The Mystery of Ryeburn Manor

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 903, 21 February 1930, Page 5

The Mystery of Ryeburn Manor

By

JOHN LAURENCE

Author of “The Sign of the Double Cross Inn,” etc.

CHAPTER XII. “I think I shall lie down for a little awhile this afternoon, Mrs. Lee, if you don't want me,” she said. Mrs. Lee nodded her acquiescence and turned at once to Harding as Sheila left the room. “My husband has told me all about you, Mr. Harding,” she said in her high-pitched voice. “How you are helping Inspector Vidler. I do hope you’ll find the murderer of poor Simmonds.” “How long has he been with you?” asked Harding, thinking he might as well make as many inquiries as he could when the opportunity presented itself. "Three months,” squeaked Mrs. Lee. "I can tell you all about poor Simmonds. I got him here. He came when my husband was away, just as one of the gardeners left. He was 'a. gentleman, and I was glad to help an ex-officer.” She spoke unctuously and complacently, and Harding inwardly writhed. He knew the type Mrs. Leerepresented only too well, the type which would bo particularly pleased to have the opportunity to employ an officer down on his luck He had no doubt that both she and Tames Lee had never let the unfortunate Simmonds forget he had been taken on out of charity. Nor did he doubt that Mrs. Lee would ever have lost any opportunity of telling all and sundry of her good-natured action. “He was an ex-officer?” “Very well educated, and the son of good parents,” continued Mrs. Lee. “He was really most superior and kept himself very much to himself. I was quite upset when my husband insisted on leaving him in town; but he was so trustworthy, and that can’t be said of all servants, can it? But Mr. Simmonds had been to a public school, so it was only natural to trust him.” "Quite so,” murmured Harding politely. “What school did he go to?” “Cheltenham. My husband insisted upon seeing his testimonials.V Poor James, he is so businesslike. He doesn’t underetand a woman’s intuition.” For the next twenty minutes Harding listened and squirmed as Mrs. Lee indulged in an orgy of self praise. She was that detestant type of woman who judged people solely by the amount of money they possessed, yet who had a secret admiration for the better educated than herself, even if they had not made a fortune by speculative methods which were, to be as charitable as possible, not above suspicion. And James Lee’s rise was due more to speculation and hard bargains than to sheer hard work. It was with an inward sigh of relief that he at last broke away and made his way to the garage. A drive, he reflected, would blow away the nasty taste Mrs. Lee had left in his mouth. He felt thoroughly sorry for Sheila, and wondered how, she had re* mained for as long as two years in Mrs. Lee's employment. He found Jennings busy polishing the metal work of the car. "You can leave off now for a bit, Jennings. I'm going out for a run. How do you find the servants?” "They hates ’em like poison,” said Jennings, neatly folding up his polishing cloth. “Who hates whom?” "The servants hates Mr. and Mrs. Lee a nc f Mr. Thornton.” "Why, Jennings?” "Mr. Lee ain’t a gentleman, sir, and Mrs. Lee ain’t a lady, if you don’t mind me saving so, sir,” said Jennings, rubbing his hands together. “But you asked me to report the servants’ gossip. Tljey treats them like dirt, and I daresay none of ’em would stop only they're paid well, and there’s Pickings.” Harding smiled grimly. He wonnered how much Jennings made out °f pickings. "What's the matter with Mr. Thornton?” .’’He's too high-falutin,’ ” replied Jennings. "He despises everybody exMiss Sunderland. They’re going j

to make a match of it, but I swore not to mention it to anybody. If Mr. Lee was to know he’d sack ’em both.” “You mean Miss Sunderland and Mr. Thornton are going to marry?” Plarding felt suddenly annoyed, angry. Thornton, the man whom he had mentally characterised as a nasty bit of work! Rubbish! Sheila Sunderland would never make the mistake of marrying a man who was already bored with life before he was thirty. He shrugged his shoulders. After all, it was only servants’ gossip and he mustn’t take it too seriously. There was a note of triumph in Jennings’s voice when he replied:—“He’s given her a ring with emeralds in it. They was in the greenhouse last summer when he put it on her finger. The head gardener saw ’ira do it, though it weren’t his business to be watching, and they didn’t notice him, being so wrapped up iu themselves, so to speak. But ’e’s engaged himself to Mary Dickers, the upper housemaid, and it’ got about, though they’ve kept it from Mr. and Mrs. Lee. Miss Sunderland asked them to.” .

"What do you mean Miss Sunderland asked them to?” asked Harding sharply. “Well, in a manner of speaking she did,” persisted Jennings. “Mary Dickers being engaged herself, forgot herself and told Miss Sunderland that she was engaged, too. I hope you get my meaning, sir. And then Miss Sunderland asked her to say nothing, as Mr. and Mrs. Lee wouldn’t like it. She told Mary Dickers that she and Mr. Thornton would not marry until he had a business of his own. But they don’t, think he’s good enough for her.” "I don’t suppose they do, Jennings,” said Harding, who was firmly of the same opinion himself. “But have you ever known any woman who believes any man is good enough?” “Queer they was in London together the other night,” resumed Jennings. “Queer —what do you mean, queer?” asked his master quickly. •“Well, in a manner of speaking. I don’t mean nothing,” replied Jennings hurriedly. “X was only voicing the views of below stairs, if I may say so, sir. Not that they think Miss Sunderland could 'ave done it, or ’ad anything to do with it. But Mr. Thornton they thinks a queer fish, and ’e and Simmonds didn’t get on well together.” % “Why?” “Well. I don’t know exactly as anyone knows why,” said Jennings, scratching his head. “All they knows is that they overheard them argufying one day, and Simmonds lost his temper anil says, ‘I knew you at school, Thornton, and a dirty piece of work you were; you don’t seem to have cleaned yourself much since.’ ” HARDING MAKES NO PROGRESS. Robert Harding drove along the military road between Winchelsea and Rye in a state of mind which at the best could not be described as sweettempered. In fact, he was feeling thoroughly out of sorts with himself. The day had been anything but a pleasant one. It had not begun well, and showed no sign of ending anything but rottenly. Sheila Sunderland had called him a coward, after he-had acted as though he did not believe her story. He could have got over that, for there was always the hope, when he got his opportunity of speaking to her alone, that she would explain her outburst. But the news that Sheila and Thornton were secretly engaged left him with a nasty taste in his mouth. The cause of Harding’s feeling of annoyance, though he did not realise it until he was sitting in a little cafe in Rye having a solitary tea, was the coupling of Sheila’s and. Thornton's names together as bpth being in London the night Siinmonds was murdered. Queer, Jennings had called it. echoing the gossip of the servants. The linking of Sheila’s and Thornton’s names with the murder of Simmonds was thoroughly disquieting. Not that Harding supposed for one

minute the servants believed Sheila had anything to do with the murder. But he felt none of them, from what Jennings had said, would be surprised to learn that Thornton knew something about it. Their recalling of the fact that the dead man and Thornton were not on good terms was significant. It was the beginning of a rumour. Unless it was scotched early it would spread like some heath fire, and in a few days vague speculations would be spoken of as though they were cut-and-dried facts. And inevitably, If Thornton was suspected, he would drag Sheila’s name into it. Already Vidler, reflected Harding, was prepared to accuse Sheila of being in the house in Kensington when Simmonds was murdered. The question was, who else was there?

Harding gave a sudden exclamation and then cursed himself under his breath for being dense. “Of course it was Thornton,” he muttered. - “That’s why she was scared, why she refuses to speak, why she is prepared to shield him.” Cii?PTEIt XIII. The explanation, Harding realised, wasn’t completely satisfactory. It did not clear up Sheila’s fear whenever Mrs. Lee’s pearls were mentioned. Moreovev, it wasn’t really in keeping with what he believed to be Thornton’s character —that of rather an effeminate creature. If he had killed Simmonds he was certainly a consummate actor. Harding returned to Ryeburn Manor as puzzled as he had left it, despite the explanation he had evolved. “I’ll have a chat with Lee,” he decided. “After’ all, it’s my job to make inquiries, and I may as well ask him about Thornton as anyone else ” In reply to his question, however, to one of the servants he learnt that Lee had gone to Hastings and was not expected back before dinner. Another cautious question elicited the fact that Sheila was reading to Mrs. Lee in the lounge. Harding turned away with a shrug of his shoulders. He hpri no desire to talk to Mrs. Lee more than necessary. He made his way up to the library. There, at any rate, he reflected, he was not likely to be disturbed, and he could review the situation from all angles. The 15 volumes of Gibbon acted like a magnet to him. Behind that middle volume was hidden the safe containing Mrs. Lee’s pearls. Somehow, he reasoned, the pearls were the cause of the whole mystery, if he could only hit upon the why and wherefore. Was Simmonds about' to steal them when he was struck down? Had Thornton come to the house in Kensington with the same objedt and been frightened by the sudden Sounding of the burglar alarm? Had Slieila Harding stopped and stared at the bookshelf. He kept very still as a half-formed idea in his mind began to grow. “Supposing the pearls were imitation?” Little by little the idea grew in his mind, and facts which had puzzled him began to be puzzling him no longer. “Simmonds was killed because he tried to prevent them from being stolen!” Everything seemed to fit into place on that assumption, the assumption that the real pearls had been replaced by a string of imitation ones. If Thornton had stolen them and handed them to Sheila, Simmonds might have come along and been struck down by Uie secretai-y to silence him. That would have been an unexpected development as far as Sheila was concerned, or it was even possible, Harding reflected, that the girl had known nothing about the murder at the time, but had fled on the sounding of the burglar alarm. If his theory were right it was perfectly obvious why she had implored him not to let the police know she was there. Naturally the last persons she wanted to see were the police, if she had the stolen string of pearls in her possession. The theory, too. would account for the fear she had shown every time the pearls were mentioned. * * * ANOTHER MEETING “Just because she’s got a pretty face and a slim ankle—” he growled, and then broke off, and shook his fist in the direction of the hidden safe.

“Rot, and rubbish!” he cried aloud. “1 don’t believe she’s a thief. I wouldn’t believe it if she brought in all the pearls and showed them to me. She’s under Thornton’s thumb, that’s what it is, and she doesn’t know what to do. If she tells anybody she gives him away, and if she doesn’t she may get found out and then there’ll be the devil to pay. Heavens, what fools women are when they fall in love!”

Some people, if they had known the facts as Robert Harding knew them and had listened to his soliloquy, would very probably have made the same accusation of foolishness against him. If love is blind then Harding was rapidly losing his sight as far as Sheila Sunderland was concerned, if he had not already lost it. He paced moodily up and down the library, revolving the situation over in his mind. James Lee had told his wife at lunch time that he would have a new clasp put on the necklace. Supposing -the export merchant had taken it in to Hastings with him that afternoon? It was obvious Lee did not know a real pearl from a good imitation any more than did he, Robert Harding, or Mrs. Lee, or most people, indeed, who were not experts. Bui •the jeweller was an expert, and he’d know. And then the fat would be in the fire with a vengeance. The missingmotive for the murder of Simmonds would probably lead to the murderer. Harding sat down in a chair and stared gloomily ahead. The more he thought about Lee and the discovery he was bound to make, if he had taken the necklace with him, the blacker the outlook seemed to him. Lee was not the Rind of man to lie down under a loss like that, rich though he might he. He would raise Cain, and in doing so inevitably Thornton and Sheila would come under suspicion as being the two persons in London on the night of the murder and both possessing keys of the house in Kensington. Already Inspector Vidler had his eyes on Sheila, and when he learnt that, the pearls had been stolen and an imitation necklace, substituted he would make very close inquiries about her movements on that night. And Harding knew, better than any other man, that she could not prove an alibi.

There was the grey dress she was wearing. Vidler knew she was dressed in grey, and had advertised that fact. A grey tweed dress. That could only mean that in -the hurry of her flight she had torn it and left an incriminating fragment on a nail or projection. Once Vidler found that grey dress His thoughts broke off as the handle • of the door turned and Sheila entered. She had closed it behind her before she saw him, closed it softly as though she did not want to be heard. The strained look on her face gave place to one of terrified astonishment when she turned and saw him sitting there. “Oh, you here!” she gasped. She retreated a step as he rose and her slim fingers sought the handle of the door. “Don’t go. I want to talk to you. I have something serious to say, Miss Sunderland." , There was a note almost of authority in his voice which made her hesitate. If she resented it,, she did not show it. After that first moment of surprise she had regained command of herself and her blue eyes looked into his with almost a touch of scorn in their depths. “So you are a detective, Mr. Harding, spying for Inspector Vidler.” Harding shrugged his shoulders. He could understand her attitude, could understand that she was hurt deeply. Whatever she said he must not allow her words to anger him. She had got to be saved in spite of herself, and he had got to tread warily. One false step and she would leave him without the explanation he sought. It -was a delicate position to talk to ner about Thornton, the man whom she presumably loved, and point out the real danger she was in. “I'm not a detective and I’m never likely to be one, Miss Sunderland,” be replied evenly. “Inspector Vidler asked me to keep my eyes open, that’s all. Mr. Lee knows exactly why I am here. “You’re keeping them open very well,” said Sheila, scornfully. “I suppose when you’ve collected all the evidence you'll have me arrested.” “It’s because I don’t want you to be arrested, because I think there: is some terrible mistake,” said Harding quickly, “that I want to talk to you.

I don’t think, Miss Sunderland, you yet realise the really great danger you are in. The murder of Simmonds has altered everything. You must tell your story to the police, before you are forced to tell it. I think Inspector Vidler already suspects you, though you must take my word for It I have said nothing to him. Did you see the advertisement he put in this morning’s papers?” Sheila shook her head, and he told her of the advertisement asking for any information about a girl in a grey tweed dress. “You must have torn it,” he finished. “Inspector Vidler asked me over the telephone this morning to make inquiries to learn if anyone in this house had such a dress.” Her face paled a little. “Do you think I killed Simmonds?” she asked in a low voice. “I do not,” he replied at once. “But I’m wondering if you know who did and are shielding him.” There was no doubt about the fear in her eyes at his challenge. “I saw no one,” she cried with a catch in her voice. “I heard someone, as I told you, and called out, but I saw no one. I couldn’t help the police. They must have known there was a man in the house.” “I don’t know how much Inspector Vidler knows. He doesn’t take me into his confidence. But I do believe that he thinks you were in the house, though he hasn’t actually said so. And he’s said nothing to me about a man.” “I can tell him nothing that will Kelp,” she persisted. “But you might tell me,”, said Harding quietly. “I want to help you, and I’m not bound to pass on to Inspector Vidler all you say to me.” Sheila clasped her hands together. “Oh, can’t you understand, Mr. Harding, I want to he left alone?” she asked, pleadingly. “No one can help me, except myself.” “There’s one person who ought to help you,” he said, sharply. “One man who ought to be glad to help you, whatever the consequences to himself, and that’s Mr. Thornton.” The moment he had spoken he regretted it. She was plainly angry and she drew herself ftp. ' “If Mr. Thornton were here yon would not find it so easy to insult me, Mr. Harding.” She left him standing completely puzzled, nor was the tangle any clearer when he went down to dinner. Her attitude only brought out the obstinate side of his nature. He was determined to force the issue with her before it was forced upon her by circumstances. After the inquest tomorrow Inspector Vidler would, be coming down to Ryeburn Manor and once he was there there was no saying what would happen. It would be impossible to keep from him the fact that Sheila and Thornton were secretly engaged. STRAINED CONVERSATION

Her maimer when she met him again in the dining-room was apparently without any strain, and he was forced to admit that whatever quality she lacked it was not that of courage. James Lee seemed full of high spirits after his visit to Hastings, and gave a vivid and amusing description of a local fair he had stopped to look at on the road. Harding breathed a sigh of relief. The discovery, ue reflected, that the pearl necklace was an imitation one was postponed for another twelve hours at least, and in twelve hours much might happen. “I suppose, James, you never thought of a new clasp for my pearls?” asked Mrs. Lee, during a lull in the conversation. Harding thought he heard a sharp intake of Sheila’s breath. He looked across the table at the export merchant, with no premonition of the totally unexpected answer he was to give; the answer which was to shatter all Harding’s theories. “That’s just where you make your mistake, my dear,” he replied. “I took them along to a man in Hastings and left them with him. It will take a day or two to get the new clasp put on.” “They’ll be safe. James?” squeaked his wife. “This is a bad mouth for jewel robberies.” “As safe as the Bank of England.” replied her husband confidently. “1 told him I’d paid fifteen thousand for them. He thought they were the finest string he'd ever seen. He lives over his shop and his safe’s one of the latest. What about a game of billiards after dinner, Harding?”

Robert Harding nodded. All his theories had tumbled to the ground. He ventured a remark. “X don’t know how they tell the difference between real and artificial pearls nowadays. They look all the same to me.” “So they do to me,” agreed Lee. “But a jeweller spots them quickly enough. He. knew as soon as I showed them to him they weren’t a sixpenny string.” He poured himself out a liqueur brandy and pushed over the cigars to Harding. “Come along and let’s have that game,” he said, “and leave the women to talk about pearls.” Harding, as lie made his way with the other to the billiards-room, was, however, convinced that the last thing Sheila wanted to talk about was pearls. For he had seen that look of tear in her face which appeared every time pearls had been mentioned. CHAPTER XIV. A DISCUSSION “Making any discoveries?” asked Lee, chalking his cue and watching Harding taking his shot. “Not making any,” replied Harding. “I'feel I’m here under false pretences. I’m sure Inspector Vidler wouid find out things much quicker than I’m ever likely to.” “If there’s anything to find out. I suppose he’s making pretty wide inquiries in London?” “I don’t know much of what D.V.’s doing,” admitted Harding. “I suppose lie’s trying to find out where those safe keys were cut and about the girl who was In the house.” “That’s a queer thing if you like,” commented Lee. “She must have been let in by Simmonds. Some friend of his. Otherwise the alarm would have gone off. It’s my belief that she was trying to go out through the window when she set it off.” “If any girl had had the nerve to kill Simmonds she would have had the nerve to walk quietly out of the house afterward,” he argued. “I think someone else must have been in the house and she ran upstairs because she was frightened. Afterward, when the alarm sounded, she probably lost her head and bolted for it.” “Then she must have seen » Simmonds or otherwise she would have gone to the police.” “Not necessarily,” said Harding. “Supposing she only learnt about the murder afterward, reading it in the newspapers? She would be in a deuced awkward position. There would be only her word that there was someone else in the house, that she did not kill Simmonds.” “And she may know who the murderer is and doesn’t want to give him away,” suggested Lee. “I thought of that,” agreed Harding. “I think it’s quite likely.” The export merchant miscued and swore. “Then why doesn’t she go to the police?” he asked. “Murder is murder.” "Supposing it was some relation of hers, or someone whom she was fond of?” “I never thought of that.” Lee looked thoughtful and preoccupied as Harding was making his stroke. “A relation or someone whom she was fond of,” he repeated. “That means, if Simmonds let her in, that she was a confederate. Do you know what I think? I believe she was after the pearls and Simmonds was murdered preventing her getting them.” “Why the two keys to the safe?” asked Harding. “Vidler thinks one was dropped by Simmonds, and I suppose the other by the murderer. If the girl and the murderer were confederates they wouldn’t want two keys, would they?” “That’s true enough. You’ve the makings of a detective in you, Harding.”

“The thing to find out is who knew about the pearls being in the safe, and who had the opportunity to have keys made?” said Harding, warming to his argument. “There can’t have been m ara. '“raere's another suggestion I’ve got in my mind,” said Lee. “Simmonds and this girl and the unknown man were in league to take the pearls, and they quarrelled. Simmonds might have had the chance to make a copy of any key if I left it lying about. In fact, I do leave them lying on jny dressing table every morning when I

have my bath. Anybody in the house might have picked them up and taken an impression, i shall have to be jolly careful in the future.” HARDING MAKES INQURIES Harding had an uneasy feeling that if this line of argument were continued Lee would review every member of his household. That would be bound to bring him to Sheila and Thornton as being the only two members of it who were in London on the night of the murder. It didn’t follow, of course, that they were concerned, but Harding did not want Lee to think at ail of Sheila in connection with the death of Simmonds. It was bad enough to have the knowledge that Inspector Vidler thought so, without increasing the number of people who were suspicious. And before Vidler forced Sheila to tell her story Robert Harding hoped that he would succeed in inducing her to tell it voluntarily. But if she were in love with Thornton, and Thornton was the unknown man who had been in Ditchling Road that night, the task might be almost an insuperable one. “Mrs. Lee tells me Simmonds was an ex-officer and well educated?” “Yes. Down on his luck. They always are,” said Lee a little brutally. “If an educated man can’t get a job it’s because he’s either lazy or lacks intelligence. I’m not very fond of employing men down on their luck. It's usually because they relied too much on their luck and not enough on work. Some of them are too soft to work too.” “And some of them are out of work through no fault of their own,” defended Harding. “And some of them have been victims of the economic conditions which followed the war, poor devils.” “Maybe. Game, I think.” He slammed down the red bail and put back his cue ip its case. “Simmonds wasn’t too satisfactory,” he continued, lighting a fresh cigar. “He hadn’t been trained to anything, and that kind of man doesn’t mix well with the other servants. He was more Thornton’s class.” “He's been with you some time?” “Who, Thornton? Y'es about four years. He’s all light for what I want him, but he has no backbone. You can’t leave him to do anything on his own.” e “He didn’t seem to me to have very much initiative,” said Harding. “When do you expect him back?” “Between ten and eleven.” “Did you know he and Simmonds went to school together?” It was evident from Lee’s expression that the information was new to him. “Where did you learn that?” he asked. “Through my man Jennings. It's common gossip among the servants.” Lee chewed his cigar angrily and spoke sharply. “That’s like Thornton. He's a damned sight too secretive, and it’s time I jerked him out of it. It’s not his job to keep things to himself.” “Let’s go upstairs,” said Lee. “DEATH AND MISFORTUNE” Harding nodded his agreement. There was no object in pursuing the subject of Thornton any further for the moment. But little by little he was determined to find out all about the secretary. The conviction was

growing in his mind that Thornton knew more about the death of Simmonds than he would care to admit in. a law court. If he could only prove that he would confront Sheila with, his discoveries and force her to tell her story. When they entered the drawingroom they found her listening with exemplary patience to a new form of fortune-telling by cards which Mrs. Lee was expounding. “Tell me your age, Mr. Harding, and 1 will tell your fortune,” she cried, in her high-pitched voice. “I’m 35,” replied Harding, smiliug. “Sheila was 22, a most awkward age for telling fortunes,” said Mrs. Lee, complacently. “That meant two rows of 11 cards each. She’s going through trouble in the near future. She will make a mistake in her love affairs, but all will be right when Mr. Right comes along.” “You needn’t listen to that rubbish, Harding,” said Lee rudely. “She’s got .- new method of forecasting trouble every day, but the result’s always the same. If she could tell me the winner of the Derby, I’d believe it.” “But I’m very interested,” said Harding politely. “I hope you predict something more than misfortune, Mrs. Lee.” “Seven rows of five cards each,'* chanted Mrs. Lee. “Will you shuffle the cards, Mr. Harding? Thank you.” She arranged the cards neatly in front of her and Harding caught an amused twinkle in Sheila’s blue eyes, and he smiled back. “Mr. Right hasn’t yet come along for Miss Sunderland?” he asked, as Mrs. Lee dealt out the last card. "‘I think he has,” said Mrs. Lee. “The cards are a little vague. You are going to be very lucky, Mr. Harding. All four aces have appeared, and the lour queens. That means you will be very lucky indeed In the girl of your choice, and have the four things which command happiness—health, wealth, children, and friendships.” “Your lucky night, Harding,” said Lee, shrugging his shoulders. "But beware of the knave,” continued Mrs. Lee, who was so absorbed in her task that she did not hear her husband’s gibe. “There was a knave in Sheila’s fortune, the knave of spades. He brings death and misfortune.” “Time Thornton was here,” said Lee, looking at his watch. THE KNAVE Harding started and looked at Sheila. She, too, he reflected, hart been startled at the queer appropriateness of the interruption. Was Thornton the knave who would play in both their lives? Was it Thornton who had already brought misfortune and death? Harding did not beiieve for one moment in fortune-telling, but he could not but admit that it was a queer coincidence. The smile had gone out of Sheila’s eyes, as though she tco had been impressed by Mrs. Lee's words. “Not death and misfortune to Mi.srf Sunderland and myself?” he asked. Mrs. Lee shook her head. (To be continued tomorrow) !