The Door of the Unreal Page 5

  "Yes, that’s the man,” answered Burgess, “a very interesting and clever chap—at least, that’s how he struck me. Do you know him?”

  “Yes, funnily enough, I do, though not as a conventional London acquaintance. We ran up against each other in Rumania last year in an out-of-the-way corner and knocked about together for nearly a week. I promised to look him up in the Temple some time when I got back, and intend to do so. This will lend an additional interest to our meeting.”

  “Fitzroy Manders,” said Blenkinsopp, “is rapidly coming right to the top and will go far. He is, as probably you discovered, a very keen criminologist and we often see him unofficially at the Yard. He is a man I have a great liking and respect for.”

  “So have I,” I said. “It is funny that chance should have butted him right into the middle of this business. Had he any kind of theory?”

  “No, no more than any of the rest of us, to be quite candid,” answered Blenkinsopp, shrugging his shoulders a bit impatiently; “and even this finding of young Bullingdon promises so far to throw precious little light upon it as far as I can see. It looks as though Scotland Yard, which the public always expect to be omniscient and infallible, will come in for a lot of the usual criticism and find itself in very bad odour—unless, of course, some Sherlock Holmes is sent from Heaven to expose our follies and futilities, and unravel amiably the whole mystery in that peculiar lucid fashion that always suggests that the story was written backwards. Our end is the brick-wall one, and a damned thick one, too, in this case, so far as one can judge.”

  “The more unusual and bizarre a crime,” f ventured, “the easier it is of solution, as a rule: but here, so far as I can judge, unusual and bizarre enough, as it is in all conscience, no thing yet seems to stand out that gives even the most subtle imagination a pointer to build from. Hallo, here are the doctors.”

  The four doctors came down the wide oak staircase, speaking in low tones; and I noticed the old Chippendale grandfather clock struck nine as they reached the bottom.

  We all three rose from our seats, standing expectantly and waiting for Sir Humphrey Bedell to speak.

  “We can’t say very much at present,” he said in his quiet, well-modulated voice, born of forty years of sick-rooms and death-beds. “Sir Bryan O’Callaghan and I have been over Lord Bullingdon most carefully, and Sir Bryan has done a couple of very minor operations: but otherwise Dr. Drake and Dr. Forbes had done everything that could be possible. Now all we can do is to wait upon events and see how he goes on. He is badly knocked about, but he has, to my personal knowledge, a splendid constitution, and was in the very best of health; and this should give him every chance. The one thing that puzzles us is the wounded shoulder and the lacerations through his clothes, thick as they were. Owing to that fact they are not, however, very deep or necessarily serious; but their origin is obscure. They look as though they had been done by some instrument with a double set of teeth. He could not by any chance have been worried by some dog or other animal, whilst he lay unconscious, could he?”

  Burgess shook his head.

  “Most improbable,” he answered. “If so, the dog would probably have been found there or attracted someone to the spot, or gone on with the job. There was no trace or sign of any such thing, though that does not go for much under the circumstances and weather conditions.”

  “That German professor,” interjected Blenkinsopp rather acridly, “seems, in his eagerness to get at Lord Bullingdon’s injuries, to have destroyed any chance of a clue from the clothes by hacking them off the shoulder in small pieces with a sharp knife. Otherwise we might have had something to go on.”

  The doctor from town nodded; and Burgess made Major Blenkinsopp known to them.

  “It is unfortunate, of course,” said Sir Bryan O’Callighan: “but he did it for the best. In fact, I hardly see how he could have done otherwise.”

  “Well, anyhow, I shall go down to interview him in the morning,” said Blenkinsopp, “and see if he can help in any way or put forward any suggestions.”

  “I have arranged, Mr. Clymping,” went on Sir Humphrey, “with your kind permission, for Dr. Drake to spend the night on the spot; and Dr. Forbes will relieve him in the morning. There is nothing that either Sir Bryan or I can do immediately by staying on ourselves, and we must both get back to town later on. Dr. Drake and Dr. Forbes have agreed to work it so that one or other is on the spot for the present, and I will run down again to-morrow immediately after I have got through my morning’s work; and, of course, I am always available by telephone, and will return at a moment’s notice if anything urgent should arise. That, however, there is no reason to anticipate.”

  Burgess nodded.

  “You and Sir Bryan will stay and have some dinner?”he asked.

  “Thank you,” answered Sir Humphrey, “we shall be very glad to do so; and then we can have another look at Lord Bullingdon before we go.”

  Burgess left us once more to give his orders about dinner, and then went upstairs to see Ann, who sent down a message begging to be excused, as she was having something to eat upstairs with the nurses. Burgess told me privately that she was bearing up marvellously, but was very tired; and he had advised her to go to bed.

  Blenkinsopp, who had accepted Burgess’s invitation to stay the night, had in the meantime put a call through to Scotland Yard, giving them the latest report, and announcing his intention to remain on the spot till the next afternoon at any rate.

  Then followed dinner at half-past nine, a strange meal in its unexpected assortment of guests—the four doctors and Blenkinsopp, with Burgess at the head and myself at the foot of the table.

  We were all old campaigners with level heads and good appetites which it took a great deal to upset; and despite the exciting events of the afternoon and the lateness of the hour, we all managed to do full justice to the excellent dinner, which, in the face of difficulties, Mrs. Morrison, Ann’s excellent housekeeper, had arranged for us.

  Conversation was general, and by consent in front of the servants we avoided the obvious topic which was uppermost in the mind of each one of us: and I can recall that it was very interesting and touched upon a variety of subjects, which I should have liked to have followed up further, had circumstances permitted.

  Over the port Burgess, half at my suggestion, half at Sir Humphrey’s, gave us an admirable first-hand synopsis of the whole business from the disappearance of the Bolsovers; and Blenkinsopp added certain facts and criticisms, which placed us all directly in touch with everything. To me it was invaluable, on account of its preciseness and lucidity, in helping me to collate the whole story and all the persons of the drama, great and small, in my mind in proper perspective; and it served as a sound basis for subsequent deductions.

  Soon after eleven, however, the doctors adjourned once more to the sick-chamber, and came down again a few minutes later with nothing fresh to report beyond the fact that all was quiet and apparently going on as well as possible. So we armed them with long cigars and packed them into their car and dispatched them to town, Sir Humphrey promising to be down about three the next afternoon.

  Shortly after, Dr. Forbes left; and the four of us sat round the fire for a final smoke before going to bed. The talk was very interesting, turning principally upon crime, especially mysteries undiscovered and those supposed by the public to have been undiscovered because unrevealed in the papers. So I got no chance of any private personal talk with Burgess.

  At one o’clock, after a final report on Lord Bullingdon’s condition, we all went off to bed pretty well tired out. Burgess showed us each to our rooms, myself last of all.

  “I won’t stop for a yarn to-night, old man,” he said, turning on the light. “I’m dead fagged; and we should probably sit up till cock-crow. In the morning I’ll take you all over the ground and show you everything first-hand.”

  So we just said good night, and, like an old traveller, I was asleep as soon as I was between the sheets, glad to be “home" again.


  ***

  (Continued)

  The next morning broke fine and warm, the best type of spring morning with a real promise of summer in it, a complete contrast to the hard frost of the early part of the year, which had apparently broken up with the heavy rain of Monday.

  My room was next to Burgess’s: and he arrived in his dressing-gown as Jevons brought my tea at half-past seven, and planted himself on the end of my bed, lighting a cigarette.

  “No news to count,” he said, as I sat up and stretched comfortably after a splendid night.

  “Bullingdon’s had a quiet night—still comatose, but doing as well as expected. Drake appears satisfied, and the nurses seem to think everything is going as well as possible ‘considering,’ as they say. Blenkinsopp is dressed and is closeted officially with Mutton and the C.I.D.’s in the library. So you and I had better get bathed and dressed, as they will all be wanting breakfast: and then I will take you round. Ann seems wonderfully well, despite the shock and strain of yesterday, and is looking forward eagerly to seeing you.”

  “Not so much as I am to seeing her,” I said, jumping out of bed, thinking of my special little girl pal of the last dozen years, who had grown up into such a beautiful woman. “So off to your bath, and I’ll follow when I’ve shaved.”

  Half an hour later I was downstairs and found Ann waiting on the terrace, looking a trifle pale, but very delightful in white serge. She knew I liked to see women in white: and I think she put it on specially to greet both the promise of summer and her old friend.

  She came forward with both hands outstretched. “Oh, Linc,” she said, “it is good to see von again. You’ll forgive me for not coming down last night: but I wasn’t up to it, especially facing all those strange men at dinner after all that had happened.”

  “Quite so,” I agreed taking her hands and looking into her face, “I thoroughly understood, poor old girl. But am I getting too old to be kissed—or is it you?”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said, putting up her lips and giving me a frank sisterly hug with no nonsense in it.

  “That’s more like old times,” I said, laughing. “By Jove, Ann, you seem to have grown every time I see you—quite a large-size, serious young lady instead of my tomboy in short frocks.”

  “The gnawing tooth of time, Linc, old dear. Why, I swear you’re beginning to get bald like all good young Americans who roll in dollars. Hallo, here’s Burgess to chaperon the grown-up young lady, and keep her from saying pert things to his respected guests.”

  And then, as we three strolled up and down the terrace, she told me about her patient, as she instinctively dubbed Tony Bullingdon, with quite a proprietorial air.

  “It is awful, Linc,” she said, squeezing my arm, “to see the poor boy—he’s so nice-looking, too—there white and unconscious, all bandaged up, and giving just an occasional little groan or a moan—don’t really know which you would call it. He is awfully battered about by—well, whatever happened: and I honestly thought he would die in my arms with his head in my lap, while the Professor was cutting away his clothes and doing what he could to bind him up—with my petticoat, too, of all the funny things! He seems very clever, Professor; and I never saw such long, funny pointed fingers, but so quick and capable. He is so strange, too, when he is at work, so engrossed and abrupt, not saying a word except to rap out orders to me as though I were a lay figure; and I could not help being fascinated with his peculiar habit, which I had noticed once or twice before, of moistening—almost licking his lips with his long, pointed red tongue. It seemed almost automatic as he worked, and was certainly unconscious. It made me feel a little sick—I don’t know why—but he is certainly awfully neat and clever with his hands, and knows a lot about surgery and first aid.”

  “So all the four doctors cordially agreed,” I said, watching her eager face, as we let her babble on, obviously relieving herself of much that had been pent up under the strain of necessity the night before. “But Major Blenkinsopp won’t forgive him for having sliced up the clothes round the shoulder past all recognition or hope of clue.”

  “Oh, well, he really had to. They were all congealed and stuck into the wound in places,” rejoined Ann, with a shudder. “Don’t let us talk of it.”

  “No, poor old kid,” said Burgess, bending and kissing her in the peculiarly nice affectionate way he has towards her, which has often made me think that one day he will make some lucky woman a particularly delightful husband. “I see Blenkinsopp and Drake kicking their heels: so let’s go in and find out if breakfast is ready.”

  Blenkinsopp had nothing to report of interest, except that they told him on the ‘phone from Scotland Yard that the papers, great and small, serious and sensational, had one and all spread themselves more than ever, and had run positively wild over the discovery of Lord Bullingdon, hinting at great disclosures impending.

  “And so much the worse for us if we disappoint them,” he concluded grimly; “and God knows it looks rather like as though we shall!”

  Dr. Drake had nothing to add to Burgess’s first report of his patient’s condition: and before breakfast was over Dr. Forbes arrived to relieve him. So, after having seen Bullingdon together, Drake telephoned through to town to Sir Humphrey Bedell that all was well; and he confirmed his promise to be down round about three o’clock. Then Drake left; and for half an hour we scanned the bundle of daily papers, which Forbes had thoughtfully brought with him. In the normal way they are not due at Clymping till later in the forenoon: but Burgess gave orders for Wilson, for the time being, to fetch them each evening and first thing in the morning on his motor bicycle.

  “Nothing but gas and journalese,” exclaimed Blenkinsopp disgustedly, throwing down the last of them. “Later on, after I have seen Mutton again, I’ll go down and interview this professor of yours at the Dower House and see if he can help with any idea or suggestion.”

  “I’ll give you a note to him,” volunteered Burgess. “He is a queer misanthropic sort of creature and resents intrusion: so it may make him more easy of access and inclined to be helpful—if he can be. I’ll hang it on the peg of thanking him for what he did yesterday, and giving him news of the patient.”

  So they left me smoking and thinking idly. The word “misanthropic” had started a train of thought in my mind, illogical and indefensible; but I allowed my imagination to toy with it, as one often will, till Ann returned from the kitchen-quarters and claimed my attention.

  “Men are such a nuisance to feed,” she said, sitting on the arm of the chair next to mine “they do eat such a lot. Yesterday was a great and unexpected raid upon the larder; and this morning, in consequence, Mrs. Morrison and I have to restock and plan in advance for few or many without any clear knowledge of how many there are likely to be. I wonder if Lord Bullingdon’s uncle, Colonel Gorleston, will turn up? Thank goodness he is a bachelor, under the circumstances! I should hate to have to entertain an anxious aunt-by-marriage of Lord Bullingdon, twice my age and more, and full of a sense of her own great importance.”

  “You know you would do it very nicely, Ann, my child,” I remarked banteringly. “You have all the makings of a great and most expert hostess, in that you give people exactly what they like and don’t worry them too much. But I, too, must confess to a feeling of relief, as it would make everything so infernally formal, and put us all upon our best ‘boiled-shirt’ behaviour. We shall probably hear about the gallant colonel, as people still term them in these perfectly peaceable days, from Sir Humphrey when he arrives after lunch. Hallo, there’s the ‘phone.”

  Jevons appeared from nowhere, as usual, and answered it.

  “It’s Mr. Wellingham and Sir Henry Verjoyce, miss,” he announced to Ann. “They want to know if they can come down.”

  So Burgess had to be fetched; and he told them they could come to lunch, though it was doubtful whether they could see Tony.

  Then he was ready; and we set off with Blenkinsopp through the grounds, taking the way Burgess had t
aken with Ann the afternoon before, which, as he said, seemed weeks ago. We struck through the wood; and we found the place where the body had been discovered, roped off and covered with tarpaulins—“not that there is much to preserve in the way of clues,” as Blenkinsopp remarked cynically: “but Mutton is nothing if not thorough his desperation.”

  Then we put him on the bridle-path for the Dower House, and made across to the left to the scene of the disappearances. Burgess took me all over the ground minutely, up and down the road and in and out of the fields: but I must frankly admit it conveyed or suggested nothing fresh to me, interesting only as the actual spot of these strange happenings. The remains of the big Napier, which had been most carefully searched through without revealing anything of importance, lay in a heap where it had burnt itself out, also covered with a tarpaulin.

  There was a greater crowd than ever, kept back by a cordon of police; and several reporters, who had been refused by Jevons at the door the night before and again in the morning, tried to fasten on to Burgess, whom they did not find very communicative, though the next day we found that they had managed to spin him out to a whole imaginative column and a half, much to his disgust.

  “I’m getting fed up, Linc,” he said, calling me by the old familiar abbreviation, almost a nickname, coined, in fact, in response to my having christened him “Burge” in what he had termed my Yankee fashion: and “Linc” and “Burge” it had always been between ourselves throughout the twelve years of our friendship. “Let’s get off home; and be dammed to the lot of them.”

  But at that moment Blenkinsopp put in an appearance; and he asked us to wait a few minutes for him while he saw Mutton and the C.I.D.’s, got their latest reports, and gave some orders.

  “All right, Mutton,” we heard him say, as he rejoined us, “I’ll leave after Sir Humphrey Bedell has seen Lord Bullingdon: so be up to report not later than three o’clock. Nothing fresh either here or from town,” he added, as he reached us; “and it looks like a blind alley, the whole thing.