The Master Detective by Percy James Brebner

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"I agree, and we are therefore forced to the assumption that the body was
actually carried to the drawing-room, yet we are doubtful whether the
coffin was opened there."

"I have no doubt," I returned.

"That is a mistake on your part, Wigan. Doubts are often the forerunners
of convictions. My doubt led me to a curious discovery. When I went to
the undertaker's I saw the men who actually made the coffin. It was a
very plain coffin, less expensive than might have been expected for a man
in Sir Grenville's position. Now one of the men, in answer to a careful
question or two, mentioned a curious fact. In the floor of the coffin,
close to the foot of it, there was a wart in the wood. This morning you
saw me slit the lining and remove some of the padding. There was no wart
in the floor of the coffin, Wigan."

"You mean the coffins were changed?" said Zena.

"I do. One with the body in it was removed, and another with lead in it
was placed on the trestles in its stead. The plainer the coffin the
easier it would be to duplicate it by description. The makers of the
second coffin would not have the original before them to copy, you must
remember."

"But only Lady Rusholm and her son could possess the necessary knowledge
to give such a duplicate order," I said.

"You forget Mr. Thompson. He was an intimate friend, and staying in the
house at the time."

"I do not understand why the lead was not packed securely," said Zena.

"It puzzles me," said Quarles. "I could only find one answer. It was such
an obvious blunder that it must have been intentional. The lumps of lead
endorsed this idea. Whilst the large piece was flat and difficult to
move, the small piece was like a ball and meant to roll and strike the
side the moment the coffin was moved. It was presumably necessary that
the theft should be discovered, and your ingenious idea of a revengeful
enemy appealed to me, Wigan. I elaborated the idea to Sir Arthur, you
will remember."

I had nothing to say--no fault to find with his argument so far. Quarles
rather enjoyed my silence, I fancy.

"Sir Arthur unconsciously gave me a great deal of information," he went
on. "First, it was curious that the wreaths which came that night should
be left in the hall. It would have been more natural to place them in
the drawing-room. Why were they not put there? It looked as if there were
a desire not to open the room again. Another wreath might have come later
when it would have been very inconvenient to open the door, and not to
have put the other wreath into the room might have caused comment in the
light of after events. Again, influenza is a fairly common complaint, and
Sir Grenville died of a sudden and unexpected collapse; yet Sir Arthur
said it was by his father's desire that the coffin was plain. A man
suffering from influenza does not expect to die, and it seemed strange to
me that he should arrange details of his funeral. By itself it is not a
very important point, since Sir Grenville's wishes may have been known
for a long time, but almost in the same breath, emphasis was laid on the
fact that Lady Rusholm had not used the small room out of the
drawing-room for more than a week. Why not? There was absolutely no
reason why she should not continue to do her correspondence there, since
her husband was not seriously ill and could not require constant nursing.
I think an excuse was wanted for locking up that room, and I believe you
will find that none of the servants have entered the room during this
period, and that the blind has been down all the time. I believe the
duplicate coffin was hidden there."

"But how was the duplicate coffin got into the house?" asked Zena.

"In much the same way as the real coffin was got out of it, I imagine.
You remember the arrangement of the motor, Wigan; its size and swivel
seats give ample room to put the coffin on the floor of the car. In the
dead of night the coffin was carried across the garden, placed in the car
and driven away. On some previous night the same car had driven away and
brought back the duplicate coffin."

"The chauffeur said the car had not been out for a week," I said.

"So far as he knew," Quarles returned. "It was cleaned afterwards. There
is a shutter to the window in Connaught Road, and over the window looking
into the garden one of the towels had been nailed, clumsily, and with
large nails which were still on a shelf. I found the towel with the nail
holes in it."

"Where was the body taken?" asked Zena.

"That I do not know."

"And what was the use of it to any one?"

"Ah, I think I can answer that," said Quarles. "I had an interesting talk
with Dr. Coles after I left you to-day, Wigan. He told me he was not
altogether surprised at Sir Grenville's sudden collapse. The attack of
influenza was comparatively slight, but when Mr. Thompson arrived
unexpectedly from India it was evident to the doctor that he had brought
bad news. Both Sir Grenville and his wife were worried. Coles says Sir
Grenville was a man of a nervous temperament, who would have been utterly
lost without his wife. The doctor believes the sudden worry occasioned
the collapse."

"He had no suspicion of suicide, I suppose?"

"As a matter of form I put the question to him. I even suggested the
possibility of foul play. He scouted both ideas, and enlarged upon the
affectionate relations which existed between husband and wife. He
imagined the trouble had something to do with financial affairs. To-day,
you will remember, Wigan, Sir Arthur spoke about his mother going away.
That is not quite in keeping with the rest of her actions. We have ample
testimony and proof that Lady Rusholm is courageous and resourceful. Dr.
Coles is greatly impressed with her character; her personality appealed
to me when I heard her speak at the technical institute. She would be
present when the undertakers were removing the body, which is not
customary. She remained while the coffin was opened, and although she
apparently fainted--it was her son who caught her, remember--she saw you
soon afterwards. It seems to me two questions naturally ask themselves.
What was the ill news Mr. Thompson brought from India? Was Lady Rusholm
prepared for that knock from the coffin?"

"We are becoming speculative, indeed," I said.

"Are we? Consider for a moment the amount of evidence we have that the
theft of the body could only be contrived with the knowledge and help of
Lady Rusholm, her son, or Mr. Thompson; or, which is more likely, by the
connivance of all three. Then try to imagine their purpose. What use
could they make of a dead body? Why take such trouble that the theft
should be discovered?"

"We have not accumulated enough facts to tell us," I answered.

"I think we may indulge in a guess," said Quarles. "Sir Grenville, on his
own showing, had not expected to come into the title. Has it occurred to
you, Wigan, how exceedingly complete his claim was? Every possible doubt
seems to have been considered and arranged for. It was almost too
complete. Now, supposing Sir Grenville was not really Sir Grenville
Rusholm, supposing he had acquired the family knowledge and papers from
the real man--when that man was dying, perhaps--and in due time used
them to claim the estates. For about twenty years he has enjoyed the
result of his fraud, his intimate friend, Mr. Thompson, being in his
confidence, and very likely receiving some of the spoil. Suddenly Mr.
Thompson learns that some one else knows the secret, and hurries to
England to warn Sir Grenville."

"But why steal the body?" asked Zena.

"On leaving Dr. Coles, Wigan, I went to see Professor Sayle, who, with
the exception of the German physician Hauptmann, probably knows more
about oriental diseases and medicine than any man living. He proved to me
that it is possible by means of a certain vegetable drug to produce
apparent death. Fakirs often use it. The ordinary medical man would
certainly be deceived. Ultimately actual death would ensue were not the
antidote to the drug administered, but the suspension of life will
continue for a considerable time."

"It is pure speculation," I said.

"We have got to explain the theft of a dead body. I explain it by saying
there was no dead body," said Quarles sharply, as if I were denying a
self-evident fact. "I go still further. Judging by Coles's description of
the man calling himself Sir Grenville, I doubt his courage for carrying
through either the original fraud or the plan of escape. I believe his
wife was the moving spirit throughout, and it is quite possible the drug
was administered without her husband's knowledge."

"And where is the body now?" asked Zena.

"I do not know, but you tempt me to guesswork. Sir Grenville was a keen
yachtsman, and probably he is on board his yacht still resting in his
coffin, waiting for his wife to bring the antidote to the drug. His son
and Mr. Thompson took the body that night in the car. There must have
been two of them to deal with the burden, for I imagine the yacht had no
crew on her at the time. They would hardly take others into their
confidence. As everything had to be accomplished between eleven o'clock
at night and before dawn the next day, I imagine the yacht was lying
somewhere in the Thames estuary. I grant this is guesswork, Wigan."

"I do not see why it was necessary the theft should become known," I
said.

"It would occasion delay in the settlement of the estate. It placed
difficulties in the way of the rightful heir, It would help to throw a
distinct doubt whether, in spite of all the evidence that might be
forthcoming, Sir Grenville had committed fraud. There was even a
possibility that the son might be left in possession after all. I daresay
we shall learn more when we tackle Lady Rusholm and her son to-morrow."

When we went to Queen's Square next morning we found that Lady Rusholm
was gone. She had, in fact, already gone when her son told us he was
trying to persuade her to go. Mr. Thompson had left later in the day.

We found that even Quarles's guesswork was very near the actual facts,
although he had hardly given Lady Rusholm sufficient credit for the
working out of the scheme. The real heir, Sir John's nephew, had died in
Ceylon before Baxter--that was Sir Grenville's real name--had married. On
his death-bed he had entrusted his papers to Baxter to send to England,
and Baxter had shown them to his future wife. The scheme came full grown
into her head. They left Ceylon to meet again in India, and there they
were married, Baxter giving his name as Grenville Rusholm. Thompson was
their only confidant. He could not be left out because he had known all
about Rusholm. There was one other who knew, but they believed him to be
dead. He was a wanderer, somewhat of a ne'er-do-well, and to Thompson's
consternation, after twenty years, he had turned up in Calcutta very much
alive. He was going to England to expose the fraud. He did not suspect
Thompson, who came to England first.

All this we heard from the son who for a short hour or two had called
himself Sir Arthur Rusholm. He was able to prove quite conclusively that
he was in entire ignorance of the fraud until Thompson's arrival. His
mother confessed everything to him then. It was she who had planned how
to get out of the difficulty. The duplicate coffin had been made at
Harwich, for a yachtsman who was to be taken abroad to be buried, they
had explained, but it was brought to Queen's Square and hidden in the
small drawing-room as Quarles had surmised. It was only to spare his
mother and father that the son had entered into the scheme, and I fancy
Quarles was a little annoyed that he had not suspected this.

Mrs. Baxter was not caught. Indeed, there were many people who
disbelieved the whole story of the fraud, even when the man who knew
arrived from India--a very strong proof of Mrs. Baxter's charm and
personality. I have heard from her son that she is in South America, and
that her husband is not dead. So far as I am aware the new baronet has
taken no steps to bring them to justice.

As Quarles says, she is a genius, and it would be a thousand pities if
she were in prison.

CHAPTER II

THE KIDNAPING OF EVA WILKINSON

The Queen's Square affair seemed to have exhausted Quarles's enthusiasm.
I tried to interest him in several cases without success, and I began to
think we really had done our last work together, when on his own
initiative he mentioned Ewart Wilkinson to me. He had a personal interest
in the man; I had only just heard his name.

The multi-millionaire is not such a figure in this country as he is in
America, but Ewart Wilkinson was undoubtedly on the American scale. He
had made his money abroad, how or exactly where remained matters of
uncertainty, and if one were inclined to believe the stories told in
irresponsible journals, there must have been much in the past which he
found it wiser not to talk about. With such tales I have nothing to do. I
never met the millionaire, was, in fact, quite uninterested in him until
his wealth was concerned in a case which came into my hands.

With Christopher Quarles it was different. For a few days on one occasion
he had stayed in the same house with the millionaire in Scotland, and had
been impressed with him. Wilkinson was rough, but a diamond under the
rough, according to Quarles. He may have had his own ideas of what
constituted legitimate business, but whatever his shortcomings, the
professor found in him a vein of sentiment which was attractive. He had
a passion for his only daughter which appealed to Quarles, partly, no
doubt, because it made him think of Zena, and there was a strain of
melancholy in him which made him apprehensive that his wealth would not
be altogether for his daughter's good. He had talked in this way to
Quarles. For all we knew to the contrary, conscience may have been
pricking him, but the fact remained that he was prophetic.

Wherever and in whatever way Ewart Wilkinson made his money, he
undoubtedly had it. He rented a house in Mayfair, and purchased
Whiteladies in Berkshire. The Elizabethan house, built on to the partial
ruins of an old castle, has no doubt attracted many of you when motoring
through South Berkshire. Having bought a beautiful home, he looked for a
beautiful wife to put in it. Perhaps she was in the nature of a purchase,
too, for he married Miss Lavory, the only daughter of Sir Miles Lavory,
Bart., who put his pride in his pocket when he consented to an alliance
with mere millions. It was said that Miss Lavory was driven into the
match, but however this may be, Ewart Wilkinson proved a devoted husband,
and his wife had ten years of a happy married life in the midst of
luxury. She died when her daughter was eight.

For ten years after her mother's death Eva Wilkinson and her father were
hardly ever separated, and then Ewart Wilkinson died suddenly. He left
practically the whole of his vast fortune to his daughter; and her uncle,
Mrs. Wilkinson's brother Michael, who had recently succeeded his father
in the baronetcy, was left her guardian. There was a curious clause in
the will. Wilkinson, possibly because one or two cases had happened in
America at the time the will was made--half a dozen years before his
death--seemed particularly afraid that the heiress might be kidnaped,
and her guardian was enjoined to watch over her in this respect
especially. Within six months of his death the very thing he feared
happened. Eva Wilkinson was at Whiteladies at the time with her
companion, Mrs. Reville. After dinner one evening she went alone on to
the terrace, and from that moment had entirely disappeared. A telegram
was sent that night to Sir Michael, who was in London, Scotland Yard was
informed, and the mystery was given me to solve.

I had commenced my inquiries when on going to Chelsea in the evening
Quarles told me he had met Ewart Wilkinson about three years before, and
under the circumstances he was very interested in the mystery.

"The fact that he was afraid of something happening to his daughter
suggests that he had some reason for his fear," I said.

"It does, Wigan--it does! He mentioned this very thing to me three
years ago, and I thought then there was some one in his past of whom he
was afraid."

"And his past seems to be a closed book," I returned.

"Eva Wilkinson must be between eighteen and nineteen," Zena
remarked. "Kidnaping a girl of that age is a different thing from
kidnaping a child."

"True!" said Quarles.

"Isn't it more probable that she went away willingly?" said Zena.

"You don't help me, my dear," said the professor with a frown, and the
suggestion seemed to irritate him. It stuck in his mind, however, for
when we went to see Sir Michael the idea was evidently behind his
first question.

"Is there any love affair?" asked Quarles. "Any reason which might
possibly induce the girl to go away of her own accord?"

The suggestion seemed to bring a ray of hope into Sir Michael's despair.

"I think she is too sensible a girl to do anything of the kind, but there
was a little affair, not very serious on her side, I fancy, and there was
probably a desire for money on the man's part. Young Cayley has seen Eva
at intervals since they were children, but in her father's lifetime there
was no question of love. Directly after Wilkinson's death, however,
Edward Cayley came prominently on the scene. I talked to Eva about him,
and although she was inclined to be angry, I think it was rather with
herself than at my interference."

"Cayley is quite a poor man, I presume?" said Quarles.

"Yes; but that did not influence me. He is not the kind of man I should
like my niece to marry. Oh! I have nothing definite against him."

"May I ask whether, as guardian, you have control over your niece's
choice?" I asked.

"Until she is twenty-one, after that none at all," he answered. "If she
marries without my consent before she is of age, I am empowered to
distribute a million of money to certain specified hospitals and
charities. She has only to wait until she is twenty-one to do exactly as
she likes. It was my brother-in-law's way of ensuring that his daughter
should not act with undue haste. Perhaps, for my own sake, I ought to
explain that in no way, nor under any circumstances, can I benefit under
the will. When my sister married Mr. Wilkinson, he behaved very
generously to my father, paying off the mortgages on our estate; in
short, delivered us from a very difficult position. Naturally, we never
expected any place in the will, but I hear the omission has caused some
people to speculate, and now that this has happened there may be people
who will speculate about me personally."

"You certainly have a very complete answer," I returned. "What is your
own opinion of your niece's disappearance?"

"I think she has been kidnaped, possibly for the sake of ransom, possibly
because--" and then he paused for a moment. "You know Mr. Wilkinson was
afraid of this very thing?"

"Three years ago he mentioned it to me," said Quarles.

"You knew him, then?"

"I was staying in the same house with him in Scotland; his daughter was
not there. Such a fear, Sir Michael, suggests something in the past,
something Mr. Wilkinson kept to himself."

"I do not know of anything," was the answer. "Of course, I have seen
paragraphs in scandalous journals concerning his wealth, but I knew Ewart
Wilkinson extremely well. He was, and always has been, I am convinced, a
perfectly straightforward man."

This conversation took place early on the morning following the night of
Eva Wilkinson's disappearance, and afterwards Sir Michael journeyed down
with us to Whiteladies. The local police were already scouring the
country, and under intelligent supervision had accomplished a great deal
of the spade work. I may just state the facts as far as they were known.

Mrs. Reville, who was in the drawing-room when the girl went out on the
terrace, had heard nothing. A quarter of an hour or twenty minutes later
she went out herself with the intention of telling Eva that she ought to
put on a wrap. The girl was nowhere to be seen, and calling brought no
answer. Becoming alarmed, Mrs. Reville summoned the servants, and their
search proving fruitless, she had a telegram sent to Sir Michael. When I
questioned her with regard to Cayley, she was sure there was nothing
serious in the affair. He certainly could have had nothing to do with
Eva's disappearance, she declared, for he had gone to Paris two days
before. Since Sir Michael had spoken to Eva about him he had hardly
visited Whiteladies at all.

The servants had searched everywhere--in the house, in the grounds, and
in the ruins, and later the police had gone over the same ground, and
had searched everywhere on the estate; not a sign of the missing girl
had been found. A footman, however, said he had heard a motor-car in the
road about the time of the disappearance. He had listened, wondering who
was coming to Whiteladies at that hour. The house stood in one corner of
the estate, and there was a public road quite close to it, but it was a
road little frequented. The marks of a car, which had stopped and turned
at a point near the house, were plainly visible, and so far this was the
only clue forthcoming. It proved an important one, because a tramp was
found by the police who had seen a closed car traveling at a great speed
toward the London road. The time, which he was able to fix very
definitely, was about a quarter of an hour after Eva Wilkinson had gone
on to the terrace.

"Has the tramp been detained?" Quarles asked, and being answered in the
negative, said he ought to have been.

The professor examined the marks of the car minutely. There were two cars
at Whiteladies, but neither of the tire markings were those of the car
which had turned in the road.

It is only natural, I suppose, that when a number of persons are brought
in contact with a mystery their behavior should tend to become unnatural.
It is one of a detective's chief difficulties to determine between
innocent and suspicious actions, the latter being often the result of
temperament or of a desire to emphasize innocence. I never found a
decision more difficult than in the case of Eva Wilkinson's maid, a girl
named Joan Perry; and because I could not decide in her case I was also
suspicious of her young man Saunders, a gamekeeper on the estate. Joan
Perry, a little later in the day, claimed to have made a remarkable
discovery. A coat and skirt and a pair of walking shoes had been removed
from her mistress's wardrobe.

"What made you inspect her wardrobe?" I asked.

The question seemed to confuse her, but she finally said it was because
she wondered whether Miss Eva had gone away on purpose. According to
Perry the affair with Edward Cayley was a serious one. To some extent her
young mistress had confided in her, she declared.

"Then she would hardly have gone away without letting you into the
secret," I said.

"That is what I cannot understand," she answered.

Quarles agreed with me that this lent color to the idea that Eva
Wilkinson had gone of her own accord.

"It is possible--even probable," he said, "but if she did, I take it she
has been deceived and walked into a trap. If we can find that car we
shall be on the right road."

When we set out on this quest in one of the motors at Whiteladies we had
considerable success. The car had taken the direct road to London. We
heard of it at an inn on the outskirts of Beading. It had stopped there,
and a man had had his flask filled with brandy. A lady who was with him
was not very well, he said. Chance helped us farther. The car had stopped
by a roadside cottage. A man had come to the door full of apologies, but
seeing a light in the window he ventured to ask if they could oblige him
with a box of matches. He was quite a gentleman--young, dark, and very
merry--the woman told us. He had led her to suppose that he and a lady
were making a runaway match of it, because he had declared that there
would certainly be a chase after them, but they had got a good start. The
car had been drawn up on the side of the road at a little distance from
the cottage, and it was undoubtedly the car we were after. The tire
markings were quite distinct in the damp ground. At Hounslow we found the
car itself. There had been an accident. Two men had walked into a garage,
saying they had left the car on the roadside. Would the garage people
have it brought in and repaired? The car should be sent for in a day or
two. One man made a payment on account, and gave his name as Julius
Hoffman, staying at the Langham Hotel.

The car was of an old type, but the man at the garage said the engines
were in good condition. The tires were burst, otherwise there was nothing
much the matter with the car beyond its age.

"Was anything found in the car?" I asked.

"An old glove and a handkerchief," and the man took them out of a drawer.

The glove told us nothing, but the handkerchief was a lady's, and had "E.
W." embroidered on it.

"This is a police matter," I told the man. "A watch will be kept on the
premises in case the car is claimed, which is very unlikely, I fancy."

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