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Page 38
When they had gone, Sir Walter addressed his nephew. They went
upstairs together and stood for a moment outside the Grey Room.
The door was wide open, and the place brilliantly lighted by a
high-powered bulb. So had it been by night ever since the disaster.
None of the household entered it, and none, save Sir Walter or Henry,
was willing to do so until more should be known.
"I have your word of honor you will not go into that room to-night,"
said his uncle; "but such is the mental condition of this poor
clergyman that I can but feel Mannering is right. May might, from
some fancied call of the spirit, take the law into his own hands and
do what he wishes to do. This must be prevented at any cost. I
will ask you, Henry, to follow the doctor's suggestion on my behalf,
and keep guard over him. Oppose him actively if he should appear,
and call me. I would suggest that Caunter or Masters accompanied
you, but that is only to make gossip and mystery."
"On no account. I'll look after him. You can trust me. I expect
he's pretty worn out after such a harrowing day, poor old beggar.
He'll probably sleep soundly enough when he gets to bed."
"I trust so. I cannot offer to aid you myself, for I am dead beat,"
said the other.
Then they parted, and the younger presently took up a position in
the west wing of the house, where Septimus May had his bedroom.
Not until sunrise did Henry Lennox go to his own chamber, but his
sleepless night proved a needless precaution, for Septimus May
gave no sign.
CHAPTER V
THE UNSEEN MOVES
Before ten o'clock on the following morning Peter Hardcastle, who
had travelled by the night train from Paddington, was at Chadlands.
A car had gone into Newton Abbot to meet him, as no train ran on
the branch line until a later hour.
The history of the detective was one of hard work, crowned at last
by a very remarkable success. His opportunity had come, and he
had grasped it. The accident of the war and the immense publicity
given to his capture of a German secret agent had brought him into
fame, and raised him to the heights of his profession. Moreover,
the extraordinary histrionic means taken to achieve his purpose,
and the picturesqueness of the details, captured that latent love
of romance common to all minds. Hardcastle had become a lion;
women were foolish about him; he might have made a great match and
retired into private life had he desired to do so. At the present
time an American heiress ardently wished to wed the man.
But he was not fond of women, and only in love with his business.
A hard life in the seamy places of the world had made him something
of a cynic. He had always appreciated his own singular powers, and
consciousness of ability, combined with a steadfast patience and
unconquerable devotion to his "art," as he called it, had brought
him through twenty years in the police force. He began at the
bottom and reached the top. He was the son of a small shopkeeper,
and now that his father was dead his mother still ran a little
eating-house for her own satisfaction and occupation.
Peter Hardcastle was forty. He had already made arrangements to
leave Scotland Yard and set up, single-handed, as a private inquiry
agent. The mystery of Chadlands would be the last case to occupy
him as a Government servant. In a measure he regretted the fact,
for the death of Captain Thomas May, concerning which every known
particular was now in his possession, attracted him, and he knew
the incident had been widely published. It was a popular mystery,
and, as a man of business, he well understood the professional
value of such sensations to the man who resolves the puzzle. His
attitude toward the case appeared at the outset, and Sir Walter,
who had been deeply impressed by the opinions of the dead man's
father, and even unconsciously influenced by them, now found
himself in the presence of a very different intellect. There was
nothing in the least superstitious about Peter Hardcastle. He
uttered the views of a remorseless realist, and at the outset
committed himself to certain definite assumptions. The inhabitants
of the manor house were informed that a friend of Sir Walter's had
come to visit Chadlands, and they saw nothing to make them doubt
it. For Peter was a great actor. He had mixed with all classes,
and the detective had the imitative cleverness to adapt himself in
speech and attire to every society. He even claimed that he could
think with the brains of anybody and adapt his inner mind, as well
as his outer shape, to the changing environment of his activities.
He appreciated the histrionics that operate out of sight, and would
adopt the blank purview of the ignorant, the deeper attitude of
the cultured, or the solid posture of that class whose education
and inherent opinions is based upon tradition. He had made a study
of the superficial etiquette and manners and customs of what is
called "the best" society, and knew its ways as a naturalist
patiently masters the habits of a species.
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