' detec-
tive ' conversation you yourself had started—Gerald
Prescott and I had drifted away. In the midst of
our conversation I thought I caught the sound of a
very low cough coming from somewhere near—in
the garden. When Gerald went in to play cards, I
had the temerity to go out there. There was a dark
patch of shadow just to the right, by the wall again
—and Mr. Bathurst"—she paused dramatically
—" all around that patch hung the pungent aroma of
a recently smoked cigar." She leaned over and put
her hand on his sleeve. "Have I impressed you that
some person or persons—was spying on him?"
"What was the conversation between you and
Prescott on this last occasion?"
"He was pressing me for a reply to his proposal.
The conversation didn't last five minutes."
Anthony looked perturbed. Some element in this
latest information was worrying him.
"You didn't give him one, of course, or any in-
dication of your feelings?"
"None. I evaded the issue. We didn't exchange
more than half a dozen sentences."
"Tell me, Miss Considine," Anthony became very
insistent, "did Prescott, as far as you were able to
observe, betray any agitation or emotion, on any
one of these three occasions?"
"As far as I was able to judge, Mr. Bathurst,
184


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
•who wouldn't—but I didn't realize that he was so
absolutely bowled over as Mary says."
Anthony took out his cigarette case, selected a
cigarette and tapped it carefully.
"This seat by the tennis courts—do you know
exactly where she means?"
"Oh yes. Know it well. Why?"
"Well, before we go and have that look at Pres-
cott's bedroom that I spoke about, I think I should
like to take a glance at this seat."
"Right-O," I responded. "I'll pilot you there."
We made our way down the garden, turned off to
the left, and struck out for the tennis courts.
The trees that Mary had spoken about lay to
our left between us and the road to Allingham.
"There's the seat," I said. "We're approaching
it the way that Mary says she and Prescott came
back. The trees were then, you will remember, on
their right." I pointed.
"Quite correct, Bill," came his reply. "Accord-
ing to her version of what happened, the watcher
had disappeared when they passed the trees on the
journey back. Where did he get to?"
"Probably back into the road," I ventured.
"Where he had, doubtless, come from."
"You think so?" he answered. "Let's go and
have a look. Come over to the trees themselves."
We made our way over. Anthony looked at the
seat we had just left, and then turned and gazed
across the field to where the Allingham Road lay
like a white ribbon across the stretch of Downs.
186


MARY CONSULTS MR. BATHURST
"What's this shed for?" he inquired. He in-
dicated a wooden building on the opposite side of
the path between us and the house.
"It's used for storing the lawn tennis gear," I
answered. "Sir Charles Considine had it built near
the courts for that purpose."
"Jolly useful place—don't you think, Bill? Very
useful indeed."
"Yes," I replied. "Quite a natural idea, though,
surely."
"Oh, eminently. But come on—let's be getting
back. I've seen all that I want to see."
"Are you going to have a look at the other place
where Mary thinks she saw this mysterious watcher
—at the angle of the wall past the billiard room
window? Or don't you consider it sufficiently im-
portant?"
He seemed to have relapsed into a reverie. "Eh
—what's that—the other place? No—I don't think
I want to see that." He continued. "If I could
do what I hinted at in the first place, Bill—sort the
actual clues from the false—the whole thing would
resolve itself into a plain and simple explanation.
There is some evidence that is either merely for-
tuitous or has been put into the affair with deliberate
intent."
He stopped and regarded me very seriously.
Then he spoke.
"Bill, I'm inclined to think I'm crossing swords
with a very clever criminal, but at the same time,
I'm also inclined to think that his cleverness will
187


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
up again and finish his smoke rather than leave it
lying there?"
"Possibly," I responded.
"Rather strange it hasn't been removed," he re-
flected. "Haven't any servants been here since the
murder?"
"Perhaps they did the bedroom and didn't trou-
ble to come in here."
He picked up the portion of cigar. As he had
remarked it had certainly not been smoked to the
point of necessary relinquishment.
"Remember what Mary Considine told us, Bill?
Not long ago?"
"How do you mean? " I said.
"On the third occasion that she fancied Prescott
was being watched or followed she went into the
garden where she imagined the watcher to be, and
detected the smell of cigar smoke. Nothing like
conclusive, I know—but certainly pointing in the
same direction."
"What brand is it? "I asked.
Anthony demurred. "I am well aware that the
immortal Holmes had published a brochure on the
various kinds of tobacco ash—I really forget the
number he mentioned—but alas! I am unable to
keep pace with him there. It looks an ordinary
type—I can tell you one thing—it isn't one of Sir
Charles Considine's assortment—I've had too many
not to know that. Still I'll hang onto it." He put
it carefully away in his pocket.
"You'll find that's Prescott's all right," I ex-
192


BATHURST TAKES HIS SECOND LOOK
claimed. "How can you imagine it could belong
to anybody else? How could anybody else get in
here—for a start? In the bathroom of Prescott's
bedroom!"
"There's a door, Bill," rejoined Anthony drily.
"Quite a natural method of entering a room. You
may be quite right, and it may have been Prescott's
—all the same I'm going to have a look round in
here—there may be more in Mary's story than either
of us anticipated." Out came the magnifying-glass
again and he got to work with it on the floor of the
bathroom.
I strolled back into the bedroom, and couldn't
altogether resist a smile as I heard him talking to
himself from the farther apartment.
"These criminologists take things extraordinarily
seriously," I thought to myself. "Good job if they
don't run across too many cases in a lifetime."
I looked round the bedroom. Why shouldn't I
try my hand at the sleuth game? Perhaps I could
find something! To the best part of my memory
Prescott's bedroom had not received too meticulous
an examination. After all he had slept and dressed
in here for nearly a week, and a bedroom might very
easily contain something of his secret, assuming that
he possessed one. It was an intimate room—it
touched a man—closely. If he had anything to
conceal, it might well be that it was hidden in here,
somewhere. I wandered round, my eyes searching
for likely hiding-places. Inspiration came from no-
where. My eyes caught the bed. Had anybody
193


BATHURST TAKES HIS SECOND LOOK
"Good man!" he grinned. "What are they—
exactly—now you've fished 'em out? Pieces of a
last week's hotel-bill or an announcement of the local
flower-show?"
I shook my head. "Remains of a letter," I
grunted—" there's handwriting here."
I handed the fragments to him. He took them
eagerly. They were obviously small parts of a let-
ter that had been carelessly torn up by somebody
in the room, and in the throwing-away process had
by some freak of wind or whimsicality, fluttered to
the skirting-board. So I reasoned. Anthony spread
them out.
I reproduce the three pieces here as nearly as I
can remember them after so long an interval.
I will meet you in the B so
when you Mary,
at i.
I gasped!" Good Lord!" I exclaimed. Anthony
raised his eyebrows.
"What's this?" he interrogated. "An assigna-
tion? Mary?"
"It's Mary Considine," I answered. "It's her
handwriting—I've seen it too frequently not to know
it. Has she written that to Prescott?"
"No evidence as to whom it's addressed, Bill.
We can only conjecture as to that. Also we can only
surmise what the capital' B ' stands for."
195


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"What do you think yourself?" I whispered
almost fearfully.
"Billiard room, possibly! On the other
hand"
"If it was her way of answering his proposal—
why wasn't she frank with us about it? Did she
meet him or merely intend to?"
"Look at the handwriting again, Bill! Look
at it closely."
I did as he told me. "You're absolutely certain
it's Mary Considine's writing?" he urged with in-
tensity in his tone. "You haven't the shred of a
doubt?"
"Not a shred," I replied. "Not the vestige of
a doubt."
"Very well! I'll see her! I'm pretty accurate
at summing people up psychologically, and I'm fully
prepared for an adequate explanation."
"I'm relieved to hear you say that," I said.
"Somehow it goes against the grain to have Mary
implicated in this business, even though remotely."
"How came you to look under there, Bill?"
he asked suddenly.
"I think I was fired by your example," I replied
after a slight pause. "Yes, it was," I went on.
"Seeing you poking about in the bathroom started
a train of thought in my mind and I decided to have
a nose round in here. I glanced at several things
in the room, and then suddenly thought of looking
under the bed."
He showed signs of approval. "It only shows
196


BATHURST TAKES HIS SECOND LOOK
you that second thoughts often prove to be very
valuable. Our decision to take another glance at
the billiard room and at this bedroom has brought
us a great deal of really important information.
We've progressed."
"Do you think so?" I queried rather gloomily,
I'm afraid. "It seems to me we're getting deeper
and deeper into a kind of morass of doubt and sus-
picion. Each clue we pick up seems to complicate
matters, and contradict the previous one." I sat on
the bed. I really meant all that I said. As far as
these discoveries went we seemed to be traveling
away from a solution and not towards one.
"Be of good cheer, William," cried Anthony
jocularly. "All will yet be well."
"I don't know that I share your optimism," I re-
sponded—"what's the next move?"
"I'm going to take a rather bold step," he re-
plied. He came and sat himself on the bed beside
me. "I'm going to have another word or two with
Mary." Then he stretched his long legs out and
thrust his hands deep in his trousers-pockets.
"Maybe I'm running a certain risk, but in life you
have to take risks—I'll take one now." He jumped
to his feet—" Coming, Bill?" I found myself won-
dering what was coming next as we descended the
stairs. Where were we going? I loathed the prox-
imity of Mary to the affair at the first onset and this
latest development might mean anything.
"Would you be good enough to give me a mo-
ment in the library? " asked Anthony when we found
197


BATHURST TAKES HIS SECOND LOOK
"Very well then—Mr. Bathurst—yes. But I
can t
"You are certain? I want to be unmistakably
certain—certain for instance that it isn't an imita-
tion—a wonderfully accurate imitation?"
She wrinkled her brows and pored over the pieces.
When she raised her eyes she betrayed greater won-
derment than ever.
"Mr. Bathurst—Bill—I'm absolutely bewildered.
I'm certain—positive—as positive as I ever could
be about anything—that this is my handwriting
—yet I can't recognize the letter from where they've
come—I can't even think whom it's to—and if I
didn't know that it was my handwriting—/ should
swear that I hadn't written itlj"
"You mean," suggested Anthony, "that you
don't"
"I mean this—absurd though it may seem and
sound—that I recognize the handwriting, but I don't
recognize the letter. It is entirely unfamiliar. It
appears to me at the moment that I've never pre-
viously seen it." The color flamed in her cheeks
and her eyes were bright with excitement. Anthony
waited for her to proceed. He seemed to divine
what her next question was going to be.
"Tell me," her lips were working tremulously,
"what is this? How did it come into your posses-
sion r
"Those three fragments in your handwriting,
Miss Considine, were found under the bed in the
room recently occupied by Gerald Prescott."
199


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"What?" she exclaimed—indignation challeng-
ing surprise in her tone—" Mr. Bathurst—it can't
possibly be—I've never written a line to Mr. Pres-
cott in my life."
"Yet they were discovered as I have just said."
He spoke very quietly.
"There is some mistake—some mystery," she
reiterated.
"Some enemy hath done this—eh?" remarked
Anthony.
"I'm dumbfounded—I don't know what to say or
suggest. I can't think!"
"Tell me," he said, " I realize the fragments are
small, and therefore, not too easy to identify—but
there's this point. Do you recognize the notepaper
as notepaper that you yourself would have been
likely to use?"
She looked at it closely and ran her fingers over
its surface.
"Yes," she answered. "It is Considine Manor
notepaper—I am sure of that. We have used it for
years. I can show it to you."
She went across to Sir Charles Considine's desk
that stood in the corner. "Here is some," she said.
"Compare it for yourself."
Anthony took it and inspected its texture and
quality. Then passed it over to me. There was no
doubt about it.
The fragments that I had picked up were pieces
of the Manor notepaper.
Then I took a hand. "If you don't recognize
200


BATHURST TAKES HIS SECOND LOOK
the letter, Mary, that these fragments are part of
—well, it seems to me that you can't have written it.
Don't you see what I mean?"
She gazed at me blankly. Then her reason ap-
peared to reassert itself. "That's just how it ap-
pears to me, Bill! That's what I've been trying to
tell both of you." She crossed and seated herself
again.
"Yet it is your handwriting—you are certain,"
interposed Anthony.
"Yet it is my handwriting "she echoed his
words in acquiescence.
"It's a staggerer," I exclaimed. "It all seems so
completely contradictory."
"The most paradoxical and seemingly contradic-
tory things have sometimes the simplest solutions,"
remarked Anthony—" when you can find them."
Mary pressed her hands to her brow. "If I
could only think clearly about it," she cried wearily,
"I'm sure the explanation would come to me—but
I can't! I can only repeat what I've previously
said—I'm certain it's my handwriting—yet I have
no knowledge of the writing beyond that fact." She
turned to Anthony. "You say you found the pieces
under the bed? Am I to understand you suspected
their existence and were looking for them?"
"Bill was the discoverer, Miss Considine—not
I," replied Anthony. "I haven't really heard the
source of his inspiration."
"It seemed to me there was just a possibility of
picking something up in the bedroom "—I tried
201


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
to bear my blushing honors with modesty—" so I
just had a crawl round. Of course it was a piece of
terrific luck. A positive thousand to one shot." I
looked at Anthony. He had relapsed into a chair—
thinking hard. His silence seemed to infect the
whole room, and Mary and I sat and regarded each
other solemnly. Then Anthony astounded us both.
I always knew that his mind had the habit of flying
off at surprising tangents, and I was a little prepared
for the sudden turn it took now.
"How many cars have you in the garage, Miss
Considine?" he asked.
She wrinkled up her forehead in surprise.
"Of our own, do you mean, or including every-
body's? I don't quite follow"
He regarded her steadily.
"Of your own—belonging to Considine Manor,
if you prefer it put that way."
"Two."
"What are they?"
"What make—do you mean?"
"Exactly," he answered.
"A ' Daimler ' and a ' Morris-Oxford.'"
Anthony made a gesture of annoyance. "Had
them long?"
"The Daimler about four years—the Morris-
Oxford only a few months—February, I think we
bought it. Why?"
He waved her question on one side, swinging a
question back to her—" What made you buy it?"
She thought hard for a moment. Then her face
202


BATHURST TAKES HIS SECOND LOOK
cleared. "The other car we had at that time kept
giving trouble. The engine was continually giving
us trouble."
Anthony leaned across—nervously eager with
excitement—"What was the other car—Miss
Considine?"
"The old one ?—a ' Bean,' Mr. Bathurst.''
203


THE INQUEST
wife of his say about it. What's your opinion,
Bathurst?"
Anthony walked across to the sideboard and
helped himself to a healthy portion of cold pie.
"Depends entirely upon what Baddeley wants,"
he responded. "If he's keen on that particular
verdict he'll probably play his cards to get it. Per-
sonally, I'm not so sure that he is." He went back
to the table.
"What makes you think that, Bathurst?" asked
Captain Arkwright.
"Oh—I'm not suggesting anything against
Baddeley, in any shape or form—but the police have
advantages in these matters—they're playing on
their own ground as it were." He laughed. "I'm
assured in my own mind that it is so—I've watched
events pretty closely and often noticed it—still,
this Inspector has impressed me throughout as an
upright, honest and quite efficient person so we can't
tell." He walked back to his seat. Then continued,
"And of course, there's always the possibility that
he may have something up his sleeve. Personally—I
shall expect it."
"Well, Baddeley isn't the only one to have that,"
I ventured blazingly indiscreet.
Anthony shook a warning finger at me. "Bill—
Bill "The breakfast company immediately be-
came all attention.
"What's this, Bill?" demanded Sir Charles.
"Who among us has any special knowledge? Bath-
urst hasn't made any other discoveries, has he?"
205


THE INQUEST
"To Prescott—to the murder." I was nettled.
What relation did he imagine I meant?
"Oh, that! None at all!"
I stared incredulously, even more nettled than be-
fore. "Sorry to hear that—I had hoped that I
had discovered something moderately important."
"So you did, Bill. But its importance was not
exactly in reference to the actual murder."
"What on earth do you"
"Its importance is a matter of accumulation—its
real relation is to the boot-lace and the Barker
I.O.U."
I shook my head hopelessly. "What can Mary's
letter have to do with those other things—you said
yourself we didn't know to whom the letter was
written—besides, we have Mary's word that she
never wrote to Prescott in her life—surely you be-
lieve her—you can't doubt her?"
"Not for a moment, Bill."
"Well, then "—I became emphatic—" there must
be"
"You'll see what I'm getting at all in good time.
Don't be impatient—besides, here we are at 'The
Swan's Nest.'"
The news of the inquest had excited considerable
interest, and a good-sized knot of people had
gathered outside the hostelry. As we entered, I
heard speculation regarding many details of the case,
and our identity was audibly discussed. Dr. Anselm
was just taking his seat. He referred to the shock-
ing nature of the tragedy that was to be there, and
207


THE INQUEST
stabulary, who had acted with lightning-like rapidity
in the following up of certain data that he had
gleaned, two persons had been arrested and lodged in
Lewes Jail. Final and crowning sensation! The
reporters present licked their lips. This was almost
too good to be true. Anthony nudged me in the
ribs. "He's rendered to Baddeley the things that
weren't Baddeley's—you see!" He grinned. "Just
as I expected."
Dr. Anselm speedily got to the real business of
the morning. The room we were in was evidently
the dining-room of the "Swan's Nest," and I at-
tempted to picture it in its ordinary environment.
It seemed grotesque to imagine people could dine
here in any comfort after this inquiry was over.
Then I heard " Mrs. Prescott " called.
The Coroner once again expressed his profound
sympathy with her in her distress. She gave formal
evidence identifying the body that she had viewed
as the body of her son—Gerald Onslow Lancelot
Prescott. He was twenty-two years of age—un-
married—and had just come down from Oxford.
As far as she was aware deceased had no troubles
or worries; he was quite sound financially and to her
knowledge hadn't an enemy in the world.
The Coroner.—" Had he any love affair?"
Mrs. Prescott.—" No. None that he had ever
confided to me."
The Coroner.—" He had come to Considine
Manor simply to take part in the Cricket Week?"
Mrs. Prescott.—" That is so."
209


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
The Coroner.—" Had you heard from him dur-
ing his stay there?"
Mrs. Prescott.—" Yes—a short letter. Full of
the good times he was having."
The Coroner.—" And you know of absolutely
nothing that would throw any light upon this in-
describably dreadful affair?"
Mrs. Prescott.—" Nothing! Nothing at all!"
The Coroner thanked her and the next witness
was summoned. If summoned can correctly describe
the procedure.
"Constance Webb!"
From between two sturdy members of the Sussex
County Police came she whom we had known as
Marshall. Still sensation!
The reporters bent to their tasks with redoubled
energy—sweetened by the thoughts of circulations
to come. A low hum buzzed round the room at the
appearance of this new witness. Anthony clutched
at my arm.
"Look," he muttered. Inspector Baddeley had
come round to the side of Dr. Anselm and was whis-
pering something to him. I saw the Coroner nod
his head three or four times in seeming acquiescence.
Baddeley appeared to be explaining something, for I
saw the doctor give a final approving movement of
the head, and then turn and address the witness.
"What's afoot?" I interrogated.
"I think I know," answered Anthony. "Listen!"
"Marshall," as it seems the more natural for me
to call her, gave her evidence in a low, toneless, al-
210


THE INQUEST
most Inaudible voice. Several times the Coroner
had to request her to speak up. Up to Saturday
last she had been a maid in the employ of Sir Charles
and Lady Considine, and among her duties was the
task of sweeping and cleaning a number of the
Manor rooms first thing in the morning—as she had
done on the Saturday morning in question. She had
eventually reached the billiard room! Here the wit-
ness was observed to falter and excitement ran high
in the " Swan's Nest." Dr. Anslem took a hand.
"What did you find when you got to the billiard
room?"
More excitement followed—a sharp-featured lit-
tle man on the left of the room jumped to his feet.
All eyes were turned on him.
"I object to that question, sir, with all deference
1—the witness has not yet said that she had found
anything."
Dr. Anselm glared at this disturber of the peace.
"Who are you, sir?"
The little man produced his card. "Felix Law-
son. I am present at this inquiry watching the in-
terests of Webb—the man under"
The Coroner broke in quickly. "Very well, Mr.
Lawson. That is sufficient."
He addressed himself to the witness again. "Tell
your story—go on."
"I entered the billiard room and the first thing
I saw was the dead body of Mr. Prescott lying
across the billiard-table."
"What did you do?"
211


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
She hesitated for a brief period. "I screamed
for help! Then the other people came in."
"I see 1 I will only ask you one more question.
Describe the attitude of the body on the table as
well as you are able."
"It seemed to be lying across the end of the table
*—almost on one shoulder—I can't remember any
more. Is that all?"
Dr. Anselm asserted his satisfaction.
"Inspector Baddeley!" Baddeley stepped for-
ward, as briskly as ever.
He told his story curtly and decisively. He ex-
plained that he had been called to Considine Manor
about eight o'clock on the morning in question, in
company with Dr. Elliott. As the previous witness
had stated, the body of the dead man lay across
the billiard-table in the billiard room. The room
was to an extent disordered. Three of the chairs
were overturned, and by the side of one lay the
poker from the fireplace. The window of the room
was open—probably about two feet. There were
footprints outside this window, indicating that de-
ceased had been out there, and another man as well.
With regard to this latter fact he would say no more
for the moment.
Anthony plucked at my elbow. "You'll hear no
mention of the ' Spider '—you see."
Baddeley went on with his evidence. No money
had been found on the deceased, although he was
almost fully dressed. He was wearing, when dis-
covered, full evening dress with the exception of his
212


THE INQUEST
shoes. These were brown—the deceased had evi-
dently pulled them on in a great hurry. He had
made inquiries about the deceased gentleman, and
had discovered nothing whatever to his discredit or
detriment. Inspector Baddeley retired.
Dr. Elliott then followed with his medical testi-
mony. Once again the room at the " Swan's Nest"
buzzed and hummed with excitement. Death was
due, he told his audience, to strangulation. Deceased
had been strangled by a brown shoe-lace, taken from
one of the shoes that he was wearing and tied tightly
round his throat. A dagger had also been driven
into the base of the neck, at the top of the spinal
column, but in his opinion, death had already super-
vened before this assault had taken place. Acute
sensation!
A Juryman.—" Was it possible, Dr. Elliott, for
this shoe-lace to have been placed round deceased's
neck by deceased himself?"
Dr. Elliott.—"You suggest suicide?"
A Juryman.—" Yes. That's what I mean."
Dr. Elliott.—" Quite possible, of course, but as a
medical man, I hardly"
A Juryman.—" Thank ye, Doctor."
Continuing, Dr. Elliott gave it his considered
opinion that death had taken place about six or seven
hours when he first examined the body.
The Coroner.—" That would time the murder
then, Dr. Elliott, at about one o'clock or half-past?
Am I correct?"
Dr. Elliott agreed. In conclusion he stated that
213


THE INQUEST
should be walking about in rooms at that hour of the
night. I have since identified that room where the
light was, as the billiard room."
The man who had described himself as Felix Law-
son rose to his feet. He bowed to the Coroner.
"With your permission, Dr. Anselm, I would like
to put one question to the witness."
"Very well, Mr. Lawson."
The little man turned to Whitney. "Are you
prepared to affirm, on oath, Mr. Whitney, that this
lighting up of the billiard room took place after
three o'clock? You are absolutely certain of your
time?"
Whitney nodded his head impatiently. "Quite
positive. I imagined I had made myself clear on
that point." f
Lawson raised his hand deprecatingly. "You
were judging, I think, from the chimes, of a clock.
They are very easily miscounted, especially when
your mind is otherwise pretty well occupied. You
counted the strokes and were sure?"
"I did. I am positive on the point."
"Thank you very much. Thank you, Dr. Anselm.
That is all I have to ask."
Whitney stepped away smartly.
"Annie Dennis."
A girl whose face was vaguely familiar to me
came forward. When she started to speak I realized
that I knew her. It was one of the kitchen maids
at the Manor. She had been called as a result of
Inspector Baddeley's inquiries, and had something
215


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
to tell the world which the Inspector considered im-
portant. I whispered again to Anthony Bathurst.
"Did you know about this? " I said.
"No," he replied. "Not a glimmer. The In-
spectator has been busy."
Annie's evidence was as follows. On Friday even-
ing she had been sent down into the village by Fitch,
the butler. She had returned just after nine o'clock,
and as she entered the grounds of the Manor she
was amazed to see a man walking on the flower-bed
directly outside the billiard room window.
Dr. Anselm.—"What exactly did he appear to
be doing?"
"Nothing! Only walking across the bed."
"Can you describe him?"
The witness shook her head. "No, sir—not very
well. He seemed to disappear very quickly as I drew
nearer to the house itself. But there was something
a little peculiar about his walk."
"In what way peculiar?"
Annie Dennis hesitated. "I can't rightly say, sir,
it just didn't seem ordinary-like—not free and easy."
"Do you mean that he limped in some way or
was lame?"
"No, sir, not exactly that—I can't tell you quite
what I mean—but I should know it if I ever saw it
again."
Dr. Anselm desisted from worrying the witness
any more, and having summed the whole facts up,
concisely and accurately, the jury were asked for
their verdict. It was speedily forthcoming. "Wil-
216


THE INQUEST
ful Murder against some person or persons un-
known—death having been caused by strangulation."
We filed out of the room one by one. I was
anxious to ask Anthony his opinion of the two fresh
witnesses. I turned to address him when I found,
to my surprise, Inspector Baddeley at our sides.
"I'd like a chat with you, Mr. Bathurst," he said,
"at your convenience."
"Whenever you like, Baddeley! You've deserted
the 'Spider' then?"
"Not altogether, although it might appear to be
so," came the answer.
"You must have strong reasons."
"Pretty fair," grinned the Inspector. Then his
face relapsed into the grave again. "Still, I'm not
denying that I'm puzzled," he admitted. "I can't
get the facts to tally at all. That's why I want a
word with you. Understand?"
Anthony patted him on the back. "Only too
pleased, Inspector; the case has been rather trouble-
some, I admit." We walked home together.


CHAPTER XVII
INSPECTOR BADDELEY PUTS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE
Baddeley closed the library door behind us and
gestured to us to be seated. "I don't purpose trou-
bling Sir Charles Considine at the moment," he in-
formed us, " for one or two reasons—but I do feel,
gentlemen, that I've reached a stage in the investi-
gations of this affair when I'm bound to talk things
over with somebody." He paused and produced his
pipe which he proceeded to fill, slowly and delib-
erately. Then he continued. "Early on, Mr. Bath-
urst, you had a little joke with me about going
fifty-fifty in regard to our discoveries . . . well
. . . it's like this ... I seem to be prop-
erly up against the most baffling set of clues it's ever
been my good fortune—or bad, if you like—to en-
counter." He struck a match and lit the tobacco.
"In all probability I've been able to get information
that you haven't, Mr. Bathurst—that sort of thing's
my job so you're starting a bit ' scratch' as it were
—still I'm going to play the game and put all the
cards on the table."
Anthony waved a deprecating hand. "Quite so
—Inspector."
Baddeley eyed him warily—then went on again.
"There's a young fellow murdered and a pearl
218


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
about with him. Robbery for something that he
possessed? The LO.U. for instance? Possibly I
Revenge? Again—possibly! But if so for some-
thing that has, so far, eluded me. Still—we'll con-
cede—a distinct possibility. You see—we aren't
nearing probabilities yet. And probabilities are much
more satisfactory than mere possibilities. Now
there's that very mysterious piece of work with the
Venetian Dagger."
He stopped again as though to let his words sink
well in. Anthony grew very attentive, and I found
myself more responsive, so to speak, to the In-
spector's mood.
"The dagger had been used to 'make sure' ap-
parently. The murderer was taking no risks—dead
men tell no tales—but—and here's something you
probably don't know, Mr. Bathurst—that Venetian
dagger had unmistakable signs of finger-prints."
Anthony grinned. "It was the dagger, after all,
Bill," he said. Then he addressed Baddeley. "I
tumbled to your letter dodge, Inspector," he ex-
plained. "I spotted that you had some prints some-
where and were after an identification. Fire away."
He settled in his chair again. Baddeley gazed at
him steadily.
"You miss a hell of a lot. I don't think," he
muttered. "I fancy I've brought my samples to
the right market, after all."
Anthony dismissed the compliment with a wave
of the hand. Then came as quickly to the challeng-
ing point. "Whose were they?"
220


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
Anthony pulled at his top lip with his fingers—
a favorite trick of his. "You refer to the evidence
of Andrew Whitney and the maid, Dennis—I pre-
sume?"
Baddeley nodded. "Whitney's evidence was a
stroke of pure good fortune for me. He had seen
the account of the case in the papers, read the de-
scription of the house, Considine Manor, and know-
ing of course that his delay occurred in the village
of Considine or thereabouts, had no difficulty in
recognizing it again when he came to have a second
look at it. I tell you I was glad to get my hooks
into this piece of evidence, from an absolutely un-
impeachable source—but when he swore that the
time was past three—well, I was pretty well stag-
gered." He came right across to us and looked
Anthony straight in the face. "Mr. Bathurst,
think it overl Dr. Elliott tells us Prescott was
killed somewhere about half-past one—perhaps two
'—' Spider' Webb was pulling off his little job of
work round about the same time—it all seems to
point to a connection between the two—yet I'm not
satisfied—I can't think what was doing in that bil-
liard room after three o'clock that morning." He
stared broodingly at his pipe. Neither Anthony nor
I broke the silence—he seemed determined to let
Baddeley have his entire say without further inter-
ruption.
"So much then for Whitney's evidence. Now we
come to Annie Dennis. I am indebted to the butler
—Fitch—for getting on to her. When I first ques-
222


THE CARDS ON THE TABLE
tioned her she told me she could tell me nothing.
Apparently she had either forgotten the incident or
didn't consider it of sufficient importance to mention.
She took it to Fitch who passed it on to me—so
I interviewed her. What was a man doing outside
the billiard room window at that time—just after
nine o'clock—on Friday evening? Once again—was
it Webb—or an accomplice of Webb's? There are
too many twists and turns in this for me, Mr.
Bathurst. I'm fairly staggered."
Anthony rose and stretched his long body.
"This inquest to-day, Inspector Baddeley—I was
very interested to observe that all reference to
Webb's arrest was avoided. In fact, as far as I can
remember not a great deal of mention was made of
the theft of Lady Considine's necklace. Marshall
—Mrs. Webb—was treated exactly as an ordinary
witness. I presume I am correct, Inspector, in as-
suming that you stage-managed this?"
Baddeley smiled. "Right again, Mr. Bathurst!"
"May I ask why? I have my own ideas of course
—but"
Baddeley cut in. "Well, I'll be perfectly frank
with you, Mr. Bathurst. In these cases as you are
doubtless aware, especially at an inquest, it isn't
always the best policy for the Police to put all their
cards on the table—at first that is. The robbery
and the murder may be linked up—on the other
hand they may not—if they are not—as my instinct
tells me—it's just as well for the real murderer to
remain in the dark about Webb."
223


THE CARDS ON THE TABLE
we just handled. Well, I'm not surprised—I didn't
want to find anything startling."
"Any information helps," muttered Baddeley
somewhat gloomily.
"Not always, Inspector! Consider your own
position here—you found pieces of information from
time to time that only served to confuse you. You
have admitted that yourself! They wouldn't fit in,
as links in the chain—I had the same difficulty"
"That's true," conceded the Inspector. "But you
like to feel you're running freely."
Anthony went straight across to him. "I do, In-
spector. I feel that I'm actually ' in the straight.'"
But Baddeley refused to be comforted. "I'm
not denying that you've done one or two smart
things, but I'm afraid you're a bit over-confident.
I've been at the game longer than"
Anthony cut in. "Look here, Baddeley, do you
think I should say a thing like that, without good
and sufficient reason?"
I subjected Baddeley to a careful scrutiny, for I
felt myself sympathizing with him. How could
Anthony possibly make a statement like that? It
seemed to me from what I had seen of the case—
which was as much as anybody—that several people
lay under suspicion, but none more than any other.
Now there was Hornby to add to Webb, Barker,
"Marshall " and the rest of them. I could quite see
Baddeley's point of view—a maze of clues and not
one, to my outlook, that stood out conspicuously
from the others.
227


CHAPTER XVIII
MR. BATHURST PARTIALLY EMULATES HIS EXAMPLE
We settled down in our chairs, eager and ex-
pectant. I think Baddeley shared my feelings now.
What were we going to hear that would throw light
on the affair?
"You've acted very decently all the way through,
Baddeley, I'll say that for you, and I appreciate it
as a compliment that we're running this little 'con-
fab' now. I realize that to a certain extent, you
have come to me for help—well, I'll give you some.
You said just now you were going to put your cards
on the table. Perhaps you thought that I held some
trumps too." He paused and waited for the In-
spector to reply. But the answer was some little
time in coming. Baddeley shifted uneasily in his
seat as though he didn't altogether approve of
Anthony's opening remarks. Then somewhat
grudgingly it seemed to me he answered the question
that had been put to him.
"Well—perhaps I did, Mr. Bathurst." Then, as
though he realized partly that he was exposing him-
self to charge of churlishness, he made the amende.
"You see, Mr. Bathurst, I've developed a certain
amount of admiration for you."
Anthony smiled. "Then we know where and
229


BATHURST EMULATES HIS EXAMPLE
"Come now, Inspector. Recriminations weren't
part of our bargain. We found this, Cunningham
and I, exactly as I have indicated—I am not pre-
tending that I found it because I was looking for
it—it was entirely fortuitous."
Baddeley made no reply. He read and reread
the writing. Then tapping it with his forefinger:
"Here's the motive—gentlemen. The very link
for which I've been searching. Prescott was mur-
dered for possession of this I.O.U., and the mur-
derer in his haste or excitement dropped or lost the
very object he wanted to obtain." Then to us—
"don't you think so?"
"I ought to tell you, Inspector," Anthony an-
swered, " that I don't quite know the actual position
that this piece of envelope was occupying in the
pocket when I found it. Don't look mystified! I
sent the balls flying from the pocket with the flat
of my hand, before I discovered the I.O.U. There-
fore, you understand, I don't know for certain if it
was down the side of the pocket say—or right at the
bottom—under the billiard balls! Get me?"
"Yes, I understand that. You think the paper's
position important?"
"Very. For instance, if I could definitely assert
that it occupied the latter position, I should incline
to the opinion that it had been hidden there—not ac-
cidentally dropped."
Baddeley rubbed the ridge of his jaw with his
knuckles.
"Yes—that's sound reasoning," he admitted.
231


BATHURST EMULATES HIS EXAMPLE
"Been smoked by a man with jolly good teeth,"
remarked the Inspector as he studied it closely.
"Prescott himself had excellent teeth—gentlemen."
"Yes—that's a distinct possibility—I admit that,"
replied Anthony. "Just a piece of absent-minded-
ness on his part might account for its presence
there."
Baddeley nodded. "Was he a cigar smoker?
Can you tell me?"
"What do you mean? " I broke in. "Habitually
.—or occasionally?"
"Either!"
"Well," I uttered, " he'd smoke a cigar after din-
ner if Sir Charles or anybody offered him one—I
can tell you that—I've often seen him."
"Just so! That's all I meant. I'll keep this and
make a few inquiries."
"By the way, Baddeley "—from Anthony—" you
went all over the bedroom itself pretty systemati-
cally—didn't you?"
"I did that," replied Baddeley. "And I don't
think I missed anything."
It was on the tip of my tongue to put him wise
again—I thought of the letter fragments—but An-
thony put a quick finger to his lips, unseen by the
Inspector. I also caught the fleeting suggestion of
a lowered eyelid. It then became evident to me that
he did not intend to let Baddeley know what I had
found in the bedroom. Neither had he mentioned
Mary's evidence about the mysterious watcher that
she and Prescott had seen—in short, I realized
233


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
that Anthony was only putting some of his cards on
the table.
Baddeley led the way downstairs somewhat rue-
fully, I thought.
"I must thank you, Mr. Bathurst, for putting me
wise on these points," he said very frankly. "But
if I was to say that I felt any nearer to a solution,
because of them—well—I shouldn't be taking a
medal for veracity. Think I'd better start keeping
rabbits. More in my line."
"Don't be too self-critical, Inspector. A little is
good for all of us—but a little goes a long way, and
too much of it is bad for one."
Inspector Baddeley looked at him with no little
chagrin.
"You mean what you say, kindly, I've no doubt,
but I feel that I'd like to think quietly over what
I've learned from you to-day. Somewhere, at my
leisure—I get a bit bewildered unless I can go my
own pace. So you won't mind if I say 'good-
day '?" He held out his hand to us in farewell.
"Good-day, Mr. Bathurst! Good-day, Mr. Cun-
ningham!"
Anthony looked after him whimsically as he closed
the door. Then we heard Sir Charles Considine's
voice booming out. "Hullo, Baddeley, what did
you think of old Anselm? The inquest didn't pro-
duce much that we didn't know—eh—and also didn't
produce some that we did—what?" Baddeley ap-
peared to murmur a reply that tickled Sir Charles'
humor.
234


BATHURST EMULATES HIS EXAMPLE
"Very good. Very good! What do you think of
that, Jack—eh, Arkwright?—good-hye, Baddeley."
"Good-day, Sir Charles." We heard the Inspec-
tor's footsteps down the drive. I turned to Anthony.
"You deliberately kept Mary's evidence from
him, and you didn't show him those letter fragments
I found in the bedroom. Why?"
"Why? Well, I told him as much as I thought
was good for him to know!"
"It seems hardly fair to him," I muttered. "He's
handicapped."
"Less than if I hadn't told him what I did. I've
helped him. For instance he's got the Barker
I.O.U. and the cigar stub. He'll probably get to
work on the latter at once."
This last remark was a wonderfully good shot on
Anthony's part. For Inspector Baddeley went
straight into the village to the larger of the two
tobacconists that supplied Considine and its adjoin-
ing district with its nicotine needs. This establish-
ment was kept by a large florid-faced man—Abbott,
by name. Baddeley handed over the object of in-
quiry.
"Could you possibly tell me what brand of cigar
this is, Mr. Abbott?"
Abbott took it, after the manner of a connoisseur.
Felt it—then smelt it. Then shook his head.
"Afraid not, sir. But it's just a common one. Quite
ordinary—what we in the trade would call a four-
penny or five-penny smoke—sold in a 'pub' very
likely. But I couldn't give the brand a name."
235


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
M I see! Sold many yourself lately?"
Abbott's answer was a decided negative.
"Don't sell a cigar once a week now, down here!
It's all tobacco and cigarettes with the villagers.
Afraid I can't help you there."
The Inspector thanked him and withdrew.
"Drawn a blank there," he muttered to himself,
dismally. He weighed the matter over in his mind.
Should he pursue that line of investigation any
farther? It seemed to him that it would prove, in all
probability, a fruitless one. He might go to a dozen
places and fail to find anything definite about a cigar
like this—it might have been purchased a hundred
miles away. Again it might prove nothing—it might
have been, as he had been quick enough to point
out—Prescott's own—just left on the wash-stand
basin carelessly. He decided to abandon it. Then
the question of the I.O.U. obtruded itself again.
One thing, he knew whose that was! On second
thoughts that should prove very much more profit-
able if followed up. Confronted by that—Lieuten-
ant Malcolm Barker might, conceivably, tell a dif-
ferent story. Major Hornby, too! Try as he
would, he couldn't entirely rid his mind of the sus-
picion that that gentleman knew more than he had
so far been disposed to tell.
Baddeley squared his shoulders and thrust his
hands into his pockets. He would lose no time in
seeing both Barker and Hornby again. This time
they would find him very much more determined.
Especially Major Hornby—damn him!
236


CHAPTER XIX
MR. BATHURST'S WONDERFUL SYMPATHY
Anthony drained his last cup of tea and pushed
his chair away from the breakfast table.
"Fitch!" He called the butler over to his side.
Fitch listened to him.
"Yes, sir. With pleasure. I think it's the July
issue. I will obtain it for you, sir; in just a mo-
ment!"
I think the rest of the company were somewhat
surprised to see the excellent Fitch return with the
A.B.C.
"Leaving us, Bathurst?" queried Sir Charles
Considine. "You haven't forgotten our?"
"No, sir. Only taking a run up to town. I shall
be back this evening."
"Want a companion? " I asked.
He thought for a moment or two. "Awfully
good of you, Bill—but if you don't mind, I'll go
alone. I'm not altogether sure that I shan't be wast-
ing my time—so I've no desire to waste yours, pos-
sibly!" He smiled his disarming smile. I was im-
mediately mollified.
"Have the Morris-Oxford, Bathurst, to run you
to the station," offered Sir Charles.
"Thank you very much, sir, I shall be delighted.
237


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
I'll leave here about twenty minutes past ten. I'll
just go and get ready."
"What's taking him away, Bill? " said Jack Con-
sidine. "I'm not inquisitive I hope, but is it this
Prescott business?"
"I can't say," I replied. "Very probably, though."
"I think it must be," announced Sir Charles.
"Baddeley was up here again yesterday, you know.
I had a moment with him. I gave him a rub or
two concerning the inquest." He chuckled. "He's
a very decent fellow though, and very despondent at
the moment over his lack of success in regard to,
what I am informed, is now known to the world in
general as 'The Billiard Room Mystery.'" He
sighed. "Such is fame, Helen! Anyhow, when I
realized that he was genuinely sore and upset, I tried
a different tack. I'm afraid this case would have
tried a greater brain than Baddeley's."
"Well, I for one, sincerely hope the affair will
be settled," intervened Captain Arkwright. "We
are all more or less under a cloud while it remains
unsolved—that's how I feel about it. And others
besides us—Hornby, Tennant, Daventry—and all
the fellows that were here at the time."
"That's very true," agreed our host. "The
whole house is under a cloud—the Cricket Week will
always have this unholy reminiscence hanging over
it—even after the whole tangle is cleared away—if
it ever is cleared away. Of course there is less strain
for all of us since Mrs. Prescott returned to
London."
238


BATHURST'S WONDERFUL SYMPATHY
The door opened and Anthony came quickly in.
"The car's waiting, sir, so with your permission,
I'll get away."
He waved a good-bye and shortly afterwards we
heard the car go humming away down the road.
He reached the station with a good five minutes to
spare before his train (as he related afterwards) so
he sauntered to the booking office to get his ticket.
Surely he knew that figure just in advance of him!
"Good-morning, Inspector!" Baddeley wheeled
quickly at the unexpected greeting.
"Why, it's Mr. Bathurst. Going to Victoria, sir?"
"Yes. Are you?"
"Thought of taking a run up." He grinned.
"Though I didn't know I was coming till this morn-
ing, itself."
"Good! We'll travel together then, Inspector."
The train rumbled in and the pair sought, with
success, an empty compartment.
Baddeley was in a communicative mood.
"Major Hornby has left Canterbury, Mr. Bath-
urst. You may be interested to know that. I made
inquiries last night. He's stopping at a private hotel
in the Kensington district—near Gloucester Road."
Mr. Bathurst was interested—but not tremen-
dously. He was not aware of the Inspector's desire
to get into touch again with Major Hornby. How
had the Inspector fared over the little matter of
the cigar stub?
"A dead end, Mr. Bathurst!"
Mr. Bathurst complimented his companion upon
239


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
the particular aptness of his reply, but was assured
with transparent sincerity that it had been uninten-
tional. How far had the Inspector taken the line of
his investigation?
"It was a commonplace brand of cigar—sold
most probably in a 'pub '—to trace it would entail
a long and arduous task—and then might prove to
be unilluminative. I abandoned the idea!"
Then the Inspector was not at work on it this
morning?
"No, as I indicated, I'm desirous of having an-
other interview with Major Hornby. Are you leav-
ing Considine for good?"
Mr. Bathurst was most certainly doing nothing of
the kind. He was merely paying a visit to a friend.
He was returning to Considine that evening—all
being well.
"A great weight of what I will term—police
opinion is in favor of charging Webb and his wife
with the murder of Mr. Prescott. Up to the moment
I have stalled them off. I don't think Webb's the
man. That shoe-lace business doesn't spell Webb
to my way of thinking, and as for the lace found in
the 'Spider's' pocket—one lace is very like an-
other."
Mr. Bathurst assented. But was rather surprised
that Webb had not yet been charged with the mur-
der.
"I'm not denying that a very strong ' prima facie'
case could be made against him," said Baddeley—
"because it undoubtedly could."
240


BATHURST'S WONDERFUL SYMPATHY
sidine Manor, Mr. Bathurst. You wish to ask me
some more?"
"If you would be kind enough to answer them."
Mrs. Prescott bowed her head in assent.
"First of all, let me assure you that I feel a very
great sympathy with you in your sorrow." He
touched her arm for a brief moment, very gently.
"And I have every hope that the crime which has
hurt you so much will not go unpunished." He
spoke with a feeling that Mrs. Prescott was not slow
to detect.
"I thank you for your words and for your sym-
pathy, too, Mr. Bathurst."
"Tell me about your boy—as much as you can—!
everything!"
It was not a difficult thing that he had asked her.
A mother who has lost her boy—under the cir-
cumstances that she had—grasps at the straws of
reminiscence to save herself from going under.
"Begin at the beginning," said Anthony.
She told him. He listened attentively. She got
to his cricket—he had played for Oxford at Lords'.
Then Anthony made his first interruption.
"Tell me, Mrs. Prescott—has your son in any
game or sport—been ambidextrous?"
Mrs. Prescott showed signs of surprise.
"Think carefully," he reiterated. "Did he ever
bat left-handed or bowl left-handed—did he ever
play billiards, for instance, left-handed?"
She shook her head. "Never to my knowledge,
Mr. Bathurst."
243


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"Had he any personal peculiarities, at all?"
"Peculiarities? Well, I suppose every one of us
has a"
"I mean physical. For example—a right-handed
acquaintance of mine always counts money with his
left hand and deals cards in the same way."
"I see what you mean," she declared. She
thought, but to no effect.
"No, Mr. Bathurst, I can't think of anything like
that."
Anthony accepted the situation, and Mrs. Prescott
continued her memories.
"I can't imagine anything more that I can tell
you," she concluded very quietly.
"Thank you very much. One last point. Had
your son any particular knowledge of knots? The
various types of knots that can be tied, that is?"
"Once again—not that I know of," she answered.
"I think the only knot that I have ever seen him
tie—was just an ordinary bow. Why do you ask?"
"A little whim of mine, Mrs. Prescott. Nothing
more." He rose.
"You'll stay to lunch, Mr. Bathurst. I insist."
Anthony did, and when about to take his depar-
ture sometime afterwards realized that his hostess
was a singularly able woman.
He shook hands with her. "Good-bye, Mr. Bath-
urst. You have hopes?"
"I have," he said gravely. "And fears. We are
on the verge of a very horrible discovery. But it
can't be helped. Good-bye."
244


BATHURST'S WONDERFUL SYMPATHY
Mrs. Prescott looked white and troubled as he
spoke. "Good-bye," she murmured.
Anthony made off down the road—a prey to con-
flicting thoughts. Then he encountered a surprise,
that quickly jolted him back to realities. Two figures
passed by on the other side; well in his view. He
stared in surprise. Major Hornby and Lieutenant
Barker! "What the devil "He stopped in
the shadow of a wall and watched them curiously.
They knocked at and entered the house that he had
just left!
"Now—what on earth," he muttered. A hand
touched him on the arm, and a voice exclaimed
eagerly: "Tell me—quickly—whose house is that,
Mr. Bathurst?" The hand was the hand of the
Law—and the voice the voice of Inspector Baddeley.
245


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"Why, what do you mean, Bill?"
"I meant you," I replied. Lamely, I'm afraid.
It sounded so, at least.
She smiled very sweetly. "That's very nice of
you, Bill. I hope you really meant it."
"Of course I meant it. I never meant anything
half so much in my life before."
"You mustn't make me conceited, Bill—and I'm
afraid you will if you talk like that."
"I couldn't make you anything," I declared.
"Only a master could make you, and I'm only a big
lump of commonplaceness and ordinariness. You're
just lovely. And to me, Mary, the loveliest, dearest
and sweetest girl in the world,—for I love you."
"Oh, Bill," she gasped.
I caught her by the hand. "I want you to marry
me, Mary. After all, I've got some little right to
ask you. I've watched you grow up, you know.
Give me the right to watch you grow up always."
I watched her face anxiously. And I fancied I
saw her sweeping lashes brim with tiny tears. "Tell
me—you will, darling? " I urged.
"This is very sudden, Bill—I know that sounds
silly—but I can't think of anything else to say—and
it's very dear of you to think so much of me."
"Then you will?" I said with eagerness.
"I don't know, Bill. I'm not quite sure. Of
course, I like you—as we all do—but"
I tried to take her in my arms but she evaded me.
"There's no one else ?" I asked. "Say
there's no one else!"
248


HER SECOND PROPOSAL
"No." She spoke very quietly. "You may be
easy on that point. There is no one else."
"Then why do you hesitate, dear? Put me out
of my misery!"
"You must give me a little time to think it over,
Bill." She held out her hand to me, and I took it.
"How long, Mary? How long? It isn't as
though I'm a stranger to you."
"Not very long, Bill. I'll promise that. I just
want to feel sure—you know."
She broke away and left me.
The rest of the day passed miserably for me. An-
thony's absence didn't make it any the brighter and
Mary's reception of my proposal had left me in an
agony of apprehension. One moment I rose to heav-
en's heights and " struck the stars with my uplifted
head "—the next found me in the depths of an in-
tolerable despair. But generally, I was able to find
courage and with courage—optimism!" There is
no one else," she had said. Perhaps I had tried her
too closely after Prescott and Prescott's death.
"There is no one else!" Prescott belonged to the
past tense. Would she have said that a week ago?
I pondered the whole thing over in my mind. And
the wondering with its attachment of doubt and
uncertainty brought me the alternating moods that
I have just described.
So the day wore on to the evening and dinner.
Anthony had not returned, and everybody seemed
very quiet. The meal passed uneventfully and con-
versation was desultory. I watched Mary carefully,
249


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
trying to read my answer in her face. She seemed
cheerful and smiling. Jack and Arkwright went into
the drawing-room together, and in the buzz of their
conversation I caught Prescott's name. The girls
started music and we settled down comfortably. All
the Considines have good voices, and they were al-
ways well worth listening to. After a time, Jack
Considine and Arkwright strolled into the garden,
but I refused the invitation to accompany them. I
was thinking about Mary. Suddenly two revolver
shots rang out on the evening air. Shots that were
succeeded by shouts.
Captain Arkwright came running up.
"Somebody's tried to murder Jack," he shouted.
"In cold blood. Two shots have been fired at him
from the direction of the Allingham Road. Great
Scott! it was a near thing and no mistake. One has
gone clean through his hat." He paused and wiped
his face—pale with anxiety and worry.
"Where is Jack? " cried Lady Considine. "Are
you sure he's all right?"
"He's coming. And he's all right—by the mercy
of Providence. But what does it all mean?"
"Where were you, Arkwright?" demanded Sir
Charles. "Weren't you with him?"
"No! I had left him for a moment. I stopped
behind one of the trees on the way to the tennis
courts to light a cigarette. There's a strong wind
blowing."
"And Jack had walked on?"
"Yes, Jack was a couple of dozen paces ahead of
250


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
"As you please, sir—but I don't think he'll be
able to help you much."
He turned away to greet Mary who had come up
to the group.
She spoke to him quietly.
Then I saw him jerk his head up and say, " Cer-
tainly! I'll come now!"
They wandered away, and as I watched them, Sir
Charles broke out again.
"It's all very well for Bathurst to talk as he
does. Baddeley won't be able to help me, indeed!
Deuced fine outlook when you can't take a stroll in
your own garden without having your brains blown
out. What do you think, Bill?"
I turned to reply when a hand touched my sleeve.
It was Mary, who had just returned from her walk
with Anthony.
She had a curiously strained and excited look on
her face.
"Bill," she said, "that question you asked me
to-day—so seriously. I've decided to give you
the chance you want. You're far too hot for me at
cricket, I know that well enough. We'll consider
that game played. But I'll play you eighteen holes
of golf over at Cranwick to-morrow morning. Jack
will caddie for you and Mr. Bathurst has promised
to do the same for me. And, Bill, jolly good luck!"
254


CHAPTER XXI
MR. BATHURST WAVES HIS HAND
I WENT to bed that night with a feeling of intense
exhilaration. Mary's challenge, with anything like
ordinary luck, meant a pretty comfortable victory
for me, for although only a moderate golfer—my
handicap was twelve—the strength and power of my
long game should prove too much for Mary what-
ever she might do with me on the green. And vic-
tory for me, according to the Considine Manor tra-
dition, would mean the equivalent of "Yes" to my
proposal. For Mary to run the risk of a defeat
from me at golf was tantamount to an admission
that she loved me. At the same time as I came to
consider the matter more fully I began to realize
that I shouldn't be able to throw anything away.
Mary had the well-merited reputation of winning
many a hole by the uncanny accuracy of her short
game. As Jack Considine had said to me more
than once in the past when discussing his sister's
game—" Bill—she's a perfect whale at putts." I
came to the conclusion that if I could consistently
out-drive her and only keep my head on the green,
I should be on velvet as regards the game's ultimate
result. When I woke next morning this idea was
255


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
uppermost in my mind and the brilliant August sun
that poured in at my bedroom-window only served
to make me even more confident. Mary was a prize
worth playing for! I forgot all the recent sinister
associations of the Manor and, freshly tubbed and
newly razored, floated gaily down to a light but
pleasing breakfast.
Anthony was nowhere to be found. He had
breakfasted, I heard upon inquiry, very early, and
had excused himself to the others, upon an errand
of some importance.
Also—there was no sign of Mary. I concluded—
without any worrying—that she was taking full time
over her matutinal toilet.
The Cranwick course was a matter of half an
hour's easy stroll from the Manor so that leaving
there at ten o'clock we should be able to make a
start very little after half-past ten.
"I've been as good as my word, Bill." Sir Charles
bustled into the breakfast room. "I've 'phoned to
Baddeley and he's coming along at once. He seems
to think that last night's affair has a bearing upon
poor Gerry Prescott."
I'm afraid I wasn't as interested as he was or
even as I should have been—to me Prescott was
dead. Past helping! My mind was of Mary. I
muttered a commonplace answer and turned away.
Then with an apology I wandered into the garden.
When well away from the house, I tried a swing
with an imaginary club and thought of all my golfing
vices,—those my friends delighted in pointing out.
256


BATHURST WAVES HIS HAND
Did I swing too fast?—Did I cut across the ball?
Did I "grumph" a straightforward shot? I tried
another swing and decided that there was nothing
wrong with it. I was full of confidence as I looked at
my watch. Time was getting on. I went back to the
house, got my clubs, and strolled off towards Cran-
wick. I should keep my nerve better, I concluded,
if I went alone—and the idea came to me that per-
haps Mary had given way to the same idea. It was
five and twenty minutes past ten when I reached the
Cranwick course and the others had already ar-
rived. Jack Considine, looking none the worse for
his narrow escape on the previous evening, was talk-
ing to his sister when Anthony came forward to
meet me.
"Morning, Bill !" he sang out. "Fit and well?"
He grinned. "Because you'll need to be, my lad, to
win. I've been giving Mary the benefit of some spe-
cial coaching. Don't see why you should walk away
with all the plums."
I laughed. "I'm top-hole, old man—and out to
win—take it from me."
As I spoke Mary looked straight across at me. I
could see that she was frightfully nervous, and I can
tell you I wasn't sorry to see it. She walked over
to me—her hands were trembling. As she noticed
me glance at them she blushed deliciously and to
cover her confusion bent down to tie the lace of her
brogue that had come undone. She attempted to
put it right—but unsuccessfully—so, looking up at
me shyly, called me to fix things for her.
257


BATHURST WAVES HIS HAND
by Mary. From a nasty lie, she holed at a distance
of six feet and as the ball rattled against the back of
the tin, her assurance and sang-froid were amazing.
Now the sixteenth was another short hole of 158
yards—Bogey being three. In appearance and gen-
eral "lie" it was something like the old Harley
Street at Woking with its straight menacing lines of
gorse and heather that seemed to converge upon the
player. Nobody could ever go straight at that hole.
But by now I was playing with the genius of inspira-
tion. I did a four and took the hole. With sixteen
holes played therefore I was dormy two. As we
started for the seventeenth I saw Anthony wave to
somebody in the distance. "There's Baddeley," he
said. "Suppose there's some news or something.
He's coming this way." "Can't help his troubles,"
I replied as I teed up to lay a lovely shot well past
the pin. Mary landed in a pot bunker to the right
of the green. I smiled. The game was in my hands.
My second shot left me with a two feet " putt." But
Mary had the light of battle in her eyes. "Give me
my niblick, Mr. Bathurst, will you? " she said very
quietly. She went to her ball and with a perfectly
wonderful pitch-shot out of the wet sand landed
beautifully on to the green along which her ball
slowly trickled to hit the back of the tin. I gasped I
It was her hole!
"You've not won yet, Bill," she uttered grimly.
The last hole was over 400 yards—Bogey four. I
took a fine straight drive down the "pritty." Mary
on the other hand hooked her tee-shot into the rough
259


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
and after playing the odd she was still in the rough.
She couldn't hope therefore for anything better than
a five. I rubbed my hands in unconcealed delight. I
could reach the green with a full brassie shot, which
was a trifle risky, or I could "kick my hat along"
for a five and make absolutely certain of a half at the
worst. I determined to be magnificent!" Give me
the brassie," I called to Jack. I struck fiercely and
quickly—a good enough shot but with just the sus-
picion of a "pull." To my utter consternation the
ball pitched in a small bunker. Mary came well out
of the gorse. I was rattled. My recovery was
poor and I saw Mary, playing beautifully, get her
five and the hole. All square! As her last shot
rattled the tin, Baddeley walked up briskly, his face
alight with excitement.
"A grand game, Miss Considine. I never felt
more excited in all my life than over that last hole.
I want you to grant me a favor. Could I have that
ball of yours as a memento?" Mary nodded—too
overcome to speak and he looked towards me as
though in support of his request.
"I'll get it for you, Baddeley," I said and bent
down to collect it. As I did so he sprang forward
and something clicked on my wrists. I heard Badde-
ley's voice—faint yet distinct—miles away seemingly!
"William Cunningham, I arrest you for the Wil-
ful Murder of Gerald Prescott and I warn you that
anything you may say may be used as evidence
against you."
Then Mary fell in a dead faint on the grass.
260


CHAPTER XXII
MR. BATHURST REMINISCENT
I have been asked by Cunningham to write the
concluding chapter to the manuscript that has just
reached me. Needless to say it has traveled by a
somewhat circuitous route from the institution
wherein he has been detained for so many years.
My presence there in the latter part of last year
awakened, no doubt, his egotistical interest in the
crime, and caused him to put his own account of it
to paper. His accompanying note to me contains
the remark that after all I am preeminently the
right person to finish the affair. Perhaps I am. At
any rate, I've decided to do what he requests, if only
to stifle certain ill-founded and prejudiced statements
that were current for some time after Cunningham's
arrest, trial, sentence and subsequent detention " dur-
ing His Majesty's pleasure." Now for the facts.
The great difficulty for us who attempted to investi-
gate the Considine Manor tragedy lay in the separa-
tion of the " faked " clues from the true ones. That,
of course, to a certain extent, would apply with equal
force to a number of other crimes, but in this in-
stance we were arrayed against a criminal—proved
afterwards to be a homicidal maniac who had de-
liberately set out to lead us astray. That was, as I
261


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
stage was the garden—the footprints under the bil-
liard room window. For a long time these discon-
certed me. There were the four sets and the two
kinds. Who had been Prescott's companion? Did
Prescott come from the billiard room into the gar-
den? Had he climbed up into the billiard room
from the garden? Had the footprints any relation
at all to the billiard room? Then the amazing truth
hit me. There was no sign of a descent from the
billiard room—the earth below was clear. The
shoes didn't show a trace of scraping—yet why on
earth had Prescott put them on, and not his ordinary
dress-shoes? They were on Prescott's feet because
the murderer wished us to see them there—the foot-
prints were faked—Prescott had not been outside
at all—the murderer had worn them himself. It was
at this stage that Lady Considine's pearls made their
appearance or rather their disappearance, and once
again the job of unraveling the two skeins presented
itself. Just as I had convinced myself they were
dissociated from each other, came that startling dis-
covery of the shoe-lace in Webb's pocket. To my
mind this was Cunningham's second slip—he man-
aged to get it into the pocket during the struggle that
preceded Webb's arrest—but it can be argued that
it might very easily have served to hang Webb. I
tried hard to persuade myself that Webb must and
should be the murderer, but my instinct was always
in conflict and I felt that the robbery was just a
coincidence. It was hard to place accurately the evi-
dence of the noises in the night—hard, that is, at this
264


MR. BATHURST REMINISCENT
stage of the inquiry. I will attempt to explain them
later. But so far, I had gone a long way towards
sorting out the conditions of the crime, but had found
no direct evidence against anybody in particular.
But the finding of this shoe-lace opened my eyes a
bit, and began to narrow down my field of suspicion.
The next point was the discovery of the I.O.U.,
given to Prescott by Barker. How had that got
into the billiard-table pocket? For a long time I
was uncertain—then once again the solution came
to me. By reason and by memory. It had been put
there with deliberation! Nobody had used that
room—we knew—till Cunningham and I went there
—by "used" I mean—played billiards there. The
servants gave it a wide berth for transparent rea-
sons. I cast my mind back to the morning Prescott
had been discovered—I visualized the entire scene
—what had struck me about the " billiards " part of
it? I had itl The three balls were lying in the
pocket near the murdered man's hand—and the red
tall was on top. The splash of color it had made
against Prescott's white hand had been vivid to me.
Yet when I knocked the balls from the same pocket
to commence our game—the spot ball was on top—
they had been moved—surely for the secretion of
the Barker I. O. U.—since the murder. This caused
me to eliminate Barker from my list of " suspects"
and I began to grow uneasy. I decided upon that
second visit to Prescott's bedroom for I realized I
had made a mistake. I hadn't examined the inner
apartment. Here I ran across the "stub" of the
265


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
cigar—my idea had almost become a certainty!
Then I began to appreciate the horror of the affair
to me—what had come to Bill Cunningham? Yet
I clung to the hope that my trail would lead to some-
body else at the end, and I dared not let him know
what I suspected! Here came Cunningham's third
slip! The letter fragments he found were his own.
He was getting desperate now and out to involve
as many people as he possibly could—why not con-
fuse matters more? He had an old letter from
Mary Considine in his letter-case—probably retained
for sentimental reasons—written years before and
quite innocent. "She would meet him somewhere—
the station probably—in the 'Bean '—the car they
had at the time." He suddenly realized the sig-
nificance of the time she mentioned in the letter—
"faked" it to appear relevant to the murder and
"discovered " it under Prescott's bed. I saw through
this very quickly—strangely, Mary can't remember
ever having written it. Still, I determined to be
certain so I popped up to see Mrs. Prescott. Alas!
my terrible theory received no shaking. Her son
was not ambidextrous and therefore not likely to
wear his handkerchief in his wrong sleeve. Also as
far as she knew, he was no fancy knot-tier. Running
into Baddeley there, was remarkable, and of course
he was on a wild-goose chase; Barker and Hornby
were merely visiting Mrs. Prescott in the hope that
she would accept payment of Lieutenant Barker's
debt of honor. He told me this next morning. I
made some more investigations that day that re-
266


THE BILLIARD ROOM MYSTERY
part as he was by that time in a dangerous state. I
arranged for her shoe-lace to come undone—and
that she should get Cunningham to tie it for her.
He was excited—he forgot himself—he tied it ex-
actly as he had tied Prescott's shoe! I had arranged
with Baddeley to give him the signal if my worst
fears were confirmed. I did so. When the time
came we acted quickly.
I try to forget it all—and now, having written
this account of it, am going to try all the harder.
For then I can think of him as he was before that
dreadful madness turned his brain, and after all—
"There—but for the Grace of God—goes—any
one of us!"
THE, END
270