of earlier days as Billy Bones, stared
incredulously at his friend. "Didn't you have
enough crime out in Mayang?" he asked
plaintively. "Have you got to come home
and do our work for us here?"
"Crime in Mayang isn't on a wholesale
basis," said Luke. "What I'm up against
now is a man who's done a round half dozen
murders at least--and got away with it without
a breath of suspicion."
Sir William sighed. "It does happen.
What's his specialty--wives?"
"No, he's not that kind. He doesn't actually
think he's God yet, but he soon will."
"Mad?"
"Oh, unquestionably, I should say."
"Ah, but he probably isn't legally mad.
There's a difference, you know."
"I should say he knows the nature and
consequence of his acts," said Luke.
"Exactly," said Billy Bones.
"Well, don't let's quibble about legal technicalities.
We're not nearly at that stage yet.
Perhaps we never shall be. What I want
from you, old boy, is a few facts. There was
a street accident took place on Derby Day
between five and six o'clock in the afternoon.
Old lady run over in Whitehall and
the car didn't stop. Her name was Lavinia
Fullerton. I want you to dig up all the facts
you can about that."
Sir William sighed. "I can soon get hold
of that for you. Twenty minutes ought to do
it."
He was as good as his word. In less than
that time Luke was talking to the police
officer in charge of the matter. "Yes, sir, I
remember the details. I've got most of them
written down here." He indicated the sheet
that Luke was studying. "An inquest was
held. Mr. Satcherverell was the coroner. Censure
of the driver of the car."
"Did you ever get him?"
"No, sir."
"WTiat make of car was it?"
"It seems pretty certain it was a Rolls--
big car driven by a chauffeur. All witnesses
unanimous on that point. Most people know
a Rolls by sight."
"You didn't get the number?"
"No, unfortunately, nobody thought to
look at it. There was a note of a Number
FZX 4498, but it was the wrong number. A
woman spotted it and mentioned it to another
woman, who give it to me. I don't
know whether the second woman got it
wrong, but anyway it was no good."
Luke asked sharply, "How did you know
it was no good?"
The young officer smiled. "FZX 4498 is
the number of Lord Easterfield's car. That
car was standing outside Boomington House
at the time in question and the chauffeur was
having tea. He had a perfect alibi, no question
of his being concerned, and the car
never left the building till 6:30, when his
lordship came out."
"I see," said Luke.
"It's always the way, sir." The man sighed.
"Half the witnesses have disappeared before
a constable can get there and take down
particulars." Sir William nodded. "We assumed
it was probably a number not unlike
that--FZX 4498--a number beginning probably
with two fours. We did our best, but
could not trace any car. We investigated sev-
eral likely numbers, but they could all give
satisfactory accounts of themselves."
Sir William looked at Luke questioningly.
Luke shook his head. Sir William said, "Thanks, Bonner; that will do." When the
man had gone out. Billy Bones looked inquiringly
at his friend. "What's it all about, Fitz?"
Luke sighed. "It all tallies. Lavinia
Fullerton was coming up to blow the gaff--
to tell the clever people at Scotland Yard all
about the wicked murderer. I don't know
whether you'd have listened to her--probably
not."
"We might," said Sir William. "Things
do come through to us that way. Just hearsay
and gossip. We don't neglect that sort of
thing, I assure you."
"That's what the murderer thought. He
wasn't going to risk it. He eliminated Lavinia
Fullerton, and although one woman was
sharp enough to spot his number, no one
believed her."
Billy Bones sprang upright in his chair.
"You don't mean--"
"Yes, I do. I'll bet you anything you like
it was Easterfield who ran her down. I don't
know how he managed it. The chauffeur was
away at tea. Somehow or other, I suppose,
he sneaked the car away, putting on a chauffeur's
coat and cap. But he did it. Billy!"
"Impossible!"
"Not at all. Lord Easterfield has committed
at least seven murders to my certain
knowledge, and probably a lot more."
"Impossible," said Sir William.
"My dear fellow, he practically boasted to
me of it last night!"
"He's mad, then?"
"He's mad, all right, but he's a cunning
devil. You'll have to go warily. Don't let him
know we suspect him."
Billy Bones murmured, "Incredible."
Luke said, "But true!" He laid a hand on
his friend's shoulder. "Look here. Billy old
son; we must get right down to this. Here
are the facts."
The two men talked long and earnestly.
On the following day, Luke returned to
Wychwood. He drove down early in the
morning. He could have returned the night
before, but he felt a marked distaste for
sleeping under Lord Easterfield's roof or accepting
his hospitality under the circumstances.
On his way through Wychwood, he
drew up his car at Miss Waynflete's house.
The maid who opened the door stared at
him in astonishment, but showed him into
the little dining room where Miss Waynflete
was sitting at breakfast. She rose to recieve
him in some surprise.
He did not waste time. "I must apologize
for breaking in on you at this hour." He
looked round. The maid had left the room, shutting the door. "I'm going to ask you a
question. Miss Waynflete. It's rather a personal
one, but I think you will forgive me
for asking it."
"Please ask me anything you like. I am
quite sure your reason for doing so will be a
good one."
"Thank you." He paused. "I want to know
exactly why you broke off your engagement
to Lord Easterfield all those years ago?"
She had not expected that. The color rose
in her cheeks and one hand went to her
breast. "Has he told you anything?"
Luke replied, "He told me there was something about a bird--a bird whose neck
was wrung."
"He said that?" Her voice was wondering.
"He admitted it? That's extraordinary!"
"Will you tell me, please?"
"Yes, I will tell you. But I beg that you
will never speak of the matter to him--to
Gordon. It is all past--a
ll over and finished
with. I don't want it--raked up." She looked
at him appealingly.
Luke nodded. "It is only for my personal
satisfaction," he said. "I shall not repeat what
you tell me."
"Thank you." She had recovered her composure.
Her voice was quite steady as she
went on: "It was like this: I had a little
canary. I was very fond of it, and, perhaps, rather silly about it--girls were, then. They
were rather--well, coy about their pets. It
must have been irritating to a man--I do
realize that."
"Yes," said Luke, as she paused.
"Gordon was jealous of the bird. He said
one day, quite ill-temperedly, 'I believe you
prefer that bird to me.5 And I, in the rather
silly way girls went on in those days, laughed, and held it up on my finger, saying something
like: 'Of course I love you, dicky bird, better than a great silly boyl Of course I do!" Then--oh, it was frightening--Gordon
snatched the bird from me and wrung its
neck. It was such a shock. I shall never
forget it!" Her face had gone very pale.
"And so you broke off the engagement?"
said Luke.
"Yes. I couldn't feel the same afterwards.
v/^,, c^ m,. FiiTwilliam"--she hesitated--
"it wasn't just the action--that might have
been done in a fit of jealousy and temper
--it was the awful feeling I had that he'd
enjoyed doing it. It was that that frightened
me!"
"Even long ago," murmured Luke. "Even
in those days."
She laid a hand on his arm. "Mr.
Fitzwilliam--"
He met the frightened appeal in her eyes
with a grave, steady look. "It is Lord
Easterfield who has committed all those
murders," he said. "You've known that all
along, haven't you?"
She shook her head with vigor. "Not
known it! If I had known it, then--then, of
course I would have spoken out. No, it was
just a fear."
"And yet you never gave me a hint?"
She clasped her hands in a sudden anguish.
"How could I? How could I? I was
fond of him once."
"Yes," said Luke gently. "I see."
She turned away, fumbled in her bag, and
a small lace-edged handkerchief was pressed
for a moment to her eyes. Then she turned
back again, dry-eyed, dignified and composed.
"I am so glad," she said, "that Bridget
has broken off her engagement. She is going
to marry you instead, is she not?"
"Yes."
"That will be much more suitable," said
Miss Waynflete rather primly. Luke was unable
to help smiling a little. But Miss
Waynflete's face grew grave and anxious.
She leaned forward and once more laid a
hand on his arm. "But be very careful,"
she said. "Both of you must be very careful."
"You mean--with Lord Easterfield?"
"Yes. It would be better not to tell him."
Luke frowned. "I don't think either of us
would like the idea of that."
"Oh, what does that matter? You don't
seem to realize that he's mad--mad. He won't
stand it--not for a moment! If anything happens
to her--"
"Nothing shall happen to her!"
"Yes, I know, but do realize that you're
not a match for him! He's so dreadfully cunning!
Take her away at once; it's the only
hope. Make her go abroad! You'd better
both go abroad!"
Luke said slowly, "It might be as well if
she went. I shall stay."
"I was afraid you would say that. But at any rate. set her awav. At once, mind!"
Luke nodded slowly. "I think," he
said/'that you're right."
"I know I'm right! Get her away—before
it's too late."
Twenty
bridget heard Luke drive up. She came out
on the steps to meet him. She said, without
preamble, "I've told him."
"What?" Luke was taken aback.
His dismay was so patent that Bridget noticed
it. "Luke, what is it? You seem quite
upset."
He said slowly, "I thought we agreed to
wait until I came back."
"I know, but I thought it was better to get
it over. He was making plans--for our marriage, our honeymoon--all that! I simply had
to tell him!" She added--a touch of reproach
in her voice--"It was the only decent thing
to do."
He acknowledged it. "From your point of
view, yes. Oh, yes, I see that."
"From every point of view, I should have
thought!"
Luke said slowly, "There are times when
one can't afford decency."
"Luke, what do you mean?"
He made an impatient gesture. "I can't
tell you now and here. How did Easterfield
take it?"
Bridget said slowly, "Extraordinarily well.
Really, extraordinarily well. I felt ashamed. I
believe, Luke, that I've underestimated
Gordon, just because he's rather pompous
and occasionally futile. I believe really he's
rather—well a great little man."
Luke nodded. "Yes, possibly, he is a great
man—in ways we haven't suspected. Look
here, Bridget; you must get out of here as
soon as possible."
"Naturally, I shall pack up my things and
leave today. You might drive me up to town.
I suppose we can't both go and stay at the
contingent have left?"
Luke shook his head. "No, you'd better
go back to London. I'll explain presently. In
the meantime, I suppose I'd better see
Easterfield."
"I suppose it's the thing to do. It's all
rather beastly, isn't it? I feel such a rotten
little gold digger."
Luke smiled at her. "It was a fair enough
bargain. You'd have played straight with him.
Anyway, it's no use lamenting over things
that are past and done with. I'll go in and
see Easterfield now."
He found Lord Easterfield striding up and
down the drawing room. He was outwardly
calm; there was even a slight smile on his
lips. But Luke noticed that a pulse in his
temple was beating furiously. He wheeled
round as Luke entered. "Oh, there you are,
Fitzwilliam."
Luke said, "It's no good my saying I'm
sorry for what I've done. That would be
hypocritical. I admit that from your point of
view I've behaved badly and I've very little
to say in defense. These things happen."
Lord Easterfield resumed his pacing.
"Quite—quite!" He waved a hand.
Luke went on. "Bridget and I have treated
you shamefully. But there it is! We care for
each other, and there's nothing to be done
about it, except to tell you the truth and
clear out."
Lord Easterfield stopped. He looked at
Luke with his pale protuberant eyes. "No,"
he said, "there's nothing
you can do about
it." There was a very curious tone in his
voice. He stood looking at Luke, gently
shaking his head, as though in commiseration.
Luke said sharply, "What do you mean?"
"There's nothing you can do," said Lord
Easterfield. "It's too late."
Luke took a step nearer him. "Tell me
what you mean?"
Lord Easterfield said, unexpectedly, "Ask
Honoria Waynflete. She'll understand. She
knows what happens. She spoke to me about
it once."
"What does she understand?"
Lord Easterfield said, "Evil doesn't go unpunished.
There must be justice. I'm sorry, because I'm fond of Bridget. In a way, I'm
sorry for you both."
Luke said, "Are you threatening us?"
Lord Easterfield seemed genuinely
shocked. "No, no, my dear fellow. I've no
feeling in the matter. When I did Bridget the
honor to choose her as my wife, she accepted
certain responsibilities. Now, she repudiates
them, but there's no going back in this life.
If you break laws, you pay the penalty."
Luke clenched both hands. He said, "You
mean that something is going to happen to
Bridget? Now, understand me, Easterfield;
nothing is going to happen to Bridget, nor to
me! If you attempt anything of that kind, it's
the finish. You'd better be careful! I know a
good deal about you!"
"It's nothing to do with me," said Lord
Easterfield. "I'm only the instrument of a
higher Power. What that Power decrees,
happens."
"I see you believe that," said Luke.
"Because it's the truth! Anyone who goes
against me pays the penalty. You and Bridget
will be no exception."
Luke said, "That's where you're wrong.
However long a run of luck may be, it breaks
in the end. Yours is very near breaking now."
Lord Easterfield said gently, "My dear
young man, you don't know who it is you're
talking to. Nothing can touch me!"
"Can't it? We'll see. You'd better watch
your step, Easterfield."
A little ripple of movement passed over
the other. His voice had changed when he
spoke. "I've been very patient," said Lord
Easterfield. "Don't strain my patience too
far. Get out of here."
"I'm going," said Luke, "as quick as I
can. Remember that I've warned you."
He turned on his heel and went quickly
out of the room. He ran upstairs. He found