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LIBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
RIVERSIDE








* Gº!... &-
THE MYSTERY OF
NORMAN'S COURT
By JOHN CHANCELLOR.E.--
BOSTON
SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS


7335.35.
Z23//?
CoPYRIGHT, 1924
By SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
PRINTED BY GRo. H. Ellis Co., Boston, Massachusetts
Bound. By the Boston BookBin DING company
cAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS, U. S. A.


THE MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT





THE MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S
COURT
CHAPTER I
The Jefferson car met me at the station, and de-
spite the fact that the chauffeur drove along the Sus-
sex lanes at a speed well over the prescribed twenty
miles an hour, I was fretting all the time for him to
accelerate.
Now that I was so close to Helen, now that it was
a matter of minutes only before I would see her
again, that odd foreboding of something sinister and
grim, which I had experienced in Cairo when I
opened her cablegram, and which had persisted ever
since, grew stronger than it had ever been.
“Come at once if you can. I am afraid. Helen.”
That was all the cable had said, and I remember
now that as I read it my mind leaped back two years,
and I saw again a glamorous Egyptian night, with
Helen and I standing together in the sequestered
peace of Henry Jefferson's garden. It was on that
occasion that Helen gave back to me the ring which,
for a few short months, she had worn on her third
finger of her left hand.
I


2 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“I always want to be your friend, Helen,” I had
said. “We’ve been very sensible, I think. You're
such a young twenty, and they say that I'm an old
forty-one. Double-harness might not suit us, but
we know that friendship does.”
The way she laid her hand on my arm then, and
looked into my eyes, with tears glistening in hers,
was a treasured memory which I had carried through
the empty years.
“You’re such a dear, Davy,” she had answered, in
that soft voice of hers. “And—I'm so sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” I had demanded, gruffly.
“We're both in agreement about it.” Repenting
instantly of my gruffness, I had added: “I’d do
anything for your happiness, Helen: I want you to
know that. If ever you should need a friend—for
whatever reason—just send out a call, and I'll answer
it wherever you are.”
She had nodded and turned away, drawing her
lingering fingers slowly out of mine; and then we
had both gone up to the terrace and the house.
Ever since that night I had sought consolation in
the reflection that I was cut out for a bachelor; but
somehow I never quite got myself to believe it.
I am sure that she did not guess then or later that
I really cared—that I took my ring back because I
knew that she wanted me to do so. With pitiful
unsuccess she had tried to hide from me that Martin
Greig had come to loom large in her life.
I watched through the windows of the car for sign
of Norman's Court, the Elizabethan mansion which


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 3
Henry Jefferson had purchased when the ascension
of King Fuad to the throne of Egypt, with the ap-
proval and protection of Great Britain, had brought
the banker's abnormal prosperity to a sudden end.
Knowing as much about Jefferson and his asso-
ciates as I did, my first thought on receiving Helen's
cablegram was that she was afraid for some reason
connected with his past.
Jefferson had been a big man in Cairo, the sort of
man that people had to know whether they liked it
or not; but nevertheless, none of the social set had
disguised the fact that they would not have associated
with him had they been able to avoid it.
As was a natural consequence, Helen bore the
heavier burden. Few hostesses of Cairo received
so poor a response to their invitations as she ; and,
strangely, she seemed never to fathom wholly the
reason for it. By some miraculous means her
father managed to keep hidden from her the un-
worthy secrets of Jefferson's Bank.
It was because of this cold-shouldering that Helen
became friendly with Selma Fairburn. I remem-
ber my amazement and apprehension when I first
heard about it. Selma Fairburn was a woman of
reputation, an adventuress—one of the band of many
such who drift up and down the world, getting ad-
mittance to the best houses under the patronage of
their well-placed male friends, but never gaining the
trust and friendship of the womenfolk.
That Helen, well-knowing Selma's reputation and
way of life, yet made a close friend of her—a friend-


4. MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
ship which was sincerely returned—had always been
a matter of mystery to me, and while Helen was in
Cairo I wondered more than once why her father
did not put a stop to the association.
I have never made up my mind about Henry
Jefferson. He was a man of colossal interests and
intrigues, and it was said that most of the troubles
in Egypt were engineered from the offices of his
Bank. He played a clever and a crafty game—
using the political melting-pot of the world as his
arena, and pitting rival factions against each other
that he might steal the spoil while they fought over
the quarrels which he made for them.
He was a power, was Jefferson, and a danger to
those who stood in his way. He could make and
break men—and he often did. It was common
knowledge that the late Khedive had been like a
child in his hands, and I had known times when
Governments and Kings were forced to alter their
plans to his direction. Even after the ending of
his political activities, Jefferson's Bank in Lombard
Street commanded a respect that was not wholly
without fear.
Nevertheless, I always had the idea that such
dishonesty and unpatriotism as he practised he did
for Helen's sake alone, feeling, no doubt, that the
means was justified if the end was all right, and
she was left with a large legacy. It was an odd way
of looking at things, but most men have a mental
twist of some sort. On the other hand, I was prob-
ably quite wrong in my judgment of him.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 5
As I have said, I thought that somewhere here I
would find the reason for Helen's call. But ims
mediately my mind started along these lines I re-
membered that Orme Jefferson, her brother, and
Martin Greig, the inseparables of the Kar-el-Nil
Barracks, had gone home on long leave a month
before I received her cablegram. With her brother
and the man who was to become her fiancé so close
at hand to give her help and advice, why should
she want me, who was merely him who had loved
and lost her?
On the morning I left Cairo I received a letter
from Orme Jefferson, and one sentence in it had
lingered in my mind and added to my doubts and
fears.
That hound of a man Hugh Bowden is here.
Heaven knows why Dad sticks him. And—worse
than anything—he's brought Selma Fairburn.
I had an inkling of the reason for Orme's agita-
tion. When he left Cairo he hoped never again to
cross the path of Selma Fairburn. He was con-
templating retirement from the army, in order to
marry some English girl whom I did not know and
settle down to the life of a country gentleman on
an allowance from his father.
I had the name in Cairo of being a sort of never-
failing help in time of trouble—though Heaven
knows I did not deserve the reputation—and as a
result of this little went on behind the scenes with-
out my hearing of it sooner or later.


6 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
There had been a scandal about Selma Fairburn
and Orme in Lahore, before Orme went to Egypt,
and I had an idea that Martin Greig was mixed up
in it somehow. I knew nothing of the circum-
stances but it was plain to me that this past affair
must be the cause of Orme's present agitation.
The first sentence of that paragraph in his letter
seemed to indicate that he did not know so much
about his father's business as I had thought.
When Henry Jefferson began meddling with
Egyptian politics and finance a web started to spin
around him, and in course of years it bound him fast.
The spider was Hugh Bowden, who had filled the
position of Jefferson's tout and go-between ever
since Jefferson had found that the financing of
revolts against the Khedive's authority was a paying
game.
I saw the gables of Norman's Court rising out
of the trees on the left of the road, and recognized
it from the photographs which Helen had sent me.
My heart gave a leap, and began to thud against
my ribs in a strange, unusual way. I told myself
that my nerves had gone to pieces.
A few moments later the car entered through an
iron gateway into a carriage-drive lined with chest-
nuts. It was spring, and the fallen blossom spread
a white carpet of petals on the gravel.
I looked for Helen on the wide lawn in the front
of the house, but she was not there. However,
I saw two people whom I recognized, and as I
stepped out of the car Orme Jefferson and Martin


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 7
Greig left their chairs and came up to greet me.
“Davy!”
Orme Jefferson gripped my hand in a boyish,
impetuous way and seemed determined to wrench it
off. Despite his weaknesses, his scarcely-excesses—
all of which he justified by the remark that a young
man must sow his wild oats—there was no one, so
far as I knew, who really disliked him.
He was twenty-five, and I judged that he looked
a great deal better in uniform than in mufti, which
latter garb he favoured now. Uniform lent to him
a certain degree of manly dignity which he did not
in reality possess. I smiled down into his blue eyes,
and remarked the tousled fair hair, which in Cairo
had always been kept plastered close to his head—
apparently with a view to displaying one lone sign
of the scrupulous neatness which is supposed to be
more than rubies to an officer of the British Army.
Leave in England had made Orme Jefferson a boy
again.
When he released my hand, Martin Greig took it.
But there was a vast difference in the two grips:
the one was careless and excited, the other firm and
calm.
Martin Greig was the strangest man I ever met,
and one of the best of the good fellows. He had
the face of a Cromwell, the build of a heavy-weight
boxer and the manners of a gallant of Elizabeth's
Court. There were few who could bow over a
woman's hand with the grace and ease of Martin
Greig; there were still fewer who could give that


8 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
same quality of courtesy to a fellow-man and not
be marked down contemptuously as effeminate.
But somehow he could do it.
“Glad to see you, Forrester,” he said, in his quiet
voice, and his lean, clean-shaven face crinkled into
a smile as he looked down at me from his superior
height.
“Helen and father are playing tennis with Bowden
and Sir Ambrose,” said Orme. “Of course, you
don't know Sir Ambrose Rowland, Forrester; but
I think you're acquainted with every one else in
the house.”
I shook my head.
“He’s a queer cuss,” said Orme, “but I suppose
he's not a bad old stick really. He's a scientist
with umpteen degrees, and he seems to spend most
of his time thinking about butterflies and such things.
Helen's made a great pal of him, and he's nearly
always over here. The adjoining estate belongs to
him.”
Before I could say anything, a butler appeared
out of the house, and Orme sent him off to tell the
host and hostess of my arrival.
“You're just in time for tea,” said Orme.
“And for the meet in the morning,” Greig added.
“We're all going to it.”
“All except Bowden,” said Orme.
I saw him give Greig an odd, side-long glance.
“Yes,” Greig said quietly, “all except Bowden.”
“Why,” said I, “what's happening to Bowden P’’
Martin Greig studied my face with his grey, calm


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 9
eyes. I had the impression, suddenly, that he was
trying to read if I knew anything about Selma Fair-
burn and him, and it occurred to me then that per-
haps he, as well as Orme, was uneasy that Bowden
had brought her to the house.
“He’s going away in the morning,” Greig an-
swered. “He’s got some business to do in London.
He's catching an early train so that he can get back
in the evening.”
Orme turned away from me suddenly, apparently
to look for Helen and her father, and I, following
the line of his gaze, saw that there was a man sitting
on a chair on the lawn with his back towards us.
He was so quiet and unobtrusive that, though sub-
consciously I had been aware of his presence when I
first arrived, I had quite forgotten about him while
I talked with Orme and Martin.
“That's Doctor Bannister,” said Orme, glancing
at me again. “I said just now that you knew every-
body in the house except Sir Ambrose. But I was
wrong—unless, by any chance, you do know John
Bannister?”
“I knew a man of that name in Delhi years ago,
but I don't suppose it's the same.”
“It may be,” said Orme. “I believe he was in
India at one time. You've got an uncanny way
of knowing people, Davy.”
The three of us engaged ourselves in a conven-
tional conversation for a few moments longer, the
while I kept my eyes fixed on the spot where I sur-
mised Helen would first appear to me.


IO MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
My mental perturbation must have shown on the
surface, for Orme said abruptly:
“What's the matter, Davy? You seem to be in
a horribly nervous state. That's not much of an
advertisement for an engineer! People will think
you're afraid one of your bridges is going to fall
down, or something.”
“You haven't shown any great skill in advertising
the circumspection of British Army officers, so far as
I’m aware,” I retorted.
He laughed sheepishly, and turned away again.
This time he moved off in search of Helen and
Jefferson.
I was uneasy alone with Greig. I had got over
that feeling in Cairo, but now, after the absence,
it returned again. I kept thinking how different
things might have turned out for Helen and me if
she and Greig had never met.
For something to say, I asked:
“Where's Muhamed? I've never been so long
with you and not caught sight of him lurking some-
where behind you—like a familiar spirit!”
Greig smiled, and swung round on his heel to look
for his Egyptian servant.
“Oh, I remember,” he said. “I sent him off for
the cigarettes just before you arrived. I couldn't
get on without Muhamed.”
“You’ve had him a long time,” I remarked,
knowing well that he had.
I reflected that Helen and the others were probably
finishing their game before they came round to me.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT II
If she did not appear in a moment I decided I would
ask Greig to take me to the tennis-courts. I felt
that I must see her quickly.
“Yes, I've had Muhamed a great number of
years,” he said.
I glanced at him, and wondered why it was that
Helen preferred him to me. I was sure that in the
matter of appearance I could give him a start and
win. As for worldly wealth, a successful construc-
tional engineer is a great deal better off than a Major
in the British Army. One could not say that Greig
was entertaining: he was by no means a talkative
man. It must have been that strange courtliness
of manner which made him popular with women.
More than once I had seen him come off the Gezireh
Polo Ground, and be surrounded immediately by a
bevy of the European beauties of Cairo, whilst others
in the game, who had probably played better than
he, were left to themselves.
I perceived then, as we stood in front of the house,
with the silent man sitting on the lawn with his
back towards us, and the chauffeur going haltingly
up the steps with my heavy baggage, that I was not
alone in my nervousness. Greig was obviously ill-
at-ease. He seemed not to know what to do with
his hands, and kept shifting his feet restlessly on
the gravel. -
Again that premonition of impending evil came
strongly down upon me. Though the bright sun of
an English spring afternoon bathed the house in
golden glory, the place looked grim and dark to me,


12 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
with its towering centre block, surmounted by taper-
ing chimney-pots of different-coloured brick, and the
straggling wings on each side.
What would I find here? I wondered. Why was
it that Helen had called across thousands of miles
for me to come to her aid?
I am not a superstitious man, but I swear that
I felt a queer chill go down my spine.
Then Helen appeared and ran towards me, and
for a little while all these dark forebodings were
swept into the limbo of my mind, as I gazed at her
young loveliness and recalled the bitter-sweetness of
two years ago.


CHAPTER II
Helen had altered very little. She had, perhaps,
grown more mature than she was when last I saw
her, but her eyes were still instinct with that gentle
sympathy which was a part of her, and her whole
being gave one an impression of childish innocence
and trust.
She was a girl of twenty-two at that time, a girl
with hair the colour of sunset light on old gold,
eyes the deep blue of pacific seas, and the sort of
lips that seem to be always ready for laughter. Yet
now there was a subtle something in those eyes
of hers, a something which I had never seen there
before: it was like the shadow of a dread.
She took my hand, pressed it and looked up at
me. I forgot all about Martin Greig standing be-
side us, and only vaguely I saw Orme Jefferson and
his father coming across the lawn towards us.
“I’m so glad you came,” said Helen.
That was all, and yet I read in it more than I
can express. I knew that she was glad to see me
again because we were—friends. But, more than
that, there was a great relief in her voice, and a note
of fear. I felt that she was longing to give her con-
fidence to some one, and I was a proud man that she
had chosen me.
I3


14 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
Greig, for some reason—a sixth sense may have
warned him that neither of us wanted him there at
the moment—left us suddenly, and went up to meet
Henry Jefferson and Orme.
As soon as he was out of ear-shot, Helen said to
me, in a quick whisper:
“Don’t let them know I sent for you. They think
you came home unexpectedly, and that three days
ago I met you in town and invited you down here.”
I nodded.
Henry Jefferson came up and took my hand. He
had changed a great deal from the Henry Jeffer-
son who was feared and hated in Cairo. His black
hair and his black pointed beard were now profusely
streaked with grey. His face had grown thin and
cadaverous, but his dark eyes still held the savage,
metallic, fighting light which I had always seen in
them. There had been a time when the mere sight
of Henry Jefferson's towering figure could set fear
in the hearts of some of those who knew his reputa-
tion; but I felt now that the time of that had gone
for ever.
“You’ll stop a few days, I hope,” he said to me.
“We’ve got quite a house-party here, and all the
fun of the fair is in full progress. There's a meet
of the hounds in the morning and we thought of
going to Epsom on the next day.”
I thanked him, and all of us began to walk across
the lawn in the direction whence the three Jeffersons
had come.
I had known each of these people for years, and


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 15
it struck me that my reception by them was not so
enthusiastic as it might have been. I did not doubt
their friendship towards me, but I could feel that
there was some subtle restraint upon them all, bend-
ing them to seriousness and introspection.
The commotion attendant on my arrival had the
effect of waking the man in the chair out of his
reverie. He got up as we passed him, and ap-
proached us. Henry Jefferson introduced me.
I took an immediate dislike to John Bannister.
He had not spoken a dozen words before I summed
up his character. I put him down as a cynic of the
most disagreeable and sour type. His whole appear-
ance seemed to epitomise his character. He was a
small man, with black ragged hair. His face was
pallid, and creased in lines which suggested that his
habitual expression was one of sneering contempt.
Even as he smiled in greeting me I could imagine
that the look in his little eyes meant that he thought
there were too many people in the house-party
already, and he wished I had not joined it.
I did not say much to him, and in the few mo-
ments that he held my attention I tried to remember
if he was the Bannister whom I had known long ago
in Delhi. But I could not be sure of it, though he
seemed vaguely familiar.
We continued on our way, and when we reached
the lawn at the back of the house, I saw that the
tennis-courts lay beyond it, and I perceived Selma
Fairburn—tall and dark and seductively-beautiful
as ever—leaning over one of the nets and talking


I6 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
with Hugh Bowden. A man whom I took to be Sir
Ambrose Rowland was seated in a chair by a small
garden table, on which a neatly-clad maid was in
the act of placing a tea-tray with a white cloth that
fluttered in the breeze. The butler was superin-
tending the placing of another table in a suitable
position for the afternoon meal.
Sir Ambrose Rowland rose from his chair at our
approach, and Henry Jefferson presented me.
“Mr. Forrester, an old friend of mine from Cairo
—Sir Ambrose Rowland, my nearest neighbour.”
Sir Ambrose and I bowed to one another, and
while the others chattered he began to talk to me
about Egypt.
“It's one of my ambitions to go there again,”
he said. “I was in Alexandria in my younger days,
but somehow I've never had the chance to take
another trip.”
I surmised that sixty or thereabouts was his age,
and I did not wonder at Helen's friendship for him.
He possessed a great charm of manner, a mellow
cordiality and warmth of sincerity, which attracted
one to him irresistibly and immediately. He was
clean-shaven, and his brown hair was just beginning
to thin at the crown, disclosing a circular white
patch about the size of a five-shilling piece. He had
long, delicate hands, and his eyes held the dreamy
contemplative expression of the calm and logical
thinker. I heard later that he was the author of
a number of works on a diversity of scientific sub-
jects, ranging in variety from a book on Inter-


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 17
national Economics to a delineation of the properties
of the atom.
My short conversation with him was interrupted
by the arrival of Hugh Bowden and Selma Fairburn
from the tennis-courts. I could not deny that
Bowden looked exceedingly well in his flannels.
There was little about him to suggest that he was
a master of political and financial intrigue, that he
had stirred up more tribal risings in Egypt than
probably any one else had ever done. His appear-
ance was in no way extraordinary. Most people
would have summed him up as a keen and prosperous
city man.
There was a sort of patronizing arrogance in the
way he greeted me. I had come into contact with
him many times in Cairo, but I had never allowed
myself to be intimate with him. Probably he would
not have given me the freedon to do so; men of his
profession make few friends, and those they make
are as a rule tarred with the same brush as them-
selves.
“Is tea ready?” he said suddenly to Helen, and
I was so amazed at the tone he employed in address-
ing his hostess that for a moment I stared blankly at
him.
“It'll be here directly, Bowden,” said Henry
Jefferson, suavely. “Are you hungry and thirsty?”
“Rushing about in the sun all the afternoon makes
a man that,” said Bowden.
I looked at Helen. She was standing between
her father and Sir Ambrose, and I saw that her


18 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
face had gone very pale. Orme Jefferson and Mar-
tin Greig, who were behind them, appeared nervous
and ill-at-ease. Everybody was silent a second or
two, and I knew that for some reason each of them
was unwilling to say anything in the nature of a
reprimand to Bowden.
Suddenly Bannister laughed in a thin, high-
pitched tone.
“Why do you rush about in the sun, Bowden,
if you don't like it?” he demanded. “It's the same
with all you sportsmen. You tear about and waste
your energy, then grumble because it's gone.”
Luckily, the tea arrived then, and what had
threatened to become an unpleasant incident was
passed off lightly by Henry Jefferson. We took
our places at the tables. Sir Ambrose, Selma Fair-
burn, Orme Jefferson and Bowden sat together,
and Henry Jefferson, Helen, Martin Greig, Ban-
nister and myself made up the other party.
By this time Muhamed, Martin Greig's Egyptian
servant—without whom he would never move a
mile—had appeared and taken up his place behind
his master's chair. I don't know how Greig could
stand it. I am quite sure that it would get on my
nerves to have that sallow-faced and sinister-looking
Egyptian—with his incongruous mixture of Euro-
pean dress and tassled red fez—constantly stand-
ing over me like a shadow.
I had said a word or two to Selma before we
started tea, and found her very much her old con-


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 19
fident and bewitching self. It was strange, I re-
flected, that she should be here—of all places on the
earth. I presumed that Bowden had brought her
from India. He had gone there when the Jeffersons
went to England, and shortly afterwards Selma had
left Cairo for Delhi. That hot-bed of political
intrigue and happy hunting-ground of Govern-
mental big-wigs must have suited her well!
Trivialities were talked at our table over tea, and
I had opportunity to study Helen. The pallor which
had come on her face when Bowden spoke to her
persisted there, and more than once she turned to
look at him. There was anger in her expression on
these occasions, but I fancied that I saw a greater
fear.
I fretted impatiently to have her alone, that she
might tell me, in that well remembered way of hers
—that brave, appealing pathetic way in which so
often in the past days she had spoken of her troubles
—what anxiety, what looming peril, had made her
send that call which brought me out of Egypt to
her aid.
Each time she looked at me I imagined that her
blue eyes were saying: “Wait!” And glad was I
to wait—though each minute seemed an hour. I
would have waited all my life to be of service to her.
It was not until evening that the opportunity
arrived.
I went up to my room—which was situated be-
tween Bowden's and Martin Greig's—to dress for


2O MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
dinner, and there I found a sheet of note paper,
folded into a triangle, lying on the floor inside my
door.
“Meet me in the sunken garden before dinner,”
was the message, and the signature was: “Helen.”
As may be imagined, I hurried over my toilet,
and as soon as I was ready, contrived to leave the
house without attracting the attention of the others
who were gathered in the drawing-room.
It was then about eight o'clock, and the night
was sweet and fresh and cool. A young moon had
risen over the tall poplars which hid Norman's
Court from the road, and its misty light dripped
down through the purple infinitude upon the shad-
owed gardens where I trod. As I went towards the
rendezvous there came to me the memory of other
nights when I had gone like this to meet Helen in
Henry Jefferson's Cairo garden. How far beyond
my reach those times had sped 1
I went down three steps of broken flag, with moss
growing in the interstices between them, and Helen,
in a low-cut evening gown of blue and silken wrap,
came out of the gloom to my side. A fountain was
playing in the centre of the sunken garden, and I
remember that the tinkling music of it, and the sound
of her footsteps on the stone, and the sound of my
own heartbeats, were thrillingly distinct to me.
“Davy l’” she whispered, and a sob choked her
voice. “Oh, Davy!”
I put my arm about her shoulders, and looked


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 2I
down into her face. She appeared so frail to me,
so ill-armed to battle with the harshness of the
world; and my mind fled back to the afternoon,
when I had come aware of a vague unrest affecting
the people in the house and had felt that some un-
known drama was being silently played out amongst
them.
“What is it, Helen?” said I. “Why did you send
for me?”
“Oh, Davy,” she said again. “I'm afraid—I'm
afraid, and I don't know what it is that frightens
me. It's something in this house. It's Bowden,
and father, and Orme—and Martin, too. That's
why I sent for you. I—I feel that they're all in it.
I can't explain, and you're sure not to understand,
because you're a man. But a woman has instincts
that a man doesn't possess, and I know—I'm certain
—that something awful is going to happen. It's like
a shadow on the house. . . .”
She paused here and swayed against me. She
had turned her face up so that the moonlight shone
upon it, and I saw how pale she was and how filled
with dread her gentle eyes appeared.
“You must tell me more about it,” said I.
“You’ve probably been imagining things.”
I began to lead her towards a stone seat built into
the wall of the sunken garden.
“Perhaps I have,” she whispered.
Yet when she sat down by my side there was
something in the way she held my arm with her


22 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
little hand that told me, as plainly as words could
do, that it was no imaginary terror which had made
her send for me. I seemed to know that she was
going to speak of a thing that was real and strange
and threatening.


CHAPTER III
In every life there are incidents which always
return clear and fresh to the memory, no matter
what length of time or what happenings may inter-
vene before they are recollected, and I think that for
me the talk I had with Helen on the evening of the
day I arrived at Norman's Court is one of these.
I often recall the scene. I can visualize the vague
outlines of the sunken garden, where the fountain
played with a resentful sound, and the circular moon,
pallid and misty, showing in silhouette the tops of the
tall poplars behind which it was rising. There were
irregular silver splashes on the broken-flag walks,
and deep stains of fretted shadow, and in the trees
behind us a nightingale was singing.
It was so quiet and peaceful there that one could
scarce imagine violence, or even the thought of vio-
lence finding a place in it; yet it was in that garden on
that night that I, for the first and only time in my
life, was seized with a passionate, primeval desire to
kill a man.
It was Hugh Bowden whom I wished to kill.
When Helen had told me her story, and I had learnt
from it that he alone was responsible for her fear
and mental suffering, I became possessed by a
longing to feel my fingers on his throat, savagely
crushing out his despicable life.
23


24 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
Little did I know at that time how soon the sub-
stance of my wish would be fulfilled !
Helen began to weep in a quiet, pitiful way when
we were seated on the stone bench, and the sound
of her doing so cut into my heart with the keenness
of a knife-thrust. She leant her fair head on my
shoulder, hiding her face against my coat, and I,
with such awkward words of comfort as I could call
to mind, did my best to soothe and compose her.
But it was some minutes before she was able to speak
coherently.
“I hardly know how to make you understand what
it is that frightens me—terrifies me,” she whispered
at last, and she held my hand in a tight, convulsive
grip. “My fear is founded on so many little things
—things that may appear insignificant to you. But
to see them as a whole, as I have done, and suddenly
to realize that—that they are the surface indications
of something terrible and unknown that is hid-
den . . .”
The tears came into her eyes again when she had
reached so far, and she dabbed at them with a filmy
handkerchief which she held crushed in her hand.
She had not allowed me to take my arm from about
her naked shoulders, and I felt her shivering slightly,
as though with cold, despite that the night was mild
enough for summer. And I perceived that she
watched the dark patches of shadow in a fearful way,
and that she seemed to listen, and dread to hear a
sound.
“I was quite happy until Selma Fairburn and


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 25
Bowden came here, about six weeks ago,” she said.
“I didn't even know they were in England, until one
day a telegram arrived from Bowden saying that
Selma and he were coming down on the afternoon
train. I know it was a great shock to father: from
at moment he seemed to alter. He was so care-
5 in Cairo. And it's since then that all these
_* } e and content before—much happier than he ever
*
º
§ ngs have happened.”
“But what things?” I asked her.
She shook her head in a helpless sort of way, and
gazed out across the garden.
“You’ll think that I've brought you from Egypt
without cause,” she murmured.
“Of course I won't, my dear,” I protested. “But
you haven't told me anything that's tangible and
reasonable. . . .”
“There's nothing about it that's tangible and
reasonable,” she interrupted. “Oh, Davy, you must
trust my instinct. Don't imagine that I sent that
cable without thought. I want you here; I must
have you here. Now—now you're the only one
whom I can wholly trust and rely upon.”
“My dear,” said I, “I’ll stop with you until you
tell me that I’m free to go.”
She stared into my face with her tear-misted eyes,
and I fancied that she was trying to gauge the depth
of my sincerity. She had stopped weeping now, but
she was obviously in a highly nervous state: I had
never seen her so distressed. The vague, untranslat-
able things she said served to increase the strength


26 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
of the odd foreboding which had fretted me since I
left Cairo.
“Now try to tell me what it's all about,” I said,
after a silence.
“Do you remember what good friends Selma and I
were in Cairo P” she asked suddenly; and then went
on, in a quick, low tone: “Why has she changed
Davy 2 Why is it that she won't let me get close tº
her—if you know what I mean by that? And what
is it that has come over Orme and Martin?”
“What has come over them?” said I.
“I don't know,” she answered. “But they're
different. They've become reserved, and nervous
and moody. They were never like this before. It
seems to me, Davy, as though they have some secret
which they're afraid may come to light at any mo-
ment and—and cause dreadful things. . . . Oh,
you'll think this is all fancy; but there's something—
something—at the back of it all. And Bowden
knows what it is. It began when he came here, and
he's the only one who doesn't seem to be disturbed.
The others appear almost to stand aloof from me—
as if they don't trust me—and they're my father
and my brother and the man I'm going to marry!”
“But this is so vague,” said I. “It could all be
put down to an attack of nerves, or to the influence
of Bowden in the house. You've never liked him,
and, so far as I know, neither has any one
else. . . .”
“That's just it,” she said. “It’s Bowden's in-
fluence. It seems to have got into the souls of every-


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 27
body else. They're not so frank and honest as they
used to be. In some way he seems to be making
them like himself—secretive and unwilling to trust
each other. And he's such a sly, crawling creature.
. . . Ugh! . . .”
She spread her little hands in a gesture of disgust,
and then she turned suddenly and looked into my
eyes for a long moment.
“Davy,” she said. “Tell me the truth—I’m sure
you must know it. Is father afraid of Bowden?
And if he is, why?”
Her question was so unexpected and startling that
I could find no immediate reply to it, and I lowered
my head—to avoid meeting the appealing look of her
eyes—and stared down at the ground. I did not
know what to say. Her father's secret had been
kept so closely hidden from her, and yet—as I now
perceived was inevitable—all along she must have
had some inkling of its existence.
“Oh, Davy, you know—you know,” she said, as
I kept silent, and her voice was like a moan.
“Why do you think I know about your father's
affairs?” I asked.
In my anxiety to keep her ignorant of the truth of
Henry Jefferson's past, I fancy that I must have
unconsciously spoken sharply to her, for she drew
back a little, and I felt for an instant that I had lost
Some of her confidence.
“So you won't tell me, Davy?” she said.
There was no hint of reproach in her tone, but the
very absence of it stung me like the lash of a whip.


28 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
I was jealous of the position I held in her heart,
loath to surrender one whit of the influence I had
over her, and almost before I realized it I had been
rash enough to tell her something of what I knew
concerning Bowden and her father.
“Bowden acted in the capacity of your father's
lieutenant in—certain matters,” I said, when I had
given her a brief and undetailed outline of Henry
Jefferson's relations with the Khedive.
“What do you mean by that?” she asked. “Oh,
be frank with me, Davy, be fair to me. You're hid-
ing so much.”
I hesitated again. I knew not whether to tell the
truth as I knew it, or whether to wrap it up in more
decent apparel.
“If you have any regard for me, Davy,” she
whispered, “you'll tell me everything.”
“Then,” said I, “if you must know, Helen, your
father made most of his money by exploiting a form
of dishonest political intrigue, and it was Bowden
who helped him to do it.”
I had dropped the bombshell, and I watched fear-
fully to see what effect it would have on her.
She sat very still by my side, her hand gripping
mine and her eyes staring at me. The light of the
moon shone directly upon her, and I could not tell
how pale she was, but her face seemed to be expres-
sionless.
“Please go on,” she said.
She spoke in so calm a tone that I was momen-


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 29
tarily taken aback. I had looked for anything from
her, but this utter serenity, and as I began to talk
to her again I realised with something of a shock,
that she was a different Helen from her whom I had
known in Cairo. She was no longer the sensitive,
timid child, whom I had always thought too frail
and gentle to battle for herself. I discovered that
she was become a woman, one of courage and moral
strength, with a will entirely her own and a fighting
force to back it.
I told her more of her father and Bowden. I
spoke haltingly, for, though Henry Jefferson had
never mentioned the subject to me, I had the uneasy
idea that in telling her this I was breaking faith
with him.
“So it's possible that Bowden may know some-
thing disreputable about father?” she said, when I
paused. “I mean that Bowden may have some hold
on him P”
I nodded.
“He may be trying to force father to do some-
thing,” she added, and I fancied that she said this
to herself rather than to me. “I think they call it
blackmail.”
“You mustn't take all this as fact,” I said,
quickly. “I haven't proof of anything I’ve told
you. But one hears rumors—particularly in such a
place as Cairo.”
I met her eyes, and read the uselessness of my
attempt to mitigate my indiscretion.


30 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“I know it's true, Davy,” she answered. “You
wouldn't have told me it if you hadn't believed
it yourself. . . .”
Of a sudden her unnatural calmness slid from
her, as if it were an uneasy garment which strained
her in the wearing. She became my old Helen
again, the child-woman whom I knew and loved,
gentle, timid, fearful of the world, looking to me
for strength and protection. It was odd, I thought,
that never until to-night had I been shown that other
facet of her character.
Now she held her wisp of handkerchief to her
eyes, and her shoulders began to tremble. In
another moment she was weeping again, and I think
it was then that my heart became filled with the
savage desire to rid her for ever of the man who
seemed to be hanging over her life like a shadow,
threatening at any moment to wreck and spoil it
with ruthless and unscrupulous hand.
“Davy—Davy!” she sobbed. “What shall I do?
If anything should happen to father—if Bowden
should do something terrible—I think it would kill
me. I'm so afraid—so afraid. Deep down within
me I know that something awful is going to happen,
something that I dare not even try to imagine. . . .”
She began a vague, hysterical account of strange,
significant glances which she had seen pass between
Orme and Martin when they were in Bowden's pres-
ence, or when he was mentioned before them, and
I recalled that just such a thing as this she described
had occurred in front of the house on my arrival.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 31
She told me more about Selma and her father; but
there was nothing in all her story which could not
be put down, had one a mind to do so, to a series of
small and unimportant coincidences.
“More than once I have seen Martin talking alone
with Selma,” she said. “Yet Selma never speaks
of Martin to me, if she can avoid it, nor he of her.
Only a day or two ago from my bedroom window
I saw them in the garden, talking together in such
a curious, intent way; but when I said something
to Selma about it she denied that she had been with
Martin at that time.”
And every moment she would say: “It’s Bow-
den, who's behind it all, Davy; it's Bowden whom
we have to fear.”
She rose to her feet suddenly, and I rose with
her. She stared beyond me, at the shadowed gar-
den, and her young breast heaved with deep breaths.
As I watched her I perceived that she was becoming
utterly calm again, and for an instant I saw Henry
Jefferson look out of her face, and recognised the
metallic fighting light of his eyes shining in hers.
“I think I would give my life for father,” she
whispered—in so low a tone that for the second
time that night I had the fancy that she was speaking
only to herself. It seemed as though she were
weighing some consideration in her mind.
Then she sighed and turned to me.
“Don’t tell anybody about to-night, Davy,”
she said. “Promise me that. And you'll be my
friend—whatever happens?” Her voice broke, and


32 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
she came close to me. “Whatever happens, Davy,
you'll be the same?”
“My dear,” said I, “my dear,” and I think that
something about me must have given her a hint of
my true feeling, for she looked at me in a curious,
almost startled manner. “I will always be the same
to you, whatever happens; I will always be your
true and sincere friend.”
She pressed my hand, in the old, familiar way,
and then she raised her head and dried her eyes.
“We'd better go in,” she said, in a dead tone.
“It must be nearly dinner-time.”


CHAPTER IV
We left the sunken garden by way of the worn
stone steps down which I had come to her, and
started slowly across the lawn. The gabled house
loomed out in front of us, massive and grim, and
the moon's ghostly radiance, broken and tessellated
by the interruptive trees, shone coldly on its many
unlighted windows, making them appear like dead
men's eyes.
We walked in silence, and my mind was filled
with a press of agitated thoughts. I kept glancing
at Helen, and wondering what manner of reflections
her bended head and tight-set mouth portended, and
by the time we had taken a dozen paces I was
cursing myself for having told her so much. It
would probably have been better for her, I consid-
ered then, if I had borne her reproaches and held
my tongue.
Of a sudden she hesitated, and her hand leapt up
from her side and gripped my arm. I came to an
abrupt stop. She drew her breath in with a sharp
sound, and I saw her staring in front of us.
“Who is that?” she whispered.
There was a thrilling quality in her tone, and it
had its effect on me. The condition of my nerves
had not been improved by the events of the day.
33


34 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“What's the matter?” I asked, in a low voice.
“Look—look!” she said, with a quick sob of fear,
and pointed her finger.
We were standing in the moonlight, but fifty feet
to the right of us was the long broad shadow of a
clump of trees. Helen's finger indicated something
in this dark patch, and as I gazed my heart gave a
leap and started to pound thunderously against my
ribs, for I saw the silhouette of a man's head and
shoulders—grotesquely malformed by the angle at
which the moonlight caught him—loping silently
along the edge of the large shadow.
“Oh, who is it?” she whispered. “Why is he
creeping about like that? . . . Is it—is it Martin?”
There was a suggestion of Martin Greig's height
and bulk in the shadow, but I could not be sure that
it was made by him. Nevertheless, on the impulse I
called, “Martin'” and as the echoes of my voice
died into the prevailing silence, the moving shadow
disappeared into the larger one.
We stood rigid, Helen and I, staring at the spot
where this had taken place; and then I laughed—
in a strange note, I dare say, for the incident had
startled me.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” I said, for Helen's
benefit. “It’s just some one taking a turn before
dinner. I wonder who he is? Certainly not
Martin, or he would have answered. But the
light's so deceptive: it might have been any one.”
She shook her head, and I pressed her arm to urge
her to start forward again. She did so eagerly,


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 35
all the time keeping her eyes fixed on the spot where
the shadow had disappeared.
“Why didn't he answer—whoever he was?” she
asked, nervously.
“I don't know,” I muttered. “Perhaps he didn't
hear.”
I decided that I would tell Henry Jefferson about
the matter as soon as I got inside the house; but I
did not allow Helen to think that I considered it at
all serious. As a fact, I did not do so, though the
sight of that misshapen figure loping silently along
the grass had sent an unpleasant chill down my spine
at the time of its occurrence. Despite this, however,
I was inclined to the opinion that my explanation
of it was correct.
“But people only creep about like that,” she whis-
pered, as we drew close to the house, “when they
don't want to be seen.”
I was trying to find some assuring thing to say to
her, when the sound of footsteps startled me, and I
turned to find Martin Greig coming up to us from a
direction at right-angles to that which we had fol-
lowed.
“Hullo!” he said, and I thought there was some-
thing queer in the way he spoke.
“Hullo, Martin,” Helen whispered.
“I’ve been hearing all the home-news,” I said.
He fixed his eyes on me, and I could have sworn
that there was hostility and suspicion in them. I
realised then what must be the truth, and hot anger
against him blazed within me. He had seen me


36 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
leave the house, I thought, and jealousy had made
him follow me to the sunken garden—to hear what
Helen had to say to him who had been her lover.
It was assuredly his shadow which we had seen.
“What are you doing out here?” I demanded.
“Taking a walk?”
“I was looking for Muhamed,” he said. “I saw
the fellow leave the house about ten minutes ago,
and I’ve been wondering what he's up to.”
I grunted, and made Helen go past him into the
house. He had given his explanation without any
hesitation, but I did not believe him.
He followed us in, and we three walked silently
down the wide, oak-panelled hall in the direction
of the drawing-room. But before we reached the
door of it I saw Muhamed coming down the stairs
in front of us.
We came to a dead stop and stared at him.
Helen gave a little gasp, and the sound of it broke
a sort of spell which had come upon me. I swung
round to look at Martin Greig, and found him
scowling up the stairs.
“Where have you been, Muhamed?” he de-
manded.
The Egyptian reached the hall, and extended his
long-fingered yellow hands in Salaam. His soft,
greenish eyes lingered for an instant on each of
our faces as he bent his body forward.
“I have been in your bedroom, effendi,” he an-
swered.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 37
“But I saw you leave the house!” Greig retorted
angrily.
Muhamed shook his head, and the black tassel of
his red fez swung gently from side to side.
“I have been here all the time,” he said.
Greig glared at him, and I thought we were in
for an explosion of wrath; but he remembered that
Helen was present.
“All right,” he growled, at last. “I don't believe
you—that's all.”
“I am sorry, effendi,” Muhamed murmured, and
Salaamed himself out of our sight.
Greig stared after him, and then fixed his at-
tention on Helen and me. I had rarely seen his
bull-dog face so grim and stern, nor his eyes so
coldly furious.
“That fellow's lying for some reason,” he said.
“It's the first time I've known it of him. But I'm
certain I saw him leave the house.”
I was so sure of myself that I was able to meet
his angry eyes unflinchingly, and fling my chal-
lenge at him.
“We saw the shadow of a man creeping about
outside,” I said. “We thought it was you.”
There was a second of silence, during which he
regarded me intently, in a curious, wondering way.
Then he answered quietly:
“I don't creep about in the darkness, Forrester.”
I felt unutterably ashamed of myself—despite
that I was certain he was lying. Even in the cir-


38 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
cumstances it was an empty satisfaction to me to
find him, my friend, guilty of a despicable action.
Before I could say anything in the way of apol-
ogy—as I at once intended to do—he stepped back
a pace from us in military fashion, and bowed
stiffly to Helen and me.
“Perhaps you'll excuse me,” he said. “I prom-
ised to have a talk with Orme before dinner.”
With that, he turned on his heel and left us,
vanishing a moment later through the door of the
drawing-room, whence came the sound of chatter-
ing voices and an occasional laugh.
I turned abruptly to Helen, who had been stand-
ing silently by all the time.
“I’ll apologise to him,” I said. “I lost my tem-
per, I'm afraid.”
She stared at me with her large blue eyes for a
full twenty seconds before she spoke.
“Why?” she asked.
“Oh—I don't know,” I said. “My nerves are
all on edge.”
“So you think it was—his shadow P” she whis-
pered.
“Do you?” I asked. “If it was, why should he
lie about it?”
“Oh, how do I know?” she moaned. “There's
nothing in this house nowadays that isn't secretive
and mysterious. . . . I wonder—oh, I can't think
that l”
“Think what?” said I.
“That—that he was listening while we talked.”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 39
“That's an absurd idea, Helen,” I said roughly.
“He’d never do a thing like that.”
“Perhaps Muhamed is lying,” she said, and her
tone told me that she found comfort in this idea.
“I dare say there are plenty of ways in which he
could have got back into the house.”
I grunted something or other.
“You’d better go up and make yourself ready
for dinner,” I said. (I was privileged to say such
things to her.) “Your hair's all blown about.”
When she had left me and gone up the stairs,
I took a turn or two along the wide hall, inwardly
fuming at myself and Greig. I was ready to pick
a quarrel with anybody at that moment, and Fate
had it that I passed the open door of a small room,
and saw Hugh Bowden sitting there alone.
He was the cause of all this, I thought; he was
alone responsible for Helen's fear and anxiety.
Had it not been for him Greig would not have lied
to me. There would have been happiness in the
house, instead of unrest and distrust, if he had kept
away from it.
I paused in the doorway, and, though he had his
back towards me—he was sitting in a large arm-
chair, with his square head resting on the scroll-
top of it, and a spiral of cigar-smoke going above
to the panelled ceiling—he sprang up suddenly and
swung round.
“Oh–it's you, is it?” he said, after staring at
me for a second, and I was certain that my sudden
appearance had scared him.


40 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Yes,” I said, aggressively. “It is I.”
I went forward into the room, and he watched
me intently with his little black eyes.
“Did you have a good trip?” he asked.
“An average one,” I answered shortly.
“What boat did you come on?” was his next
question.
“The Saint Grace,” said I, without thought.
He put his hands into his trousers-pockets, and
began to swing himself to and fro on his heels. I
saw that he was smiling at me in an odd way.
“What's the joke?” I growled.
“Just a little thought of mine,” he said. “It
seems so curious that Helen met you in London
three days ago, and yet the Saint Grace didn't come
in until this morning!”
The realisation of my mistake fanned the flame
of my anger into a more furious blaze.
“Well?” I retorted. “You mean, I suppose, that
you think I’m lying.”
“It's quite obvious that either you or Helen is,”
he said.
He puffed calmly at his cigar, the while he swung
himself back and forth. I had the idea that he was
enjoying himself.
“I’d like you to say that again,” I said.
“Certainly,” he answered. “Either you or Helen
is lying. I'm inclined to think it's Helen.”
I cannot be sure of the exact details of what
followed. I know that I found my hand fastened
on the lapel of his dress-coat, and my right fist


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 41
raised to smash his smirking face. Then his hand
shot up and gripped my wrist.
“Cut it out, Forrester,” he said, in a voice that
was like a snarl; and the fact that he proved him-
self to be a stronger man than I, and, furthermore,
apparently unafraid of me, served to increase my
savage hatred of him.
“My God!” said I, as I struggled with him in
the little room, “I’ll smash you for saying that of
Helen ſ”
Vaguely to my ears came the sound of the voices
in the drawing-room; but it seemed to be utterly
apart from us—a thing of another world. I forgot
that I was a guest in the house, that I was insult-
ing Henry Jefferson by brawling in this way; I for-
got everything except that I wanted to kill Bowden.
With a sudden dexterous twist he got clear of
me, and pitched me into the chair he had vacated.
He stepped back a pace, breathing heavily and
straightening the lapel of his coat.
“So you'd do that, would you?” he said. “But
if there's any smashing to be done in this house,
I'm going to do it.”
His easy repulsion of me had the effect of cool-
ing my hot blood a little, and when I got out of
the chair I had a stronger grip of myself.
“So you admit that you are here on some dirty
business,” I said. “I tell you now that if I can
stop you I won't stick at much. Helen means
a great deal to me, and there's nothing I wouldn't
do for her.”


42 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
He laughed derisively.
“So the rejected lover takes the heroic line—‘I
know I'm not good enough for you, darling, but
I'll be an angel to you and your husband for the
rest of your lives'!”
This was more than a man could stand.
I swore at him and raised my fist; and as I did
so an interruption brought the incident to an end.
Bowden started, and looked at me. I swung
round on my heel to see what had attracted him,
and perceived Selma Fairburn, dressed in a pearl-
grey evening-gown, standing in the doorway,
staring at us. I had no idea how long she had
been there, for ever since I entered the room my
back had been towards the door, and it was only a
second since Bowden glanced at it.
“What do you want, Selma P” he asked,
brusquely.
“Nothing,” she said. “I heard you talking as I
came downstairs, and I wondered who was with
you.”
“I was just having a little chat with Mr. For-
rester,” Bowden said, with another laugh, and he
glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. By
some miraculous means he arrived in London three
days ago on a boat that didn't get in until this
morning.”
Selma looked at me, and I met her dark eyes
defiantly. Then I bowed to her, and nodded to
Bowden.
“I don't see that any good purpose will be served


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 43
by continuing this discussion,” I said. “If you
don't mind, I'll join the others in the drawing-
room.”
“Oh, I don't mind,” said Bowden. “As a mat-
ter of fact, I'm glad you're going . . . I want to
have a talk with you, Selma.”
It was his final dig at me, and I had the strength
of will to let it pass unheeded. I was conscious
that I had not shown up well in this affair, and
when I left the room—first standing aside for a
moment that Selma might enter it—I was in a
thoroughly disagreeable mood. -
On the way to the drawing-room I wondered
how much Selma had heard.


CHAPTER V
I found the rest of the guests gathered in the
immense high-ceilinged drawing-room of Norman's
Court, and something in my appearance must have
been out of the ordinary, for there was a mo-
mentary silence when I entered.
“Ah, there you are, Forrester,” Henry Jefferson
said, coming across to me. “I thought you'd lost
yourself.”
I made some non-committal reply, and he added:
“We're holding up dinner for Sir Ambrose. He
went home to change, but he oughtn't to be long
now. He's coming over to breakfast in the morn-
ing for the meet.”
Helen was chatting with Bannister, on the other
side of the room, and Orme and Martin were with
them. Jefferson and I joined the group, and I
saw, to my surprise and relief, that Helen showed
no sign of the emotion she had displayed in the
garden. Martin talked to me easily enough, but
he was more reserved than I had ever known him.
Orme Jefferson was palpably nervous.
As was natural, the conversation turned to the
East, and I had an opportunity of asking Bannister,
whom I so thoroughly disliked, if he remembered
whether we had met before.
44


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 45
“I don't know,” he said, surveying me with his
sneering expression. “We might have done so.
I’ve been in almost every part of India in my
time—Delhi, Lahore, Calcutta, Madras.”
I gathered from his conversation that he was
well-to-do. Orme told me afterwards that he was
a big man in the world of surgery. We exchanged
reminiscences, and I became convinced that he was
the Bannister whom I had met in Delhi years be-
fore.
“I was on some irrigation job at the time,” I
said. “Somebody got hurt and you came down to
patch him up.”
“Oh, maybe-maybe,” he answered, carelessly;
and I reflected that he would probably have been
very glad not to have met me at all.
The arrival of Sir Ambrose Rowland, panting
and wiping his forehead, interrupted us.
“I was afraid I'd keep you waiting,” he said,
smiling apologetically at Jefferson and Helen. “I
almost ran across the fields.”
“That's not the sort of exercise for men of our
years,” Jefferson said, with a laugh.
Helen slipped her arm into Sir Ambrose's and
took him off to a corner. I watched them, and
was aware of a little twinge in my heart, for I felt
that this man had largely taken my place with her.
But it was comforting to reflect that it was to me
she sent when she needed true friendship and help.
She rang the bell for dinner to be served, and
while the others chatted I moved across the room


46 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
by myself and made an ostensible survey of the
water-colours with which the walls were decorated.
But in reality I was thinking about the things that
had taken place that day. I had not been alone
for more than a few minutes since my arrival, and
I badly wanted a chance to consider and analyse
the various events, and put them in their proper
places in relation to each other.
But I was near the door, and I could not help
listening to Bowden in the hall, angrily shouting
into the telephone-transmitter. He repeated a
number over and over, and at last I heard the re-
ceiver banged down on its hook, and then his foot-
steps coming towards me across the polished
parquetry.
“I say, Jefferson,” he called from the door, as
soon as he had opened it. “There's something
wrong with this 'phone of yours. I can't get an
answer.”
“I’m sorry,” said Jefferson. “Do you want any-
thing urgent? I'm afraid we won't be able to get
it put right to-night.”
“If it can't be done, I suppose it can't,” Bowden
said. “Luckily I didn't want it for anything
much.”
“I’ll see what I can do with it,” Jefferson said.
“The people in our local exchange go to sleep
sometimes, I think.”
He went out into the hall with Bowden, but he
also failed to get a reply, and when the butler an-
nounced dinner they gave up the task.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 47
Selma Fairburn came into the room at that mo-
ment, and I took her into the dining-room. She sat
beside me, with Martin on her right, and Henry
Jefferson at the head of the table next to him. Orme
was opposite me, with Bannister on the one side and
Bowden on the other. Sir Ambrose had the chair on
Henry Jefferson's left, and Helen sat opposite her
father.
Just before we began, Muhamed glided into the
room and took up his place behind Martin's chair.
There was no general conversation at the begin-
ning of the meal, and for a while I chatted on in-
consequential matters with Selma Fairburn. She was
a woman instinct with a strange, glamorous fasci-
nation, and I found that night, to my surprise, that
she was enchanting me. Despite her innate worldli-
ness and sophistication, she was possessed of a sim-
ple feminine charm that was irresistible, and her
large dark eyes and straight black hair, which she
wore looped down over her ears, lent her a tragic
beauty which was all her own.
“You know, I belong to the East—body and soul,”
she said, with a queer smile, when we had been talk-
ing for a space. “I was born in India, but my
mother and father were English, and all the people I
have are in England. Yet—England is never home
to me. I cannot make a home of a place where there
is no languorous heat, no tropical perfumes and
scenes; and, above all, no pitch-black nights, with
the fireflies dancing, and the wail of the girls in the
bazaars floating up to one through the stillness.


48 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
Egypt and India are my homes. I understand them,
and they understand me. I feel myself a stranger
here, and I shall go back when I can.”
“When you can!” I echoed. “But surely you can
at any time, Miss Fairburn? You're a free agent,
aren't you?”
It was a bold thing for me to say in the circum-
stances and I paid the penalty for it. She was too
clever for me, and my hope that she would let fall an
incautious word which would give me some inkling
of the truth about her presence there was not ful-
filled.
She gazed at me with her large eyes for a moment,
and I felt, that she was trying to sum me up, trying
to analyse my expression, that from the analyses of it
she might discover how much lay behind the ques-
tions I had put to her.
“One has to come to England sometimes,” she
said. “One can't always stay abroad.”
“No,” said I, awkwardly. “Of course not.”
She grew silent at this, and I as well. I fell to
thinking about her, wondering what could be between
her and Bowden which had induced him to bring her
from India. I could never imagine his falling a
slave to any woman's charms, and the little I had
seen of the two together was enough to convince me
that their association was a purely business one.
I began to evolve a theory about her and Martin.
I remembered what Helen had told me, and an
uncomfortable idea took hold of me. I recalled
what I had heard of the affair between these two in


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 49
India, and I could not help wondering if it had come
alive again. I was startled once to find Martin star-
ing at her fixedly, and I fancied that some sort of
signal passed between them. If my supposition was
correct, J realised that it was full explanation for the
change in him which Helen had noticed.
But how did Mr. Bowden come into it? What
was it that bound him to Selma P Was it fear?
And, if so, fear of what?
I found no answers to these questions, but as I
considered them I discovered that Martin was not
the only member of the party who was watching
Selma. Bowden regarded her, with a hint of sus-
picion and uncertainty in his eyes, at each pause in
the conversation, and my thoughts were abruptly
jerked on to other lines when I found that Doctor
Bannister was giving her a good deal of his attention.
The disagreeable Anglo-Indian surgeon was look-
ing at her in the sort of way in which a man does not
like to see another looking at a woman. He sat
silently in his place, taking no part in any of the
talk, and at first it was difficult to tell that he was in-
terested in anything but the morsels of bread which
he was crumbling in his fingers, in a manner which
gave one the impression that he did it with a kind
of savage ruthlessness. It was not until I stared
directly at him that I saw his deep-set eyes, almost
hidden by his lowering brows, were fixed full upon
Selma's face.
He noticed my scrutiny suddenly, and with a
scowl looked away.


5o MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
I thought about this for a short time, and a host
of new theories suggested themselves to me. Ban-
nister—India—Selma P Was there any connection?
Before long my silence was remarked by Orme
Jefferson, and he brought me out of it to talk about
fox-hunting—apropos the meet in the morning.
Everybody at the table joined in the conversation,
and presently it drifted to sport in general. Then
Bannister mentioned, with his usual bludgeon-like
definitude, that he did not like sporting women, and
a heated argument began.
“Have you been reading that unwritten-law case
that's been filling the papers lately?” Bannister
asked us. “There's one of your sporting women for
you! And what was the end? She drifted away
from her husband, who hadn't time for sport, found
another man, and her husband shot her. I don't
blame him, either l’’
“You’ve chosen an extreme case,” I said, “and I
hope that the jury finds the man guilty. He de-
serves to be hanged. No one can justify murder.”
“You think that way?” he said, and he leant over
the table and smiled unpleasantly into my eyes.
“Tell me, Mr. Forrester, haven't you ever wanted to
kill a man—and found yourself too great a moral
coward to do it?”
This was such a startling question to have put to
one without warning, that for a moment I could find
no answer to it.
Bannister leant back in his chair, glanced care-
lessly along the table, and laughed.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 51
Instinctively my eyes turned to Bowden. He was
quizzing me and smiling. I could not with truth
say “no” to the question which Bannister had put to
me, for there, but a few feet away, was a man whom
I had desired to kill, and whom I had threatened to
kill, earlier that same evening.
The realization of this gave me an uneasy shock,
but my anger against Bannister subdued it.
“Yes,” I said, defiantly, “I have—but so has
everybody else at one time or another, I expect. The
fact that we don't commit murder every time we feel
like doing so proves, not that we're morally cow-
ardly, but that we are morally courageous.”
“Not at all,” said Bannister. “It’s just the other
way about. Most people think like you, and most
people are wrong. Our moral doctrines are false
and absurd: we're not honest with ourselves. We
profess to be horrified by murder, but we're not.
Deep down in our hearts we admire the man who
kills. We make a hero of him to ourselves, and
envy him.”
“What a terrible thing to say, Doctor Bannister!”
Helen exclaimed, with a nervous laugh. “You’ll
make me feel—unsafe!”
Orme's eager young voice broke in then.
“I’m in agreement with the doctor. I don't think
I've lived through a week in which I haven't wanted
to kill some one. Every time I read about a murder
I admire the chap who had the nerve to do it.”
Bannister laughed in his irritating manner.
“Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings . . .
99


52 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
He left the quotation unfinished, and said: “So
you're a potential murderer, Orme? Well, you've
gone up in my estimation.”
“According to your theory, then, Doctor Bannis-
ter,” Selma said, “the murderer is the bravest of
men.”
“Up speaks the satirist!” Bannister answered.
“But I defy you, or any one else at the table, to deny
with truth that you have on occasion wished that
you had the courage to kill.”
“I think you're wrong,” Henry Jefferson said.
“I’ll agree that there are occasions in everybody’s
life when crime suggests itself as a means to a par-
ticular end. But I'm with Forrester when he says
that the moral coward is the man who succumbs to
the temptation, not the man who beats it down.”
“You’ve got most of the table against you, Ban-
nister,” I said, with some little triumph in my tone,
I am afraid. “You can't tell us that in your heart
of hearts you are sincere in what you say?”
“I do tell you that,” he retorted. “I’m not
ashamed to admit it. I look on myself as a more
enlightened being than those who disagree with me
on that point.”
There was a moment of silence after this, and
Henry Jefferson turned to Sir Ambrose Rowland,
who had, so far, not taken part in the discussion.
“What's your view of it, Sir Ambrose?” he
asked. “You should be more fitted than any other
of us here to judge such a question on its merits.”
“I’m very interested in Doctor Bannister's the-


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 53
ory,” he answered, looking from Jefferson to him.
“But I’d like him to tell it in more detail before
I give an opinion. . . . Do you contend that a man
is justified in killing, Doctor, just to satisfy a desire
to do so?”
“It's following out our natural impulses, isn't it?”
Bannister demanded. “Surely you don't deny that
Nature is always right?”
“But civilization has been super-imposed upon
Nature,” Sir Ambrose answered. “If we introduced
the cave-man morality to our mode of life to-day, I
think it would have very drastic consequences.”
“Of course it would,” said Jefferson.
“But cave-men were a good deal more honest
about things than we are,” said Orme.
“Honest?” Sir Ambrose queried. “You mean,
they did not show antipathy to committing murder?”
“Yes, that's what I mean,” said Orme. “And
although the world wasn't policed in those days, we
may take it as pretty certain that if a stone-age man
killed another he stood a very good chance of being
killed himself in the immediate future. Relatively,
he had as much to fear the consequences of mur-
der as we have to-day.”
Here Martin Greig, who had been listening in
intent silence, fixed his steady grey eyes on Bannister
in a way that made him pause, and made all the rest
of us pause as well and wait for Greig to speak.
“You’ve talked a lot about murder,” Greig said,
after studying Bannister's face for a moment, “and
you keep saying that everybody is a potential mur-


54 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
derer or murderess, and that it is only moral coward-
ice which prevents our taking life almost every day.”
“Yes, that's my opinion,” Bannister answered, but
in a less assured tone than that which he had em-
ployed so far.
“Then tell me this,” said Greig. I noticed that a
slight sarcastic smile had come on his lips. “You've
admitted that you have felt this way, and you've
also said that you look on yourself as a more en-
lightened being than those who do not agree with
your theory. . . . Have you ever killed a man
yourself?”
“Why, yes,” Bannister answered, easily. “I
killed a man in India a couple of years ago.”
No one spoke for a moment. A tense silence
came upon us all, and every face, save Bannister's,
wore a strained and set expression. The light of
the electric chandelier which hung above the table
shone full upon him. We stared at him in fascina-
tion, but he did not appear to be at all upset by
our scrutiny.
Helen was the first to speak. She evidently
found it difficult to believe that Bannister had told
the truth, and as a fact I was not sure of it myself.
I don't think any of us were.
“Doctor Bannister!” she exclaimed. “How can
you say such an awful thing?”
“Why,” Orme interrupted, with his boyish laugh,
“Bannister's only made the confession which every
honest doctor ought to make. I'll bet there aren't


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 55
many of them who haven't killed a man at some
time or other.”
I saw Sir Ambrose glance anxiously at Helen and
Selma. He was obviously annoyed with Bannister
for making such a statement in the presence of the
ladies.
“Of course that's what Doctor Bannister must
mean,” he said, immediately after Orme had spoken.
“As our young friend remarks, almost every truth-
ful medical man would have to confess that some
mistake on his part, some faulty diagnosis, has been
responsible for a death. But one can't call that
killing. It's a tragic mishap, made in the pursuit of
one of the noblest of causes—the preservation of a
human life.”
Bannister smiled at this in his cynically-assured
manner, and when Sir Ambrose had finished he
said:
“You’ve misunderstood me. I wasn't talking of
my professional experiences. It is inevitable that
a doctor sometimes makes a mistake which causes
his patient's death. I can look back on two such
episodes, and I'll admit that they hurt me badly
at the time. I had set out to save a life, and I
hadn't done it. My pride was injured, I suppose.”
“I thought you must mean something like that,”
I said, as he paused.
He turned to me.
“You seem to have forgotten, Mr. Forrester,
that I prefixed what I have just said with the state-
-


56 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
ment that you've all misunderstood me. I did not
even remember that I was a doctor when the question
was put to me. Greig wanted to know if I had
killed a man. I presumed that he meant had I ever
deliberately taken a life. My answer was, and is,
yes!”
Selma, beside me, made a little sound like a stifled
scream, and Bannister raised his eyes to her face.
“Yes,” he said, before any one else could speak,
“I killed a man in India—with these hands of
mine. . . .” -
He stretched them out above his plate—heavy,
muscular hands, with patches of dark hair upon
them. He had short fingers with square nails, and
his thumbs turned backward in a repulsive way.
He clenched these hands into fists, that we might
see the powerful sinews ripple beneath his sunburnt
skin.
“And I’m not ashamed of it,” he added.
I was glad that Henry Jefferson put in his oar at
that point. The growing expression of horror
on the faces of Selma and Helen had not escaped
him.
“Really, Bannister,” he said, with a short laugh,
“confession may be good for the soul, but I'm
hanged if it's good entertainment for the dinner-
table. From the way Miss Fairburn is staring at
you, I fancy it might not improve her night's rest,
either.”
“I’m sorry,” Bannister answered. “But I had
to say what I said. I was asked a question, and


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 57
I had to reply—Greig didn't give me any loophole
for escape. Shall we change the subject?”
“I shouldn't if I were you,” Bowden said. “It's
interested me greatly, and it ought to provide good
entertainment for the rest of the evening.”
Everybody at the table looked at him, for this
was the first time he had spoken since the argument
arOSe.
“Anyhow, Bannister,” he added, “you won't spoil
my sleep with talk like that. And I'm going to bed
now, if nobody objects. I've got to catch the early
train, and all that tennis has made me tired.”
As he finished speaking, he got to his feet, pushing
his chair back from the table. Helen regarded him
angrily, and I surmised that many of the others were
hard put to it to allow his insolence to pass un-
checked.
“But you'll wait for coffee, won't you?” Henry
Jefferson asked. “And you haven't eaten much.”
The only gauge of his anger was his eyes, and
they were leaping with a lambent flame.
Bowden slid his empty chair under the table,
leant on the back of it, and looked down at his host.
Never in my life had I seen a glance which held
such sinister good-humour as his did then.
“No,” he said, “I won't have coffee: it keeps you
awake. And I’m not hungry to-night. But don't
worry. I shall partake of your hospitality for some
time to come.”
He left the chair-back, nodded carelessly to us at
the table, and went to the door. No one spoke until
-


58 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
he had disappeared, and the first to do so was Selma,
who stood up and laughed nervously.
“Will you excuse me?” she asked. “I’ve left my
handkerchief in my room.”
The men rose with her, and our host said:
“Don't you bother to go, Miss Fairburn. We can
send one of the servants.”
“I'm afraid that won't do,” she said, quickly.
“I’m so untidy, you know. I don't think any one
else could find a thing in my dressing-table.”
Henry Jefferson smiled. “As you wish,” he
said.
Muhamed moved silently from behind his master's
chair, and opened the door for her to pass from the
room. I think I was the only one to notice that
he followed her into the hall: and I was sure, after
a second's reflection, that I had seen Selma's hand-
kerchief lying on her lap during the earlier part
of the meal.
We took our places again, and Orme leant across
the table to Bannister and said:
“I hope you are going to tell us this story, Ban-
nister—having titivated our curiosity to such an -
extent.”
“I’m quite willing to do so,” Bannister answered,
“but our host is afraid that the ladies' nerves will
be upset if I do.”
“I’m certainly of that opinion,” Henry Jefferson
agreed. “But I can't deny that you've interested
me as well.”
“Which means,” said Helen, “that Selma and I


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 59
must leave you men to yourselves, or else deprive
you of"—her eyes leapt from her father's face to
Bannister's—“a good murder story.”
Henry Jefferson laughed.
“You mustn't think that was a hint, Helen.
But you may be sure that when Miss Fairburn re-
turns, and you both go into the drawing-room, we'll
induce Doctor Bannister to tell us more.”
“It's jolly interesting to be friendly with a mur-
derer,” said Orme.
“You shouldn't be too free with the word ‘mur-
derer,’ Orme,” Sir Ambrose remarked. “Or you'll
be disappointed when you find—as you probably
will—that Bannister killed his man in self-defence.
After all—”
He came to an abrupt stop, and stared at the ceil-
ing. The rest of us started and did the same. We
had heard a heavy thud on the floor above the room,
and the chandelier was swinging to and fro.
“Great Scott!” Orme exclaimed. “What on
earth's that? Bowden sleeps up there, doesn't he,
father?”
“Yes,” Henry Jefferson answered. “I wonder if
he's fallen P”
“Sounds are so deceptive in these old houses,”
Sir Ambrose remarked. “It’s the thickness of the
walls and the floors.-Wāat was I saying?”
Henry Jefferson took the opportunity to make
an adroit change in the subject of conversation and
he did not allow Sir Ambrose to recall what he had
been saying when the interruption occurred. Be-


60 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
fore long we were all talking about the Races.
Selma returned to her place beside me soon after-
wards, and she seemed to be strangely agitated.
Her olive complexion was paler than usual, and
her eyes sparkled in a curious way. She held up
for my inspection a new handkerchief, and I noticed
that her hand trembled slightly.
“I found it,” she said, smiling at me.
“I see you did,” I remarked. “But I think you
must have dropped the other; I'm certain you had
one.” -
Her expression did not alter.
“I ought to have had one. I don't often forget
my handkerchief. I may find it afterwards.”
The butler entered with the coffee, and Helen
rose from her chair.
“Come along, Selma,” she said. “Mr. Bannister
is going to tell them all about his—experience.
We're not supposed to hear it.”
I fancied that she shivered a little, but Selma
laughed.
“Don’t you worry, Helen,” she answered. “We'll
make somebody tell us the thrilling parts after-
wards.”
The butler opened the door for them to leave
the dining-room, and as I watched him do so I
realised that Muhamed had not returned. But,
though this fact interested me at the time, I forgot
it when we men were seated at the table again, with
the coffee and the port in front of us, and the
cigar-smoke curling up to the ceiling.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 61
“Come now, Bannister,” Sir Ambrose said.
“Let's hear the yarn. . . . I take it, Jefferson, that
your objection to Bannister's telling it held good
only while the ladies were in the room?”
“Of course,” Henry Jefferson answered. “Ban-
nister's talk was rather strong meat for Helen and
Miss Fairburn. But I’m just as eager to hear what
he has to say as the rest of you. It's not often that
one confronts a self-confessed murderer. . . .”
“And one who boasts about it,” Greig added.
Bannister shot a quick, keen glance at him.
“I have neither confessed nor boasted,” he said.
“I have simply stated a fact. If I preach the theory
that a man who kills is braver, better and more
honest than the man who wants to and doesn't, I
must admit that I practise what I preach. My
own experience is not interesting, however. It oc-
curred a few miles from Darjeeling.”
It was a brutal and terrible story he had to tell,
and I am sure that every one who listened was af-
fected by it. He spoke in a callous, defiant way
which lent his words an added horror.
“I had gone up to this place from Calcutta,” he
said, “to look after a planter-friend of mine who
was down with fever; but when I had been there a
few days, and my friend was progressing fairly
well, I got an urgent call to return. I looked up
the trains from Darjeeling—which was the nearest
place with a station—and found them very few
and far between, but there was one going that day
which I could catch if I hurried off.”


62 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
He took a sip at his port. We watched him
silently.
“I started for Darjeeling on horseback,” he con-
tinued, “but the ground was rough, and when I
had still eight or nine miles to go my beast got his
foot into a hole and broke his leg. Luckily, I was
not far from a village when this occurred, and I
went into it and demanded that some one should
sell me another horse. It was evening then, and
all the inhabitants had come in from the fields; but
amongst the lot of them was only one who owned
a horse, and he refused to sell.
“The time was getting on, and I was in danger
of losing my train if I didn't make another start
soon. I was quite determined not to spend a night
in a filthy Bengal village, and I decided that I'd
kill the owner of the horse and catch the train with
the help of his property.”
He paused again, and smiled at us as he fingered
the slender stem of his port-glass.
“I want you to understand that I wasn't furiously
angry,” he said. “I didn't kill my man in the heat
of passion. I did it coolly and deliberately.” .
“This is very horrible, Bannister,” Henry Jeffer-
son muttered.
“You asked me to tell you the truth,” said Ban-
nister. “I’m telling it you.”
“Go on,” said Greig. “We may as well hear all
the details.”
“With some difficulty I induced the owner of the
horse to take me around to the place where it was . .


64 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
so sure that he isn't on the threshold of a truth—
just the threshold, mind you, for he's still outside.”
“Great Scott, Sir Ambrose!” Henry Jefferson
cried. “Surely you're not going to defend the worst
of human crimes?”
“Not at all,” Sir Ambrose answered. “The kind
of murder which Bannister makes us believe he
considers to be right and natural is, to my mind,
altogether too horrible for condonement. The man
who kills because of an exaggeration of emotion—
fear, passion, jealousy—usually gains some of our
sympathy. But even such a murderer must be
despised and punished, if only for the sake of social
safeties.”
“Those are the usual moralities,” Bannister said,
with a sneer, “imposed upon the race by just such
unctuous pronouncement as you are making. They
are the stereotyped phraseologies of the judge and
the minister of religion.”
“Yes, they are stereotyped,” said Sir Ambrose.
“They are the mere application of the old rules
of tribal protection—an eye for an eye—which
were adopted for the common good by our first
ancestors.”
As Sir Ambrose paused, Martin Greig dragged
his chair closer to the table and took his cigar from
his mouth. We all looked at him, and waited to
hear his views on the subject.
“Of course I don't agree with Bannister,” he
said, “but I don't know that I entirely agree with
you, either, Sir Ambrose. I believe that there are


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 65
circumstances in which a man would be justified in
taking human life. It wouldn't be murder, but
killing. I don't mean only in self-defence, but in
the defence of others, as well.”
“You’re rather off the point of the argument,
Greig,” Sir Ambrose answered. “Of course, to kill
in self-defence or in the defence of others near and
dear to one is merely slaying. We are talking of
murder.” -
“But the law and the moralist would say that it's
a crime to kill in defence of anything but one's own
life,” Greig objected.
“And the law and the moralist are frequently
wrong,” Bannister said.
“I don't dispute that,” Sir Ambrose answered,
smiling. “But the argument began with your some-
what extraordinary statements, and I contend that
the man who kills only for his own profit is beyond
our understanding and deserves no mercy.”
“Which remark is directed at me, I suppose?”
said Bannister.
“I’m afraid it is,” Sir Ambrose said. “You’ll
never get me to agree that you did the right and
brave and honest thing in killing that native man,
Bannister.”
By that time the coffee-cups were empty and the
cigars had burnt down to stubs, Henry Jefferson,
evidently anxious to protect Sir Ambrose from
Bannister's caustic and disagreeable tongue, rose to
his feet.
“I think we'd better continue this discussion at


66 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
another time,” he said. “The ladies will be won-
dering if we're ever coming. Shall we join them?”
Selma and Helen greeted us with a storm of ques-
tions when we appeared, but we refused to satisfy
their curiosity.
“We'll make one of them tell us before long,”
Selma said, with a laugh.
Despite my vague fear of something unknown and
terrible, I passed a pleasant evening in the company
of these friends who had been separated from me.
Nevertheless, it was forced upon me all the time
that happiness and mental peace were strangers in
the house, though those of it did their best to hide
this fact.
Presently Sir Ambrose, pleading his walk across
the dark fields as an excuse, got up to go.
“I’ll be over in the morning for breakfast,” he
said, “and I'll practise shouting ‘yoricks' as I come
across. I haven't been to a hunt for ages.”
Helen went with him into the hall, and only a few
minutes after Sir Ambrose had gone both she and
Selma excused themselves and went up to bed.
“What about a few rounds of poker?” Henry
Jefferson asked, when only men were in the room.
We all agreed—though I would have refrained
from playing with Bannister had common courtesy
not dictated otherwise.
“We'll go into the library,” said our host. “It's
a man's room.”
It was late when the party broke up, and I re-
member that as I climbed the stairs I heard one


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 67
o'clock strike. I was of a mind to wait on the land-
ing for Orme, to find if I could get any information
out of him, but he was evidently stopping down-
stairs with his father, and I decided to abandon the
project until the morning. Martin had gone to bed
a few minutes in front of me.
Like most other rooms in Norman's Court, that
allotted to me was oak-panelled, and furnished in
the period of the house. As soon as I entered it I
went to the window to draw the blinds, and in do-
ing so was surprised to see a light from the window
next to mine shining through the uncovered glass.
Bowden was staying up late, I reflected, in spite of
the necessity for him to catch the early train.
I stood by the window while I took off my coat
and collar. A large elm-tree grew outside, and a
soft wind, which had arisen since dinner was sigh-
ing through the branches with an eerie sound. Of
a sudden a cold thrill went through me, without any
reason for which I could account, and my pre-
monition of evil in the house became very real and
grim.
I ruminated on Bowden, lying awake in his room,
thinking and scheming, I imagined, perhaps arrang-
ing in his mind when and how he would amuse and
profit himself with the various people whom Fate
had put in his power; and, staring through the glass
at the moving branches of the tree, made ghostly
by the light from his window, I tried to tell myself
that the many little disturbing things I had seen and
heard that day were mere unimportant trifles which


68 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
my anxiety for Helen had made me magnify into
matters of tremendous significance.
But I could not delude myself. I had no doubt
that Selma was unwillingly associated with Bowden
—I was almost certain that she feared him—and
it was plain that both Orme and Martin were nerv-
ous because of his presence in the house. Helen's
story confirmed this latter supposition, and my
knowledge of her father's operations in the East
told me that he had good cause to hate and fear the
man who once had.been his hired jackal.
Jefferson had large and varied financial interests
which demanded that his character should be clean
and unbesmirched. If the truth were spread in
Throgmorton Street it might easily mean ruin for
him. Orme had mentioned, shortly before dinner,
that his father had decided to stand as liberal candi-
date for the local constituency at the next by-
election. I realized that Bowden could smash him
at the polls if he so desired.
I had not given Helen any inkling of the little I
knew regarding Selma's affairs d'amour with Orme
and Martin, but as I reflected on these matters I
perceived how much they two had to make them
uneasy if there was anything of import in the vague
breath of scandal I had heard regarding Selma and
them in India. A disreputable incident in the past
of the man she loved might, in Helen's innocent
mind, take on far larger proportions than it war-
ranted, and even induce her to reject him. As for
Orme, he, too, was engaged to marry, and I thought


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 69
it likely that the story of a notorious incident with
a woman of Selma's reputation might queer him
with his fiancée or her people if it were brought to
light.
When I had arrived so far in my attempt to sort
out the tangle of lives and affairs into which I had
been pitched it occurred to me as possible that I
was quite wrong: Bowden might be ignorant of the
story of Selma and Martin and Orme.
But I could not reconcile myself to this idea.
My feeling of uneasiness persisted and grew
stronger. I tried to shake it off, and whistled a gay
air softly to myself as I undressed; but it would not
go, and when I put the light out and climbed into
bed I had got myself into such a state of nerves that
I knew it would be hours before I slept.
I tossed and turned about, brooding on the odd,
upsetting events which had marked the day. Helen
and I in the sunken garden; the slinking shadow,
which I was sure was Martin Greig; Bowden smok-
ing his cigar in the little room; my savage hatred of
him and our struggle; the grim conversation which
had held the dinner-table, and Bannister's defiant
boast that he had killed a man. These fresh mem-
ories crowded in upon me, divorcing sleep from my
mind.
For a great while I lay on my back, with my eyes
fixed on the window. I had not carried out my
intention to draw the blind, and I watched for Bow-
den's light to disappear. But the time went by,
and still it cut its white path into the darkness.


zo MYSTERY OF NORMAN's COURT
It must have been almost three o'clock when I
first became aware of the sound of movement on
the landing outside my bedroom-door. At first I
could not be sure what it was, and I sat up and
remained rigid, listening. My heart began to thump
like a trip-hammer on my ribs as I recognised the
sound as a stealthy footstep.
I waited for a moment or two, and got a firm
hold of my nerves. I rose quietly from the bed
after that, put on a dressing-gown, pushed my feet
into slippers, and noiselessly opened the door.
I could distinguish nothing at first but when my
eyes grew accustomed to the different darkness of
the landing I descried a form standing close to me.
“Who's that?” I demanded, in a low voice.
I heard a sound like a gasp of breath.
“Is it . . . Surely not Miss Fairburn?” I said.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I couldn't sleep. So I
—I came out here. I've been walking up and
sdown. I—I hope I didn't wake you?”
“No,” said I, rather gruffly. “But you'd better
go back to bed. You'll be catching a chill if you
don't.”
I saw that she was dressed in a light-coloured
kimono, with her long black hair hanging in two
plaits down her back. She turned her face a little
and the nebulous glimmer of the night, coming
through the landing-window, shone upon it. Her
cheeks looked grey, and her expression strained and
tense.
I heard her sob, and try to stifle it.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 71
“What's the matter?” I asked, in a changed tone.
After a second's hesitation she came quickly close
to me, and took my hand. Her warm body swayed
against me, as though she were faint.
“You love Helen,” she breathed. “And you're
a friend of Martin and Orme. But—but . . . Oh,
you may not have the strength or the courage . . .”
She sobbed again, and swiftly drew her hand
away. Before I could do aught to stop her she had
fled across the landing. An instant later I heard
the click of her door closing.
I went back to my room, after lingering for a
while to see if she would return, and when I lay
down again on my bed I had the thought of this
new strange happening to add its fretful sting to
the host of other anxieties and misgivings which
filled my mind.
What had Selma meant? I asked myself a hun-
dred times. What was it that she thought I might
lack the strength and courage to perform 2
Rest did not come to me till nearly five o'clock,
and the last thing I remembered was Bowden's light
shining through the window and paling before the
steady march of the rising dawn. By that time I
had decided he must have forgotten to press the
switch before he went to sleep.


CHAPTER VI
I was late for breakfast, and when I got down
I found the meal almost ended. As was natural in
the circumstances, when I had made my apologies
to Helen and Jefferson I gave my full attention to
Selma. She smiled at me with no expression save
that commensurate with a morning greeting, and it
was impossible for me to see behind the mask which
she presented for my view.
“I hope you slept well, Miss Fairburn?” I could
not help saying, as I took my place at the table.
“I was rather restless for the first part of the
night,” she answered immediately, “but after that I
slept like a top. I feel wonderfully fresh this
morning. I'm longing to start off for the meet.”
“You’ll have to curb your impatience for another
half-an-hour, I'm afraid,” Henry Jefferson laughed.
I buttered a square of toast, and turned to Sir
Ambrose Rowland, who sat by my side.
“I’m not gifted with your energy,” I said. “The
mere prospect of walking the shortest distance an
hour ago would have appalled me.”
He laughed and made some light reply, which
I forget now; but I have often looked back on that
breakfast, and reflected on the grim irony of it.
Every one seemed to be in great good spirits—even
72


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 73
Bannister was less disagreeable than his wont—and
until the whisper of fear came amongst us there
was laughter at the table and merry talk.
The butler entered the room, and paused beside
Henry Jefferson's chair.
“Do you know, sir, that Mr. Bowden didn't catch
the early train?” he asked.
We ceased our chatter and listened. Involun-
tarily my eyes strayed to Selma again, and I saw
her staring at the butler in a way which made me
think she was going to scream. Then suddenly she
turned her head and looked at me.
“No, I didn't know that,” Henry Jefferson an-
swered slowly. “Did he go on the later train?”
“No, sir, he must still be in bed,” the butler
answered, and he was plainly agitated. “His
door's locked, and I can't get any reply.”
It was then that a vague, untranslatable fear
stirred us. Helen gave a little gasp, and raised her
hand to her mouth as though to prevent a greater
sound escaping her. Every one else was silent and
still.
Henry Jefferson, who had been regarding the
butler in surprise and alarm, was on the point of
putting another question to him when I recollected
something which seemed to bode such dread signifi-
cance in the circumstances that for an instant the
awful thought of what it might mean held me
dumb.
I had leant forward quickly, and Jefferson, who
had noticed this, turned and stared at me.


74 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Bowden's light was on till five o'clock this morn-
ing,” I said. “I saw it through my window. But
I didn't look to see if it was on when I got up.”
Jefferson started and bit his lower lip.
“I’ll go up to his room and see what's wrong,”
he said. “He may be ill.”
He rose from his chair, and took a pace in the
direction of the door. Then he turned back and
glanced at Bannister.
“Will you come with me, Bannister?” he asked.
“You may be needed.”
“All right,” said Bannister, and got up as well,
dropping his table-napkin on to the seat of his
chair.
The two of them followed the butler out of the
room, and we all watched them go. A second be-
fore they passed beyond our sight I heard Jefferson
say: “Fetch the duplicate key of Mr. Bowden's
room, Horshem,” and the butler set off towards the
kitchens, while Bannister and our host went up the
stairs.
“Oh—I wonder what's the matter?” Helen whis-
pered, when the sound of the footsteps had grown
faint.
Sir Ambrose smiled into her troubled face, and
patted her hand.
“I don't suppose it's anything very serious,” he
said, in an attempt to still her fears. “Even the
best of us oversleep ourselves sometimes.”
We began to talk constrainedly, choosing another
topic than that in the forefront of our minds—as


76 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“I’ll go with you,” said Orme. “Those doors
are as firm as rocks.”
“Have you anything to batter down the door
with ?” Sir Ambrose asked, speaking for the first
time since Jefferson had re-entered the room.
Jefferson shook his head. I surmised that he
was relieved to find in the scientist some one with
cool, practical ideas about what ought to be done.
It seemed quite natural to me, and it must have
done to all of us, that Sir Ambrose took complete
charge. He was the man most suited to do so. I
could not imagine his being flurried or nervous, or
anything but utterly logical and matter-of-fact.
He left the table, and turned towards us. His
eyes rested on me.
“Mr. Forrester,” he said, in his quiet tone, which
seemed to lend to each of us a greater degree of
calmness, “I saw a piece of sapling-trunk lying on
a path near the tennis-courts yesterday. It ought
to suit our purpose admirably. Will you fetch it?”
I nodded, and went to obey. As I left the break-
fast-room, by way of the French-windows which
led on to the lawn, I heard him say to Helen.
“Don’t meet trouble half-way, my dear. It's
possibly nothing at all.”
I found the length of sapling-trunk—it was about
four inches in diameter and five feet long—and re-
entered the breakfast-room with it in my hands.
But nobody was there. I retain a clear picture of
the coffee-pot in front of Helen's place steaming
cheerfully as I passed the table.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 77
Everybody was on the landing outside Bowden's
door when I went up. Helen and Selma were cling-
ing to each other, and Helen was sobbing in a low,
fearful way. Orme and his father and Martin
were standing together near the head of the stairs,
and a few feet distant from them were Muha-
med and the butler. Sir Ambrose and Bannis-
ter were close to Bowden's door, and at the mo-
ment I arrived they hammered on it with their
fists.
“Bowden,” Sir Ambrose shouted.
Everybody listened. I stopped, with my right
foot on the top step and my left on the one beneath
it. But there was no response.
Sir Ambrose seized the sapling-trunk from my
hands, and he and Bannister swung it to and fro
between them, then crashed it against the left top-
panel of the door. The old oak shuddered, but did
not give.
“Is the light still on ?” I whispered to Orme, next
to whom I stood.
“Yes,” he whispered back. “Bannister saw it
when he tried to get into the room through your
window just now.”
I nodded, and was silent as I watched Sir Am-
brose and Bannister poise the log to aim another
blow.
Three assaults on the panel had the effect of
making a longitudinal split in it. A dreadful fas-
cination gripped us, and drew us forward. Almost
without realising it we, who had been standing back,


78 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
moved up until there was scarcely room for the
two men to swing the log.
The fourth blow burst half the panel away. The
detached portion of it was sent flying into the room,
and we heard it fall on the carpet.
Sir Ambrose peered through the aperture, and
Bannister strove to do the same.
“He's lying on the floor—by the fireplace!” Sir
Ambrose cried. And shouted again: “Bowden l’’
One of us shouted something excited and unintel-
ligible. I think it was Orme.
Sir Ambrose surrendered the entire weight of the
sapling to Bannister, and in doing so moved from
in front of the broken panel. For an instant each
of us had a clear view of a section of the room, and
each of us caught a glimpse of Bowden's body lying
there.
I expect I cried out. I recall that I heard Helen's
voice, and a startled exclamation from Martin.
“Quick—we must get the door openl” Sir Am-
brose said; and he added something in a lower tone
to Bannister, which I fancied was: “There's blood
about !”
A cold chill went over me, and I was glad that
Helen had not heard those last three words. We
pressed forward again, now that the swinging log
was not there to endanger us, and Sir Ambrose
turned his head for an instant to say to me:
“Keep those others back, Mr. Forrester. And
you Bannister . . .”
He had not room to move with us so close about


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 79
him. But it was Henry Jefferson who gripped my
hand, and helped me make a barrier across the land-
ing. I realised afterwards that Bannister had made
no apparent effort to obey Sir Ambrose's orders,
though none other of us questioned the fact that
he was in charge.
Sir Ambrose thrust his hand and arm through the
broken panel, and groped to find the key. I could
see his face, serious and set, with his eyes turned on
the landing-floor. His left hand, pressed against
the door, was quite steady.
“Can't you find it?” Orme whispered.
“Yes-yes. . . . Here it is.”
We heard the lock click. Sir Ambrose drew his
right arm half-out of the aperture, and with his left
turned the handle of the door. But it did not open.
“It must be bolted ſ” Henry Jefferson exclaimed.
“Where's the bolt?” Sir Ambrose demanded,
without looking at him.
“There's one just over the lock,” Jefferson an-
swered.
How silent we were, and breathless, Even the
two women had ceased their little sobbing noises.
I thought of them again suddenly, as I watched Sir
Ambrose groping and was on the point of whisper-
ing to Martin to take them downstairs when I heard
the bolt shoot back into its socket.
But still the door held, though Sir Ambrose
twisted the handle about and thrust his weight
against the heavy wood.
“Is there another bolt?” he asked.


8O MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“I suppose there must be,” said Jefferson in his
low tone. “It will be on the top.”
Sir Ambrose altered his position and reached up-
ward. He had to stand on tip-toe and, for an in-
stant I thought he would call on Bannister—who
was a taller man—to aid him. But he managed to
get his fingers on the top bolt and force it back.
“Now!” he breathed.
He withdrew his arm quickly, and gripped the
door handle. Then he turned the handle, and the
door opened.
Involuntarily I released my grip of Jefferson's
hand, and he of mine. We went quickly up to the
door, and followed Sir Ambrose and Bannister
into the room. There I paused, on the threshold,
and Jefferson, after taking a step farther, paused as
well.
The horror of death laid hold on me, numbed my
body and seemed to set each individual nerve jump-
ing and tingling. The sudden contrast between the
bright sunlight, which poured on my face from the
window opposite, and the comparative gloom of the
landing, with its single stained-glass pane, made my
sight temporarily dim.
Vaguely I saw Sir Ambrose, with Bannister be-
hind him, hurrying across the room towards the
fireplace, in front of which Bowden's body lay,
spread-eagled on the carpet. Although I was con-
scious at the time only of these two moving figures
and the still form on the floor, I have a recollection


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 81
that about me could be heard the odd little breathing
noises which one hears when many people are ex-
cited or afraid.
“Come on—come onl” I recollect saying to Jef-
ferson, when once more I became aware of his pres-
ence at my side.
I clutched his arm. I felt an urge to go forward
with those other two, but the horror was too strong
upon me to let me go alone.
We made a hesitant move, and there came im-
mediately the shuffle of many feet behind us. The
people on the landing pressed into the room. Some-
body—I think it was Martin Greig—sent me reeling
into Jefferson. I cried out in alarm, for my nerves
were on edge, and leant my hand on the panelled
wall to steady myself. Jefferson had slipped past
Ine.
My eyes had grown used to the sunlight by then,
and I fixed all my attention on the dead man, and
on Sir Ambrose and Doctor Bannister who was
kneeling beside him. Of a sudden utter silence had
come in the room. There had been little noise be-
fore, but the movements, and the little breathing
noises of the many people, and the thundering of
my heart, had given me the impression that the place
was filled with confused sound.
Helen, not far from me, gave a low wailing cry,
and I turned. Martin Greig swung round as well,
but it was I who caught her in my arms as she fell
fainting. I fancied that a look of resentment


82 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
flashed from Martin's eyes to mine, and I remember
thinking it odd that such should be in the circum-
StanceS.
As I began to try to make Helen walk across the
room with my support, I saw Selma cringing
against the wall, her hands raised and pressed to her
cheeks, her face dead white, and her eyes wide
with horror and panic.
Then Sir Ambrose's quiet, calm voice broke in
upon me. My back was towards him so I could not
tell to which of us he spoke.
“We must get the women out of the room,” he
said. “This is no place for them.”
I lifted Helen in my arms, as if she were a child,
and carried her through the doorway out on to the
landing. Sir Ambrose followed, leading Selma.
“I think—I think I can walk alone, thank you,”
she whispered.
At that instant we heard a startled exclamation
in Henry Jefferson's voice. Selma and Sir Am-
brose turned quickly. I, with Helen in my arms,
caught only a glimpse of the room, over their shoul-
ders, but I saw Jefferson standing beside Bowden's
body, with Martin Greig at his side.
“Stabbed!” Jefferson said. “Stabbed to the
heart!”
I seemed to feel the air thrill and dither. I
looked at Sir Ambrose.
“Is that right?” I asked.
He nodded grimly, and plucked at Selma's sleeve.
“Come away, Miss Fairburn,” he said, softly.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 83
She was reeling, and a moment later she burst
into hysterical sobbing. Sir Ambrose was forced
then to support all her weight. He and I looked at
each other. The same thought was in each of our
minds: what could we do with them? Everybody
else was inside Bowden's room.
The problem was solved by the appearance of the
housekeeper on the stairs, holding the front of her
skirt up a little that she might run the faster. Her
plump and usually florid face was an odd stone col-
our, with the blue veins prominent in it. She was
panting heavily.
“We can take them into Miss Fairburn's room,”
I said to Sir Ambrose. “It’s just over there.”
At the time I did not pause to wonder how it was
I recalled so easily the position of her room. But
afterwards I thought about it.
Sir Ambrose put his arm about Selma's waist and
led her gently across the landing, talking to her in a
soft and soothing tone the while. I have never
seen a man so cool in such a situation.
I followed him with Helen, and the housekeeper,
after taking a fearful look into the room with the
split panel, gave a frightened squeal, and then at a
peremptory order from Sir Ambrose, went before
us and opened the door of Selma's bedroom.
I lifted Helen in my arms, as if she were a child,
where I put her, motionless as one dead, with her
fair hair disarranged and straggling over the pillow.
Sir Ambrose ensconced Selma in a deep arm-
chair by the fire. She lay back in it, with her


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 85
“What do you think about it, Bannister?” Sir
Ambrose asked.
The fascination of horror which gripped me rose
superior to the inborn fear we have of death, and
while Bannister was considering his answer I went
up to where the others were grouped by the window.
“It must have been done with a knife of some
sort,” Bannister said. “A long and narrow-bladed
one. He was killed instantly.”
“Then—then . . . .” I whispered.
“It looks like murder!” Sir Ambrose said,
gravely.
Those four words had a deep effect on all save
Bannister, who merely said:
“It might be suicide.”
“But if he killed himself, what did he do with the
knife?” Jefferson asked.
Bannister sat back on his haunches, shook his head
and wiped his fingers again.
“I don't know,” he answered. “It may be about
somewhere. We haven't looked yet.”
There was something revolting to me in his ap-
parently callous serenity, although I told myself at
the time that the terrible task in which he had en-
gaged himself must be a comparatively common one
in his daily life, and I could not expect him to show
any emotion about it. But the harsh tone in which
he spoke was in great contrast to the hushed voices
the rest of us employed.
Sir Ambrose turned towards us, and Bannister
rose to his feet.


86 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Be careful not to touch anything,” Sir Ambrose
said. “There may be finger-prints about.”
We nodded; and Orme suddenly said:
“But how can it be murder? The door was
locked on the inside and doubly bolted. . . .”
He swung round towards the window behind
him. His face was deathly pale—as were the faces
of all of us—but his voice was fairly steady.
He had put out his hand as though to touch the
window, but Sir Ambrose's voice broke in again
and stopped him.
“Remember what I've said,” Sir Ambrose told
him, warningly. “We mustn't touch anything.”
“All right,” Orme muttered.
The rest of us, including Sir Ambrose, moved up
behind him and stared at the window.
“It’s fastened on the inside,” said Orme, pointing
his finger at the metal attachment which was fixed
where the two casement-windows met. “And that
catch can't be opened from the outside. Don't you
remember, father, the insurance people made you
have them put on ?”
Henry Jefferson nodded, and indicated the two
side-windows with a shaking forefinger.
“They can't be opened at all,” he said. “And
they haven't been broken.”
There was a moment's silence. All our attention
was fixed on the three windows, and it seemed cer-
tain to me that no one could have entered the room
that way—if it was a fact that the catch could not
be operated from the outside.


MystERY OF NORMAN's COURT 87
“How long has he been dead, Bannister?” Jeffer-
son asked.
“That's difficult to tell,” Bannister answered.
“He was certainly alive eight hours ago.”
“And his bed hasn't been slept in l’’ Martin ex-
claimed.
We turned and looked at the.bed. The counter-
pane was perfectly smooth; there was no dent in the
pillows.
“It's—it's supernatural,” Orme muttered.
“Eight hours, you think, Bannister?” Jefferson
said. “That would be . . .”
Sir Ambrose interrupted at this point.
“I’m afraid we're wasting time,” he said. “We
must send for the police at once. You're master of
the house, Jefferson; perhaps you’d better call them
on the 'phone.”
“Yes, I'll go now,” Jefferson agreed. “Is there
anything else I ought to do at this stage?”
Sir Ambrose nodded.
“You must give orders that no one must leave
the house,” he said.
Jefferson stared at him.
“Does that mean,” he asked, after a second, “that
you think this was done by some one in the house—
by one of us?”
Sir Ambrose shrugged his shoulders.
“It’s impossible to say,” he answered. “I asked
you to have everybody stay in the house, because I
know that's what the police would require if they
were here now. I didn't mean anything else.”


88 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Yes—yes, I understand,” Jefferson said. “But
what do you think about it? Do you think it
was done by one of us? Have you formed any
opinion?”
“My dear fellow,” said Sir Ambrose, and laid
his hand on Jefferson's shoulder, “how could any
one form an opinion about it so soon? We haven't
been in the room ten minutes yet. I'm just as hazy
about it as you are. . . . But we mustn't waste
any time in getting the police. Will you go down
and telephone now?” -
Jefferson nodded, hesitated an instant, as though
he were on the point of putting some other ques-
tion; then turned and left the room. I think we
all recognised the incongruity of the fact that Sir
Ambrose, a neighbour, gave orders to the master
of the house, but no one of us could deny that in
this situation the scientist was far better fitted to
take the leadership than was Jefferson. His calm.
manner and grave dignity soothed our nerves and
gave strength to our courage. With him to com-
mand us we felt more able to face the dreadful
thing which had reared its ugly head in our midst.
When Jefferson had gone we four men stood to-
gether in silence for a moment. It is remarkable
how quickly one can grow accustomed to a set of
circumstances. I, for one, had cast off a great
deal of my fear, and though I cannot deny that I
had a sickening sensation at the pit of my stomach,
and that my knees were not as firm as they ought
to have been, I was become, nevertheless, more in-


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 89
terested than afraid. I was obsessed by the thought
that it was utterly impossible for anybody to have
got into that room, killed Bowden and got out
again without leaving either the window or the
door unfastened. Yet this apparently impossible
thing had been done.
“But we haven't made sure that it isn't suicide,”
I said aloud, when I had reached thus far in my
reasoning. -
Bannister shook his head, but did not say any-
thing. He turned on his heel abruptly, and walked
over to Bowden's body. There he stood, frowning
down at it and caressing his blue chin with his
thick-fingered hand.
“We'll take a look around the room,” Sir Am-
brose said, in answer to me. “But whatever we do
we mustn't disturb anything.”
“There may be a sliding panel, or something like
that,” Orme remarked.
“There may be—anything,” said Sir Ambrose.
“Or nothing,” said Martin Greig.
I regarded him keenly as soon as he said this,
and I don't know what made me give him so much
of my attention at that instant, unless it was some
inflexion of his voice. I noticed that he was the
most palpably nervous of any of us there, and I con-
sidered it odd that he should be so. He was a man
whose name had monopolised the talk of almost
every Officers’ Mess in the Indian Army at one
time or another. He was known for a type of
courage which was akin to recklessness, and I was


90 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
certain that this could not be the first occasion on
which he had looked on a man who had died vio-
lently. Yet it effected him to such an extent that
his lips twitched and his brow was damp with per-
spiration. I recalled how he had stumbled against
me when I entered the room a moment after the
door was burst open, and he gave me cause for a
great deal of thought.
“If you fellows will stop here, in the middle of
the room,” Sir Ambrose said to us, “I’ll make a
tour—and see what there is to be seen. We don't
want too many footmarks—although the carpet
must be fairly well covered with them by now—but
this examination must be made. There may be a
fresh stain, or something of that kind, which will
dry or be obliterated before the police arrive.”
We nodded and obeyed him, making a group of
ourselves in the middle of the floor—that is, all
save Bannister, who continued to look down at the
wound in Bowden's chest, and caress his dark chin
with his stubby fingers. I would have liked to have
been inside that queer mind of his and see what
thoughts passed through it.
Sir Ambrose began to tour the room. He walked
slowly, and his keen eyes seemed to rest on every
inch of the place and every object; yet his hands
touched nothing. Orme and Martin and I watched
him closely as he made the grim survey, and pres-
ently even Bannister looked up and took some
interest in it.
“There's a little dust on the window-ledge, which


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 91
shows that it can't have been opened since yester-
day morning,” Sir Ambrose said to us, pausing and
turning when he had reached thus far in his exam-
ination. “We must leave the police to ascertain
that the catch is as impregnable as Jefferson thinks.”
“There's no doubt about it,” Orme put in.
“When father had those catches fitted I spent
nearly an hour trying to force one of the ground-
floor windows.”
“But you're not an expert housebreaker, Orme.”
Sir Ambrose remarked, quietly.
“If it was done by somebody in the house,” Mar-
tin Greig said, in a low voice, “the window won't
tell us anything. We ought to concentrate all at-
tention on the door.”
“You heard me tell Jefferson that I have no idea
who'd done it,” Sir Ambrose answered, as he bent
over the dressing-table which stood in front of the
window and carefully regarded the articles upon it.
“I’m working round to the door, but at the present
moment I'm looking for the knife.”
“I don't think you'll find it on the dressing-table,”
said Bannister. “I’ll lay you ten to one that it's not
in the room.”
“We won't bet about it,” Sir Ambrose answered.
Doctor Bannister seemed to be on the point of
making some retort, but the expressions on our faces
evidently acted as a deterrent, for he bit back what-
ever it was he was going to say, and remained si-
lent.
It was a large room, this place of death, prob-


92 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
ably eighteen feet long and fourteen wide. The
walls and ceiling were panelled in oak which was
contemporary with the house, and a thick pile carpet
almost entirely covered the polished oak floor.
There was a hearthrug in front of the fire, and
there was a rug on each side of the undisturbed bed,
which was set against the wall on the left of the
door. Directly opposite the door was the window,
and in the corner on the left of this was a mahogany
wardrobe. Between the fireplace—which was mod-
ern—and the wall where the window was sit-
uated was a writing-table, and a washstand stood
on the right of the door. Some chairs were placed
about the room, and there was a small table at the
side of the bed. The electric-light switches were
close to the door, and the light was shining palely
from above as it had done all through the night.
For some minutes no word was spoken, but al-
most every instant the eyes of one or other of us
would leave Sir Ambrose and stray fearfully to
Bowden's body on the floor, with the bright warm
sun streaming upon it. The only sounds were those
made by our breathing, and the quiet tread of Sir
Ambrose's feet on the carpet.
“One of these panels must open in some way,”
Martin said to me, in a whisper. “Apparently the
window hasn't been touched, and it's impossible
for the the murderer to have used the door.”
I nodded, and stared at the door. It had been
swung back to the full extent of its hinges and I
could not see the bolts, but the iron sockets in the


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 93
frame told me that they were of the same pattern as
those in my own room—heavy, powerful fittings
which would defy the strength of a giant to break
them.
“Why did Bowden lock himself in like this?”
Orme asked suddenly.
“Wasn't it his custom to lock his bedroom door
at night?” Sir Ambrose enquired.
“I don't know,” Orme answered. “But whether
it was or not, don't you think it strange that he
fastened both the bolts as well ?”
“I do,” Sir Ambrose agreed, and came over to
us. “It seems to point only to one thing.”
He was silent, staring reflectively at the broken
door.
“And that thing is what?” Martin asked.
“That Bowden was afraid—of somebody in the
house,” Sir Ambrose answered.
Each of us started visibly. We could not deny
the logic of Sir Ambrose's reasoning, yet it was too
horrible to believe that one of the people who had
talked and laughed with me yesterday was a mur-
derer—probably at that time decided on his hideous
crime.
“Oh, but there might be a dozen reasons for his
fastening the door,” I exclaimed.
“I agree,” Sir Ambrose answered. “There
might be. Can you name one?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never been in a house
with him before,” I said. “But I expect we'll find
that it was his habit to lock and bolt his bedroom


94 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
door. I'll warrant he's lived in places—as I have
done—where it's not only wise but necessary to do
so.”
“The police will be able to ascertain that,” Sir
Ambrose said.
We were silent for an instant after that; and
then Bannister said abruptly:
“Where's Jefferson? He seems to be taking a
dickens of a time calling up the police.”
“I shouldn't be surprised if he's taken the oppor-
tunity to be alone for a little while,” Sir Ambrose
said. “Thinking things out, you know. Poor
fellow ! This must be terrible for him.”
I recalled Selma and Helen.
“Couldn't Bannister go to them now?” I asked
Sir Ambrose. “He may be able to do something
for them.”
Bannister looked at me curiously. I knew that
he was wondering why I had not put the question
to him instead of to Sir Ambrose. I wondered
about it a little myself.
“Of course,” Sir Ambrose said. “I ought to
have asked you before, Bannister, but I must con-
fess that in the stress of all this I had forgotten
them.”
Bannister nodded, and went towards the door.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said.
But before he reached the door we heard the
sound of Jefferson coming up the stairs, and Ban-
nister stopped. A second or so later Jefferson ap-
peared.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 95
“There's something wrong with the 'phone,” he
said. “I’ve been trying all this time to get on to
the police, and it was only a moment ago that I
remembered. I was told about it last night—by
Bowden.”
I, too, had forgotten the incident, but now a new
idea regarding it occurred to me.
“Perhaps the wires were cut by the murderer,”
I cried. Memory flooded back upon me. “And
that slinking shadow which Helen and I saw last
night . . .”
I stammered and came to a stop. Involuntarily
my eyes sought out the face of Martin Greig.
Sir Ambrose's calm voice burst upon my fevered
consciousness with the startling unexpectedness of
a thunderclap.
“A slinking shadow, Forrester? What was
this?”
I hesitated, he regarded me keenly.
“It was when Helen and I were coming in from
the garden just before dinner,” I said. “We saw
what we took to be the shadow of a crouching man
creeping towards the house. But the shadow was
misshapen, and we couldn't recognise who it was.”
“You didn't tell us about this,” Jefferson said.
I had difficulty in meeting his dark eyes steadily.
I was aware that Martin Greig was watching me
closely all the time.
“No,” I answered. “I forgot about it.”
“Forgot?” Sir Ambrose echoed, with the slightest
hint of incredulity in his tone. “It’s curious that


96 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
you forgot such a startling incident so quickly.”
An awful fear entered my heart, which seemed to
leap up into my throat and choke me, and I felt
something in my brain give and release the tightness
of the grip I had upon myself.
“Look here,” I cried, “I didn't kill Bowden, if
that's what you're getting at!”
My hands were trembling, and I expect my face
was furious and white. I took a swift step forward
and glared at the scientist. I was filled with a
sort of fear-gotten panic which made me want to
shout.
“Steady, old chap!” I heard Jefferson say, and
felt his strong hand on my arm. “Your nerves are
all to pieces—it's the same with the rest of us. I'm
sure Sir Ambrose wasn't accusing you.”
“Of course I wasn't,” Sir Ambrose answered.
“How can anybody be accused? We're not even
sure yet that it isn't suicide. My dear Forrester, I
apologise if I gave you a wrong impression. I was
merely following up the little clue you mentioned,
in order . . .”
“I’m sorry,” I interrupted, shortly. “It's right;
my nerves have gone to pieces. For God's sake let's
get the police here, and have the one of us who killed
Bowden—if one of us did—discovered and brought
to trial. Don't you see what will happen,” I said,
raising my voice again. “While this goes on each
one of us will be suspected by the others. The
house will be a hell of suspicion, and distrust and
fear . . . I'll go for the police, if you like.”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 97
3 y
“No, no,” Sir Ambrose answered, soothingly.
“None of us must go. We'll send a servant.”
“Well, let's get downstairs,” Orme said. “An-
other five minutes in this room will drive me off my
head. . . . What Forrester says is right. If this
thing drags on we'll be like a lot of hungry wolves
in the house—each trying to drag the other down in
order to have peace for himself.”
“I didn't force you to stop in the room,” Sir Am-
brose reminded him, with a faint, grave smile.
“You’ve got the young man's cynicism, Orme. If
one of us committed this terrible crime I think we
shall find that those who are friends of that person—
and it seems that all of you are friends—will do
their best to shield him—or her.”
“Or her!” Martin Greig repeated, in so low a
tone that I fancy I was the only one of us to hear
him.
“Cowardice makes traitors of us all,” said Bannis-
ter apropos of Orme's remarks, and he suddenly
laughed in his shrill way.
“That was uncalled for, Bannister,” Henry Jeffer-
son said, sternly.
“The truth usually is,” Bannister answered.
Sir Ambrose took a step towards the door.
“We'll go down now,” he said. “But first we
must lock the door. Do any of you realise that it is
only thirty-five minutes ago that we were breaking
in here?”
“It seems like thirty-five hours,” said Orme, with
a shudder; and I agreed with him.


98 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Everything must be left as it is,” Sir Ambrose
said. “We have found nothing ourselves, but from
the materials in this room it's possible that the
trained eyes of the police will be able to form a case.”
It was I who made the one discovery of any inter-
est, and that was made by accident. I nudged the
door as I followed Sir Ambrose and Orme out of the
room, with the result that it swung forward on its
hinges, closing the way in front of me. I saw, lying
on the floor by the wainscoating, an unaddressed
white correspondence envelope which had evidently
been swept behind the door when we first entered.
I made some exclamation, and Sir Ambrose and
Orme returned to the room. I pointed out the en-
velope and Jefferson made to pick it up, but Sir
Ambrose gripped his arm.
“Leave it where it is,” he said. “Perhaps that
letter, and the fingerprints which are probably upon
it, will give the police the clue needed to clear up the
mystery.”
Jefferson obeyed him; and Bannister bent double
and stared at the envelope in silence.
“Somebody must have pushed it under the door,”
Jefferson said.
There was a draught-lath screwed to the floor
outside the door, but I guessed that there would be
sufficient space when the door was closed for so thin
an object as the envelope to be pushed into the room.
“Who's envelope is it?” said Orme. “That's the
question l’”
The elder Jefferson shrugged his shoulders, and


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 99
led the way out of the room. I stood with him and
Bannister, while Orme and Sir Ambrose and Martin
pulled the broken door shut and locked it.
“You had better keep the key,” said Sir Ambrose,
handing it to Henry Jefferson. “You're the master
of the house.”
Jefferson slipped it into his waistcoat pocket, and
we moved to the head of the stairs. There Sir
Ambrose paused again and turned to Bannister.
“Will you go into the ladies now, Doctor?” he
asked. “Perhaps you will be able to do something
for them.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” said Bannister. “I was on
the point of going when Jefferson came up.”
He left us, and went across the landing to the
door of Selma's room. He was tapping with his
knuckles on the panel when we started down the
stairs.
The butler met us in the hall, and I saw, behind
him, the other servants of Norman's Court, peering
round the side of the door which led to the kitchens.
“Is it—is it . . . .” he stammered nervously.
“Murder!” said Jefferson.
The butler gave a frightened little squeal, and
scuttled back a step or two. He stood there, star-
ing at us with his weak blue eyes wide open.
“Where's the chauffeur?” Jefferson demanded.
“He’s—outside in the car, sir,” the butler stam-
mered. “He’s been waiting to take the party to
the meet.”
The meet! We had forgotten all about it. Fate


IO2 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
I did remember it, and I remembered a great deal
more: a host of memories crowded in upon me.
I fancy he guessed this from my expression, for
he suddenly said:
“Wasn't somebody out of the room when that
occurred P”
I did not answer at once. I thought of what had
taken place between Selma and me on the landing
outside our bedrooms in the early hours of that
morning. . . .
“But—but . . . Oh, you may not have the
strength or the courage. . . .”
Live and thrilling as her words had been to me
then, they ran in my ears again. Had she found
that courage in herself? I wondered. Could it
have been her hand that drove the knife into Bow-
den's heart?
“Who was it?” Sir Ambrose asked, and his calm,
reflective eyes searched my face steadily. “Of
course, it will all come out later, when the police
get busy; but it would be interesting if we sorted
out the basic facts now—between ourselves.”
There seemed to be no point in lying. I could
not give Selma any protection by doing so—and
what was Selma to me, or I to her? It must have
been the innate chivalry of man towards woman
which held me silent for that little space.
“It was Miss Fairburn,” I answered, and to my
relief I recalled something else. “Muhamed went
out at the same time.”
Sir Ambrose nodded. A few seconds passed by,


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 103
and the only sound in the room was that made by
his soft footfalls, to and fro.
“Do you know, Forrester,” he said, abruptly,
“I’ve been mixing with this household for a con-
siderable time, and I’ve got the uncomfortable sort
of idea that almost everybody in it had a very good
reason for wishing Bowden out of the way?”
I felt myself start. Vaguely I had perceived this
truth, but I had not imagined that any one else was
aware of it.
“Do you think that?” I said slowly; and, for
some subconscious reason not wishing to discuss the
point, I added at once: “What's happened to
Muhamed 2 I haven't seen him since he followed
us into Bowden's room, when the door was broken
down.”
Sir Ambrose came to a stop, and examined his
finger-nails reflectively.
“Neither have I,” he answered. “I’ve been won-
dering about it. He's a strange fellow, is Mu-
hamed. I’d be interested to know exactly what he's
been doing since we saw him last.”
“Do you suspect him?” I asked.
He shook his head and smiled slightly.
“One can't suspect any one person more than
any other. Suspicion seems to fall fairly equally
on almost everybody.”
“Yes,” I said. “I think you're right.”
The police would be arriving within the next
hour or two, I thought, and everybody would be
questioned—myself included. I realised that there


104 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
was a great deal which I must consider and decide
upon before I gave myself to this ordeal. All the
events which had occurred needed to be analysed
and reviewed. I had to discover exactly how I
stood. I seemed to have become the keeper of a
good many consciences.
“Is there any reason why I shouldn't go up to my
room?” I asked. “I want to think things out, and
get them square in my mind.”
“No, I don't think so,” he answered. “Go up if
you wish. You'll find the furniture out of place,
for we moved it in order to see if we could get into
Bowden's room by way of your window. But the
ledge was too narrow.”
I left him, and went swiftly up the stairs, my
brain conglomerate with agitated thought. I re-
called the slinking shadow I had seen while I was
in the garden with Helen, and how Martin Greig
had behaved about that incident; I recalled my quar-
rel with Bowden in the little ground-floor room, and
something very like panic took hold of me for a
moment. I had threatened to kill him then, and I
fancied that I might have done so had he goaded
me to any further degree. Such evidence would
look black against me in a Court of Law—and
Selma had stood at the door whilst Bowden and I
were struggling.
Then I thought of Jefferson. He and Orme had
been the last to retire on the previous night. If
there were a sliding panel, or some other form of
secret entrance into Bowden's room, Henry Jeffer-


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 105
son was the most likely person to know about it;
and he had a stronger reason for desiring Bowden's
death than any other person in the house.
I reached my room, went in and closed the door.
As Sir Ambrose had told me, the place was in dis-
order. But I scarcely noticed it. I sat myself in
a chair by the grate, and rested my head on my
hands. I tried to think clearly, to remember all
that happened since I had been beneath that roof.
A multitude of recollections returned to me.
“I think—I would die for father,” Helen had
said, when I told her the truth about the relation-
ship between Jefferson and Bowden. Surely
Helen . . . P
I strove to thrust the idea out of my mind; my
whole being revolted against it. But I could not
forget the odd change which had come over her—
that unfamiliar hardness, that likeness to her father's
grim strength. Yet I told myself then that nothing
would make me believe that she was connected in
any way with Bowden's death.
I had been sitting for about a quarter of an hour
when I was attracted by a slight sound outside my
room. At any other time I would probably have
let it pass unheeded, but then—with the constant
subconscious realisation that my room was in jux-
taposition to that in which Bowden lay, stark and
stiff and horrible—and my nerves on edge, every-
thing startled me.
I rose from my chair, and went quickly to the
door. Softly I opened it. I cannot think what


IO6 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
made me use such caution, unless it was some sixth
sense that governed me; but what I saw made me
stand rigid.
Doctor Bannister had his arm through the hole
in the panel of Bowden's door, and he seemed to be
groping inside the room with some sort of imple-
ment. I could hear the scrape of it on the carpet.
His back was towards me, and for a second he
did not know that he was watched. But then he
swung round, dragging his arm quickly from the
hole, and I saw that he held a walking-stick in his
hand.
“Bannister!” I exclaimed.
I was so completely taken aback at finding him
there that I knew not what else to say for an in-
Stant.
“Well?” he asked, defiantly.
His dark-skinned face had paled a little, I
thought. He put the walking-stick behind him and
leant on it.
“What's the game?” I asked, leaving my door
and going towards him. “What were you doing
with that stick?”
“I don't think it's any concern of yours,” he re-
torted. “Why should I make excuses to you?
We're both guests in this house, on an equal foot-
ing.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “But murder has been done
here, and I’ve just found you in circumstances that
need some explanation.”
“Perhaps so,” he answered. “I may give an ex-


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT Io.7
planation later, if I am asked by any one who is
authorised to do so.”
We regarded each other hostilely. The super-
cilious smile which he usually wore when talking
with me had gone from his face. His expression
was very hard and grim.
“The police will be here before long,” I said
slowly. “I might consider it my duty to tell them
about this.”
“Oh—you might?” he answered, in a very low
voice; and then he came quite close to me, and
stared into my eyes. “Two can play at that game,
Forrester. Suppose I told the police of what oc-
curred between you and Bowden last night in the
little room downstairs.”
I was startled, and he saw it. His aggravating
Smile came slowly on to his face.
“How did you know that?” I demanded.
“Does it matter?” he asked. “I do know it, and
I have an idea that the police would be extremely
interested to hear about it.”
“No more interested than they would be to hear
what I could tell them about you,” I retorted.
“There you're wrong,” he answered. “The fact
that you have seen me here does not prove any-
thing. I don't mind telling you now what I was
doing. I was measuring the distance from the floor
to the bottom of the panel, in order to prove a theory
about the crime.”
“Really?” I said sarcastically, knowing he was
lying. “Did you prove your theory?”


IO3 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
He shook his head. “No, the facts don't fit in
with it.”
He leered at me. By this time he had quite re-
covered from the first nervousness which I had re-
marked at first, and I perceived that he was rather
enjoying pitting his wits against mine.
“I think you are lying, Bannister,” I said.
“Is that so?” he answered at once, without giv-
ing any indication of how the accusation effected
him. “Well, as far as I am concerned you may
think what you like.”
“It's not what I think that counts to you,” said
I, “but what the police will think.”
“I thought you'd made up your mind to let the
police do their work by themselves,” he said.
“You thought nothing of the kind,” I retorted.
“I’ll admit that I quarrelled with Bowden last
night. . . .”
“And threatened to kill him,” he interrupted.
I was aware of an uneasy thrill going through
me. But I kept myself in hand.
“Yes,” I said, “I threatened to kill him. But
one doesn't always carry out one's threats.”
“But sometimes one does,” he said.
We gazed at each other challengingly. The
Smile was still upon his face, and his eyes were
steely.
“Look here,” said I, suddenly. “Why don't you
be frank and tell me what you were doing here?
You must be able to comprehend my position.
With everybody in the house suspect, it's obviously


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT Io9
the duty of each of us to give what information he
can—however painful it may be to do so.”
He laughed quietly.
“Would you have said all that if you'd found
some one else here instead of me?” he asked. “For
instance: Miss Jefferson?”
“You’re just trying to hedge the issue, Bannister,”
I answered, and I was able to keep my voice at its
normal pitch, despite that I was stung by what he
said. “I asked you a plain question, and I'm
waiting to hear what you have to say about it.”
“I’ve given you my answer,” he said. “I’ve told
you what I was doing.”
“I can't accept that,” said I. “If it was only
a measurement you wanted you could have taken
it outside the door.”
He had evidently overlooked this point, and he
made no reply.
“I’ve said all I'm going to say about it,” he
muttered, at last.
“All right,” I answered. “I’m not afraid of con-
fessing about that quarrel with Bowden, and, if
when the time comes, I feel it my duty to inform
the police about this affair I warn you that I shall
do so.”
“Then we'll leave it at that,” he said easily.
“But I think that when you have considered the
matter you'll come to the conclusion that the best
thing you can do is to keep quiet about me—
in order to assure that I shall do the same for
you.”


11o MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
Having said this, he tucked the walking-stick
under his arm and dropped his hand into the side
pocket of his coat. I watched him silently, unable
to decide whether to continue the futile argument or
not. There was stalemate between us. He had as
strong a hold on me as I had on him.
“Have a cigarette?” he asked, and extended his
case to me with a sort of insolent bravado that made
my smouldering anger blaze. It was perfectly plain,
from his gesture and the tone of his voice, that he
considered himself to be the winner of our tussle
of wits.
“No, thanks,” I snapped. “And I want you to
understand, Bannister, that I'm not at all deterred
by what you’ve threatened.”
He laughed again, struck a match and surveyed
me over the top of the yellow flame. Then he lit
his cigarette, and threw the match away. It fell,
still burning, on the rug which was laid across the
landing-floor, and I bent down, quickly and instinc-
tively, to prevent any damage being done. As I
did so, I saw the end of his walking-stick, and
noticed that a bodkin had been spliced to it with
stout black thread.
“So you were trying to pick up something from
inside the room,” I said, as I straightened my body
again. “As a matter of interest, I'll just see what
it was.”
I turned in the direction of Bowden's door, but
before I reached it Bannister's hand shot out and
gripped my arm. I had half-expected him to do


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT III
something of the kind, and was prepared for it.
I twisted my wrist and made him release me.
“I won't forget this,” I said.
Before I could say more, or he could reply, the
door of Selma's bedroom—on the other side of
the landing—came open, and Henry Jefferson, and
Orme and Martin appeared.
They stared at us, and we at them. Then Jeffer-
son shut the door behind him with a decisive snap,
and moved forward, Orme and Martin following
him.
“What's all this?” Jefferson asked, looking hard
at Bannister and me. “What are you two fellows
doing here?”
“We were just testing a theory of how Bowden
was killed,” Bannister answered. “But it won't
do.”
He did not even glance at me. He was taking
the big chance that I would remain silent; and he
won his gamble, for at that moment—almost as I
was on the point of giving him the lie—I was
seized with the fear that if the story of my quar-
rel with Bowden were disclosed, and viewed side
by side with the fact that I had slept in the next room
to him on the night he was killed, the police might
discover other scraps of evidence and form a case
to prove that I had murdered Bowden in order to
protect from unhappiness the woman I loved.
“I'd leave theorising about it to the police, if
I were you,” Jefferson said. “Come downstairs
with us, you two. I think it would be as well to


II2 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
keep away from this part of the house for the time
being. Helen and Miss Fairburn will be joining
us in a minute or two.”
“All right,” I said.
Bannister fell into step beside Jefferson, and
we three others followed, I making the last of the
party.
I walked close to Bowden's door, and glanced
through the break in the panel as I passed. I saw
a wide stretch of empty carpet, with Bowden's legs
lying stiffly upon it: and suddenly I paused, and
looked again. The white envelope which I had dis-
covered was now almost in the middle of the floor.
Evidently this was what Bannister had been trying
to pick up. No doubt he had captured it on the
bodkin when I surprised him, and the sudden jerk
of his arm had sent it flying from its former place.
Martin Greig, who was the last of the four going
down the stairs, stopped and glanced back at me.
“Anything—else?” he asked.
“No,” I said, “nothing.”
How bitterly I felt my cowardice was known only
to myself. But my fear held me in a cold vice,
and I could not struggle free of it.
As I walked down the stairs behind Martin I
realised the foolish futility of my silence, for Ban-
nister was not the only member of the household
who knew about Bowden and me. Selma was also
a witness of our quarrel, and I recalled that Mu-
hamed had been in the hall a few minutes before the
incident occurred. It was more than likely, I con-


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 113
sidered, that he was as well acquainted with the de-
tails of the affair as I. My experience of him in
Cairo had shown me that little ever happened in
Muhamed's immediate neighbourhood that was not
known to him. It must have been from him or
from Selma that Bannister obtained his knowledge
of the incident.
I gave close mental attention to Muhamed, and
when we reached the hall I asked Martin what had
become of him.
“I don't know,” he said, and looked at me queerly.
“He may be up in my room. He usually goes there
after breakfast to do my valeting.”
“But surely he wouldn't carry on with his duties
in such circumstances as these?” Jefferson ex-
claimed.
Greig smiled faintly. “I have never known
Muhamed to be disturbed about anything,” he
answered.
We went into the drawing-room, and found Sir
Ambrose standing in front of the window looking
through the glass.
We came to a stop, and stared at him. His whole
bearing and attitude portrayed keen and absorbed
attention.
“What is it, Sir Ambrose?” Jefferson asked.
Sir Ambrose, after another moment at the win-
dow, turned and came over to us.
“One, at least, of the household has not obeyed
the order you gave,” he said. “I have just been
watching Muhamed coming in from the garden.”


114 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
Jefferson swung round to Greig.
“With your permission, Greig,” he said, “I’ll ask
Muhamed why he disobeyed me.”
Greig hesitated, and I noticed he did not meet
Jefferson's eyes. He was obviously worried about
Muhamed, and ill at ease.
“If you don't mind,” he said, “I’ll talk to him
about it myself. I can manage him better than
other people can, and he's a funny customer.”
“Very well,” Sir Ambrose said, answering for
Jefferson. “Perhaps you had better meet him as
he comes in, Greig; then he will be unable to deny
that he has been out of the house.”
Martin nodded, and left the room. We listened
to his footfalls in the hall, and when they had died
away Sir Ambrose went over to the window again,
and we, drawn by curiosity, followed him.
He pointed his finger.
“He was coming from that direction,” he said,
“round the side of the hedge.”
“The road's beyond there,” Jefferson remarked.
“I wonder what the devil the fellow's been up to?”
We stood in a silent group, and though the room
was warm and brightly furnished, it seemed chill
and drab to me. The horror of death was upon us
all: one could almost feel his grim presence hovering
overhead. I don't think any voice save mine had
been raised above a whisper since Bowden's body
was discovered, and I had spoken loudly only for
a moment—wildly and hysterically, I know—when
Sir Ambrose's questions to me about what Helen


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 115
and I saw in the garden on the previous night had
given me the instant appalling fear that he and the
others imagined I was guilty of the crime.
My mind leapt from one suspicion to another as
we stood there. I realised I had seen and heard
enough to implicate three people in the house.
I recalled Orme's white face and obvious terror
at the breakfast-table—when none of us knew that
Bowden was dead. It was true that each one of
of us—at least, so I thought—was possessed of
that dread premonition; but Orme had shown a
greater degree of panic than the rest. I wondered
if the elder Jefferson and he had united against
their mutual enemy, and crept together up the
darkened stairway to send him to his death.
At that time I did not possess an atom of proof
that Bowden had been a menace to Orme as well
as to his father, but I did not doubt that such was
the case. In the few hours I had been at Norman's
Court I had become convinced that Selma and
Martin and Orme were bound together by some
common fear, and that fear had centred in the man
who lay dead in the upstairs room.
About Muhamed I knew little, but the more I
considered him the clearer it seemed that each of
his actions that I had noticed was, in the light of
the grim event which had occurred, suspicious and
incriminating. I began to think that I might have
been wrong in jumping to the conclusion that it
was Greig's shadow that Helen and I had seen:
I realised now that it might have been Muhamed's


II6 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
shadow. That misshapen thing which had flitted
silently along the lawn had been bare-headed; but
it was more than likely that Muhamed would have
removed his conspicuous fez had he been engaged
on any secret mission.
Suppose it was he who had cut the telephone-wire
—if, indeed, the telephone-wire had been cut—as a
preliminary to murdering Bowden? I advanced
rapidly along this new train of thought, and soon
found that two distinct motives could be ascribed
to the Egyptian. The one was his love for Greig;
he might have killed Bowden in order to save his
master from whatever peril the dead man had threat-
ened. The second motive I inclined towards as the
more reasonable of the two. Muhamed was an
Egyptian. I knew nothing of his history or his
political tendencies, but I knew that Bowden had
done much in Egypt that might make a zealous
patriot of the country wish for his death.
These many theories ran through my brain, one
on the heels of the other, and I felt continuously
that Bannister was watching me, with those dark,
scowling, deep-set eyes of his—though he seemed
never to look in my direction—and the uneasy fact
that I had furnished evidence that could be con-
strued to show I had a good reason for killing
Bowden grew larger and more disquieting.
Presently we heard foot-falls in the hall. So far
as I was able to detect only one person was approach-
ing the room, but when the door swung open Martin


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 117
and Muhamed entered together. The Egyptian
made no sound as he moved forward.
“Muhamed says he did not hear your order,”
Martin said to Jefferson. “He was not present
when you gave it.”
“Where were you, then?” Sir Ambrose demanded
of Muhamed.
Muhamed spread his hands in front of him, and
made a deep salaam to the scientist.
“I was in the hall, effendi,” he answered, and
he spoke in a way that made one think his tongue
curled lovingly over every word he muttered.
“What made you come down here?” Sir Ambrose
persisted.
Muhamed stretched his shoulders up very slightly
and stiffly. -
“The sight of blood made my stomach cringe,”
he said.
I was struck by the expression, which aptly de-
scribed the feeling of physical nausea which had
come upon me—and I dare say upon all of us—when
we first gazed on Bowden's dead body.
“I don't believe you,” Sir Ambrose said, bluntly.
“You had better tell us the truth: this is a serious
matter.”
Martin Greig looked strained and anxious. I
thought that I had never seen his face so gaunt and
white, nor his square chin so prominent and rough-
hewn. But Muhamed was in no such condition.
I could swear that in the moment of silence that


II8 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
followed Sir Ambrose's words, the Egyptian's eyes
flashed an odd, untranslatable smile to his master.
“I am sorry that the effendi thinks I lie to him,”
Muhamed answered. “There is no more for me
to say.”
“Oh, yes, there is,” Orme burst out, unexpectedly.
“What were you doing outside?”
Muhamed looked at him carelessly, but made no
attempt to answer.
“I should be glad if you would leave this matter
to me, Orme,” Sir Ambrose said. “Now, Mu-
hamed, speak the truth. Where had you been
when we saw you coming into the house just now?”
“In the garden,” said Muhamed.
“I know that,” said Sir Ambrose, irritably. “But
what were you doing there?”
“It is my humble custom, effendi, to take a walk
each morning round the house.”
Sir Ambrose glanced at Martin Greig, who stood
a foot or two behind his servant.
“Is that a fact, Greig?”
“Yes—yes, I think it is,” Greig answered, and
there was a growling note in his voice. “But surely,
Sir Ambrose, this sort of thing—I mean this cross-
questioning—could be left to the police?”
“Jefferson asked your permission to question
Muhamed, Greig,” Sir Ambrose answered, “and
you said you'd do so yourself. I gave reason why
it should be done now. As you brought Muhamed
into us I naturally thought you wanted him to make
his explanation before us all.”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 119
“The explanation he gave me was quite satis-
factory,” said Greig. “It doesn't seem extraor-
dinary that he left Bowden's room and went out-
side. I was of a mind to do so myself, but I
stayed long enough to hear the order about staying
in the house.”
“I am ready to answer all questions,” Muhamed
murmured, in his silken tone.
Jefferson, who was standing apart with Bannister,
spoke for the first time since Greig had entered the
room with the Egyptian.
“You swear that you have told us the truth,
Muhamed,” he asked.
Muhamed appeared to hesitate for the fraction of
a second.
“I have spoken the truth,” he answered.
“Then I expect you can get along?” said Greig,
quickly. “But remember this time, don't leave the
house.”
Muhamed salaamed to us and to him, and re-
treated from the room as silently as he had entered
it.
“Did any of you notice that he didn't swear to
the truth of what he told us?” Bannister asked.
“An Egyptian doesn't consider a lie to be an un-
truth unless he is bound by oath.”
“Yes, I noticed that,” Sir Ambrose answered.
Martin swung round on his heel, and walked over
to the window. He had his hands folded behind
him, and I saw him pulling at his fingers nervously.


CHAPTER VIII
It was past noon when the car returned. In the
back seat was a police-constable, and a man in a
bowler hat and a dark grey overcoat. He held a
black Gladstone bag on his knees, and I took him
to be the police-doctor.
“I thought they would have sent more than one
man on a case like this,” Jefferson remarked, as we
went into the hall. “I was looking for an inspector
and half a dozen constables.”
“It's a popular fallacy that the police despatch
a troop of men to the scene of a murder as soon as
they hear about it,” Sir Ambrose said. “It is very
probable that this constable has been taken off his
beat to come here. At a small country police-
station there are as a rule few men to spare.”
Despite the announcement Jefferson had made
when he found Bannister and me upon the landing
neither Selma nor Helen had elected to come down-
stairs, but the entire male complement of the house-
party was in evidence when the butler opened the
door to the constable and the doctor.
The constable stood on the step for a second
or two, and looked at us. He was a stolid, wooden-
faced individual of the type one often finds in a
I2O


MYSTERY OF NORMAN's COURT 121
country village. His tall, broad figure completely
hid the doctor of whom we did not get a proper
view until he had crossed the threshold.
“Good-morning,” the constable said, and removed
his helmet and stepped inside.
I had the impulse to laugh in a very loud and
raucous way.
“A man has been murdered in this house,” said
Sir Ambrose. “We discovered it shortly after ten.”
The constable gave him all the attention of his
unemotional eyes. The fellow had red cheeks, and
a brown, drooping moustache. On his collar was
the number: 731.
“Are you the master here?” he asked.
“No, I am,” said Henry Jefferson. “These other
people are my guests. The gentleman who spoke
to you is Sir Ambrose Rowland, my next door
neighbour.”
The constable looked faintly interested, and con-
templated Sir Ambrose.
“I have heard of you, sir,” he said; and turned
to Jefferson again. “Will you take us to the scene
of the crime, Mr. Jefferson? In the meantime I
should like everybody to remain downstairs.”
He glanced back at the doctor, who came forward,
disclosing himself as a man of small stature, with a
long head and thin cheeks.
“This gentleman is Doctor Cranley,” said the
constable. “I understand one of the guests in the
house is a doctor . . .”
“Yes, I am,” Bannister interrupted.
y


122 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Perhaps you will be good enough to come with
us, sir?” the constable asked.
Jefferson and Bannister led the way to the stairs,
the doctor and the constable following. They had
only just vanished from our sight when we heard
them stop, and the murmur of their voices rose
into the silence. A few seconds later a single pair
of footsteps sounded, coming down again, and
Jefferson reappeared on the square landing which
topped the flight of stairs leading up from the hall.
“Perhaps you had better come with us, Sir
Ambrose,” he said. “You’ve had charge of the
household since the discovery was made.”
Sir Ambrose made some reply in agreement, and
left us quickly. Jefferson stood fidgeting on the
landing until the other joined him, when the two
of them moved up together, leaving Martin and
Orme and me in a group in the hall.
While this was in progress, claiming our attention
Muhamed had arrived from somewhere or other.
I saw him when I heard the click of the front door
closing. The butler had been out on the step, talking
with the chauffeur, who was apparently thirsty for
details, and had only just come in. Muhamed was
standing by his side.
I said abruptly to Martin Greig:
“Where does Muhamed sleep?”
“On the top floor,” he answered, after a second.
“He’s got the room over yours, I think.”
“No,” Orme corrected, “his room is over Bow-
den’s.”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 123
“Is it?” said Martin, quietly, and looked at Orme
in an odd way. “Let's go back into the drawing-
room.”
We stood about, awkwardly and self-consciously,
in the room, and each of us tried—for some unac-
countable reason—to give the others the impression
that we were not listening for sounds from above.
I was close to the window, and from there I had
a good opportunity to watch my companions, and
did so assiduously. They made an interesting
study. I had rarely seen such swift and complete
change in men as that which had come over them.
It may be thought that I am trying to find excuses
for my own nervousness—of which I am compelled
to tell—by dwelling upon the state of my compan-
ions; but I firmly believe that such was not the case.
I think that I kept my feelings well hidden from
the others in the house; and of these others I fancied
Orme and Martin showed the strain more noticeably
than any. -
Orme kept staring at Martin, in a helpless, ap-
pealing way, Martin stood in front of a French
print on the wall for upwards of five minutes, never
turning, and I could wager that at the end of the
scrutiny he had no more of the details of the print
than had I, who had not looked at it.
I strove to be fair to the others in the house—
many of whom were my friends—and tried to
think it was grim circumstances which made me
imagine each of them to be acting in a suspicious
way.


124 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
To this end I made myself recall how, through
the long period of their association, Orme had gone
to Martin for the help and advice of which he was
continually in need; and Martin had never failed
to give it.
Might it not be, I asked myself, that those odd,
meaning glances which passed from the younger
man to the elder, signifying some understanding
between them, were born in Orme by the natural
terror which the crime had put upon us all? Might
it not be that he, with a clear conscience so far as
the murder was concerned, yet felt afraid, as each
of us did, and turned to Martin for moral strength
and courage.
I was sixteen years older than Orme, and he had
always looked on me as something of a sage and a
man of wide experience. I made up my mind to
put this reputation to good use.
“I’d like a word or two with you, Orme,” I said.
Before he could make any protest, I took his arm
and marched him out of the room.
We went into the hall, and as I looked about for
some place in which to talk without risk of disturb-
ance, I saw the butler, through the open door of
the dining-room, laying the table for lunch, in an
absorbed, mechanical sort of manner.
“This will do—here,” I said, pausing by the
open grate of the hall. “We can see any one who
comes along. Our conversation won't be over-
heard.”
He stared at me with flickering blue eyes.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 125
“What do you want, Davy?” he asked, with a
kind of desperate defiance. -
“What's between Martin and Selma and you?”
I asked him, bluntly.
I thought he was going to cry out; but he did
not do so. He just remained staring at me, with
such an expression on his weak face that I was con-
strained to grip his shoulder, and say:
“Buck up, old man. I don't mean any harm:
I want to help you, if I can. But it's obvious that
there's something binding you three together—and
you may be sure that the police will discover what
it is sooner or later. I've known you a long time,
Orme. Don't you think it might be a good idea
if you told me about it; then we can see how serious
it is—if it's serious at all—and decide on some
plan of action.”
He swallowed something in his throat, and moved
uneasily in my grip.
“You’re quite wrong,” he muttered. “I don't
know where you got this . . . about us. There's
nothing . . .”
“Tell me the truth about you and Selma and
Martin in India,” I persisted. “I never heard the
details of the affair.”
He tugged himself free of me with a quick, un-
expected movement.
“You’ve no right to cross-question me in this
fashion, Davy,” he said, almost piteously.
“Tell me the truth,” I said, relentlessly.
He seemed to be on the point of turning on his


126 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
heel and leaving me, but there must have been some
expression in my face that deterred him.
“Why do you want to know?” he asked. “It's
no business of yours, and it all happened a long
time ago . . .”
“Did Bowden know about it?” I demanded.
Here he showed such palpable fear that I was
no longer in doubt that the dead man had been aware
of whatever it was Orme sought to keep hidden
from me.
“Bowden!” he whispered. “Oh, God, Davy!
You don't mean that you think I . . .”
“Any one of us might have done it,” I said.
“It’s in your interest, Orme, that I’m questioning
you. The murder of Bowden is a mystery at the
moment, and I dare say it will remain one for a bit.
In that case the police will drag the history of our
lives from each of us, in an effort to find amongst
us one with a motive for killing Bowden. Those
of us who hold back secrets—disgraceful secrets—
will have them brought to light . . . Did Martin
order you not to take me into your confidence?”
“I can't tell you,” he whispered. “I can't. It
would ruin me if it became known l’’
I did not speak for an instant after that, and in
that instant I had a shadowy, incomplete realisation
of the grim and tremendous drama which had been
builded up relentlessly around his young and foolish
life, and around the lives of Martin Greig and
Selma; a drama, which had begun, perhaps, with a


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 127
mild flirtation beneath an Indian moon, and would
end—God knew where. . . .
“I’ve got something tangible out of you, at any
rate,” I said. “So it would ruin your life if the
truth became known P”
He made a fist of one of his hands and beat it
in the open palm of the other.
“I shan't tell you another word,” he said. “I’m
sorry I told you so much. You mustn't ask.
me. . . .” He changed his tone abruptly, and
gripped my hand.
“You’re a good chap, Davy. Don't think I'm
unappreciative. I know you mean well for me.
But I just can't tell you—that's all.”
He turned then, and walked away. After mo-
mentary hesitation I started after him, with the in-
tention to make him tell me more, despite his deter-
mination not to do so; but as I moved I saw Selma
standing on the landing at the top of the stairs.
Involuntarily, I came to a stop. Orme was appar-
ently unaware I had made to follow him, or that
she was watching us; for he went back into the
drawing-room without once turning his head.
I remained where I was, and kept my eyes on
Selma. She watched Orme out of sight. She
seemed to be unconscious of my presence until he
had disappeared, and then she turned and looked at
Ine.
She was in the shadow, and her dress, which was
of dark material, made it appear that her pale olive-


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 129
swishing of her skirts impinged upon my conscious-
ness and fascinated me—for some unknown reason.
I followed her; and when she stopped she turned
inquiringly in my direction.
“Do you know the police are here?” I asked.
She nodded. “I saw them—at least, I saw a
constable—in the room as I came downstairs.”
“They'll be asking us a lot of questions, I expect,”
I said. “They'll want us to give an account of every
minute that passed between the time Bowden left
the dinner-table and when we found him dead.”
“Yes,” she said listlessly. “I suppose they will.”
“Before the constable comes down,” I added
firmly, “we must arrive at some understanding.
I want to know what you were doing on the landing
outside Bowden's room at three o'clock this morn-
ing?”
I looked for fear upon her face, but saw only
wonderment—a vague disturbance.
“I?” she said. “On the landing at three o'clock
in the morning? Why what are you talking about,
Mr. Forrester?”
“My dear Miss Fairburn!” I exclaimed, a little
angrily. “Surely you don't deny it?”
“Of course I do,” she said. “Why—why . . .”
She smiled wanly, creased her brows and put
out her white, long-fingered hands in a gesture of
bewilderment.
“I’ll try to refresh your memory,” I said. “At
about three o'clock this morning I found you outside
Bowden's room. I spoke to you, and you came


130 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
up to me and took my hand. Then you said: “You
love Helen and you're a friend . . .’”
She leant towards me quickly, and clutched my
arm. She raised her free hand to her brow and
pressed it there.
“Oh, don't—don't!” she muttered.
For a second I had not the heart to persist with
my interrogation of her. There was something
about her which was very pitiful and wistful: she
seemed to be at once very strong and very weak.
She exerted a queer spell upon me. I did not
wonder that men of far greater account in the
world's affairs than I had risked everything for her
—sacrificed everything.
She did not make any sound, but just kept close
to me, with her dark bent head. The convulsive
clutch of her fingers, and the warmth of them, was
oddly appealing.
“So you admit it?” I said, in a little while. “You
don't deny that . . .”
I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She
broke free from me, with a sudden deep gasp of
breath and went back a pace or two.
I watched the stairway, and in another second
saw the constable and the police-doctor, with Ban-
nister and Jefferson and Sir Ambrose behind them,
coming down to the hall.
Orme and Martin appeared, evidently attracted
by the footfalls. They advanced a little way and
stopped. We all looked up the stairs.
Jefferson and his companions paused by the balus-


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 131
strade-head and conversed in low tones. The con-
stable held a note-book, and with a short stub of
pencil he wrote rapidly. I guessed he was making
his notes in shorthand.
Presently Jefferson looked up, and the constable
turned towards Selma and me, who must have been
the most conspicuous of the four people in front
of him.
“Constable Farmer wishes to ask each of you a
few questions,” Jefferson said. “I have already
given him a list of the people in the house, and told
him briefly what each of us was doing last night
—so far as I know it—but he would like to have
my information supplemented by yourselves.”
Constable Farmer cleared his throat. “There are
some others in the house, Mr. Jefferson?”
“Yes,” Jefferson answered. “The servants,
Muhamed, Mr. Greig's personal servant, and my
daughter, Helen.”
“I should like to have them all brought here, if
you please,” Constable Farmer said. “Will you
send for them?”
Jefferson rang the bell.
“My daughter has been very upset since the dis-
covery,” he said. “I hope she will be able to come
down.”
“I’ll go up for her,” said Selma, and started for-
ward from my side.
The constable's eyes seemed to leap to her face.
“I would rather one of the servants went, Miss
Fairburn,” he said, glancing at his note-book to


132 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
find her name. “I want to ask you one or two ques-
tions while the other lady is being brought down.”
Selma appeared to brace herself. She was stand-
ing in front of me then, and I saw her back become
strained and square.
“Yes?” she said.
“You took dinner in the dining-room last night
with the other people in the house?” the constable
asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Mr. Jefferson has told me that you were absent
from the room when the thud was heard on the ceil-
ing.”
“Yes—that is so.”
She had put her hands behind her. They were
trembling. The constable's dark eyes, in his curi-
ously immobile face, seemed never to blink.
“Did you hear anything of that thud, Miss Fair-
burn ?”
“No.”
“Perhaps you were in a distant part of the house?”
he suggested.
“I didn't hear it,” she said.
Muhamed appeared amongst us—gliding silently
over the polished floor. The constable nodded to
him to take his place behind Selma. He was ev-
idently the next to be questioned. I moved closer
to the group of three, and so did Jefferson.
“Tell me, Miss Fairburn,” the constable said,
“where were you when that thud was heard?”
There was a tense, expectant silence. Selma kept


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 133
her eyes fixed on his face, showing an untranslatable
expression on her own, and I, in fascination stared
at both of them.
“Where was I?” she said slowly. “I—I couldn't
say exactly, because I don't know when the thud
was heard. This is the first time I've been told
anything about it.”
“It was heard a few seconds after you left the
dining-room,” the constable told her. “Where did
you go?”
“To my bedroom.”
“And where is your bedroom?”
“It's one of the rooms that opens on to the first-
floor landing.”
“Then it must be on the opposite side to that on
which Mr. Bowden's room is situated?” the con-
stable said. “Mr. Forrester and Mr. Greig have
the rooms on each side of his.”
“Yes,” she agreed, steadily. “My door is oppo-
site the-broken door.” -
“And you did not hear anything unusual—al-
though you were on the landing, or near it, when the
people in the dining-room were startled by the sound
of something heavy falling on the floor of the room
above?”
There was a challenging note in his voice. It
was obvious to me, and it must have been equally
obvious to Selma, that he was keenly suspicious
of her. But she did not flinch.
“I heard nothing,” she answered. “And I don't
think it's strange that I did not do so, for this thud


134 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
you talk about could not have been very heavy or
startling, or some one would have gone to see what
it was.”
Her cool defence of herself seemed to be a rather
wonderful and courageous thing to me, and it was
with a certain savage satisfaction that I perceived
the constable to be momentarily taken aback by her
retOrt.
“The full circumstances will be gone into later,
miss,” he said. “I am just making preliminary
inquiries.”
Henry Jefferson broke in.
“We were all engaged in a rather heated discus-
sion at the time, constable,” he said. “The thud
interrupted us, but we were so interested in our talk
that we took little notice of it.”
Constable Farmer half-turned and looked at him.
“What was the subject of this conversation?” he
asked.
I am certain he would never have put this question
had Selma not wounded his vanity. I dare say he
felt he had lost prestige amongst us by allowing him-
self to be bested by the woman against whom he
had so obviously levelled an attack. He set out—
as many like him do—to reinstate himself by pounc-
ing on and demanding an explanation for every word
that was spoken, in order to show himself to us as
a keen and clever man.
For a perceptible time Jefferson did not answer.
My memory leapt back to the grim conversation


136 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
pencil in his thick fingers, and stared at it as if it
represented, in itself, something of vast moment to
her.
“Thank you, Miss Fairburn,” he said, when he
had finished writing. “That will do.”
Without a word she walked away from him, into
the shadows by the fireplace, and Martin watched
her go.
By this time the servants had come up from the
basement, and were standing in an awed and fright-
ened group apart from us. It was grimly ludicrous,
I thought, that they should now be on the same
plane with Henry Jefferson, whose name in Cairo
had been the simile for all that is powerful, and
Martin Greig, and Bannister—all men of moment
in the world—while the country constable filled the
place of commander of everybody in the house.
He began to question Muhamed.
“You also were out of the dining-room last night
when the thud was heard?” - -
“I went out of the dining-room soon after the
effendi Bowden left it,” said Muhamed.
“Where did you go?” the constable demanded.
“To my master's room.”
“What for P”
“To get cigarettes for my master.”
The constable looked at Martin Greig.
“Did you send him, sir?” -
Greig was gnawing at his upper lip, and staring
at Muhamed.
“No,” he muttered. “I didn't send him . . .”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 137
“I did not know that you had cigarettes with you,”
Muhamed said, quickly. “When I returned again I
saw you open your case. It was full, so I did not
give you the cigarettes which I had brought.”
The constable again turned his attention to the
Egyptian.
“Did you hear anything of the thud?” he asked.
Muhamed shook his head.
“But you must have been in the room next door?”
the constable persisted. “I warn you—it's best to
tell the truth.”
“I heard nothing,” said Muhamed.
I glanced at Greig. He was a couple of yards
distant from me, and the warm sunlight fell full
upon his face, showing me its strained and anxious
expression.
“You must have followed Miss Fairburn out of
the dining-room,” the constable went on. “Did you
See her?”
“Yes,” Muhamed answered.
“So both you and Miss Fairburn were close to Mr.
Bowden's door,” he said, “and neither of you heard
a sound?”
“I heard nothing,
onously.
“It seems unlikely to me,” said the constable.
“You will have to tell that to the Coroner—and
perhaps to the Magistrates. . . . Probably every-
body in the house will have to make a signed state-
ment regarding his movements.”
He fixed his dark eyes menacingly on Muhamed,
93
Muhamed repeated, monot-


138 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
and the Egyptian seemed to become suddenly afraid.
There was a threat in the constable's voice.
“I saw something!” Muhamed muttered.
“What did you see?” the constable demanded.
“Tell me that l”
“I saw the lady Selma Fairburn outside the door
which has now the hole in it!” Muhamed said.
A hoarse cry rang out thrillingly, and Martin
Greig sprang like a panther past me, gripped
Muhamed by the shoulder and sent him spinning into
the wall.
“You lie!” Greig shouted, as the Egyptian fell
in a heap against the panelling.
Martin was almost mad for a moment, and it
was much as the constable and I could do to force
him back from Muhamed and hold him still.
The hall was in uproar. People kept jolting
against me, and running past. I retain a vivid
memory of Selma's hair brushing my cheek, and of
the scent she used rising through my nostrils to my
brain.
In the midst of those insane, hysterical seconds
Helen appeared on the landing at the bend of the
stairs, and looked down at us. I have no idea why
it was we all became quiet and orderly, and stared
up at her, for I am certain she did not speak; it was
as if her presence gave some signal to our subcon-
sciousness and bade us calm ourselves.
“What is the matter?” she asked, steadily. And
then she paused for an instant, and said, with a
new note in her voice: “Martin'”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 139
She began to descend the stairs, keeping her eyes
fixed all the time on Martin, whom the constable
and I were holding between us. We were sur-
rounded by a group of the other men and Selma.
Martin Greig whispered to me to let him go.
“I won't kick up any more fuss,” he said. “I
must have been insane.” -
I released his arm and the constable followed suit.
“Muhamed's a lying rascal,” he said to the con-
stable. “And about as cowardly as they're made.
You scared the life out of him when you talked about
the Magistrates. I'm sorry I caused a commotion,
but I just couldn't bear to stand still and listen to
his lies about Miss Fairburn.”
Constable Farmer nodded: he seemed to be in
a state of utter confusion.
By this time Jefferson had left us and gone to the
foot of the stairs to meet Helen. The others had
moved away, with remarkable speed, leaving only
the constable and Greig and myself in the group
in the centre of the hall.
“This is going to be a long job,” the constable
muttered. “I’ll send for the Superintendent. The
doctor will fetch him for me, and I'll continue the
questioning when he's gone.”
I went over to Jefferson and Helen. Orme and
Sir Ambrose had joined them and it gave me pleas-
ure to see how eagerly she looked over their heads
at me when I approached.
“Constable Farmer is sending the police-surgeon
for the Superintendent,” I said, to the elder Jeffer-


14o MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
son. “So the questioning is suspended for the time
being.” -
“I expect the doctor will want to go back in the
car,” said Jefferson. “Will you excuse me for a
moment; I'll go and see about it.”
He left us, and Helen put out her hand to mine.
I gripped it.
“You're all right now?” I asked.
She smiled at me. How brave she was I
thought.
“The constable doesn't want to speak to me now?”
she whispered.
It was Martin who answered her.
“No,” he said. “Why not come into the drawing-
room, Helen, and sit down?”
She turned her eyes from my face to his, and her
hand slid out of mine. I stood back a pace. I
firmly believe that in those seconds I forgot all about
Bowden. A quick ache had come into my heart,
as I found myself compelled to take second place to
Martin Greig where she was concerned.
I muttered something, and turned away. Helen
and Martin and Orme went into the drawing-room.
I walked down the hall, and found Jefferson talking
with the constable and the police-doctor. Selma
and Muhamed had disappeared, Bannister was star-
ing at one of the pictures which hung on the panelled
wall.
“I’d like to have a longer talk with you, sir,”
Constable Farmer was saying to Jefferson, as I


|.
MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 141
º:
*::
ſ:
º:
gº
passed. “There are a number of things that have
occurred to me . . .”
I met Sir Ambrose Rowland's kindly eyes, and
they smiled at me hopefully. I tried to return the
Smile, but I don’t know if I did or not.
I wandered out of the hall, along a corridor, and
made my way towards the library where we had
held our poker party on the previous night.


CHAPTER IX
The library of Norman's Court was a long, low-
ceilinged apartment, with its low walls lined with
mahogany book-shelves packed tight with the many
hundreds of choice volumes which Henry Jefferson
had bought at one time or another in almost every
city of the world.
I went in there to think, and as soon as the door
had closed behind me I looked about for the most
comfortable and secluded corner in which I could
seat myself until Constable Farmer decided to con-
tinue his postponed inquisition.
I found such a place. It was a deep, curtained
alcove. A comfortable easy-chair was set behind
one of the curtains, and, closed in with my thoughts
I settled down to sort out the occurrences of the
past hour.
My mind dwelt on Selma first, and on Muhamed.
It was very plain that one of them was lying, and
despite my natural bias in Selma's favour, I dis-
covered it difficult to convince myself that she was
the innocent member of the two.
Greig's attempt to prevent Muhamed from telling
the constable what he had seen served only to
strengthen my suspicion that Selma had not told the
truth about herself. And this also showed—at least,
so I thought at the time—that Martin Greig had her
I42


144 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“I know!” she whispered. There came the rustle
of her silken dress, and her soft footstep. “You
said that because you love me, Martin'”
My heart seemed to leap into my throat. My
face went quickly hot, and then cold. It was as
much as I could do to prevent myself making some
cry.
“Don't—don't!” he said. “All that is past, Selma
—dead.”
“You may think it is dead,” she whispered. “But
it isn't. It lives in my heart—like a blazing fire
that will not be quenched, or a pain that gnaws at
me . . .”
“Don’t talk about it, Selma!” he broke in, savagely.
“It's gone, I tell you—done with. I have put it
all out of my life.”
“You put it out of yours, perhaps,” she said,
“but you could not put it out of mine. . . . Can you
look into my eyes, Martin, and tell me that you
have forgotten? Do you not sometimes, in the still
nights, live against those passionate hours when you
and I walked arm in arm in the Gardens of Shalimar
—the very brooding-place of love and passion. . . .”
A sob choked her. I ventured to peer round the
side of the curtain. I saw her standing close to
Martin, with her two slim hands clasped about his
shoulders, her dark head flung back and her eyes
gazing into his. She was then more tragically
beautiful than I had ever seen her.
“I have forgotten it all,” Martin said.
His bull-dog chin set like a steel vice. He raised


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 145
his hands, and tried to force her to let him go. But
she held so tightly and resolutely that he could not
release himself without hurting her, and he aban-
doned his attempt at resistance almost immediately.
As she spoke again I drew back into the shelter
of the curtain. I realised that I could not disclose
myself to them now : I would have to remain where
I was until they went away.
“You’re not telling me the truth,” she said.
“You can’t be.”
He drew in a deep breath.
“Don’t you realise, Selma,” he asked, quietly,
“that I am engaged to marry Helen?”
She laughed, in a low-toned, bitter note.
“Hasn't it been forced upon me every day?”
Her voice rose suddenly. “Each word she speaks
to you, each smile and glance she gives you—they're
like knife-thrusts in my heart. I'm your woman,
Martin, I'm your mate. . . .”
“You’re mad, Selma—mad! Our affair began
in nothing—and in nothing it ended. You've no
right to talk to me as you're doing. You've never
been anything to me.”
There was a dead, terrible silence.
She caught her breath, and sobbed.
“You can say that—to me, Martin? You, who
used to press me against your breast until I thought
my body would break in your strong arms. You—
can . . .”
“Yes,” he said. “I can.” Then he became
tender. “I’m sorry, Selma, to have to say this


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 147
“Do you think I told him about the past?” she
said. “About you and Orme?”
“Of course I do,” he answered. “How else could
he have known P”
“There isn't much he didn't know about,” she
said.
“And he made profitable use of his knowledge!”
Martin muttered.
“He would have ruined you and Orme and me—
if he had lived!” she whispered.
An ice-cold thrill went through me.
“Selmal’’ Martin breathed.
No sound came from her.
He took three quick steps across the polished
floor. I heard the beads she wore tinkle, and when
I looked I saw that he had grasped her wrist and was
staring down into her up-turned face.
“You’ve got to tell me the truth now, Selma,”
he whispered. “Did you see Bowden when you left
the dining-room last night?”
“No,” she moaned.
“Was it you who put that note under his door?”
he demanded.
“No,” she repeated.
Before I drew back I saw her sway against him,
and saw her eye-lids droop.
“You’re lying to me, Selma,” he said, savagely.
“Lies—lies!”
Her silken skirt rustled as she tore herself free of
him. . . .


148 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Are you a coward, as well as a brute, Martin?”
she cried . . . “God—God. I came here with Bow-
den because you are my man—mine—mine! I've
got to have you for myself . . .” She broke off,
and began to sob hysterically. “He knew too much.
For love of you, Martin, I set out to sacrifice myself.
. . . But there was no necessity for that. You
killed him yourself!”
I believe I raised a cry, but if I did neither of them
noticed it.
“What do you mean?” Martin whispered.
Never before had I heard him speak in such a
voice. It was thin and colourless—utterly unlike
that which I knew as his—and at every word I
expected it to crack. Yet, though it was so low,
it seemed to make the air shake and echo.
She became convulsed again with her hysterical
tears. I looked, and saw her clinging to him, kissing
his cheek; and saw him standing stiffly in front of
her, his back towards me, making no attempt now
to rid himself of her caressing.
“Don’t be afraid, my love—my love!” she sobbed.
“He deserved to die, and you were brave to kill
him. . . .
“You must be insane, Selma!” he exclaimed.
“Don’t lie!” she sobbed. “Oh, let's be honest
with each other for once. Can't you believe that
I shall keep your secret safe?”
“But I didn't do it!” he thundered, fear making
him raise his voice. “You can't prove that I did?”
“Helen told me about that shadow which she
92


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 149
and David Forrester saw last night, and about what
happened afterwards between you and Muhamed.
The man who killed Bowden cut the telephone-wire!
It was you, Martin, who did that: it was your
shadow they saw ſ”
“It’s a lie!” he shouted. “I didn't kill Bowden l’”
“Didn't you, Greig?” came Sir Ambrose Row-
land's quiet voice. “Who said that you did?”
I almost leapt out of my chair. Selma screamed
sharply, and Martin cried out something or other.
Footsteps advanced into the room, and when the
first moment of shock was past, I peered round the
side of the curtain and saw Sir Ambrose walking
towards the table.
“Why didn't you knock?” Martin demanded,
roughly.
“My dear Greig,” the scientist said, “I would
most certainly have done so if I had guessed you and
Miss Fairburn were here. But I’d no idea of it;
and, after all, we're both guests in the house.”
“Yes—yes, of course,” said Martin, uneasily.
“What I heard,” said Sir Ambrose, “requires some
little explanation, I think, Greig’”
Martin made an attempt at a laugh. I could
still hear Selma's little sobbing noises.
“The dreadful affair has rather got on Miss Fair-
burn's nerves,” Martin said. “One can't wonder
at it.”
“No,” Sir Ambrose agreed. “And so she ac-
cused you of murdering Bowden?”
“Oh, I didn't mean it!” Selma cried. “I was
3 x


150 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
mad. I didn't know what I was saying. You—
mustn't take any notice of it: you must forget what
you heard.”
“You make a request which is difficult for me
to fulfill,” Sir Ambrose answered. “There must
have been some cause for you to say what you did.”
“I rather think you are taking too much upon
yourself,” Martin said angrily. “A moment ago
you reminded me we were both guests in this
house: it seems to me that now I must remind you
of that fact.”
“The circumstances are rather different,” Sir
Ambrose answered. “You must admit that, how-
ever innocent an explanation you may have to offer,
the words I heard spoken as I came into this room
are significant, shall we say?—in the present state
of affairs.”
“Perhaps so,” said Martin. “But I don't feel
disposed to make my explanation of them to you.”
“I won't press it, if you feel like that about it,”
the scientist said, “but I feel it is my duty to inform
Constable Farmer of what I have seen and heard—
and I warn you that I shall do so.”
“I can't prevent your doing that,” came Martin's
immediate reply.
I heard Sir Ambrose move nearer.
“My dear Greig,” he said, with all the kindliness
and sympathy of his nature in his voice, “my dear
Miss Fairburn,-you must understand how I am
situated: were you in my place I am sure that
each of you would feel the same duty imposed on


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 151
you. Why don't you confide in me, and tell me
what it is all about? Frankly, I can't believe that
either of you is in any way connected with Bowden's
death. If you give me your explanation I shall
probably find it quite unnecessary to mention the
matter to the constable.”
“I’ve told you,” Selma said, speaking more
steadily than she had done since she came into the
room. “I don't know why I said that to Mr. Greig.
I—I have been hysterical, I think—saying all sorts
of wild things.”
Before any answer was made to this, I, leaning
too far over the edge of the chair, slipped and fell
out of it. My feet sent a small table clattering to
the floor.
“Good God!” Sir Ambrose exclaimed.
Selma screamed again, and Martin shouted:
“What’s that?”
I picked myself up and Sir Ambrose pulled the
curtains aside.
There was a long silence. I never felt so com-
pletely ashamed of myself in all my life as I did
then.
“So–” Sir Ambrose said, turning to Martin,
“I was not the only one to overhear you!”
“Martin!” I cried. “I was here when you came
in. I didn't want to listen; but—but almost before
I was aware of it you had said so much that I felt
I couldn't let you know I was eavesdropping—un-
intentionally.”
How lame and unconvincing my excuse sounded


152 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
to me! How pitifully contemptible I thought I
must appear to them!
“It would have been decent of you to disclose
yourself at the commencement,” Martin retorted,
coldly.
I started to stammer an elaboration of my excuse,
but in the middle of it Martin took Selma's arm and
turned her towards the door. -
“If you'll excuse us,” he said, looking at Sir
Ambrose and glancing at me, “I think we'll try to
find a room that is more private.”
So long as I live I shall never forget the look
which Selma gave me as Martin led her towards the
door.
“Martin l’” I cried, starting after them. “Miss
Fairburn! . . . You must accept my explana-
tion. . . .” -
Neither of them spoke, and as I made to follow
them through the door out into the hall Sir Ambrose
gripped my arm and stopped me.
I turned and looked up at him.
“Well?” I Said.
“Leave them alone, Forrester,” he advised.
“You can have a talk with Greig later—when he's
a bit more himself. It's perfectly obvious that you
couldn't have come here with the intention to listen
to them, I remember seeing you pass through the
hall, and at that time Greig was with Helen in the
drawing-room.”
I realised that it was good advice, and suffered


154 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
on this Helen's arms were resting, with her face
hidden in them. Her shoulders shook with quiet
sobs.
I walked softly until I stood behind the chair in
which she sat. She did not hear me.
“My dear,” I said, “my dear girl. . . .”
She raised her tear-wet eyes to mine—hers like
shadowed pools in misted midnight woods—and all
my heart went out to her with love and sympathy.
Of a sudden there entered me the thrilling hope that
perhaps she was not gone so far beyond my reach
as I had thought.
I had left the library with my brain a chaos of
wild amazement, and anger and sense of shame.
Out of the chaos there now came clearly to my per-
ception—rising in importance above all else—the
fact that Martin Greig and Selma had been more
closely bound to one another in the past than I had
ever imagined was the case.
I believe that in those few seconds I forgot en-
tirely that Hugh Bowden was dead, and that one of
us in that house might prove his murderer. I
thought only of Helen and me, and of Greig and
Selma in relation to us.
“Davy,” Helen sobbed, putting her hand out to
mine. “Oh, Davy. . . .”
“What is it, my dear?” I asked. “You mustn't
cry like this.”
My words seemed utterly absurd to me; but she
was in no state to notice that. She altered her po-


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 155
sition, and clung to me, with her head bent down
and resting against me.
“Davy—Davy ſ” she sobbed again. “It’s hap-
pened. My fear—the fear which made me send
for you—was true. And now . . .”
“And now what—?” I asked, as quietly as I
could, hoping to comfort her by a show of calmness.
“It’s a terrible thing, but nothing tangible has been
discovered yet. It may even be proved that Bow-
den killed himself.”
A shudder went through her. She clung more
tightly to me and made an effort to compose herself.
“Don’t try to deceive me, Davy,” she whispered.
“You know that you don't believe that.”
“Then,” said I, very slowly, “if it's murder, it
might have been done by some one outside the
house.”
She shook her head, took her hand away from
mine and dried her eyes.
“No, Davy. The constable told father only a
few minutes ago that no one could have entered the
room from outside the house.”
“Oh,” I said. “Where is the constable?”
“He went upstairs with father. He asked me
some questions, and he asked some of Orme and
Doctor Bannister and Sir Ambrose. Sir Ambrose
went to find you, Davy, and Martin and Selma.”
“I was in the library,” I said.
“I think the constable is tapping the panelling,”
she whispered. “The police-surgeon had gone off


156 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
in the car, and the Superintendent will come back
in it. . . .”
She burst into tears again, hiding her face behind
her hands, and while I bent over her, trying clumsily
to give her comfort, she grew hysterical, and raised
her voice to so high-pitched a note that I feared
some one would hear her and come in.
“Calm yourself, my dear Helen,” I said helplessly.
“It's all going to come right. . . .”
“No, no,” she cried. “It’s awful—awful! You
don't know about it, Davy, and I can't trust—even
you. . . .”
I gripped her shoulder.
“You can trust me, Helen. You must tell me
about it—whatever it is. My dear girl, don't you
know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you?”
“Oh, yes,” she sobbed. “I know that, Davy.
But this is so terrible that I cannot—cannot even
think of it myself. . . .”
I pressed her again to tell me. I felt that at all
costs I must possess myself of whatever knowledge
it was she held.
She paused again and sobbed. I remained silent
knowing that before long she would acquire courage
to speak. Before she did so she stood up from her
chair still with her face covered by her hands, took a
tottering step up to me, and leant against my
shoulder.
“I think,” she said, “that—Orme and Mar-
tin . . .”
“Good God!” I breathed.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 157
“Martin's room is next to his,” she said. “He
insisted on that room when he came here—Martin
did—and late last night Orme was in with him.
If–if there is a secret entrance between the rooms
Orme would know it, for he searched the whole
place for such things when he and Martin came
home on leave. . . .”
“But this is no proof, Helen,” I cried. “You're
working yourself into a fever over unimportant
trifles. You haven't told me a thing which even
the most credulous person could construe into evi-
dence against them.”
She went back a step from me. With a quick
movement she dashed her tears away, and stood
staring fearfully, the while her hands tugged at the
little handkerchief they held.
“Listen—listen!” she said. “That isn't all.
Early this morning—about half past one—Orme
went to Martin's room. His footsteps passed my
door, and I recognised the creak of Martin's door
as it was opened. But I did not hear Orme come
away again. I fell asleep soon afterwards, and I
awoke again about three. I fancied then that I
had been awakened by the sound of running feet on
the landing, but I listened and did not hear anything.
But at about that time I had an awful feeling in my
heart—as though something terrible had happened
in the house.”
She stopped, and bit deep into her lip. I saw that
she was fighting hard to keep the degree of com-
posure which she had attained.


158 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“That wasn't Orme,” I said. “You mustn't let
that worry you. It—it must have been the wind
moving the window. I heard the same sound about
that time, and—I came to the conclusion that it was
not a footstep.”
I believed that the lie would be forgiven me, but
I did not care very much if it were or not. I saw
a great relief come upon her face, and when she
spoke again it was in a steadier tone.
“You’re sure of that, Davy P” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered with as clear a ring of truth as
I could put into my voice. “And the mere fact of
Orme going to Martin's room at that time of
the morning is of no significance. We played
cards in the library until an unearthly hour—and
remember, Orme and Martin are very close
friends.”
She shook her head.
“Are you certain of that?”
“Why,” I exclaimed, “their friendship has become
almost a tradition in Cairo.”
She turned away from me.
“What made you ask me that, Helen?” said I.
“You don't doubt it, do you?”
“I don't know,” she whispered. “They—they
have been almost strangers to me since they've been
here. They are changed men.”
“That's all imagination,” I muttered. “They're
just the same as they were in Cairo.”
“It has seemed to me,” she said, “as though they
have been trying hard to keep their old friendship


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 159
alive, and all the time there has been something
between them—some barrier.”
She turned again. Her face was drawn and
strained as white as death. Her eyes, circled with
the red rings which come of tears, had an unusual
lustre.
We stared at each other. In spite of all the re-
assuring things which I had said to her, there was
forming in my mind the thought that perhaps she
was not so wrong as I had tried to make her out
to be.
Yet everybody in the house could not have killed
Bowden.
“You’ve hypnotised yourself with the idea,” I
said. “That is what has made you see in all these
little things matters of greater significance. . . .”
“Oh, Davy, if I could just believe that!” she
breathed. “These—these memories flooded into my
mind as soon as I–I knew that Bowden had been
killed. Orme and Martin hated Bowden—I’m sure
of that. . . .”
“And so did your father,” I said. “And so did
I. And probably Selma Fairburn hated him, and
Doctor Bannister—and yourself.”
“I loathed him!” she whispered. “But—I sup-
pose I mustn't say that, now that he's dead.”
She dabbed her eyes again, mechanically.
“I tell you this, Helen,” I said. “I have seen
and heard enough since in this house to make me
fancy that almost every one in it could have been
the criminal.”


I6O MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
I hoped she would accept this statement without
questioning me about it. I made it in an attempt
to get her to believe that her suspicions were all illu-
sionary.
“What do you mean, Davy P’’ she asked.
“Just what I say,” I answered. “As you can
imagine, I came here looking for something wrong
—after receiving that message from you—and when
one starts out in that way one always finds plenty
of support for one's fears.”
She walked over to the window, and stood there,
looking out. She remained silent and still for so
long that I went over to her.
“Are you feeling easier about things now,
Helen?” I asked.
She put her hand behind her, and sought for mine.
She found my fingers, and pressed them tightly—
warmly—in her own.
“You seem always to make my troubles lighter,
Davy,” she whispered. “I am always happier after
I have talked with you. I—I didn't realise that
until a few months ago. You're just a dear, true
friend. The others have changed, but you—you're
the same Davy . . .”
I slid my arm about her waist, and drew her
round until I looked into her face; and I saw come
into her eyes a slow wonder, and something which
was almost fear, and yet was not that.
“Helen,” I breathed. “Won't you ever under-
stand . . .”
Like a red-hot sword, the thought of Martin


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT I6I
stabbed into me. What right had I to construe
that which I had overheard between him and Selma
into a removal of the barrier which kept me from
Helen? Bitterer than that, there came to me the
realisation that it was Helen who had asked to have
broken the engagement which had bound us to-
gether.
In an instant I recovered myself, and drew away
from her. I laughed—queerly, I know, and halt-
ingly—though it was no time for laughter.
“Understand—what?” she asked. “I don't know
what you mean, Davy.”
“I only meant that I want you to understand
that I would do anything for you, Helen,” I
answered. “I am proud that you look upon me as
so close a friend.”
She gripped my hand again, and forced a little
smile upon her pallid lips.
“I knew that, Davy,” she said. “There was no
necessity for you to tell me. We shall always be
friends.”
I left her soon after that, at her request, and I
left her comparatively calm and with her mind more
at ease.
As I went out of the room the words she had
spoken to me rang in my brain.
“We shall always be friends!”


CHAPTER X
Constable Farmer was coming down the stairs
when I went out into the hall, and as I looked at
him, and thought of the many curious things which
I could tell about the people in the house, he made
me start by sharply calling my name.
I went to the foot of the staircase, and waited for
him to reach me. I saw him unbuttoning the pocket
in which he kept his note-book.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said. “I’ve got
the brief particulars about everybody else. You're
Mr. Forrester, aren't you?”
He began to question me. It was obviously a
task to which he was unused, and when he had
written down my name and address, particulars
about my profession and business at the house, he
assumed a pseudo-confidential air, and said:
“Now Mr. Forrester, can't you tell me something
about this affair?”
“No more than the others,” I answered. “Mr.
Jefferson has told you, I expect, that I was at the
dining-table when the thud was heard, and that I
was one of the party that played poker afterwards.”
“That thud!” he muttered. “It gets me down
properly.”
162


164 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
I'm not taking any myself, and none of the others
seem to be, either.”
I shook my head. “I don't feel like food to-day,”
I told him. -
We talked together constrainedly for a few
seconds, but presently stopped on hearing the hum
of tires on the gravel of the carriage-drive outside.
“This will be the Superintendent,” said Sir Am-
brose.
The constable went forward and opened the front
door. A heavily-built man in a blue uniform and
a flat peaked cap, stepped out of the car.
I shall always remember how Superintendent
Redarrel came up the hall towards us, the sunlight
streaming through the door behind him and showing
in silhouette his great bulk to our steadfast eyes.
He walked with a slow, measured gait, and kept
his head bent downwards that he might hear the
better what was being said by Constable Farmer,
who moved in step with him. The Superintendent
had fair hair, and steel-blue eyes. A pair of straw-
coloured, crisp moustachios, of extraordinary
length, stuck out like rapiers each side of his red
face. The breast of his tunic was decorated on the
left side with a row of medal-ribbons, among which
I recognised the South African ribbon, the D.C.M.
and the Mons Star.
He came to a halt in front of us.
“Which of you gentleman is Mr. Jefferson?” he
asked. -
“I am he,” Jefferson answered.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 165
“I have heard of you, Mr. Jefferson,” said the
Superintendent. “It’s strange I have not seen you
before.”
He had an odd booming note in his voice, which
gave the impression that the sound rolled towards
one, like a billow.
Jefferson smiled—with an effort.
“Happily,” he answered, “I have never before
had reason to ask your aid.”
Redarrel nodded, looked towards the constable,
and at the same time took his peaked cap from his
head and tucked it under his arm.
“You’ve got the key of the room, Farmer?” he
asked.
“Yes, sir,” the constable answered.
“Right. Go up and unlock it. I'll follow you in
a moment.”
Constable Farmer touched his forehead with his
fingers, and we made way for him to pass us and
go up the stairs.
“I should like you to get everybody in the house
gathered in one of the rooms down here,” Redarrel
said to Jefferson. “I include the servants in that.
Ask them to think hard about every minute of yes-
terday and to-day, and try to remember which may
have a bearing on the case. Also, could you provide
me with a small room, furnished with a table or a
desk, and a low chair and a high chair?”
The calm certitude of his manner in giving these
orders had its effect on us.
“Yes,” Jefferson answered. “I’ll see to all that.


166 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
Do you want me to come upstairs with you?”
“No, thank you. Constable Farmer will have
learnt enough from you to tell me all I should want
to know at present.”
He glanced at Sir Ambrose and me once more,
then moved past us and started up the stairs. In-
voluntarily, we turned and watched him.
“He seems to be a capable man,” Jefferson mut-
tered as he moved in the direction of the bell-push.
When the butler appeared, Jefferson sent him off
to find the occupants of the house and bring them
into the hall.
“And take the high chair from the library into the
smoke-room,” said Jefferson.
“What is this business about the low and the high
chairs?” I asked. “I can’t fathom it.”
“Neither can I,” Jefferson admitted.
“I think I can elucidate the mystery,” said Sir
Ambrose. “It’s an old trick of the habitual inter-
rogator. He seats himself in the high chair, and
makes the person he's questioning take the low one.
For some subtle psychological reason this has an
extraordinary effect on the man—or the woman—
in the low chair. It's difficult to lie convincingly,
and meet steadily the eyes of some one whom you
know has all the power of the law behind him, and
who seems to be towering above you.”
Jefferson laughed shortly.
“It must be very awkward if one has anything to
conceal,” he remarked.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 167
“I’d go and have a word with Helen, if I were
you,” I said to him. “Before the others come down.
She's in the drawing-room, and when I saw her, a
few minutes ago, she was very upset.”
“Poor child—poor child!” he muttered. “Yes,
I'll go to her now.”
His love of Helen might have been an incentive
for him to commit the crime, I thought. Exposure
of him by Bowden would have meant inevitable
disgrace and shame for her.
“Will you see that the butler is doing what I told
him to do?” he asked Sir Ambrose. “And get the
others to wait in the hall while I’m talking to Helen.
I must warn her of the ordeal of cross-examination
which is before us all.”
“Certainly,” Sir Ambrose answered. “Don’t
worry, Jefferson. I’ll see to things for you.”
Jefferson went off and Sir Ambrose followed on
his heels. They seemed to have forgotten about me,
and I was quite glad of it. I went into the dining-
room, and mixed myself a whisky and soda. As I
drank it I heard footsteps outside the door, and I
found Martin Greig looking in at me.
We regarded one another for what seemed a long
time.
“Come in here, Martin,” I said.
He hesitated, and then came slowly into the room.
“Well?” he asked.
“Have you forgotten that we're pals, Martin?”
I asked.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 169
“About the quarrel you had with Bowden last
night.” -
I laughed at him.
“My dear chap,” I said, “I’ve come to the con-
clusion that the best thing I can do is to tell the
Superintendent about that unfortunate incident on
the first opportunity. I should imagine that Selma
has told almost every one in the house about it by
this time.”
He regarded me silently.
“What do you mean by that?” he asked.
“Bannister threatened me with it,” I said. “And
I am perfectly sure that if Selma thought I was
likely to expose some secret of hers, she would at-
tempt to use the same persuasion to prevent me.”
He swore suddenly. He did not often swear, and
I looked out for something to happen. When his
hand shot forward to grip my arm, I was able to
avoid it.
“I’m not going to hide anything from the police,
Martin,” I said, as I held him back. “I shan't go
out of my way to tell them what I heard take place
between you and Selma in the library, but I've made
up my mind that the only thing for me to do is to
give truthful answers to whatever questions may be
asked of me.”
“Do as you damn well like,” he said. “But
remember that you're up against me.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I answered.
He turned abruptly and opened the door.
I followed him out into the hall. All the people


17o MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
in the house, save only Jefferson and Helen, were
gathered there, and Superintendent Redarrel and the
constable were coming down the stairs.
I saw Orme standing apart, and went over to him.
“Is that the fellow who's going to question us?”
he asked.
I nodded. “The cross-examination will be held in
the smoke-room,” I said.
“Where is Mr. Jefferson?” the Superintendent
asked.
“He’s in the drawing-room with Miss Jefferson,”
Sir Ambrose said. “I’ll ask them to come here.”
He spoke a word to the butler, who started to go
towards the drawing-room; but as he passed the
staircase Redarrel shot his beefy hand out and fas-
tened it on the old man's shoulder. The butler let
out a little frightened gasp.
“Who was the last person you saw last night?”
the Superintendent demanded.
He kept his keen eyes focussed on the butler's
face, and all the while he twirled the right-hand
spike of his straw-coloured moustachios—with a
slow, lingering motion of his finger and thumb.
“Mr. Jefferson, sir, and Mr. Orme,” the butler
answered nervously.
I heard Orme draw in a long breath. My
shoulder was almost touching his, and I was well
aware of his inward agitation, though he strove to
show a bold, imperturbed front.
“What were they doing?” asked Redarrel.
“They were talking in the library, sir.”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 171
“Right,” said Redarrel. “Now ask Mr. Jefferson
if he'll be good enough to step out here.”
There was an uneasy pause after that, during
which we watched the butler go into the drawing-
room, and listened to his nervously-quickened step.
Before Jefferson appeared, Redarrel bestowed his
attention on Sir Ambrose Rowland.
“We have met before, Sir Ambrose,” he remarked,
in his booming voice. “Perhaps you remember
me?”
“Perfectly, Superintendent,” Sir Ambrose an-
swered. “It was a more pleasant occasion than
this.”
Redarrel nodded. “Did you stop here last night?”
“No. I came over to breakfast. We were all
going to the meet.”
“Your estate adjoins this one, I believe?”
“Yes, I come across the fields.”
“It must have been an uncomfortable journey at
one o'clock this morning,” the Superintendent re-
marked.
“I left shortly after ten,” Sir Ambrose said.
“Why?” Redarrel asked. “I understood that the
gentlemen stayed up much later than that.”
“The field path is not an easy one to follow in the
darkness. I am a firm believer in the doctrine of
“Safety First,’ and I chose to sacrifice an hour or
two's entertainment in order to walk back in the
light.”
Jefferson and Helen appeared at the drawing-
room door, and the Superintendent stared at the


172 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
woman I loved, in a way that made me feel a sud-
den and appalling fear for her. She met his eyes
and hesitated on the threshold of the hall. Then
her father took her arm, and led her forward.
“You would like to question me?” Jefferson asked.
“This is my daughter. I think you have now seen
everybody in the house.”
Redarrel glanced at him momentarily and
nodded. He looked down again at Helen. White-
faced, she stood steadily in front of him, superbly
calm and proud.
“So you are Miss Helen Jefferson?” said
Redarrel. -
Again I fancied that his fingers moved quicker
in the twirling of his moustache.
Later I was to learn that Superintendent Redar-
rel's moustache was something in the nature of a
barometer of his emotions. When he was excited
or puzzled or disturbed his thick fingers worked
speedily. At other times, when the course of his
affairs was smooth and calm, and things were work-
ing out as he wished them to do, his moustache was
neglected.
“That is my name,” Helen answered.
“I should like to know,” said Superintendent
Redarrel, “exactly what you were doing at the end
of the carriage-drive at four o'clock this morn-
ing?”
My brain seemed to go on fire, and I felt my
heart thudding in my throat. I remember that I
started forward, and suddenly stood stock still; I


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 173
remember that Orme, at my side, gave a little cry,
and that Martin, nearer to Helen than I, made
some hoarse ejaculation. I think that everybody in
the hall, with the exception of Helen and the Super-
intendent, uttered a sound of a kind, or gave a
sign of shock.
Helen did not move, and for several seconds did
not speak. Jefferson had her arm gripped so
tightly that I could see his knuckles white with the
the strain. He stared at her intently.
“I think you must be mistaken,” she answered, in
a quiet voice. “I was asleep at that time.”
With surprising abruptness Redarrel swung round
to the butler—apparently having lost interest in
Helen. But I was sure it was no idle question he had
asked her, preposterous though it had seemed.
“The usual household duties have not been carried
out this morning, I suppose?” he asked.
“Er—some of them have, sir,” the butler said.
The moustache was twirling furiously. Redarrel
nodded curtly, and turned back to Helen and Jeffer-
son. He merely glanced at Helen, and then looked
at our host.
“Now, Mr. Jefferson,” he said. “If you will be so
good as to show me the room you have allotted me, I
should like to have a little chat with you.”
Jefferson started as though awaking from a
dream, muttered something and disengaged his fin-
gers from Helen's arm. He led the way to the
smoking-room. The Superintendent following him.
Redarrel paused on the threshold and called:


174 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Farmer l’”
The constable went swiftly to him, and Redarrel
gave him some whispered instructions, which caused
him to turn back and go up the stairs.
“I should like you all to stay on the ground floor
of the house—within call,” the Superintendent said
to us. “I shall want to question Mr. Forrester
next.”
We heard the click of the door closing behind him
and the spell which his grim personality had put
upon us was broken by the slight sound. He had the
effect of leaving us rather breathless.
Helen appeared not to have moved. As one,
Orme and Martin and I started towards her.
“What an absurd thing to ask you, Helen!” Orme
exclaimed. “It’s a wonder I didn't lose my temper
with the fellow.”
Helen laughed—an odd, weak little titter of sound.
“It did seem silly, didn't it?” she said.
The others in the hall—with the exception of the
servants, whom the butler kept in a group near the
entrance of their quarters—gravitated about us.
Helen linked her arm in mine, and I could feel hers
trembling. She held my hand very tightly.
“I’m rather of the opinion that our friend the
Superintendent is out to impress us,” said Sir Am-
brose. “There didn't seem to be any point in the
question he put to you.”
“He’s gone down a great deal in my estimation,”
said I, but I was painfully aware that there was no
conviction in my tone.
*


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 175
I paused. Helen had glanced at me when I spoke,
but she started to turn away her head. I exerted all
my influence to make her keep looking into my eyes.
“Of course,” I added, “there can't be any truth in
what he said.”
“Of course not, Davy,” she said, and laughed
again. “I don't walk in my sleep.”
Doctor Bannister lounged nearer to us.
“You’re judging the Superintendent before he's
tried, Forrester,” he said, with his habitual sneer.
“We have only Miss Jefferson's word against his.”
Helen moved almost imperceptibly closer to me.
I saw Martin's fists clench at his sides, but when
Orme ripped out a boyish oath and took an angry
step across the floor to Bannister, it was Martin's
hand which caught his arm and restrained him.
“You’re suggesting that Miss Jefferson did not
speak the truth?” I asked hotly, before any one else
spoke.
Bannister shrugged his shoulders.
“I merely made a remark,” he said. “You can't
deny the logic of it.”
“It would have been far better if you had left
it unsaid at such a time as this,” Martin broke in.
“If any one's under suspicion in this house, we all
are—you included.”
“Come—come,” said Sir Ambrose Rowland, “we
don’t want to talk like this just now. Things are
terrible enough, Heaven knows. I'm sure Doctor
Bannister didn't mean what he said. He's like the
rest of us—nervy.”


176 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“You're mistaken, Sir Ambrose,” Bannister an-
swered. “I never say anything I don't mean. And
my nerves are in better order than those of most
people in this house. If abject funk is a proof of
guilt, I should say that you all conspired together
and killed Bowden.”
“This is uncalled for, Bannister,” Sir Ambrose
exclaimed angrily.
“It's very often the coolest person who's the great-
est criminal,” said Orme.
, Bannister, with a short laugh, turned away. I
would very happily have horse-whipped him.
“Why don't you and Miss Fairburn go into the
drawing-room, Helen?” Sir Ambrose asked kindly.
“I’m sure you'll find it less distressing to wait
there.”
Helen nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I–I think I'll
take your advice. Will you come with me, Selma P”
“No, Helen, if you don't mind,” Selma answered.
“I would rather be alone to-to think. You under-
stand.”
“Yes,” said Helen. “I understand. I would
rather be alone myself.”
“Are you sure?” I murmured in a low tone that
only she could hear, though all the others saw that I
spoke to her. “I would like a few minutes chat with
you, Helen.”
“No, no,” she whispered. “If you—if you love
me, Davy, let me be alone.”
She took her hand from mine, and without another


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 177
word, turned and walked into the drawing-room.
She closed the door after her, and I stood staring
at it.
Bannister commenced to whistle an Indian
melody.


CHAPTER XI
I was absent from the hall for a few minutes, and
when I returned, Henry Jefferson was walking from
the smoking-room in the direction of the drawing-
room. The door of the smoking-room was open.
“Superintendent Redarrel would like to see you
now, sir,” Constable Farmer said to me.
Instinctively I squared my shoulders, and as I
followed him, I knew that everybody in the hall was
staring at me.
“Ah—Mr. Forrester,” Superintendent Redarrel
said. “Would you mind closing the door?”
He was seated at a table in the middle of the
room. On the right of him was a low chair. The
chair he occupied was much higher than this other,
and his great body appeared to me to be too heavy
a burden for the seat it occupied. He had his elbow
on the table, his fingers twisting his moustache, and
he stared at me in a disconcerting fashion.
“Sit down,” he said, nodding to the low chair.
“Now I just want to ask you one or two questions
about this terrible affair, and I think you will agree
that the best way to get the matter cleared up
quickly and properly is for you to co-operate with
me—by you, I mean as well as everybody in the
house—and tell me as much as you can.”
178


18O MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
He put down my answers in a sort of abbreviated
longhand, but rarely glanced at the book.
“You were sitting next to Miss Fairburn at the
table,” he remarked. “You would therefore have a
good opportunity to observe her demeanour when
she returned. Did you do so, and if you did was
there anything strange about her?”
“She seemed to be a-a little breathless,” I said.
“Are you sure that “breathless' is the right word?”
he asked. “Perhaps excited or perturbed might be
a hetter one.”
“I did not take much notice of her,” I answered.
For a moment or two the scratching of his pencil
over the page was the only sound in the room.
“You were talking about the ethics of murder?”
said he presently. “Who started that conversation?”
I cast my mind back to the previous night—which
seemed to be years distant.
“I think it was Doctor Bannister.”
“And when this thud occurred you were so en-
grossed in your talk that you didn't take much notice
of it?”
“That's so,” I agreed.
“Didn't anybody seem to take it seriously—seem
to want to go up to find out what was wrong?”
“I think Mr. Jefferson did,” I answered, “and
Orme Jefferson. They were the only two, so far as
I remember.”
“And why didn't they go?” he asked.
“I don't know. Even they didn't seem to think


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT I81
it was serious, and somebody began talking again,
and we forgot all about it.”
“Ah!” he said. “That was shortly after nine
o'clock, wasn't it? When Miss Fairburn returned,
did anything else occur?”
“She and Miss Jefferson left us and went into the
drawing-room. The rest of us remained in the
dining-room, and talked for a good half-hour
longer.”
“About murder?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Who was leading the conversation then?”
“Doctor Bannister.”
“What was he saying?”
“He was telling us of an experience of his.”
“What sort of experience?”
He leant a little nearer to me. I drew back into
the low chair.
“Am I forced to answer that question?” I asked.
“No, not now,” he said.
“Then I would rather you got the information
from Doctor Bannister,” I replied.
He regarded me suspiciously, and wrote some-
thing in his book.
“You know most of the people in this house, don't
you, Mr. Forrester?” he asked. “I mean, inti-
mately.”
“I’ve been acquainted with them all for years,”
I said. “Some of them I knew intimately . . .
Oh, I must exclude Doctor Bannister and Sir Am-


I82 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
brose Rowland. The latter I met for the first time
yesterday, and I'm not sure that I’ve had a previous
meeting with Doctor Bannister.”
“And they all knew the dead man?”
“Apparently so,” I said.
“I would like direct replies, Mr. Forrester.”
“I was thinking again of Doctor Bannister and Sir
Ambrose,” I said. “Presumably Sir Ambrose made
Bowden's acquaintance only a few weeks ago, when
Bowden came here. I can't say if Doctor Bannister
knew him abroad.”
Superintendent Redarrel nodded.
“You were one of the party playing cards last
night?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“What time did you go to bed?”
“It was about one o'clock.”
“Your room is next to Bowden's. Did you hear
anything or observe anything unusual in the night?”
“Yes,” I said, “as I undressed I noticed that the
light was on in Bowden's room.”
“Ah, yes. Mr. Jefferson told me about that. Did
you notice the light go out at any time, and then go
up again?”
“No,” said I. “It was on until past five this
morning.”
“Five o'clock!” he echoed. “You didn't sleep
well, Mr. Forrester. You were worried and nervous
perhaps?”
“Yes,” I answered with thought. “I had a
rotten night.”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 183
Suddenly he shot his thick finger out at me.
“What was it that made you worried and nervous,
Mr. Forrester? Had you any thought last night that
Bowden might be killed? Had you any reason to
believe that there was to be a tragedy in this house?”
I started half out of my chair, and then sank
slowly back into it.
“No, no of course I hadn't,” I said.
He was twirling his moustache with terrific
energy.
“What made you come to England?” he de-
manded.
“I was given leave,” I said. “I felt I wanted a
holiday.”
He lifted his notebook, and picked up a folded
sheet of coloured flimsy paper which had lain be-
neath it. I recognised it, and felt still more un-
easy.
“I took the liberty of searching your room, Mr.
Forrester,” he told me quietly. “As it is the room
next to that in which Bowden was killed it was
perfectly natural that I should take that course. I
wonder you didn't anticipate it.”
He unfolded the cablegram and stretched it taut
between his fingers.
“This is a cablegram sent from Miss Helen Jeffer-
son to you. I'll read it: “Come at once if you can.
I am afraid. Helen.’”
I lunged forward, making a grab at the cable-
gram; but he flicked it out of my reach, and gripped
my wrist.


184 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Steady, Mr. Forrester!” he said, warningly.
“You had no right to search my room!” I cried.
“Don’t be silly!” he retorted. “You seem to have
forgotten that a man has been killed in this house,
and that I have been brought here to discover who
killed him. Sit down, please.”
I obeyed.
“Now tell me why Miss Helen Jefferson was
afraid,” he ordered.
“That,” I said, “is another question which I must
refuse to answer.”
“I expected that you would,” he said. “I can't
press you to do so, but I advise you to reflect for a
moment. You must realise that your refusal makes
me very curious to know why Miss Helen Jefferson
sent that cablegram.”
There was a good deal more in his words than the
superficial meaning of them, and I was quick to see
it. I took his advice and reflected.
“She was afraid of Bowden,” I said, carefully.
“I arrived yesterday afternoon, and she told me last
night about it. There was nothing tangible—it was
all very absurd. But you know what women are.”
“If that's all it was,” he said, “just an absurd idea
—I’d like to know why you didn't want to tell me
about it.”
“Because,” I answered promptly, “I saw that you
were suspicious of her—on the strength of that
cablegram. I'm quite sure in my own mind that she
would never have done anything—anything even
remotely connected with the crime.”


I86 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“And when you opened the door,” he went on,
“you saw Miss Helen Jefferson on the landing out-
side the dead man's room.”
“No, no,” I cried. “It wasn't Helen?”
“I tell you it was 1” he roared at me.
“You’re mad!” I exclaimed. Momentarily I was
mad myself—mad with anxiety. “It was Selma
Fairburn l’’
“Thank you,” he said. “That's just what I
wanted to know.”
I stared at him blankly, and realised how neatly
he had led me into his trap. I swore, but he merely
looked up from his book for an instant to smile at
ne.
“You’d better tell me the rest, Mr. Forrester,”
he said. “You’ll comprehend that your admission
places Miss Fairburn in a somewhat unfavourable
light. But no doubt you know enough about the
affair to convince me that she had a very innocent
reason for being on the landing at that time in the
morning.”
“I can give you the reason she gave me,” I an-
swered. “She said that she had been unable to sleep,
and went out on to the landing to walk up and
down.”
“I should have thought her bedroom would have
been large enough for her to do that in,” he re-
marked. “Didn't that occur to you, Mr. For-
rester?”
“I didn't think much about it,” I said.


COUM
MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 187
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“No?” he queried, and made a few more notes in
his book.
“You're very friendly with Miss Helen Jeffer-
son P” -
“Yes.”
“Might I go so far as to suggest that you're in
love with her?”
“No,” I said; but I added: “I was engaged
to marry her once—a long time ago. We broke it
off by mutual agreement.”
“And now she's engaged to marry Mr. Greig’”
“That's so,” I agreed.
“From what you knew of Hugh Bowden, do you
think that there was anybody in this house who had
cause to desire his death?”
“That is another question which I must refuse to
answer,” I told him steadily. -
“Well, what do you know about Hugh Bowden?”
“I knew enough to dislike him intensely,” I
answered. “As a matter of fact, I quarrelled with
him in a room along here last night—just before
dinner.”
I saw a new light come into his steel-like eyes.
“Oh,” he said. “What made you tell me that?”
“You’ve asked me to be frank,” I countered.
“Yes,” he said. “But did you tell me that because
you were afraid that if you didn't somebody else
Would P’’
“Not afraid, perhaps,” I said. “But there was a
witness of this quarrel of ours, and I thought it


I88 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
would be better for me if you heard about it from
my lips first.”
“Who was that witness?” he asked.
“Miss Selma Fairburn,” I said.
He did not speak for some minutes after that, but
sat studying his notes and twirling his moustachios.
I had begun to hope that the inquisition was at an
end as far as I was concerned, when he looked up at
me and asked:
“It was you who found the envelope behind the
door of the dead man's room?”
“Yes,” I agreed.
“I suppose you have no idea who put it there?”
“How could I know that?”
“You didn't recognise the style of envelope, or
paper, or note anything about it which was familiar
to you?”
“No,” I said. “Nothing at all.”
“Miss Fairburn might have slipped it under his
door?” he said, and looked at me out of the tops of
his eyes in a most curious fashion.
“She might have done,” I said, cautiously.
“Has anything occurred which might lead you to
think that she did do so?”
I shook my head.
“Or that Miss Helen Jefferson did it?”
“I'm afraid that you can't catch me twice like that,
Superintendent,” I said, and smiled at him.
It gave me a certain vicious satisfaction to observe
that I had stung him a little.
“As I’ve told you before, Mr. Forrester,” he said,


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 189
presently, “I have come to the conclusion that you
know a great deal about this affair and the people in
this house that you're not telling me.”
“I’ve answered most of your questions,” said I,
blandly. “And you have tricked me into answering
two.”
“Tricked isn't a nice word,” he said. “Suppose
we say instead that I have got your answer to one
question in the answer to another.”
“As you like it,” I returned. “Do you want to
ask me anything else?”
“No, thank you,” he said. “I think what you've
told me will do for the present. The Coroner's of
ficer will be round here soon, and he'll want to know
a few things as well.”
I nodded, and rose from my chair. But he
motioned me to sit down again.
“I don't want you to go for a moment, Mr. For-
rester, if you don't mind. I’d like you to be pres-
ent when I ask one or two questions of Miss Helen.
Jefferson.”
My heart beat a little faster.
“I have to obey,” I said, “whether I like it or
not.”
He leant back and pressed the bell.
“But you don't like it?” he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders.
“I hope you will be as gentle with her as you can,”
I said.
“I have my duty to perform,” he answered gruffly.
Constable Farmer opened the door.


190 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Please ask Miss Helen Jefferson to come to me,”
the Superintendent said.
The constable withdrew, and the Superintendent
and I sat in silence. I did not look up at him, but I
knew that he was staring at me all the time.
We heard the sound of the constable returning
with Helen, and I rose from my chair. Redarrel
remained seated, and watched the door.
“Miss Helen Jefferson, sir,” the constable said,
and stood aside for her to pass him.
She came forward very quietly and gracefully,
with her little hands clasped loosely in front of her,
and her eyes fixed steadily on the Superintendent's
face.
“Will you sit down, Miss Jefferson?” he said,
indicating the chair which I had just vacated. “I
should like you to answer a few questions.”
She sank into the low chair.
I moved to a place at the side of the Superintend-
ent, and waited. I saw him turn over a leaf of his
notebook, and at the top of the new page write:
“H. J.”
“Now, Miss Jefferson,” he said. “I want you to
tell me what you did between eight o'clock last night
and ten-thirty this morning. . . . Where were you
at eight o'clock last night?” -
“I was in the sunken garden with Mr. Forrester,”
she answered.
“Ah, yes,” said the Superintendent. “It was then
that you saw the shadow which Mr. Jefferson told
me about?”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 191
She nodded. “We both saw it—Mr. Forrester
and I.”
“And neither of you recognised it?”
“No.”
“When you returned to the house did you see
anybody whose situation or manner suggested that
he or she might have been the owner of the
shadow P”
She glanced at me, hesitating.
“Come, Miss Jeffersonſ” he said sharply.
She started. “I–I don't remember,” she an-
Swered.
He wheeled round to me.
“Is your memory any better on that point, Mr.
Forrester P”
“We met Mr. Greig entering the house,” I said.
“But beyond that fact there was nothing to suggest
that he was the owner of the shadow.”
“Do you recall that now, Miss Jefferson?” he
asked. “Did Mr. Greig say anything to you?”
“Yes. He told us he had been looking for
Muhamed, his servant,” she answered.
“Did it seem that Muhamed might have been the
cause of the shadow P”
“Muhamed was coming down the stairs when we
entered the house,” she said.
The Superintendent made some more notes.
“What did you do when you entered the house?”
he enquired.
“I went up to my room.”
“Where were the rest of the guests at that time?”


192 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“I don't know, I think most of them were in the
drawing-room.”
“I have a cablegram here,” the Superintendent
said, holding it up between his finger and thumb, and
staring into her eyes. “You sent it to Mr. Forrester,
asking him to come to England because you were
afraid. Of what were you afraid, Miss Jefferson?”
She looked at me again, and I saw fear in her eyes,
and reproach for my folly in leaving the cablegram in
a place where it would be found.
She laughed nervously. “You won't be able to
understand, Mr. Superintendent, because you're a
man. I—I had a feeling of fear. It might have
been that some sixth sense was telling me that this
tragedy was going to occur. Mr. Forrester is a very
old friend of mine. That's why I sent for him.”
“But my dear Miss Jefferson,” Superintendent
Redarrel exclaimed. “Surely you didn't bring Mr.
Forrester thousands of miles merely because you had
this vague feeling—as you call it? There must have
been something tangible.”
“There was nothing tangible,” she answered
firmly. “When Mr. Forrester was with me in the
sunken garden last night he asked me much the same
question as you have done now, and I told him that
I could not give a name to this fear of mine.”
Before another word was spoken between them, I
said to him:
“I don't think you have told Miss Jefferson that
she is not forced to answer your questions.”
He glared at me, and for an instant I thought he


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 193
was going to make some angry retort; but apparently
he thought better of it.
“I was under the impression that Miss Jefferson
understood that,” he said, moodily.
“I didn't,” she said, “but I do now. . . . I want
to help you as much as I can, Superintendent, so
I don't suppose I shall make use of what I have
just heard.”
He grunted something. It was evident to me that
I had tweeked him severely, and I was not displeased
about it. I fully recognised that it.was his business
to get the truth out of us, but I did not altogether
like his methods of doing so, even though it may have
been justified in the circumstances.
“Was your reason for asking Mr. Forrester to
come from Egypt connected in any way with the
presence of Mr. Bowden in the house?” he asked
promptly.
“Perhaps it was,” she said. “Indirectly. I
didn't like Mr. Bowden—he was not a popular man
—and I dare say his influence had its effect on me.”
“But this is all very vague, Miss Jefferson,” he
said.
“I have already told you that it is,” she answered.
He went on to ask her a number of questions re-
garding her movements up to the time she went to
bed, and I waited in trepidation for him to challenge
her again about her being at the end of the carriage-
drive at four o'clock that morning.
I had begun to wonder why he had kept me in the
room, when suddenly he said to her:


194 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Did you tell Mr. Forrester you were afraid of
Bowden P”
“Yes,” she said.
“So you were afraid of him?” he said, quickly.
“You didn't tell me exactly that before, Miss Jeffer-
son. Did you know that Mr. Forrester quarrelled
with Bowden last night?”
Her eyes leapt up to my face—fearfully, ques-
tioningly.
“No,” she said, in a tremulous voice. “Mr. For-
rester didn't tell me that.”
“But you told him something in that sunken gar-
den which made him pick a quarrel with Bowden.
He stabbed his thick finger at her. “What was that,
Miss Jefferson? Mr. Forrester is a sensible man,
and sensible men don't—in the twentieth century, at
any rate —pick quarrels with other men over what
may be a woman's absurd delusion. . . .”
“I didn't pick a quarrel with him,” I burst out.
“And it was nothing to do with what Miss Jefferson
told me in the garden. . . .”
“Don’t speak, if you please!” he rapped out at
me. “Come, Miss Jefferson, I want the truth.
Were you afraid of Bowden because he was black-
mailing you, or some one you loved—your father, or
your brother or Mr. Greig?”
“I keep telling you,” she cried. “There was noth-
ing tangible. It was all very silly—this fear.
Vague, instinctive.”
“Then why didn't you enlist the aid of one of the
men in the house—the one you're going to marry?”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 195
he demanded. “It’s a long journey from Egypt to
England, Miss Jefferson; I find it difficult to believe
that you brought Mr. Forrester so far when you had
a father and a brother and Mr. Greig to call upon—
the men you should have called upon to help you.”
“Whether you believe it or not,” she said, “it’s
the truth.”
He stared at her silently for a little while, and
when he spoke again the question he put showed that
he had set out on some new line of reasoning, but at
the time I could not think what it was.
“I want to ask you about a somewhat delicate
matter, Miss Jefferson,” he said, in a more gentle
tone. “When are you going to marry Mr. Greig’”
I saw her start, and the expression which came on
to her face combined relief with a certain amount of
curiosity.
“I don't know,” she answered and glanced at me
as she spoke. “The engagement has not yet been
announced.”
“But the event might have taken place within
the next few weeks if this tragedy had not inter-
vened?”
“It might,” she agreed. “But it wouldn't have
been likely.”
“Surely Mr. Greig was anxious to have the wed-
ding during this leave of his?” he asked.
“I don't know,” she answered. “But has this got
anything to do with the matter?” sº
He straightened out the cable on the table, and
read it over to himself. I fancied I knew then what


196 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
was in his mind. He was trying to discover if
Helen had sent that message to me because she loved
me better than she loved Greig. In that case the
words: “I am afraid” would apply to her wedding.
“Out there in the hall, Miss Jefferson,” said he,
“you told me that you were not at the bottom of the
carriage-drive at four o'clock this morning. You
reiterate that?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “Of course I do.”
“You do?” he murmured.
Without taking his eyes away from her, he put his
hand out and pressed an electric-bell button. The
door opened immediately, and Constable Farmer
entered.
“Give them to me, Farmer,” the Superintendent
ordered.
The constable handed him a small brown-paper
parcel, and went out of the room.
Redarrel leant back in his chair with a sigh.
“Here is something which needs explaining, Miss
Jefferson,” he remarked.
His thick fingers pulled the sheet of brown paper
aside, and disclosed a pair of blue-satin bedroom
slippers, stained and sodden with mud.
Helen raised herself with a little sobbing cry, and
sprang to her feet, her hands pressed against her
breast.
“These were found in your room about half an
hour ago,” the Superintendent told her. “I should
like to know how they got in this condition.”
I made some exclamation, but what it was I don't


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 197
know. I went to her side and drew her close to me.
My brain was throbbing and spinning. Suppose she
had killed Bowden' I thought.
I felt no loathing of her nor horror of her—as
might have been the case had she been any other
member of the house—but compassion, panic on her
behalf, a fearful dread. If Bowden had met his
death at her hands it seemed to me that she had
done the right thing. She became in my eyes a
counterpart of Charlotte Corday, who had killed
the tyrannicide of France in a sort of saintly and
ecstatic passion, and done thereby a great service
to humanity.
All in a second this passed through my mind, as I
have said, and in that second Superintendent Redar-
re! rose from his chair, and stared into her white,
appalled face, crushed against my shoulder.
“You must be mistaken!” I cried. “The mud
on those slippers doesn't prove anything.”
“Who said that I was trying to prove anything?”
he demanded. “I merely want Miss Jefferson to
explain a point which seems to be rather curious.
Now Miss Jefferson!” -
I felt Helen brace herself. She had not met my
eyes since my arm had been about her. Now she
moved from me, and faced him. For a second
they stared at one another. I fancied that each was
measuring the other's strength.
“I should like to hear your explanation, Miss Jef-
ferson,” he added, and raised the slippers until they
were on a line with her eyes.


198 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“I don't think I will give you one,” Helen said,
steadily.
“Suppose we hazard a guess at it,” he said, very
quietly. “I think you went there to meet some-
body.”
“I would rather not tell you anything about it
now,” she answered.
To my surprise he merely shrugged his shoulders
with apparent carelessness, and laid the slippers
down on the table.
“Sit down, Miss Jefferson, please,” he said.
“I’m sure you'll be more comfortable.”
She did as he bade her, and he, too, returned to
his chair. I realised that he was banking on the
psychological factor of the high and low chair.
“I have already told Mr. Forrester what I am
about to tell you,” he said. “You have the right
to refuse to answer my questions, but I warn you—
unofficially—that every means will be used to make
you answer them later. You must realise that I
have to put a very significant construction upon your
silence regarding the matter I have just raised.”
The room seemed to be charged with electricity:
one could almost feel the air shake. I stood rigid
near his chair.
“I admit,” she said, in a low tone, “that I was at
the end of the carriage-drive early this morn-
ing. . . .”
“And what else do you admit?” he asked. “For
what reason were you out at that hour?”
“I can't tell you that,” she said. “But I swear I


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 199
had an innocent reason—that my doing what I did
caused no harm to Mr. Bowden.” Her voice rose
a little, but she continued to speak steadily. “You
must believe that, Mr. Superintendent; perhaps
later on I shall be at liberty to tell you everything.”
“This is a very strange statement, Miss Jeffer-
son,” he remarked, gravely. “I should like you to
think carefully and assure yourself that you are
doing the right thing by refusing to give me your
entire confidence now. I am trying to find some
clue which I can make a starting-point in the un-
ravelling of the mystery. If what you did was ab-
solutely innocent in motive, wouldn't it be better if
you told me the whole truth at once? When I
come to question the person you are shielding you
may be sure that I shall learn from him a little more
than you have told me; and from each of the others
I may learn a few more facts which may have a
bearing on this phase of the case. Perhaps before
the day is out I shall be able to say definitely why
you acted as you did.”
He had employed a gentle, almost soothing tone,
in saying this, and his booming voice fascinated me
and had a kind of drowsing effect on my senses.
“I would rather say no more about it—just now,”
she answered, and bent her head so not to meet my
eyes.
Abruptly he started along a new line of question-
1ng.
“You and Miss Selma Fairburn went up to your
bedrooms together.”


2OO MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Yes,” she agreed.
“Did Miss Fairburn go direct to her room?”
“So far as I know.”
“Her room is next to yours. Did you hear her
at any time of the night leave it and pass along the
corridor?’’
“I heard something,” Helen admitted.
“Footsteps—Miss Fairburn's footsteps?”
“I don't know whose they were.”
“They were those of a man?”
“I can't be sure. I was almost asleep.”
“So you had no thought of going down the
carriage-drive until after you went to bed?” he fired
at her. “Something took place between the time
you left the drawing-room and four o'clock in the
morning and it was something which made you leave
the house.”
“Don't—don't!” she moaned, putting her hands
in front of her as though to ward him off. “I’ve
told you I won't speak about it.”
“I can tell you what it was that made you take
that course—since you won't tell me,” he said.
“You feared that he was going to kill Bowden
that night, because Bowden was going away in the
morning. You dared not go to him and plead with
him, because you were afraid to show that you
could imagine such a thing of him. You heard
him creep across the landing, and go into a
room. . . .”
“Stop—stop!” she cried.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 201
He sprang to, his feet and stood over her—a
towering figure, menacing, terrifying. She shrank
into a chair. I seized his arm, but he flung me
roughly aside.
“You got out of bed, and listened at Bowden's
door,” he went on. “You saw a light through the
key-hole. That was unnatural, you thought—you
who had observed earlier in the evening something
which told you that a tragedy was likely to occur.
You left the house, in order to try to see through
Bowden's window. You went down the carriage-
drive, where the ground rose, and stood there look-
ing across the lawns towards the house. That was
when I saw you, as I was making my rounds!”
“I admit nothing!” she said, with sudden desper-
ate defiance. “I don't believe you have the right
to trick me as you have been doing. I shall see to
it that your superiors are informed of it.”
He smiled a little.
“I advise you to do nothing silly, Miss Jefferson.
During our interview I have not strayed outside the
limits of the law. Perhaps you don't understand
that at the present time I am the master of this
house.”
She got up and half-turned in the direction of the
door. -
“Is there anything else you wish to ask me?”
“I’m still waiting for answers to some of the
questions I have already put to you.”
“I am afraid you must wait,” she said coldly.


202 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“I have told you that I cannot answer them now.”
“You are being unwise, Miss Jefferson,” he re-
marked.
She shook her head and took a step towards the
door. I made to follow her.
“Just a moment,” he said.
We paused and hesitated. Once more he pressed
the electric-bell, and once more the constable entered
almost before the echoes of it had died away.
“Ask Mr. Martin Greig if he'll be good enough
to step in here,” said Redarrel.
Constable Farmer departed on his mission. I
met the Superintendent's eyes, and there was a sig-
nificant, searching expression in them.
“I should like each of you to give me your word
of honour not to speak about what has occurred in
this room until after six o'clock this evening,” he
said.
“You have mine,” I answered.
“And mine,” said Helen.
Martin Greig entered the room.
“Thank you,” the Superintendent said to us.
“You may go now.”
We passed through the door together, and as we
did so I saw Helen send to Martin Greig a glance
which I could not translate. Then the door closed
behind us, and the constable took his place in front
of it.
“I think I'll go to my room,” Helen said.
She started away from me, but I hurried after
her.


CHAPTER XII
I kept my word to the Superintendent, and it
seemed that he extracted the same pledge from each
of the others, for as they left the smoking-room,
one by one, during the next hour or so, they did not
speak about what had occurred within it.
Martin Greig was with Redarrel for a consid-
erable time, and he came into the drawing-room
looking more grim and ferocious than I had ever
seen him. He took a chair near Selma, who was
acting as hostess in Helen's absence, and she gave
him a cup of tea. He refused anything to eat, and
beyond thanking her moodily, did not say a word.
Constable Farmer called Orme away.
“I’m not at all sure that this Superintendent
fellow can keep us here against our wills,” Ban-
nister remarked, soon after Martin had made his
appearance. “For myself, if I feel like leaving the
house I expect I shall do so.”
“I ask you not to,” said Jefferson. “I want you
to regard that as a personal request, Bannister.”
Bannister laughed. -
“The way you people in England conform to the
million and one regulations which round your little
lives amazes me,” he said.
“Revolutions begin when obedience to the rules
204


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 205
of the Government comes to an end,” Sir Ambrose
remarked.
“Revolutions act as a purgative on the internal
workings of the State,” Bannister retorted. He
looked at Martin. “I suppose our friend the Super-
intendent put you through it pretty thoroughly,
Greig’”
Martin stared visibly.
“What exactly do you mean by that, Bannister?”
“Nothing at all,” Bannister answered; but he
smiled at him in an odd way.
“It seems to me that you're determined to make
trouble,” Martin said, angrily. “I dare say you
could tell a thing or two about Bowden's death.”
“Who knows?” Bannister murmured, without
perturbation. “We are all assiduously hiding skel-
etons in flimsy cupboards.”
Martin stood up. Selma raised her hand fear-
fully, as though with the intention to pull him down
again, but did not touch him.
“I’ve had enough of this, Bannister,” Martin
said, with dangerous calm. “I want to know what
you are driving at.”
“I?” said Bannister. “I’m not driving at any-
thing. I think you are all extremely interesting.
Death is such a common occurrence, and violent
death is not extraordinary; yet when it takes place,
as it has done, in the midst of this small commun-
ity it has the effect that would be made by a cat
suddenly appearing in a cage of mice! I suppose
it's because of the skeletons.”


2O6 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
He leant back in his chair and studied Martin
with a half-smile. I expected at any second that
Martin would smash his fist into Bannister's face.
“Call a truce, you two,” Jefferson broke in, op-
portunely. “If we can't deny the presence of skel-
etons in our cupboards, for Heaven's sake let us
each respect the other's by leaving it decently alone.”
“Well put, Jeffersonſ” Bannister said, rising.
“But you forget that I'm a surgeon, and one in-
terested in skeletons—even my own.”
I saw Selma clutch Martin's hand. He glanced
at her, and she whispered something. He sat down
again.
“You will have your fill of scandal before long,
Bannister,” Sir Ambrose said, as the doctor made
his way towards the door. “The police will bring
all our little skeletons into the daylight and make
them chatter.”
“And they will chatter to some account,” Ban-
nister replied, as he went out.
It was six o'clock before Redarrel's inquisition
was ended, and Muhamed, who had been conspic-
uous by his absence most of the day, was the last to
be interrogated.
After that, the Superintendent had another talk
with Jefferson.
Meanwhile, Constable Farmer had traced the tele-
phone-wire from the house to the point where it had
been cut—which was near one of the posts that
carried it across the grounds of Norman's Court to


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 207
the road—and, being a handy man, put it into
working order again.
Towards nightfall the Coroner's officer arrived,
and took from each of us a bare statement of what
we knew of the case.
“The inquest will be held in the morning,” I
heard him say to Jefferson. “In the dining-room
at eleven.”
He and Constable Farmer spent a lengthy period
in Bowden's room, and I learnt that they borrowed
a table from another room and took it in there.
When this had been done Superintendent Redarrel
got the constable to tack a strip of American cloth
across the broken panel, and finally the door was
locked and sealed.
“I’ll be round again in the morning,” Redarrel
told Jefferson, who stood with a group of us in the
hall. “I’m leaving Farmer here for the night.
He's fixed a shake-down in the smoking-room.”
“I can give him a bed,” Jefferson said.
“Thanks. But he's quite comfortable, and I’d
rather have him on the ground-floor—where he can
look after the exits. Perhaps you will be good
enough to have some food sent to him.”
“Of course,” Jefferson agreed. “Can you tell
me if your day's investigations have led you to-
any definite conclusion?”
“Yes,” Redarrel answered, staring hard at him.
“They've led me to the conclusion that the crime
was committed by some one in this house.”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 209
there is no suitable place within a convenient dis-
tance.”
When Sir Ambrose returned to us, hatted and
coated, he wished us good-night, wrung Jefferson's
hand, and went down the hall with the Superin-
tendent. In silence we watched them go. They
joined the Coroner's officer in the car, and the
butler closed the front-door after them.
“There is more in that than meets the eye,” Ban-
nister remarked.
Shortly before dinner Jefferson told me, in the
library, that Redarrel and the constable had found
time after the questioning to make a fairly thorough
search of the house.
“But there's not a sign of the weapon,” he said.
“I suppose they've tapped the panelling?” I
asked.
“Yes. Do you remember that the panelled ceil-
ing of Bowden's room is decorated with carved
foliage?”
“I didn't notice it particularly in his,” said I.
“But I suppose it's much the same as mine.”
Jefferson nodded. “The Superintendent seemed
to think at one time that the knife had been flung
up there, where it would have been hidden in the
shadow cast by the relief-carving, and was removed
later by whoever threw it. But I imagine that he's
off that idea now. He examined every inch of the
ceiling this evening, and apparently didn't find any-
thing to suggest that his theory was correct.”
“There'll be a gang of people here to-morrow,” I


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 2 II
“But I thought all that was past—all between Helen
and you . . .”
“What do you mean?” I asked quickly. “You
must have misunderstood me. I think . . .”
Play straight—play straight! It rang in my
head, as though some one close to me had whispered
it in my ear. Martin Greig was my friend, and so
was Helen—my friend. Albeit I had heard what
passed between Martin and Selma, I had no right
to take for granted that the road to Helen's heart
was clear for me. Martin had showed no response
to Selma's advances. There was no proof that he
did not still love Helen, and she him.
“I almost thought for a moment,” said Jefferson,
“that . . .”
I cut him short.
“She refused to tell the Superintendent any-
thing,” I said. “But he tricked her into one or two
admissions—as he tricked me.”
I gave him an account of what had taken place,
and while I talked he lost his show of calmness and
walked about restlessly, his hands clasped behind his
back, and his upper teeth gnawing at his lower lip.
I wondered if he already knew the facts of my
story first-hand, and showed agitation only because
the Superintendent had discovered so much.
Some one had gone to Martin Greig's room on
the night of Bowden's death. So much Helen had
told me, and so much the Superintendent had un-
covered while I was in his presence. Helen had


212 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
said it was Orme. Perhaps it was, I thought—
and his father as well.
“I should like you to keep quiet about this,” Jef-
ferson said. “It won't do any good to tell the
others. I must have a talk with Helen.”
“You needn't be afraid of me,” I answered.
“You may take it that all my efforts will be bent
on clearing her.”
An appalling, sickening thought occurred to me.
It is odd how such things come to one, without one's
having made any conscious attempt to seek them
out of the fastness of one's brain. I caught my
breath with a low sound, and Jefferson demanded
quickly to know what was the matter.
“Nothing—nothing,” I said.
“Be frank with me, Forrester. For God's sake
don't keep anything concealed,” he appealed.
“I just thought that perhaps by now Superinten-
dent Redarrel has formed another theory to explain
Helen's presence outside the house,” said I, slowly.
“He may be wondering if she went there—to hide
something!”
Dead silence came down upon us, like a heavy
and black and muffling thing. Amid it my heart-
beats sounded in my ears like hammer-blows.
“You mean,” Jefferson whispered, “the knife!”
I nodded.
“My God—my God!” he said.
He clenched his fists and raised them to his fore-
head, turned away, and for a long moment stood
terribly tense and quiet.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 2.13
“I don't believe it myself!” I cried. “Don’t
think that, Jefferson. . . .” -
“I’m not thinking it,” he whispered. “But it
seems to be so horribly possible.”
“But it can't bel” I exclaimed. “Nothing will
ever make me believe that Helen . . .”
“I’ll go up to her now,” he interrupted, turning
towards me, and with an obvious effort straightening
his bowed shoulders. “I shall make her tell me the
secret of this business. I must know it. At the
inquest to-morrow—anything might happen.”
He did not move for another second. His heavy-
featured, handsome face was very lined and grey;
and it seemed to have become thinner in the course
of that long, terrible day. I had never known him
look so old as he looked then.
He sighed, and walked in the direction of the
door; but just before he passed through it he
stopped and looked back.
“I’ve been wondering why you and Helen ever
broke things off, Forrester,” he said.
He went away then, leaving me to mouch about
the library and ponder what he had said, building
empty dreams around it, until it was time to dress
for dinner.
There were only men at the table, for both the
women kept to their rooms that night. There was
very little talk. Even Bannister appeared to feel the
chill, awesome atmosphere which had come upon the
house (“Like people walking silently in bare feet
along a dimly-lit stone corridor,” Helen said to


216 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
not: you should be that. But I shall always feel
for her in a different way from other women, and
I won't let any man play fast and loose with her—
not even you.”
He continued to stare at me.
“You needn't worry about her,” he said.
He went quickly to the door, opened it and passed
out, closing it behind him.
I did not move for a while. I stood where he
had left me, and listened to his retreating footsteps.
After they had died away I still remained in the
same place. But presently I shook myself and went
to bed.
I don't think I slept a wink that night, and I was
one of the first to be up and dressed.
I left my room and went down the stairs. The
morning sunlight was coming through the stained-
glass windows of the silent hall, and as I descended
I saw a shadow cast upon the floor. It was an odd,
grotesque shadow, and it made me start back, with
a cry.
In an instant it disappeared soundlessly from my
sight.
I ran down the remainder of the steps, until I
came into full view of the hall. The door of the
smoking-room opened as I did so, and Constable
Farmer came out, looking tired and bedraggled. I
did not heed him, however, for all my attention was
concentrated on Muhamed, who was stealing along
the side of the wall, with his hands pressing his red
fez down on his head.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 2.19
He regarded me in his stolid manner.
“I have only your word against his, sir,” he an-
swered. “And there isn't enough evidence yet to
arrest anybody for anything. But don't you worry.
The Superintendent will investigate your statement
thoroughly.”
He walked back to the smoking-room—to brush
his hair, I thought, for the untidy state of it en-
dangered his official dignity.
I went into the drawing-room, and sat there until
Orme came down. He had little to say to me.
Indeed, when he saw that the room was occupied he
was on the point of leaving it immediately; but I
managed to make him stop.
We stood in front of the window, and I said a
banal word or two in admiration of the garden,
which could be seen through the glass, clothed in
all the glory of spring.
“Why don't you talk about the murder—or keep
quiet,” he said irritably. “It makes it a darn sight
worse when you avoid it like this. I know well
enough that you're not giving a thought to the
garden.”
“All right,” I answered. “Have you anything
to say about it?”
“What are you insinuating?” he cried.
“Nothing,” I said. “I just asked a question.”
“God—my nerves have all gone to shreds!” he
muttered. “Everything sets me jumping.”
“I’ve been talking to Martin about Selma and
Helen,” I said.


22O MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Have—have you?” he answered, and stared out
of the window.
“You're Helen's brother,” I went on. “And
you're a friend of Martin—as I am. Do you think
that he's playing fair with her? It seems to me that
there's something between Selma and him that Helen
ought to know. You're aware of it, Orme. I
talked to you like this two nights ago. Since then
a lot's happened. You told me that it would ruin
your life if the truth came to light. Well, it's
bound to come to light now—and have you thought
anything about what effect it may have on Helen's
life?”
“Helen's all right,” he said, quickly. “Martin
won't let her down.”
“He’d better not,” said I grimly. “Why don't
you make a clean breast of it to me, Orme?”
“Because it's nothing to do with you. If the
truth's going to be dragged out of me, I'll wait
until it is.”
He left me and I stood gazing after him, reflecting
on what Helen had told me about having heard him
go to Martin's room on the night that Bowden was
killed.
We had breakfast at half-past eight that morning,
and, as with dinner on the previous night, only men
were at the table. Bannister did all the talking that
was done amongst us, we others merely answering
him shortly and doing our best to shut him up.
He appeared to be in a particularly cheerful mood,


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 22I
and he succeeded in making each of us more or less
furious with him. In the circumstances his attempts
at wit did not go down at all well.
After breakfast I told Jefferson about Muhamed.
He heard me through, gravely in silence.
“I haven't mentioned it to Greig,” I said.
“Perhaps you'd better,” he answered. “He’s
very fond of Muhamed.”
We were interrupted by the arrival of Super-
intendent Redarrel, and the doctor who had
made the examination of Bowden on the previous
day.
The Superintendent greeted us curtly, and led the
police-doctor up the stairs. We heard him open
Bowden's door, and in a few minutes he came down
again alone. -
He was immediately accosted by Constable
Farmer, who took him into the smoking-room and
remained with him for some time. During this
period I sought out Martin, finding him in a small
conservatory which led out of the morning-room,
and told him about Muhamed.
“You’re certain?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” I said. “Helen will be able to support
me. She saw the shadow as well.” I paused.
“I thought until this morning that it was you,
Martin.”
“I know you did,” he answered.
I held out my hand. “I’m sorry,” I said. “But
I had reason to think it.”


222 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
He laughed shortly, looked at me and hesitated,
then took the grip.
“One has reason to think a good many things in
this house,” he remarked.
He accompanied me into the hall, and I was in
time to meet Constable Farmer coming in search of
Ine.
“The Superintendent would like to see you in the
smoking-room, sir,” he said.
For half an hour I sat in the fiendish low chair,
and told Redarrel all I knew about the shadow and
Muhamed. He wrote my statement down carefully,
and at the end read it to me.
“Is that right?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Then would you mind signing it.”
He slid the pencil and notebook across the table,
and I put my signature at the bottom of the page.
It gave me a chill sort of feeling. I could not help
wondering if I were signing Muhamed's death-
Warrant.
Helen was called from her room after that and
apparently asked to give her version of the affair.
I saw her only for a second, as she passed through
the hall with the constable, and she did not
look at me, nor at any one, but kept her head bent
down.
When the Superintendent had finished with her,
Jefferson took her into the drawing-room and
closed the door with a decisive click.
I waited—impelled by morbid curiosity, I sup-


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 223
pose—to see Muhamed enter the smoking-room and
when he did this I still waited, but it was a long
time before the door opened again.
In the interim Sir Ambrose Rowland arrived, and
talked with Martin and me about what was likely
to happen at the inquest.
“I expect it will be adjourned for the police to
make further inquiries,” he said. “That's the usual
procedure in a case like this.”
I spoke to him about Muhamed, and Martin lis-
tened without making any remark.
“It’s certainly significant,” was Sir Ambrose's
COmment.
Presently Constable Farmer came out of the
Smoking-room with Muhamed, and asked Martin
to go in.
“He wanted me to tell him what I knew about
Muhamed,” Martin vouchsafed, when he returned.
Bannister joined the group.
“Good-morning, Sir Ambrose,” he said. “Did
you have a long talk with Redarrel last night?”
“Yes, quite a long one,” the scientist answered,
smoothly. “He was at my place for upwards of an
hour.”
“Talking about—skeletons?” Bannister queried.
“About a great number of matters relative to
Bowden's death,” Sir Ambrose answered.
Constable Farmer came out of the smoking-room
once again—where now Muhamed had returned—
and I heard him ask the butler for a candle and a
SallCer.


224 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“What do you want that for, Farmer?” Bannister
called. -
“To take Muhamed's finger-prints, sir,” the con-
stable answered.
None of us was surprised when Redarrel an-
nounced that he had put Muhamed under arrest.
“He is charged with wilfully damaging Govern-
ment property,’” the Superintendent said. “That is,
the telephone-wire.”
Constable Farmer took him away in Jefferson's
Car.


226 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
Every now and then Redarrel would have one of
us in the smoking-room to ask for the elaboration
of some point, or to put a new question; but nothing
startling occurred.
That afternoon Helen presided at tea in the
drawing-room, and she joined us again at dinner.
She had wonderful control of herself, and she took
part in the little conversation there was in quite a
natural manner.
I went in search of her when I left the dining-
room after coffee that night, but could not find her
for a long time. I had come to the conclusion that
she must have gone up to bed, when some instinct
led my feet to the morning-room, where I saw her
standing by the French windows which led into
the conservatory.
“I’m glad you're alone,” I said, going up to her.
“I want to talk to you, Helen.”
She moved away, with a little gasp. I remember
that she was dressed in a dark evening-gown, and
that her white face and throat, rising out of it,
looked like marble.
“Don’t ask me about it, Davy,” she whispered.
“I can't tell you nor any one.”
“You will have to before long,” I said. “You
can't defy the police for ever.”
She stood very still, with her hands clasped by
her chin.
“They cannot make me speak,” she said.
“But they can find out what it is you're hiding,
who it is you're shielding.”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 227
“I shall never tell them, and I don't think they
will be able to discover it unless I do.”
She had been standing with her back to me. Now
she turned and took my hand, looking at me through
the cool darkness. She swayed a little, and her
head touched my shoulder.
“Davy—Davy . . .”
Some gust of madness swept over me, as a tropical
storm bursts over a fretful sea. The little voice
which had so long cried “Play straight!” in my
heart cried unheard. I did not think of Martin
Greig: I did not think of anything but that I had
the woman whom I loved clasped in my arms.
I crushed her to me, and brought my lips down
to her face. I pressed kisses on her cheeks and on
her hair and her closed eyes. She made some slight
sound—whether fear or not I never knew—but
did not try to struggle free.
“Helen,” I breathed. “You’re mine—mine! My
dear, I’ll protect you from all this. I know you've
done nothing to be ashamed of, and if you had I
wouldn't care. . . .”
Her eyes opened and stared at me. Her lips
parted and moved in speech, but I heard no sound.
Her small hand came up to my shoulder and pushed
me back.
A chill feeling ran through me. The madness
passed, leaving me appalled, horrified at what I
had said and done.
“Davy,” she said, in a very low tone and very
calmly. “What do you mean?”


228 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
I drew away from her, and let her slim uncovered
arms slip through my hands until I caught and held
her finger-tips. My heart was pounding in my
throat—sledge-hammer blows, they seemed, that al-
most choked me.
“What do I mean?” I muttered.
I paused, and turned my eyes down to the tes-
sellated pavement at our feet. I knew that she was
staring at me, but I dared not look up.
The fingers of her right hand slid into my palm.
She came closer.
“Does it mean that you were wrong in Cairo?”
she whispered. “That night in the garden? Do
you remember?”
“I shall never forget it,” I said.
I looked down at her then, and saw wonder in
her eyes, a little fear, a little hope—something that
made me put out my arms to her again and lay my
hands on her shoulders.
“Were you wrong, too?” I asked softly.
She turned her head away abruptly, sobbed and
raised a crushed handkerchief to her mouth and
pressed it there.
“It's too late, Davy,” she said.
Her naked shoulders were tremulous under my
hands.
“Too late?” I whispered.
“I—I’m going to marry Martin. You know
that.”
“Yes, I know that,” I answered.
It was on my lips to tell her all I knew about


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 229
Martin and Selma, but somehow I could not do so,
and a second later I was glad of it, for what she
said destroyed all hope I had.
“I hadn't any idea that you still felt like this,
Davy. It—it has come to me as a shock. I thought
we had reached ancther understanding. The past
will always be a sweet memory to me, but—but—”
I braced myself.
“I must apologise, Helen,” I said, as steadily
as I could. “I have been a-little mad, I think.
I just thought of the old days. But it's all past—
of course.”
I stopped, and laughed sheepishly. God alone
knew why I laughed.
She looked at me intently through the darkness.
“I am going to marry Martin,” she said again,
quietly. “We had our chance—you and I—but it
didn't seem that we were meant to—to . . .”
She came to a stop.
“You won’t think well of me because of this,”
I said, after a moment.
“No, no, Davy, I shall always think of you as
a dear, dear friend.”
Once again I felt a great urge to tell her about
Martin and Selma, and once again I realised that
I had no proof that Martin was not playing a straight
game. Selma was an adventuress, and few men
can look back on their youth and find that women
did not enter into it. The thought suddenly came
to me that perhaps Selma was blackmailing him.
Sometimes wild oats make a bitter harvest.


230 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“We must forget that this has happened,” I
said.
After a long time she murmured:
“Yes, we must forget it, Davy.”
We heard the door of the morning-room open,
and each of us started guiltily. The lamp was not
lit, but the moonlight and the starlight coming
through the glass above and around us must have
shown clear silhouettes of our bodies to any one en-
tering.
“Hullo!” came Sir Ambrose Rowland's quiet
voice. “What are you two doing here—so silent
and still P”
He joined us and I managed to say something
or other to him in a fairly even tone.
“What has happened to Muhamed?” Helen asked
at Once.
“He was charged this afternoon and remanded,”
Sir Ambrose told her. “I wonder that Forrester
didn't give you all the latest news.”
His eyes shone oddly in the pale light as he fixed
them on me inquiringly.
“I was coming to that part when you arrived,”
I lied. “I’ve been giving Helen an account of the
day's happenings.”
“I had to stay in my room,” she said. “I could
not come down—and see it all happening. It's too
horrible.
He took her hand, and patted it. I was sure
that he was thinking just the same as I: what reason


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 231
had she for being outside the house within a little
while of the time that Bowden was killed?
“Muhamed is charged merely with cutting the
telephone-wire,” he remarked. “But we can see
beyond that.”
“The police will detain him until they are quite
sure that he isn't the man they want, I suppose?”
I asked.
“Perhaps they are sure now,” he said. “Why
did he cut the telephone wire, if not to prevent
the police coming to the house before he had time
to cover up his tracks?”
Helen shuddered. “Please don't talk about it,”
she said. “It’s so terrible.”
“I’m sorry,” Sir Ambrose answered. “I shouldn't
have done so. Let's go into the drawing-room.
It's more cheerful there.”
She allowed him to take her arm and lead her
across the dark room into the hall, I followed, and
found it difficult to believe that what had taken
place between Helen and me was not a phantas-
magoria of my imagination. It seemed utterly
remote, out of my life altogether.
Selma and Martin and Bannister were in the draw-
ing-room when we arrived there, and Martin's eyes
seemed to search Helen's face and mine as we en-
tered. I fancied that I read jealousy in his expres-
sion. He would not be jealous if he did not love
her, I mused.
“Come to join the merry throng?” Bannister


234 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“I should think that most of us have had our fill
of it.”
“It's the only subject that's got any place in
our minds,” Bannister answered. “Surely it's
better to give our thoughts an airing than to sit
brooding over them?” -
His dark little eyes darted from face to face, and
his scrubby black moustache moved up under his
nose as the sneering smile which was common to
him stirred his lips.
“I think you're right, Bannister,” Jefferson said.
“There's no point in concealing from each other the
fact that we can't think of anything but Bowden
and his death—though most of us seem to be trying
to give another impression for some reason or
other.”
Bannister nodded.
We could hear the constable moving about in the
hall. The sound of his steady footsteps seemed
very grim. It made one think of the relentless
power of the Law. Perhaps one of us seated there
was the prey it sought.
“You haven't given us your opinion about the
arrest of Muhamed, Martin,” I said. “Do you
thinks he's guilty?”
“Guilty of cutting the telephone wire?” Martin
asked.
“Don’t hedge the issue, Greig,” Bannister said.
“I thought we'd decided to be honest with one
another. You know what Forrester meant.”


236 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
Martin did not move; but Orme got up silently
from his chair and I saw Jefferson, who sat beside
him, stiffen and lay a detaining hand on his son's
arm.
“Do you admit that you hated him yourself, Ban-
nister?” Martin asked.
“Of course I do,” said Bannister.
“And I suppose you told that to the Superinten-
dent?” Orme burst out. “I'd like to know if you
gave him the details about the man you murdered
in India.”
“Orme!” Jefferson said, warningly.
“Don’t stop the boy, Jefferson,” Bannister pro-
tested. “I don't mind his questions, because I’ve
got straight answers to them. “I did tell the Super-
intendent about that incident.”
He lit his cigarette, blew the match out and threw
it into the grate. He held the silver case towards us,
but none took advantage of his offer.
“Come, Greig,” he said, “admit that I've found
you out. You hated Bowden—and so did you, Jef-
ferson, and Orme and Forrester. I don't know
about you, Sir Ambrose. I suppose you weren't
acquainted with him long enough to hate him.
But even the shortest acquaintanceship with a man
of Bowden's calibre puts the murder-germ into
one's heart.”
“I don't think this conversation is in the best of
taste, Bannister,” Sir Ambrose remarked.
“I agree,” Bannister retorted. “Honesty's out
of fashion in this house.”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 239
forget that I am also in a position to tell tales out
of school.”
“Not now,” said I, meeting his eyes steadily. “I
had the good sense to confess to Redarrel about my
quarrel with Bowden.”
He was surprised at this, and a little taken aback,
I thought.
“Righto,” he said. “I’m much obliged for the
tip.”
He strolled along the hall to the stairs and went up
them, apparently on his way to bed.
After a moment I followed him, but on the land-
ing altered my mind about turning in just then, and
went down again. I made my way to the library,
where I found Jefferson pacing the floor and
smoking.
“Have all the others gone up?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, as I closed the door behind me. “I
came to hear if you had been able to get anything out
of Helen.”
He twirled his cigar into the corner of his mouth.
“She told me a little. But I don't feel at liberty
just now to let you know what it is, Forrester.”
There was a short silence. He took another turn
along the floor.
“Can you tell me this?” I asked. “Does her ex-
planation involve her in any way?”
“No-no!” he said savagely. “Of course it
doesn't.”
“Then it involves some one else,” I said. “Some
one you love.”


24o MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
I was thinking of Orme.
“I have told you, Forrester,” he answered firmly.
“I am not at liberty to tell you any more.”
He flung the stub of his cigar into the grate, and
began to mix himself a whisky and soda.
“Have a night-cap?” he asked.
I accepted, and he handed me the drink he had
prepared for himself. I had the idea he was going to
tell me something, that he was fretting to make some
confession, but hesitated to do so.
He laid his glass down presently, and stared at me.
“Forrester,” he said. “Do you think I killed
Bowden P”
“I’m not sure whether you did or not,” I an-
swered.
He nodded, without any emotion. He did not
appear to be angered or horrified by what I had said.
“I expect everybody in the house feels that way
about everybody else,” he remarked. “And most
of them know that I had a stronger motive than the
rest for doing the killing.”
“Does the Superintendent know that?” I asked.
“I haven't told him,” he said, “and unless one of
the others have, I expect he is utterly ignorant of
my past. I have been thinking over the matter this
evening. This part of the country is outside the
jurisdiction of the Criminal Investigation Depart-
ment of Scotland Yard, and I don't think the local
police stand the slightest chance of clearing up the
mystery; but Sir James Saddler, the Chief of the
C. I. D., is an old friend of mine. He's been holi-


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 241
day-making in Cannes, but he's returning to the
Rook House—that big place at the foot of the
Downs—to-morrow, and I’m going to ring him up
and try to get him over here.”
“You’d be doing us all a service if you managed
it,” I said.
“All except the guilty person,” he answered,
grimly.
He gave himself another two fingers of whisky,
and splashed the soda into the glass.
“We're old friends, Forrester. I feel that I can
talk to you, be understood. And—God!—I want to
talk to somebody about it.” He looked beyond me,
at the sombre-coloured curtains which draped the
windows. “I blame myself bitterly for all this. I
haven't played the straight game. I’ve carved out
the way of my life with illegitimate weapons, and
now they've slipped in my hands and cut me—and
others besides myself.”
He spoke in a low, even tone, but there was a
savage undercurrent in it—a note of terrible bitter-
ness and self-castigation.
“I have done things in my life that now I am
ashamed of,” he said. “I have shown myself to the
unobservant world as a monument of integrity and
honour, the while I have been a treasonous thief.
I have dug a fortune out of the mire, and hoped to
keep my hands clean. But I've learnt too late that
one can't touch filth without being defiled, and with-
out defiling those who are of one—one's children
and those one loves.”


242 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Bowden knew all this?” I asked. “I had sus-
pected it for a long time.”
“Yes, Bowden, who was once my paid servant,
could have ruined me. . . . I'll tell you the truth,
Forrester, as I shall tell it to Sir James Saddler.
I'm sick of lies and intrigue. I've played with them
all my life, but now I'm through. Bowden came
here to blackmail me. I don't know why he brought
Selma. He threatened to expose the truth about me
unless I paid him. I gave him three thousand
pounds a fortnight ago. The day before you ar-
rived he asked for more. I dared not order him out
of my house, I dared not defy him. I had to think
of Helen and Orme. All I have done has been done
for them. I started in Cairo in a very small way—
before your time. But it takes years to build a
banker's fortune out there, if you play straight. I
was ambitious for my son and daughter. I didn't
play straight. I’ve given them wealth, and position
in the world—but I’ve given them a load of shame
as well!”
“Perhaps you’d better not tell me this,” I said.
“You're not yourself to-night, Jefferson. You must
remember that we're all suspected of Bowden's mur-
der. It would probably be wiser if you didn't tell
me any more.” -
He looked into his glass. -
“Do you think that Helen knows—about me?”
he asked.
I felt myself start guiltily. Again there came to
me the idea which had obsessed me when I talked


244 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“So she was afraid?” he murmured.
“It must have been some sixth sense warning her
of what was going to happen,” I said. “Women
get strange feelings sometimes. Her fear wasn't
founded on anything tangible.”
“No-no,” he said, vaguely. “I understand.”
I felt that I had done the best thing in telling him
the truth about my presence in the house. When
Helen had asked me to keep the matter secret, cir-
cumstances were different.
He sighed and straightened his shoulders and put
his hand out to me.
“I think I'll turn in,” he said. “There's another
day to be faced to-morrow.” He laughed harshly
and suddenly. “I’ve just had a grim thought,” he
added. “Here are you and I gripping hands like
blood-brothers, and at the back of each of our minds
is the unspoken question: ‘Did you kill Bowden?’”
*


CHAPTER XIV
I had enough to think about that night to keep me
awake, but I suppose the strain of the past days
reacted upon me physically, for I slept fairly com-
fortably until morning.
Redarrel and his constables arrived earlier than I
had anticipated, and before eleven o'clock Bowden's
body was taken to the mortuary. The Superintend-
ent had divided the constables into two parties, one
of which he set upon searching the house again,
whilst the others engaged themselves in the garden.
As soon as breakfast was over Bannister disap-
peared to his bedroom, without a word to me, and
towards noon I sought an interview with the Super-
intendent and told him of the incident of the letter.
“I’ve come to the conclusion that the best way is
to be frank about things,” I said. “Though it goes
against the grain to turn informer. Nevertheless, I
warned Bannister last night that I should tell you if
he didn't.”
Redarrel nodded, and made me sign the statement
I had made.
“Do you want to clear your conscience of anything
else?” he asked, with a slight grim smile.
“No,” I answered. “I’ve told you everything
now that can be of assistance to you.”
245


246 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Are you quite sure that you are not withholding
information about Miss Helen Jefferson?”
I shook my head. “No, I give you my word
that I'm quite ignorant about that—incident. But
I'm sure that, whatever reason she may have had
for leaving the house that night, she did not harm
Bowden in any way.”
He grunted, and from a pocket-wallet extracted a
letter, which he folded carefully so that only one line
of the writing was visible. He then handed it to
1116.
“Is that Miss Jefferson's writing?” he asked.
It was a grim passage which he had selected for
me to read, and I felt myself start as my eyes lighted
on it:
“. . . did, I would kill you and sacrifice my
own life . . .”
It was in a woman's hand.
“Well?” he demanded.
“No,” I said. “Helen didn't write that.”
He made no comment, but selected another letter
from his wallet, and gave it to me.
“Did she write that?”
“Yes,” I answered.
The few words I saw were quite unintelligible
without the context, which was concealed from me.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’m much obliged to
you, Mr. Forrester.”
I stood up.
“I suppose I may not ask if you make any prog-
ress towards the solution of the mystery?”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 247
“I am quite satisfied with myself in the circum-
stances,” he answered.
As I left the room I reflected that he was the type
of man who would be perfectly satisfied with him-
self in any circumstances.
I met Bannister in the drawing-room. He was
talking with Sir Ambrose Rowland, who had ar-
rived for breakfast.
“Well,” Bannister asked, “have you carried out
your threat?”
“I have just come from the Superintendent,” I
answered. -
He quizzed me, and laughed. “That will give
him something to think about,” he said.
For the first time I realised that he rather en-
joyed startling the Superintendent, and pitting his
wits against him.
The door opened abruptly and Constable Farmer
appeared.
“Superintendent Redarrel would like to see Sir
Ambrose Rowland and Doctor Bannister,” he an-
nounced.
My two companions followed the constable out of
the room, and were absent for about half an hour.
I occupied part of this period reading the accounts
of the crime in the newspapers, most of which di-
lated upon it to great length and in large type. One
had published a photograph of Jefferson to enrich
the story, and it gave a brief biography of him—
strangely unlike that which he had told me on the
previous night!—and another devoted a large space


248 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
on its front page to Selma and Helen. Selma
was described as “the beautiful Society woman who
has earned the title ‘Queen of Fashion' in almost
every capital in the world.” It fitted her in a way.
Jefferson came to me presently, with the announce-
ment that he had telephoned to Sir James Saddler
at his London chambers.
“He’s coming down at once,” Jefferson said.
“I think we may expect him on the afternoon train.
He told me that he had already interested himself
in the case, which is all the talk of Cannes.”
He laughed shortly, and fingered the lapel of his
COat.
“It makes one curiously angry to think of that
gay, careless crowd thrilling and exciting itself over
what is tragedy and horror to us,” he added.
We were looking out of the window where the
spring sunlight was bathing the garden in golden
glory.
“It seems far more horrible and tragical on a day
like this,” said I.
Sir Ambrose and Doctor Bannister returned at
that point—the former looking serious and grave;
the latter entering with an almost jaunty air, his
twisted smile curving his lips.
“We’ve been having another little chat with
Superintendent Redarrel,” Bannister said. “That
fellow amuses me immensely. He's such an utter
idiot. If I desired to do so, I think I could hood-
wink him into the belief that I killed Bowden.”
“Don’t be too sure that he doesn't believe it now !”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 2.49
I burst out involuntarily, and I was immediately
sorry that I did so.
“He won't come to that conclusion on your evi-
dence, at any rate,” Bannister retorted. “And . . .”
Jefferson restored peace between us by interrupt-
ing to tell his news.
“This may interest you, Bannister,” he said.
“Sir James Saddler, the Chief of the C. I. D., is
going to take a hand in the case. He's arriving here
to-day. I fancy you will find him rather more in-
telligent than the Superintendent.”
“I sincerely hope so,” Bannister answered,
dryly. “But I'm afraid I’ve been out of England
too long to know his name. Is he anybody in
particular P”
“He’s been called the “Wizard of the Yard,’”
Sir Ambrose told him. “I should imagine he is
one of the cleverest detectors of crime the world
has ever known. He's been a neighbour of mine
for years, but he spends so much of his time in town
that I'm only slightly acquainted with him.”
Bannister appeared to be a little impressed.
“Let's pray that he does something more original
than search the house every hour or two and dig up
the garden. From my bedroom window this morn-
ing, Jefferson, I saw a beautiful bed of tulips going
to the dickens, aided thereto by a couple of the Su-
perintendent's aide-de-camps.”
“By the way,” I asked, “is there any further
news of Muhamed?”
“Yes,” Jefferson answered. “Greig tried to get


250 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
him out on bail this morning, but the police won't
allow it.”
“Of course they won't,” Sir Ambrose said. “They
don't want him to slip through their fingers, and
find afterwards that . . .”
He did not finish the sentence. Bannister
laughed and joined me at the window.
“Muhamed is a wily bird,” he said. “I’ll wager
he wasn't fool enough to kill Bowden. Do you re-
member that we saw him coming back to the house
from that direction on the day we made the dis-
covery of the murder?”
“Yes,” said Sir Ambrose. “I fancy he paid a
visit to the pole up which he had climbed on the
previous night to cut the wire. I noticed that
there was a tear in his coat, and I expect he went
to see if the scrap of cloth was adhering to some
splinter in the wood.”
Bannister stared at him, with a curious expres-
sion.
“You notice a devil of a lot, Sir Ambrose,” he
remarked:
“A man with my interests in life often does,”
the scientist answered.
There was a tap at the door, and Redarrel opened
it. For an instant he stood on the threshold of
the room, blinking in the sunlight, his tremendous
body almost filling the doorway.
“I should like you gentlemen to allow me to make
a search of your personal belongings,” he said.
“Locked bags and drawers, and so forth.”


252 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
others. . . . And there's something I think I
ought to tell you, Superintendent. Sir James Sad-
dler, a friend of mine, and, as you know, a neigh-
bour is arriving this afternoon to do what he can
to clear up this mystery.”
Redarrel frowned, and gave a savage twist to one
of the spikes of his moustache.
“You've surprised me, Mr. Jefferson. This part
of the country is not under the jurisdiction of the
C. I. D. It is usual for them to keep out of things
until we ask for their help.”
Jefferson met the other's eyes steadily. For an
instant I saw in him again the old Jefferson of Cairo
—the feared and hated man of iron, the power be-
hind half a dozen Eastern thrones.
“I am certain that Sir James will remove any
difficulty there may be,” he said. “I’m ready for
you now, Superintendent.”
They passed from the room, closing the door
after them.
“Our friend the Superintendent is not over
pleased,” Sir Ambrose remarked. “I’m not sur-
prised. It would be a big triumph to him to solve
a murder mystery of this magnitude, and now he's
lost his chance.
“Ambition and inefficiency are often harnessed
together,” Bannister remarked.
Selma, regally magnificent in a pale grey gown,
joined us unexpectedly, and talked quietly, but with
none of the nervousness which she had shown dur-
ing the past days. While I was near her I kept


CHAPTER XV
I shall never forget my first meeting with Sir
James Saddler. For some reason I expected a man
so utterly different, that his appearance rather stag-
gered me. -
He came on the afternoon train—the same train
as that on which I had arrived at Norman's Court
—and Jefferson's car brought him from the station.
Our host greeted him in the hall, and most of the
others of the house, curious to see him, were near
at hand. I was coming down the stairs, attracted
by the sound of the car-wheels on the gravel.
The Chief of the Criminal Investigation Depart-
ment of Scotland Yard was a very small man, with
a face like a bird's, and large enquiring eyes, which
looked enquiringly upon the world through horn-
rimmed spectacles. He had a nervous habit of
running his finger and thumb along the lapel of his
coat, and he did this as he walked up the hall beside
Jefferson. He was dressed in a frock coat and waist-
coat and striped trousers, and he carried a silk hat
in his hand.
Redarrel who stood close to me, saluted him, and
Sir James extended his hand.
“I’m glad to see you again, Superintendent,” he
said. “I shall always remember your excellent work
256


258 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
those visits that I saw you. You're an engineer,
aren't you?”
In a moment he passed on from me to the others,
saying a word or two to each, and I am sure making
himself very popular with most of us at the first
meeting. It was almost impossible to believe that
such a frail, obviously warm-hearted little man was
he who had traced a score of big crooks half across
the world, and sent more than one murderer to the
gallows.
He greeted Sir Ambrose Rowland warmly, and
spent several minutes talking with Orme. I saw him
bow deeply over the hands of Selma and Helen, and
the latter, whom he knew slightly, occupied his at-
tention for some time.
When he had made the round, we all went into
the drawing-room, and Helen acted as hostess at
tea. Sir James talked a great deal about Cannes,
and told us of the bad patch of luck he had struck
at Monte Carlo.
One would have thought, to listen to him, that he
had no conception that a murder had taken place in
the house, and that possibly one of the people with
whom he was conversing had driven a knife into a
man's heart.
“If you'll pardon the remark, Sir James,” Ban-
nister said, towards the end of tea, “your reputa-
tion and your personal appearance don't seem to
coincide in the slightest degree. When I was told
that the most celebrated detective of the age was
coming down I expected to meet some one built on


MYSTERY OF NORMAN's COURT 259
the plan of our lusty friend the Superintendent.”
Sir James Saddler smiled at him, and his eyes,
behind the round lenses of the spectacles, twinkled
with amusement.
“Did you?” he said. “I’m sorry I disappointed
you. But I suppose it's just as well that we don't
carry our histories and reputations in our faces.
For instance I could imagine many awkward mo-
ments for you if every one were able to recognize
from your appearance that you had killed a man in
India.”
A thrill went through the room as the quiet voice
ceased speaking. Bannister almost leaped out of
his chair, I had never seen him lose his nerve be-
fore. -
“You caught me unawares that time,” he said,
recovering himself with an effort and laughing un-
certainly. “You’ve not taken long to acquaint
yourself with the Superintendent's knowledge of
us.”
“On the contrary, my dear doctor,” Sir James
answered, still with the amused smile on his lips,
“I assure you that Superintendent Redarrel has not
told me anything but the bare particulars of the
case.” He turned his head slightly, and glanced at
the rest of us. “However,” he added, “I have in-
terested myself in the Bowden case ever since I
first heard about it, and I can say, with utmost
truth, that I have a rather more than nodding ac-
quaintance with the life-histories of everybody in
this room.”


260 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
This announcement left us a little awed and ap-
prehensive. The most circumspect individual has
as a rule one or more incidents in his past which he
would prefer hidden and forgotten. It is a little
short of appalling to discover that there is a man
who knows a great deal about one's secret and inti-
mate life. One anxiously wonders how much he
knows.
“It seems to be easy to probe the secrets of
another man's affairs when you know how,” Ban-
nister said, with a return of his bravado.
“Yes—when you know how,” Sir James agreed.
“I have a man at the yard—a very promising fellow
—who has made it his boast that he can produce the
important facts of the life of any person in Britain
inside a week. He often fulfills my commissions
in a day or two.”
“Well, why don't you arrest me?” Bannister
asked, leaning carelessly back in his chair.
“Because you don't interest me, Doctor Ban-
nister,” Sir James answered. “I fancy, from what
I know of your nature, that the knowledge of that
fact may have a certain punitive effect on you.”
He left Bannister to think this over, and turned
immediately to Helen, who, with the rest of us, had
acted the part of silent listener while he and the
doctor talked. -
“Will you excuse me, Miss Jefferson?” he asked.
“There are one or two little things I want to do
before it is dark.”
We all rose, and Jefferson said:


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 26I
“Of course you'll stay to dinner, Sir James?”
“I came prepared to stop the night at Norman's
Court, Jefferson,” Sir James answered. “I hope
you can put me up.”
“Why, certainly,” Jefferson exclaimed. “I didn't
hope you'd be able to stop.”
I had the idea that at the commencement of tea
Sir James had not definitely made up his mind to
sleep that night at Norman's Court.
He made an inspection of Bowden's room in the
fading daylight, and had a long talk with the Super-
intendent in the smoking-room. After that Jef-
ferson was closeted with him for a time, and then
Sir James sent for me.
I took my place in the low chair and he slid his
cigarette-case across the table.
“May I ask, Mr. Forrester, what was your rea-
son for desiring the death of Hugh Bowden?”
It was a somewhat startling question to have put
to one so abruptly, but I told him the truth.
“It was because of Miss Helen Jefferson,” I said,
boldly. “I’m very fond of her, and I knew that
Bowden had the power to wreck her life by smash-
ing her father.”
He nodded understandingly.
“A very convincing motive,” he said. “Do you
remember anything about that discussion on murder
which took place at the dinner-table on the night
that Hugh Bowden was last seen alive?”
“Yes,” I said. “I think I can recall a good deal
of it.”


262 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Who started it?” he asked.
“Doctor Bannister,” I answered. “He men-
tioned some unwritten law case of a few weeks
ago.”
“Ah! And who brought the conversation to an
end ?”
I had to give some thought to this.
“I believe it was Jefferson,” I said, at last.
“Bannister's account of his experience in India
made us all rather uncomfortable, and as far as I
can remember Jefferson cut him short.”
Sir James raised his delicate hand, and caressed
his smooth, clean-shaven face.
He had very fine grey hair, like strands of silk,
and the light of the reading-lamp made it glisten.
“I believe the conversation was interrupted by the
sound of a thud in the room above,” he remarked.
“You all stopped talking and listened. But you did
not think at the time that anything serious had
occurred, and you went on with the conversation.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “That's right.”
He laughed softly, withal a trifle grimly—though
it was difficult to imagine anything very grim in
connection with him.
“Fate plays her pieces with a pretty humour, Mr.
Forrester. How odd that on that night of all nights
—that night on which some one schemed to kill,
and carried out the scheme successfully—such a sub-
ject should have held the dinner-party so enthralled
that none of the innocent members of it stopped to
give heed to the sound which was the knell of death


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 263
for Hugh Bowden. How odd that one of you
should immediately re-start the conversation, little
knowing that the angel of death was hovering over
the house!”
“Yes, I have considered that more than once since
its occurrence,” I answered. “It has seemed terri-
ble to me that we should all have been so heated and
excited while—that was going on upstairs. I re-
member that Sir Ambrose Rowland burst out with
something or other—some statement which the thud
had interrupted—and in a few moments we had for-
gotten what we heard.”
Sir James nodded, and toyed with his watch-
chain.
“Thank you, Mr. Forrester,” he said, with rather
surprising abruptness. “I just wanted to get ac-
quainted with you. I think you have told the
Superintendent all you know about the matter.”
Martin Greig took my place in the smoking-room,
and I walked up and down the hall for a little while,
thinking over my brief interview with Sir James
Saddler. I could not get rid of my impression that
he had gleaned some information from me, though,
when I came to analyse what had been said, I
could not discover that I had told him anything
important.
When Martin left the smoking-room Sir Ambrose
went in, and after lingering for a few minutes in the
drawing-room, where most of the others were gath-
ered talking, I betook myself upstairs to prepare for
dinner.


264 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
I spent so much time ruminating and thinking,
that the gong sounded long before I was ready, and
everybody was seated before I went down.
I made my apologies to Helen and Jefferson, and
took my place next to Selma. Sir James sat oppo-
site me, in the chair which Bowden had occupied on
the night he took his last meal on earth.
Unexpectedly he raised his eyes to my face.
“You are remembering the last occasion on which
you saw this chair filled, Mr. Forrester?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “I was.”
“What a change has come upon this house since
then l’’ he exclaimed. “But still dinner is not the
time for talking tragedy.”
Jefferson laughed grimly. “Tragedy is no re-
specter of persons or occasions, Sir James.”
“Well, for once let's try to forget it,” Sir James
said. “Perhaps I can help. I'll tell a story; one on
an old theme, but one which is always interesting.
It is about a man and a woman, who met and loved
for a little while. It was in the Gardens of Shali-
mar they met, and there they walked hand in hand o'
nights, and kissed, and talked of love to each other.
Heart beat against heart, and lips swore lovers' oaths
of fidelity.” -
He paused, smiling, and his mild eyes glanced up
and down the table, looking at each of us in turn, as
though he were trying to discover if we were
interested.
I tried to recall where, and in what circumstances


266 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
not strong enough. But it is some name beginning
with an S. I'm sure of that. . . . Never mind, I'll
call her Sibyl, that I may tell you that she, whose
only wealth was her beauty and her wits, set out to
fascinate the foolish man—my back-door character,
to whom I will give the name Oliver—because he
was the son of a rich father who did not stint him in
the matter of means.”
Everybody had stopped eating. I had the vague
impression that somewhere hidden in the ostensibly
fanciful narrative which he was telling us, was
something of great moment, of dramatic, tragical
import to our lives.
Selma and Martin sat like statues of carved stone.
Orme showed a strained and startled expression.
“You make your heroine an interesting person,”
said Jefferson, with a laugh. “One of the beau-
tiful and wicked variety that we all like to read
about.”
“No, no,” Sir James answered. “You mustn't get
a wrong impression of Sibyl. She isn't so wicked
as you think. You must wait for me to finish the
story before you sum up her character finally.
“Oliver became entangled with her—as was inev-
itable—and he went to his friend and brother-officer
(him whom I showed you at the commencement,
walking in moonlight and passion with Sibyl in the
Indian gardens of romance) and asked for help and
advice. This brother-officer, whom I shall call
Mark, had for long played the part of Oliver's
keeper, inasmuch as he usually extricated that fool-


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 269
They gave their permission, and we produced our
cigarette-cases.
The butler went out of the room.
“Mark, by this time,” Sir James said, as he stirred
his coffee reflectively, “had deluded himself into the
belief that everything he had heard about Sibyl's
reputation was untrue. In that part of the world it
is terribly easy for a beautiful young woman, who
lives unchaperoned or in any way unconventionally,
to have mud thrown at her. He made himself cer-
tain that Sibyl was one of these.”
He leant across the table and fixed his eyes on
Selma. The soft tones of his voice had a drugging
quality in them: he seemed to be putting us all into
a sort of hypnotic state, in which was dread, a fear-
ful expectancy.
“Sibyl discovered that she was to become a
mother,” he said. “The father of the child which
was to be born of her was one of those two men in
her life. She knew which one it was. She was
desperate, despairing. She spent a whole night af-
ter that discovery, walking up and down her room—
weeping in her agony of mind and soul, calling on
her God for aid, crying out fiercely against herself,
against the environment which had made her become
what she was.”
Selma stood up—silently. Very tall and straight
and dark she stood, her hands raised and clenched
against her breast, her lips tightly closed, her eyes
closed too.
“She went to Mark,” Sir James continued. “She


27o MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
told him the story of her folly and her sins, she
bared her soul to him. Think of that scene between
these two—think of her wild despair, her mad pas-
sion and love. She who had been denied true love
all her life had found it—only to have it taken away
from her. . . .”
“Selma!” Helen cried.
“Let me go on!” Sir James thundered, rising from
his chair. “Mark—the father of her child . . .”
With a hoarse, choking ejaculation, Orme sprang
to his feet.
“No!” he cried. “God forgive me! It was not
Martin. I was the man responsible!”


CHAPTER XVI
His highly pitched cry wailed into silence. Such
silence I had never felt before, and I hope it shall
never be my fate to experience it again.
“Orme!” Jefferson breathed at last.
“Selma—Martin l’” Helen sobbed.
There came a moan from Selma, then the quick
rustle of her silken petticoats as her knees gave
way beneath her and she sank, swooning to the
floor.
My brain was working turgidly in those seconds,
and it was too late when I put my arm out to save
her. Martin Greig ran to her, and went down on
his knees beside her.
We stood stricken dumb and motionless. Orme,
pallid, nerveless, leant on the chair, his head bent
down as though the weight of it were too much for
him to support.
Of a sudden voices burst into the silence—thin-
toned, staccato voices, oddly changed from those
I knew—questioning, exclaiming, uttering half-
sentences, saying a hundred things I never heard.
People moved. A strange and terrible desire to
do something overcame us—to do anything, to walk
a pace and feel our limbs free—anything rather than
remain still in our places.
In the midst of that chaos of emotion one alone
271


272 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
was seemingly unaffected. Sir James Saddler re-
mained by his chair, very still and calm and quiet,
and looked on, with his large eyes cold and imper-
turbed.
I recovered some of my scattered wits, and bent
over Selma—lying almost at my feet—beside whom
Martin knelt.
He did not say anything, and I did not. He was
holding her hand tightly and staring into her white
face. Together we lifted her, carried her past the
table—knowing that all eyes were upon us, yet not
turning our heads—and laid her on the sofa which
was across the corner of the room.
“Good God!” Jefferson exclaimed. “What is all
this?”
I turned from the sofa, and found Helen staring
across the room at me, her finger-tips resting on the
edge of the table in front of her, and her face drawn
and set.
“Thanks,” Martin said to me, so calmly that I
was startled. “Will you do what you can, For-
rester? I think she'll recover in a few seconds.”
He moved away from me, paused for a moment,
staring at the others, who had grown silent again,
and walked slowly up to them.
Helen sighed—a deep, pitiful sound—and stirred
her feet.
“We must look after Selma,” she murmured, in a
dead tone. “Doctor Bannister . . .”
I don't think Doctor Bannister heard her, for he
didn't move.


274 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
We three seemed to be in a different world from
the rest—plucked suddenly out of storm and cast
upon some quiet island around which the storm still
raged in fury.
“Sir James has told you, thinly disguised as fic-
tion the truth about a phase of the lives of Selma
and Orme and me,” Martin answered to Jefferson.
I turned and saw Martin standing at the end of
the table, in front of the others grouped beyond him
—straightly and stiffly, as a soldier before martial
judges.
“He has told the truth about us,” he said. “He
has bared for your inspection and interest the secret
which the three of us have tried to keep concealed
—at least, Orme and I have tried to do so. But Sir
James did not finish the story. I shall do so now.
“When Selma came to me that night, and told me
that she was to be the mother of another man's child
—Orme's child—all my fond delusions regarding her
were ripped from my blinded eyes. She told me the
hard, terrible facts about herself, and I saw her as I
thought she was. I must have gone mad for a time
—mad!” His voice rose. “I think I struck her.
I do not know. It is not that I have forgotten. I
never knew the details of what occurred that night.
A red mist seemed to cover my memory of it—a red
mist with figures leaping in and out of it. I was in-
sane, I tell you. I drove her away; and then I went
out, and walked and walked . . .”
He stopped, panting, and took a grip of the
table-edge with his right hand.


276 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
pathetic pride which seemed to command sympathy
and respect.
“Martin will hesitate to tell you the true facts
about me,” she said, pausing by his side. “I must
do that. He has said that I had not forgotten. . . .
You men must think it terrible, shameful, for a
woman to speak like this before you; but I feel no
shame of myself now. I just want you all to know,
for most of you are connected with my life through
this—we are all entangled with one another, and
with Bowden's death. . . .”
“No, no, Selma!” Martin exclaimed, taking her
arm. “I’ve begun, let me finish.”
She shook her head, but the fingers of her hand
closed on the fingers of his and held them to her.
“I determined to do anything to win him for my-
self,” she whispered, with closed eyes. “He was
mine, I said. When I heard about Helen and him
I think my heart almost broke. I then did a thing
which I think has no excuse. In India Martin's
association with me had been well-known; but I had
kept the secret about my child hidden from every-
body but Orme and him. That Orme was fre-
quently seen with me caused little comment, for
of every young woman who came to Lahore he made
a friend sooner or later. I realised, therefore, that
Martin had no proof that he was not the father of
my child. Only Orme could disprove it, and if he
did, taking the responsibility upon himself, it would
ruin him with the woman he.loved.”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 277
“The truth's out now!” Orme cried, hysterically.
“I’m done! Winnie will never look at me now. . . .”
Jefferson gripped Orme's shoulder with his free
hand.
“There was no official engagement between Mar-
tin and Helen,” Selma continued, as though the
interruption had not occurred. “I went to him and
said that I would tell Helen that he was the father
of my son if he did not break with her and marry
me. . . .”
Helen gave a little cry, and Bannister, whom I
had not noticed for some time, made some muttered
exclamation.
“You must hate me, Helen,” Selma said, “and I
deserve your hatred. But you must not think ill
of Martin. He would not allow Orme to take the
blame for what had occurred in Lahore, but neither
would he give you up. He defied me, and I could
not bring myself to put my threat into action. You
must understand, Helen, and you gentlemen here,
that I, the adventuress, the despised of women, loved
Martin Greig. . . .”
“Selma!” Helen cried, without anger in her tone.
“Stop—for your own sake, for all of our sakes.
This—this is awful. You mustn't go on—
now . . .”
“There is not much more to tell,” Selma said.
“You had better hear it all. The rest of it is about
Hugh Bowden and Doctor Bannister.”
Bannister folded his hands behind his back,


278 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
braced his shoulders a little, as though he were pre-
paring for an effort of some kind, and stared calmly
and directly at her.
“Don’t you think all this is rather indecent,
Selma?” he asked. “These intimate details of what
has occurred in the past between you and one or two
of us here can surely have nothing to do with the
mystery of Bowden's death. Presumably Sir James
Saddler's object in telling us the story of a certain
phase of your life was to uncover some clue to the
murderer. But so far as I can see all that has been
said up to the present by you and Martin has done
nothing save disillusion some of us—perhaps break
the hearts of one or two of us.”
It was very plain that he said this in an attempt
to dissuade Selma from telling whatever it was she
knew of him, but, nevertheless, I thought I perceived
the substance of truth in his words.
I have often looked back on that scene, and
thought how wildly improbable an account of it
would have sounded to any one other than those who
were in the dining-room when it was enacted.
If Selma had been in a normal state she would
never have told us what she did that night: neither
would any other woman have done so. To disclose
what she disclosed, to castigate herself before us
as she did, to uncover the many intimacies of a life,
which are usually kept closely locked in the heart,
requires a type of courage which comes only when
one is keyed up to a state bordering on hysteria.
She was in a fanatical condition. She became


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 279
that night a fanatic for truth. All her life had
been lived amongst lies. She wished to show her-
self to us then as she really was; to hide nothing,
to lie no more about anything, and leave us to judge
her as our hearts and minds dictated. I fancy that
she was filled with a fierce, bitter satisfaction as she
talked to us.
In answer to Bannister she said much the same
as she had said before to others who had tried to
stop her:
“I’m going on to the end. I’m going to tell it
all. You can't stop me until I've finished.”
Helen (dear, magnanimous girl, standing, in my
estimation, a tip-toe above all other women in the
world) went over to Selma and took her hand, tried
to urge her away, tried to soothe and calm her—
while we others stood silently by, shocked, appalled,
made dumb by the tragedy which was being uncov-
ered to us.
“Doctor Bannister knows the truth about me,”
Selma said. “I met him for the first time years
ago in India. He asked me to marry him, but I did
not want to do so, and I do not want to do so now.”
She spoke as though she were unconscious of Ban-
nister's presence. “He has pestered me with his at-
tentions, and ever since he learnt, in some way about
my son and Martin and Orme he has threatened me
with exposure. He made a friend of Orme on pur-
pose to keep within my circle—knowing that where
Orme was Martin was, and where Martin was I
would be near.


28O MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“Bowden came into my life when I returned to
India from Egypt,” she continued. “He employed
me to help him in his profession—that of a spy, one
might call it. He was a man who would work and
intrigue for any person or cause, so long as it
showed a profit for himself. He was a contemp-
tible cad. I hated him . . .”
She stopped; and into her face, which had been
almost expressionless, there came a harsh, hard look.
In a moment she went on again:
“He, too, learned about my past. I don't know
how. There were few things he did not know, I
have discovered. He told me of his intention to
come to England . . .”
“You know why he did that, Sir James?” Henry
Jefferson interrupted.
Sir James Saddler nodded, but made no comment.
“I came here with him,” Selma said. “He was
the master here. As Mr. Jefferson has made his
confession to Sir James there is no reason for me to
tell about that. But when Bowden entered Nor-
man's Court he found there was a great deal more
that he could do besides blackmailing the master of
the house. He told me that he was demanding
money from Orme and Martin—threatening to tell
the truth about them and me unless they paid him.”
For the first time during the telling of her story
she sobbed.
“I loved Martin Greig,” she whispered. “I loved
him, and I knew in my heart that I would rather
give him up than have his life ruined because of me.”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 281
Of a sudden she swung round and stared at me.
“You found me outside Bowden's room on the
night that he was killed,” she said. “I have since
denied to you that I was there; but I admit the truth
of it now. I was there, and I went there with the
desire and determination to kill him | But I didn’t
do it, you must believe that.” Her voice rose to
a scream. “I hadn't the courage, I could not—
I could not . . .”
She staggered, and fell back into Helen's arms.
Jefferson sprang forward, and helped to support
her weight.
“She has fainted again,” he said. “Thank God
for it too !”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 283
quaintance with you, but I’m sorry it has been under
such painful circumstances.”
“Let us hope that your presence here will bring
this terrible business to an end,” Sir Ambrose an-
swered. “If it goes on much longer I should not
like to answer for the sanity of some of us.”
“Perhaps the murderer of Bowden will be induced
by what has occurred to make his conscience clear
of the crime,” Sir James remarked.
Sir Ambrose shook his head.
“I’m afraid that hope will not be realised—if it
is a hope. Whoever killed Bowden did it so clev-
erly, and with such preparation beforehand, that he
is not likely to lose his head now.”
“You say ‘he’?” Sir James queried. “Then you
have made up your mind that the person we want
is a man.”
Sir Ambrose shrugged his shoulders.
“How can one make up one's mind to anything
in connection with the case?” he asked. “It baffles
one at every point. It is impossible for a person
to enter a room that has been locked and doubly
bolted on the inside, kill a man, and leave the room
as he found it.”
“I am surprised to hear you say that,” Sir James
remarked. “I would have thought that a scientist
of your standing had learned enough during these
last few years to be convinced that there is very
little that is impossible in this world.”
“Can you tell me how the murderer performed
his crime?” Sir Ambrose asked. “I must confess


284 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
that it is beyond me. I have thought about it con-
tinuously and have been reluctantly forced to admit
myself beaten.”
“I hardly credit that,” the other said. “From
what I know of you, Sir Ambrose, I am certain that
you would never admit defeat on such a thing as
this.”
“But you haven't answered my question,” the
scientist protested. “I asked if you had solved
this mystery.” He smiled. “You see, I have
heard of your reputation, as well as you of mine.
I am ready to believe that, though you have been
in this house only a short time, you have already
decided who committed the murder and how it was
done.”
“Who knows?” Sir James asked, softly. “Per-
haps I have.”
The three of us left the room soon after that,
without anything further of moment being said be-
tWeen 11S.
I left Sir Ambrose and Sir James discussing some
scientific point in the drawing-room, and went up
to bed. As I mounted the stairs I could not help
wondering how they could bring themselves to talk
on such a subject, in such circumstances.
On the first-floor landing I met Orme Jefferson.
He made to hurry past me, but I gripped his shoul-
der and stopped him.
“Buck up, Orme,” I said, as cheerfully as I could.
(He looked in need of cheer.) “Everything will
be all right in the end.” - **


286 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
ready-made topics of conversation—or nearly so.
Won't you come and give us a new one?”
He hesitated, and then came slowly across the
lawn towards us. From the way in which Sir
James had greeted him—smilingly and cheerfully—
none would have thought that he had heard last
night about the caddish game Bannister had played
against a woman.
“Good-morning,” Bannister said gruffly. “I
didn't think any one would be up at this time.”
“No?” said Sir James. “Well, I was the first,
and Forrester joined me in a few minutes. Walk
with us in the air, Doctor, it will do you good. You
don't look as though you had spent a refreshing
night.”
I fancied that Bannister was going to make some
angry retort to this; but he restrained himself. We
walked to the top of the lawn and back again in
silence.
“By the way, Doctor, there is something I want to
ask you,” Sir James said, presently. “I believe
that you saw Bowden's body within a few moments
of the discovery of the tragedy?”
Bannister shot a side-long glance at him, and
nodded.
“Yes,” he answered. “I made a brief exami-
nation.”
“You are a surgeon and a doctor of some note,”
Sir James remarked reflectively.
“What the devil are you getting at?” Bannister
demanded.


288 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
Sir James stared after him, with a queer smile on
his kindly lips.
“A curious character, Mr. Forrester,” he re-
marked. “Doctor Bannister is one of the strangest
men I have ever met. I fancy that once he was
quite a good fellow, but years of bachelorhood, of
hard, lonely living, have altered and spoiled him.
When a man of his age, holding the jaundiced view
of life he does, meets a woman and falls in love with
her, he rarely sticks at much to get her for himself.
I think I am right in saying that more crimes are
engendered in the heart than in the brain.”
“Whoever killed Bowden,” I said, “seems to me
to have been a person of more than usual brain-
power. I am not so well versed in these things as
you, Sir James, but I cannot believe that this murder
was committed in hot blood. To me it appears to
have been a calculated well-prepared crime.”
“Maybe it was,” Sir James answered. “But I
think that when the matter is finally cleared up we
shall find that the motive of the crime was in the
heart.”
I thought this over for a moment or two—won-
dering if he were giving me some disguised clue to
the identity of the man or woman at whose hands
Bowden met his death; but I could not arrive at any
definite conclusion.
“You have already eliminated one of us?” I asked,
harking back to what he said to Bannister.
“Yes, Mr. Forrester,” he answered. “I have
tentatively eliminated more than one.”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 291
Jefferson shook his head, and smiled slightly.
“When the public learns what was disclosed last
night—and about me . . .”
“But the public shall not learn it,” Sir James in-
terrupted. “I came here at your request to discover
who killed Hugh Bowden. It is inevitable that my
investigation shall uncover a great deal that has
been hidden in your lives—a great deal that is pain-
ful but which is not absolutely relative to the case.
You may rest assured, Jefferson, that I think you
have paid dearly for whatever sins you committed
in the past, and I shall see to it that you shall not be
sentenced to the punishment of publicity.”
“But you are not the only person who knows
about it all—now,” said Jefferson. “I am not
speaking of myself alone—but of Orme, and Helen.”
“Those others who know will keep silent for their
own sakes,” Sir James answered.
Bannister entered the room, and the four of us
took our places at the table. No one else came down
to breakfast, and the meal passed almost in silence.
Sir Ambrose Rowland arrived at about half-past
ten, and Sir James immediately took him into the
garden. Jefferson and I watched them for a sec-
Cnd or two through the window of the breakfast-
rC)O111.
“Sir James seems to have great confidence in Sir
Ambrose's mental powers,” I said. “I’ve got an
idea that he's taking your neighbour into partner-
ship to help him solve the mystery.”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 297
He came slowly across to me, and stared into my
eyes.
“Things are going to come square for us, For-
rester,” he said. “I’ve got the feeling in my bones.
You and Helen, and Selma and me. It's queer how
we've been mis-sorted and changed about, but out of
tragedy I think good will come.”
Orme entered the room, paused at the door, look-
ing at us nervously, then stuffed his hands into his
trousers-pockets and walked over to the window,
where he stood gazing out, with his back towards
11S.
I was on the point of speaking to him when Mar-
tin stopped me.
“Leave him alone,” he whispered. “It’s best to
let him think things out for himself. He's differ-
ent, and it's a good change that's come over him.”
Orme, hearing the whispering without detecting
the sense of it, turned abruptly and regarded us sus-
piciously, but did not say anything.
Henry Jefferson and Helen were the next to ar-
rive in the room. They entered together, he with
his arm protectively about her shoulders, she walk-
ing steadily. Although there was no vestige of
colour in her cheeks, although her eyes were shad-
owed by dark circles which told of sleeplessness, her
appearance did not give an impression of tragedy.
She seemed rather to have reached a state of utter.
calm and peace.
In silence they crossed the room to a settee, and
it was not until they were seated she looked up.


298 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
Her eyes rested first on my face, only for an in-
finitesimal moment of time, but long enough to let
me see in them an untranslatable something which
made me content. After that she looked at Martin,
standing next to me, and I fancied then warm sym-
pathy and friendship—no anger, or blame. Lastly
she turned her head and looked at Orme, but he had
not moved from the window, and she was unable to
see his face.
The door opened almost immediately, and Selma
entered. Jefferson, who was the only man seated,
rose to his feet and took up a place by the fire while
she advanced into the room. She had dressed her-
self on that morning in a gown of clinging black, and
the stately sombreness of it, in conjunction with her
looped black hair, her large eyes and pale, olive
cheeks, gave a striking effect.
“Come and sit here, by me, Selma,” Helen said,
speaking in a low voice.
Selma smiled wanly, and accepted the invitation.
So far as I saw, she did not look at any one except
Helen. Even Martin she ignored.
“I’ll have Sir James informed that we're all ready
for him,” Jefferson said, and pressed the bell-push.
Sir James greeted the newcomers gravely when
he entered, and he did not appear to give any more
attention to Selma than to Helen—which rather
surprised me. He got to business at once.
“I should like you all to come upstairs,” he said,
“and show me exactly what occurred when Bow-
den's door was burst in. I'm afraid it may be a


3oo MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
He paused, and went swiftly across the landing
to where a bell-push was situated in the wall.
“We must have the butler up here,” he said, as
he returned to the group. “Now I want each of
you to put yourselves in the position you occupied
twenty seconds before this door was broken in on
the morning of the discovery. Try to get your-
selves into the mood which held you then. And
watch: see if it strikes you, when this door opens,
that there is something missing—and remember
what it is. In order to help your sub-conscious
memories to work, I will take the place of Sir Am-
brose Rowland and Superintendent Redarrel will
fill the rôle of Doctor Bannister. They two were
in front of your eyes all the time, and must have
been to you part of the scene.”
There followed a nervous shuffling of feet. No
one spoke. We were all a little awed and appalled.
There was something very horrible in this cold re-
construction of the scene of death.
Jefferson and I linked hands, and made ourselves
a barrier between the door of Bowden's room and
the other people. Helen and Selma took places
near the head of the stairs, Orme near them, and
Martin and the butler. Constable Farmer moved
to the spot which Muhamed had occupied.
For myself I felt that if there was anything in
Sir James' theory, I was in a suitable mood to prove
it. The thrill of expectancy and dread which had
come over me when I stood in front of that door
many days before possessed me again.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 301
Sir James and the Superintendent lifted the sap-
ling-trunk and swung it round between the mended
panel. Immediately the split appeared again.
“Now,” Sir James cried. “In this room Hugh
Bowden is lying dead—murdered by some-
body. . . . Ah!”
The panel gave way, before the assault of another
blow, and went spinning into the room. I could
not restrain a cry, for I saw the legs of a man lying
on the carpet—in the place which Bowden's legs
had occupied
“He’s lying on the floor by the fireplace!” Sir
James cried. “Bowden!”
The words were familiar. They chilled and
numbed me. Helen let out a stifled scream.
“Good God!” Jefferson exclaimed. “This is too
realistic!”
Sir James allowed the length of the sapling to
fall into the hands of the Superintendent, and then
thrust his hand and arm through the broken panel.
We heard the lock click and the bolts rasp out of
their sockets. For a mad moment I really believed
that we were back at the morning when this scene
had been enacted in grim reality.
The door burst open. Sir James and the Super-
intendent darted into the room. Involuntarily I
released my grip of Jefferson's hand, and he of mine.
We two followed them, and the others came after
us—pressing through the doorway.
My heart thudded chokingly in my throat. I
am sure that each of us experienced again that hor-


302 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
ror and fear which had come over us on the former
occasion. Everything was so exactly the same as
it had been—even to the sunlight streaming through
the window, and the odd little breathing sounds
made by the many people.
Spread-eagled on the carpet by the fireplace was
the form of one of the Superintendent's constables.
In that chaotic instant I fancied that I saw Bowden
lying there instead. Sir James bent over him and
felt his heart, the Superintendent close behind him.
Selma screamed, and staggered against me. I
put my arm about her waist, and held her tightly,
the while I kept my eyes fixed on the two at the side
of the supposedly-dead man.
Sir James rose to his feet, and turned towards
us. It was a calm, decided movement, and it broke
the spell of horror which had gripped us. We sud-
denly awoke to the fact that what had taken place
was play-acting.
The constable, who had filled the rôle of Bowden,
scrambled up, and brushed his clothes with his
hands.
“Well,” Sir James asked, and one could detect
eagerness in his tone. “Is this room exactly the
same as it was on that morning? Is there anything
missing from it? Did my experiment have on you
the effect I hoped it would? Did you feel that this
was the real thing taking place again?”
“Great God!” Orme muttered. “I did.”
“But did you remember anything?” Sir James
demanded.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 303
Orme shook his head. “No, it all seemed to be
the same.”
Sir James plainly showed his disappointment.
He fiddled nervously with his coat, and his large
eyes regarded first one and then the other of us.
“No one remembered anything?” he asked.
We all gave negative replies; and after he had
lowered his head and reflected for a second or two,
he began to move towards us and the door.
“It seems my little experiment has been a failure,”
he remarked.


CHAPTER XVIII
The days sped swiftly by to that which was
marked out for us by the adjourned hearing of the
inquest on Bowden's body.
During the period which intervened nothing of
any great moment occurred, and we in Norman's
Court gradually became used to living in the shadow
of tragedy and mystery and heeded it less than we
had done at first.
Muhamed once again took his place amongst us,
and he spent most of the day of his return closeted
with Sir James Saddler in the smoking-room. Af-
ter that Martin had a long talk with him, the details
of which I did not hear, and though the Egyptian
automatically took up the duties he had fulfilled
before his arrest, I was very sure that his master
never again showed him the trust and confidence
which he had done hitherto.
It was curious, but until the inquest was over I
had but one opportunity to be alone with Helen.
On that occasion she said, when I had asked her one
of the many questions which filled me:
“Not now, Davy—oh, not now, please. My
brain is all—queer. I can't think straight about
things. It'll take days before I can. Let things
go on as they were for a bit. . . .”
304


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 305
“But, Helen,” I exclaimed. “That's hardly fair
to me. . . .”
She placed her hand on mine, and smiled faintly.
We were in the drawing-room on an afternoon
when this took place, and the rays of the setting sun
made her hair like iridescent gold.
“I wouldn't be unfair to you, Davy, for the
world,” she said. “I can tell you now that—that I
am glad it happened. At least, I am in a way.”
She would say no more about it, and as I gazed
at her I suddenly recalled something which gave me
a tingling sensation of dread.
“Sir James has asked you for the truth about the
carriage-drive incident?” I queried.
She started.
“Yes,” she answered, and lowered her eyes.
“Why don't you tell what it is, Helen?” I cried.
“You’ve nothing to be ashamed of. You've said
that, and even if you hadn't I'd have known it.”
“Later, Davy, perhaps,” she whispered. “When
the inquest is over. It may be necessary then.”
On the day of Sir James' experiment, Martin had
a long talk with Jefferson, but when I saw Martin
about it afterwards he had very little to tell me.
“We're going to leave this personal matter until
afterwards, Forrester,” he said, “until the mystery
of Bowden's death is solved or it is decided to leave
it a mystery. It is Jefferson's wish that we say no
more about it now—try to forget for the time that
it happened. I know what's at the back of his mind.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 307
from his seat and gone to the fireplace, with his
tea-cup in his hand. He stood there, smiling at us
with his mild eyes.
“Doctor Bannister,” he said, “do you mind re-
lieving my curiosity to the extent of telling me why
you were so anxious to retrieve from Bowden's
room the letter which Miss Fairburn thrust under
the door?” -
We had become so used to Sir James' sudden and
unexpected questions that this one had upon us a
lesser effect than might have been anticipated. We
seemed to have lived for years in the atmosphere
of dread and mystery which surrounded us: we
had grown hardened to it, and callous. Familiarity
had bred contempt.
I remember how carefully Bannister laid his cup
down in the saucer, and with what deliberation he
looked up into Sir James' face.
“You’re curious about that point, Sir James?”
he asked.
Sir James nodded, watching him closely. “I’ve
been very curious about it for a long time, Doctor
Bannister.”
Bannister produced his cigarette-case, and glanced
at Helen and Selma for permission to smoke.
“I enjoy pitting my wits against you,” he said to
Sir James. “It’s a most exhilarating sport, I think,
and I don't want to spoil the game by giving in
now. I challenge you to find out for yourself.”
Sir James laughed. From the way in which he
behaved one might have thought that he was en-


308 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
joying some little joke with Bannister. One found
it difficult to believe that he was serious.
“Very well,” he answered, “I accept the chal-
lenge. And I'm going to hazard a guess now.
You saw Miss Fairburn very shortly after Mr. For-
rester discovered that letter lying on the floor inside
Bowden's door. Am I right so far?”
It was Selma who replied to him.
“Yes,” she said, quietly. “You’re quite right.”
Sir James bowed slightly in acknowledgment, and
stirred his tea.
Bannister, gnawing at his moustache, and, with-
out turning his head, regarded her in the most odd
and sinister manner I have ever seen.
“Don’t be a spoil-sport, Selma,” he said, with
his twisted smile. “The battle of wits will be a
very poor affair if you give all the salient points
to Sir James.”
“I fancy, Doctor Bannister,” Sir James said, with
a sudden show of grimness, “that you're under the
impression that this is not a very serious matter.
Let me disillusion you at once. I have deceived
you a little, I'm afraid. I know the truth about
the incident of that letter, and I challenge you to
deny it.”
He shot his white forefinger out at Doctor Ban-
nister. A silence followed, and Bannister rose
slowly to his feet.
“Go ahead,” he said.
“Miss Fairburn has been wise enough not to deny


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 309
that she put that letter under Bowden's door,” Sir
James said. “When you saw her after the dis-
covery of Bowden's death, she was distraught and
hysterical. She told you that she was the author
of the letter—perhaps she asked you to get it for
her. If that theory is correct, I feel safe in stating
that you did not know the contents of the letter.
You hoped that they would be incriminating, so
that you might have a stronger hold over her.”
Bannister plucked his cigarette from his mouth,
and flung it into the grate. His fists clenched con-
vulsively, and his heavy brows contracted over his
dark eyes.
Most of us got to our feet. Sir Ambrose evi-
dently anticipating that Bannister was about to
make a personal assault upon Sir James, moved up
behind the doctor.
“I’m not used to being spoken to in this fashion,
Sir James,” Bannister said, furiously. “You may
be the big man at Scotland Yard, but I am not with-
out influence and authority myself. These peculiar
methods of yours are no doubt clever, but I should
like to be sure that it's within your rights to use
them.”
“I shouldn't worry about that, if I were you,”
was Sir James' quiet-voiced reply. “Peculiar cases
need peculiar methods.”
A sudden fire glowed in his eyes, and when he
spoke again his voice was surcharged with a deeper
note.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 317
“No, I could not tell you that.”
“At what time would you say that the drug was
administered?”
The doctor pursed his lips and considered the
point. He was staring at his notes, and seemed
to be drawing something absently with his pencil.
“I cannot give an exact time,” he said, at last.
“It was probably some period of the afternoon.”
“Are you taking into consideration the fact stated
in the evidence of the previous witness, Mr. Jeffer-
son?” the Coroner asked. “I mean that regarding
the sound of something falling which was heard by
the people at dinner in this room between nine and
half-past.”
“Yes,” said the doctor. “Sulphonal might cause
a sudden collapse, preceded by drowsiness which
would be hardly noticed by the subject.”
“So you have formed the conclusion that the
sound which was heard was made by Hugh Bowden
falling to the floor as he was suddenly overcome by
the drug which was administered to him at some
time in the afternoon?” the Coroner asked.
“Yes,” answered the doctor. “That is my
opinion.”
The Coroner put one or two technical questions
concerning sulphonal, and then enquired if Super-
intendent Redarrel wished to ask anything of the
witness.
The Superintendent came forward.
“Is sulphonal easily soluble?” he asked.
The doctor answered in the affirmative.


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 327
would have taken the opportunity to make an at-
tempt to clear themselves. But he was a curious,
bitter, unhappy creature, with a lot of good latent
in him and a lot that was bad and cynical. I
never understood him, and I don't think that any-
body else ever did.
“I feel it my duty to inform the proper author-
ities of this,” the Coroner said.
Bannister made no comment, and in a moment
or two he gave place to Helen. I am certain that
everybody in the room watched her intently as she
walked steadily from her chair to the little square
of floor, and listened to her low voice with a sym-
pathy that was not felt for any of the others. . . .
But then—I was a man in love!
“You say that you had no tangible reason for
calling Mr. Forrester from Egypt?” the Coroner
asked her, gently.
“No,” she answered. “I don't suppose men will
understand.”
The Coroner smiled. “Most of us here know
something of the fair sex.”
She was questioned regarding the incident of the
carriage-drive, and a thrill went through me when
she said she would give no explanation.
“I warn you to reflect before you definitely re-
fuse,” the Coroner said, gravely.
“I—I am sorry,” she whispered. “But I cannot
tell you that. I swear that it did not in any way
affect Hugh Bowden's death.”
Again the vast power of Sir James Saddler was


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 333
said, in a strained voice. “But for God's sake
get down to it—get it over. Tell us who did it!”
I fancy that everybody else endorsed his senti-
Iments.
“There is a great deal to be told, Orme, before
I do that,” Sir James said. “You must be patient
if I reiterate certain things which you already know.
As everybody here is connected with this case, I
want each one of you to have a clear understanding
of it.
“First let us take the motives which each of you
had for wishing Hugh Bowden to be dead. Mr.
Forrester.” He looked at me. “Had you stained
your hands with Bowden's blood it would have been
because you knew that did he live it would bring
ruin and dishonour to the house of Jefferson, and
consequently misery to Miss Helen.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “That is correct.”
“Jefferson—my old friend.” Sir James stared at
his host. “Your unhappy motive is well known
to us. In your past you have done things which
were not honest, and in doing them you builded a
snare for yourself in which Hugh Bowden trapped
you. He was blackmailing you. He threatened you
and those you love. There was a strong reason
for you to desire his death.”
Henry Jefferson clasped his hands on his knees,
and bowed his head.
“I cannot deny it,” he whispered. “And I have
no wish to do so.”
“You have paid dearly for your errors of the


338 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
urged him to allow you to kill Bowden, or to aid
in the killing of him. Mr. Greig was horrified,
and forbade you to do anything of the sort. Natu-
rally when the crime was committed he thought that
you were responsible, but you swore to him that you
were not, and he believed you. He did not disclose
what had taken place between you because no doubt
he feared that you might expose his secret if he
did so, and also because he realised that what he
could tell might convict you, even if you were
innocent.” -
“I did not kill him,” Muhamed said, after a mo-
ment. “But I will tell the truth. I determined to
do so on that night, because he was going away on
the next morning and I might not have had another
chance. I cut the telephone wire in order that the
police should not come to the house quickly. When
he left the dining-room to go up to bed I saw my
chance. I followed him; but I had to hide myself
in the hall until the lady Selma Fairburn had gone.
I dared not let myself be seen. But when I went
to Bowden's room the door was locked and I could
not get in.”
“I know that is the truth,” Sir James answered.
“And when you returned to the house after cutting
the telephone wire you re-entered it by the way of
the conservatory and the morning-room.”
“Yes,” said Muhamed. “That is right.”
A sort of hypnotic numbness came upon me, as,
little by little, phases of the mystery of Bowden's
death and those things pertaining to it were made


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 339
clear. I think the others in the room were affected
in the same way.
“And now,” Sir James said, “we have Sir Am-
brose Rowland.”
With a sudden cold thrill, a hideous expectancy,
a dawning horrible realisation of the truth, I saw
that Superintendent Redarrel had moved unob-
strusively from the hearth and taken a place close
to the scientist. -
Sir Ambrose Rowland rose to his feet, letting
Helen's hand slip from his.
“I admit it, Sir James,” he said, quietly. “It
was I who killed Hugh Bowden!”
There came upon that room the most awful silence
that I have ever known. It was as though the whole
place went cold, and shuddered. Even the warm
sunlight was like a painted flame.
Then we all rose up—tensely, rigidly—from our
Seats.
Helen gave a low, long drawn out, piteous cry.
“You—you! Oh, it couldn't have been you!”
Selma, who kept her wits better than any of us,
took Helen in her arms and led her to the other side
of the room.
“Sir Ambrose!” Jefferson whispered.
Sir Ambrose stood, calm and quiet, in front of
Sir James. Superintendent Redarrel had now def-
initely taken his place by the scientist's side. -
“I thought you would admit it,” Sir James said,
quietly.
“If you would be so good,” Sir Ambrose an-


34o MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
swered, with perfect composure, “I should like you
to tell me how you discovered that I was the person
responsible.”
“Certainly,” Sir James said. “Won't you sit
down again?”
Sir Ambrose obeyed, but we others remained
standing. Selma and Helen clung together tightly,
and I had never seen such an expression on Helen's
face as she showed then. She made no sound. She
seemed to be numb and dumb.
“I would like you to postpone for a few minutes
the duty which you must perform,” Sir James said
to the Superintendent.
Superintendent Redarrel nodded. “Very well, Sir
James.”
“I cannot say how long ago it was that you first
conceived this crime,” Sir James said to Sir Am-
brose, “but it must have been at some time in the last
two months—since Bowden came to Norman's
Court. Your motive for killing him rested in your
deep regard for Miss Helen Jefferson.”
“Not entirely,” Sir Ambrose answered, with a
slight smile. “I think you will admit that Bowden
was a man who deserved to die. I hold the theory
that such men should be killed, and I put my
conviction into practice.”
Sir James nodded.
The very calmness with which this scene was
conducted seemed to make it the more terrible.
“It was obvious to me from the start,” Sir James
said, “that Bowden must have been drugged before


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 341
he was killed. That was the only explanation which
would coincide with the two facts—the sound of
his falling, and the time of his death. When the
police surgeon told me the drug was sulphonal, and
explained its properties to me, I immediately realised
that it must have been administered to Bowden at
some period of the afternoon. That would account
for its taking effect at the time it did, and also for
his complaining of drowsiness so early in the eve-
ning and retiring to bed.”
“I chose sulphonal after long and exhaustive
study,” Sir Ambrose said. “Of course, I admin-
istered it when we had tea on the lawn that after-
noon.”
“Yes. I was certain of that. The butler told
me of the positions of the various people at the two
tables. You, Miss Fairburn, Doctor Bannister and
Bowden sat together.”
Sir James raised his eyes from Sir Ambrose's
face, and contemplated the rest of us.
“You will recall,” he said, “that I have from
time to time asked each one of you about that discus-
sion of murder that took place at the dinner-table
on the night Bowden was last seen alive. Little
by little I learnt from what each of you said and
two facts stood out which made me concentrate all
my attention on Sir Ambrose.”
“What were those facts?” Sir Ambrose asked.
He was leaning back, with his arms folded in front
of him. Save that his face had grown a trifle pale,
there was nothing to show his emotions.


342 MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT
“In one sentence you justified the deed you were
about to commit,” Sir James answered. “You said:
“To kill in self-defence, or in the defence of others
near and dear to one, is merely slaying.’ It was
Orme who unwittingly gave me this piece of infor-
mation.”
“Yes, that was my justification,” Sir Ambrose
said. “I stated it deliberately. Everything that I
did was deliberate.”
“The second clue was given to me by Mr. Forres-
ter,” Sir James went on. “He told me that it was
you who spoke immediately after the thud was
heard on the ceiling. It was you who set the con-
versation going again, so that none should go up
to see if anything had happened to Bowden.”
“I made a miscalculation,” Sir Ambrose told him.
“I expected that the sulphonal would not take effect
until after Bowden was in bed.”
Sir James nodded.
“It was by a process of eliminative reasoning
that I arrived at how the actual crime was committed.
It was obviously impossible for any one to have en-
tered the room, killed Bowden and left the bolts
and fastenings untouched. That same night two
people tried it—Muhamed and Miss Fairburn. They
should thank their Gods that they did not succeed.”
“I do not regret what I did,” Sir Ambrose said.
“I knew that Hugh Bowden threatened the happiness
of almost everybody in the house, and I felt myself
inspired to become the avenger and saviour. By
my action their happiness has been preserved.”


MYSTERY OF NORMAN'S COURT 343
“But at the cost of your own destruction,” Sir
James answered, gravely.
“Neither do I regret that,” said Sir Ambrose.
“I think that I did the right thing.”
“Let me go on,” Sir James said, in the silence
which followed. “I decided that Bowden could
not have been killed that night, after he had locked
himself in his room. That he did so was proof that
he feared death from some of you—probably Mr.
Forrester because of their quarrel. As everybody
concerned was outside the room when the door was
broken in, it was plain that the murderer could not
have remained inside all night, and joined the crowd
which rushed in. Therefore I turned my attention
to what seemed at first to be the impossible—that
Bowden was stabbed after the room was entered
in the morning.”
I made an exclamation, and I heard Martin, close
to me, suck in his breath, with a sharp, hissing
sound. -
“I considered this for a whole day,” Sir James
continued. “Could a man have stabbed Bowden—
lying then unconscious on the floor—in front of
eight people, and not one of them realise that he had
done so. I decided at length that, in the circum-
stances which existed on that morning, it was pos-
sible. Again I thought of Doctor Bannister as the
criminal, for he entered the room practically on your
heels.”
“It was a big risk,” said Sir Ambrose, “but I
had to take it. I was saved by the fact that the





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