CHAPTER XIX THE INQUIRY AGENT

As George stepped out of the front door he came face to face with Bawdsey, who was mounting the steps. The man seemed excited, and carried a carelessly folded newspaper which he had apparently been reading. He did not seemed pleased to meet Brendon, and looked at him in a suspicious manner.

"I didn't expect to see you here!" he said, with a certain degree of roughness.

"I did not know that this house was interdicted to me," replied Brendon, sharply. He liked neither the tone nor the peremptory manner of Bawdsey, and, moreover, was not prepossessed in his favor by the report which Lord Derrington had made of the man's duplicity. "I am glad to meet you, however," continued George, "as I wish to have a few words."

"I am too busy to give you any time," retorted Bawdsey, and tried to enter the house.

"Nevertheless, you will give me a quarter of an hour," said George, blocking the doorway with his stalwart form. "What I have to say cannot be left until a more convenient period."

"I tell you I am busy, Mr. Brendon."

"And I tell you that I intend to have this interview," rejoined Brewton, imperiously. "You talk a great deal about gratitude, Bawdsey, yet you are unwilling to put yourself out for me in the least degree."

Bawdsey became penitent at once. "It is true, Mr. Brendon. But I am very worried." He cast a glance at the newspaper in his hand. "However, you have first call upon my time, so we will go to my room."

"That's as it should be."

No more words passed. Bawdsey mounted the stairs and led George into the well-remembered room. Brendon took a chair, and Bawdsey, with an anxious look, threw himself into another. The man's face was flushed, his red hair was in disorder, and his eyes were bright. As a rule he was calm and self-controlled, so George conjectured that something particularly important must have occurred to upset him. However, Bawdsey's troubles were none of his business, and he began talking at once of his reason for seeking the interview. "I had a conversation with Lord Derrington the other evening," he said deliberately, "and we talked of you."

"Then you heard no good of me," replied Bawdsey, with a sneer. "Lord Derrington does not like me."

"That matters little. No liking can exist between a man in Lord Derrington's position and his paid servant."

"Oh, you call me that, do you, sir?"

"What else are you? Lord Derrington engaged you as his agent to watch me, and that you have done."

"Not lately. I have given you a free hand."

"In any case I have a free hand," said George, loftily. "You were grateful enough for my service in saving your life to release me from your espionage, but had you not done so I should have taken means to put a stop to your dogging my footsteps."

"You would not have known had I not told your Mr. Brendon."

"Oh, yes, I should. In any case, I should have seen my grandfather, and he would have told me."

"No, sir. He is your enemy."

"That is where you are wrong, Bawdsey. He is my friend."

The detective looked astonished. "Do you mean to say that Lord Derrington has climbed down?" he demanded incredulously.

"It is strange, is it not," said George, in a bantering tone, "but, as a matter of fact, after a long conversation, Lord Derrington and myself came to understand one another. He intends to recognize me as his heir."

"Has he then learnt where the marriage took place?" asked Bawdsey, starting from his seat, and again glancing anxiously at the newspaper which lay on a small table at his elbow.

"No. We have yet to find that out. But he is quite satisfied from the hints of the late Mrs. Jersey that a marriage did take place, and he wishes to make amends to me for his unjust conduct as regards my mother's memory and myself."

"Whew! What means did you take to force him to recognize you?"

"I used no force at all," responded Brendon, very dryly.

"Lord Derrington would not climb down unless he were made to."

"As a matter of fact he did. The olive branch was held out by him. All this is none of your business, Mr. Bawdsey, and I only tell it to you to clear the ground for what I am about to say."

"It's something disagreeable, I bet," said Bawdsey, scanning the set face of his visitor.

"Your penetration does you credit, sir. It is disagreeable."

Bawdsey settled himself comfortably in his chair. "Then the sooner we grasp the nettle the sooner will the pain be over," he said, with quite an Eastern wealth of parable. "But first, Mr. Brendon, I should like to know your exact position."

"Oh, that is easily explained, and there is no reason why you should not know what all London will know soon. Lord Derrington will join with me in searching for the register of marriage, and meanwhile will recognize me as his grandson and the heir to his estates."

"Not a very large income for a future peer," murmured Bawdsey.

George took no notice of this. "In a fortnight I leave my Kensington rooms and take up my residence with Lord Derrington in St. Giles Square. Then I shall assume my real name of George Vane."

"And you will marry Miss Ward, I suppose."

"That is entirely my business," said George, placidly. "You will gain nothing by insolence, Bawdsey."

The man rose with a wounded air. "Upon my word, Mr. Vane," he said, giving George his correct name to show that he recognized his new position, "I have not the slightest intention of being insolent. I am glad for your sake that things are as they are, and pleased for my own, since Lola may now give up thoughts of you and turn to me."

"That's all very well, Bawdsey," said Brendon quietly. "You profess a great friendship for me, but how can I trust you?"

"I have never deceived you yet."

"I have not given you the chance of doing so; but if the opportunity offered, and it was convenient to you, I am quite sure you would sell me--as the saying goes--to the highest bidder."

"Why should you doubt me?" asked Bawdsey, still wounded.

"I can only judge the future by the past, and since you are quite ready to play Lord Derrington false----"

"Who says that?" cried the man, sitting down, but looking defiant.

"I say so. Lord Derrington has told me all."

"All what?" demanded Bawdsey, willfully ignorant.

"All that took place on the night when you came to this house to impersonate him."

Bawdsey laughed, and his face cleared. "If that is your disagreeable business, sir, I can easily put that to rights."

"Can you explain why you drugged him, why you threatened him?"

"I did not threaten him."

"Lord Derrington informed me that you threatened to get him into trouble. That was why he consulted me, and that is why I have come to tell you that if you fight Lord Derrington you will fight me also. Lord Derrington is old, but I am young, and I am quite equal to dealing with you."

"I never denied that," said Bawdsey, calmly. "I quite recognize that you are a strong man, Mr. Vane, although it is not to my interest to admit as much."

"That's your business," rejoined George, coolly. "I play with all my cards on the table. What those are which you have concealed I do not know, but I am quite prepared to play the game. And at the present moment you need not call me by my father's name. I have not yet assumed my position. When I do, George Vane will have nothing to do with you."

"But George Brendon has," said Bawdsey, with a flash of his eyes. "Don't press too hard, Mr. Brendon. I am willing to do you a service, and you are misjudging me."

"I am sorry you should think so. Let us cease this bickering. I am willing to hear what you have to say."

"If you are satisfied with my explanation, will you endeavor to get Lola to marry me?"

"That has nothing to do with me."

"But you have influence with her."

"It shall not be used to make her miserable. I know nothing about you save what my grandfather told me, and his report does not bias me in your favor. For all I know you might make poor Lola the worst husband in the world."

Bawdsey shrugged his shoulders. "Lola is well able to look after herself," he said. "I think I mentioned that before. But if you are satisfied with what I am about to tell you, will you help me?"

"I'll do my best," said George, impatiently. "Lola is sure to lose this engagement sooner or later through her vile temper. I do not want to see her on the streets again, and she may as well be supported by you in a respectable manner as by any one else. Besides, as you truly say, she can take care of her own skin. But I shall not advise her to marry you unless you prove to me that you did not intend to blackmail Lord Derrington."

"Nothing was further from my thoughts," said Bawdsey, earnestly; "it was to my interest that your grandfather should hold his tongue about my having been to this house----"

"He would not have known had you not told him voluntarily."

"Oh, yes, he would have discovered in some way. I thought it best to be on the right side by confessing voluntarily what I had done. I said I could get him into trouble--and I admit that I did threaten him so far--simply to make him hold his tongue."

"You were afraid lest you should be accused of the crime?"

Bawdsey looked at George in surprise. "That possibility never crossed my mind," he replied calmly. "I certainly did not kill the woman. Do you think I did, Mr. Brendon?"

George shrugged his shoulders. "Going by circumstantial evidence----"

"Oh!" Bawdsey flipped away that objection with a snap of his fingers, "that's all right; I will explain. No, Mr. Brendon; why I wished Lord Derrington to be silent was that I might carry out my plans so as to learn who killed Mrs. Jersey."

"Then you are looking after the case?"

"On behalf of Lord Derrington. He has an idea that the assassin became possessed of a confession which Mrs. Jersey left behind her----"

"How do you know she left it?"

"Because I knew Mrs. Jersey very well, and, as I told you long since, I was once a boarder here. One day she let slip that she had some one in her power, and would leave the evidence of that power behind her so that her niece might benefit. I told this to Lord Derrington. He insisted that I should try and discover the assassin so as to get that confession, which compromises him, back again. To spur me on he has promised me a reward of a thousand pounds should I obtain the confession and the conviction of the assassin. As I want money to marry Lola, I am doing my best. I came to live here for that purpose. Lord Derrington talking of my visit to the house on the night of the crime would have jeopardized my plans therefore I was obliged--as you say--to threaten him so as to make him keep silent. So far, do you blame me, Mr. Brendon?"

"No," replied George, after some thought, "the end justifies the means. But you might have adopted less rascally means."

"I have not adopted any. I have not asked Lord Derrington for money, so I am not a blackmailer; nor do I intend to claim from him anything but what is justly mine."

"And what is justly yours, if you please?"

"The reward of one thousand pounds for the discovery of the assassin."

"Oh! Have you learned who killed her?"

"Not yet, but I may learn. At present I confess I am in fault."

George pondered a little. So far Bawdsey spoke frankly enough; but he could not help mistrusting him. However, since the man was in the telling vein, he thought it best to betray no doubts lest Bawdsey should turn rusty. "Well, the discovery is in your own hands," he said, "and I sincerely trust you will gain that thousand pounds. I am as unwilling as my grandfather that Mrs. Jersey's connection with this unfortunate business should become public. I am perfectly convinced that the person who took that confession stabbed the unfortunate woman."

"Do you think so?" asked Bawdsey, stealing a glance at the newspaper.

George nodded. "The confession was written. I learned that much from Margery. Mrs. Jersey told her it was a story. Well, as the confession was not found among Mrs. Jersey's papers when she died, it must have been taken by someone. But I can't think what interest such a thing can have had for any one unless----"

"Unless what, Mr. Brendon?"

"Unless it contained the name of the person who assassinated my father."

"How could Mrs. Jersey know that?"

"She was at San Remo when my father was killed; she loved him and she used to follow him. How I learned these things, Bawdsey, does not matter. But it is just possible that Mrs. Jersey--or Eliza Stokes as she was then--might have some knowledge of who committed the crime. If that was set down in her confession (as is highly probable), I can quite understand that the original assassin killed her to gain a dangerous document such as it undoubtedly was."

"Then you think that the assassin of your father was also the assassin of Mrs. Jersey?"

"I fancy so, as I can explain the disappearance of the confession in no other way. And if I remember rightly, Bawdsey, it was you who said that the San Remo crime was connected with the one committed in this house."

"I did say so," replied Bawdsey, thoughtfully. He pondered for a few minutes and then looked up briskly. "Well, Mr. Brendon, that point cannot be settled without proof, and there is no use our wasting time in indulging in vain speculations. Let me tell you about the night I went to see Mrs. Jersey."

"Go on," said Brendon, crossing his legs. "I am all attention."

"I knew before your grandfather came to see me that you were about to pass the night here. Lola told me."

"Yes, I was foolish enough to tell her; though, to be sure, I had no great reason to conceal my visit to Train. I never knew that a murder would take place. So Lola told you?"

Bawdsey nodded. "She did. But I never intended to bother about the matter, as I did not think there was anything in your visit. But Lord Derrington came and put a different complexion on the affair. It was his belief that you intended to force Mrs. Jersey into confessing about the marriage."

"I came to appeal to her," said Brendon, dryly. "There was no thought of forcing in my mind."

"Lord Derrington judged you by himself and thought there might be. I rather agreed with him. Then, knowing his temper, I fancied if he went to see Mrs. Jersey there would be a row and a scandal, and I did not want that to happen. I was making a very good thing out of Lord Derrington," admitted Bawdsey, frankly, "and if a scandal had taken place my occupation would have been gone. I therefore determined to drug him and to go myself."

"But why in his coat?"

"I thought that Mrs. Jersey might not admit me."

George pounced upon him at once. "There was no need that she should do so. You took the latch-key my grandfather carried."

"Oh, you know that, do you?" said Bawdsey, composedly. "Then I may as well be absolutely frank."

"It is your best course."

"Oh, I'm not on my trial, Mr. Brendon. It is only my friendship for you that is making me speak out."

"I accept that excuse. Go on."

Bawdsey shrugged his shoulders to show his annoyance at the uncompromising attitude of his visitor. "I feared lest Mrs. Jersey should order me out of the house unless I could gain time by being mistaken for Lord Derrington. I drugged the old gentleman, and then, taking his coat and the latch-key, I went to see Mrs. Jersey."

"At what time were you there?"

"Some time before twelve. I cannot say for certain. Well, Mr. Brendon, I let myself in with the latch-key, and I found the house by the red light over the door. In former years it had been my custom to guide myself in that way. I told Lola so."

"Why did you tell her that?"

"Oh, she knew that you were going late to the house and made a fuss about the chance of your being lost in the fog. I said that probably Train would tell you of the red light, and that you could guide yourself by that."

"Humph. Lola was always unnecessarily kind," said George. "Well?"

"Well, I closed the door softly and went into the sitting-room."

"You knew where that was?"

"Of course. Don't I tell you I once lived in this house? I entered the sitting-room. The lamp was burning, and Mrs. Jersey was seated at the table." Bawdsey shuddered. "There is no need to tell you more. I left the room at once, for the sight horrified me."

"Why did you pause in the hall?"

"I thought I heard a footstep on the stairs, and the shock gave me one of my fits--the fear of open spaces, you know. How did you come to learn that I paused in the hall?"

"Because I had come down the stairs to see who was with Mrs. Jersey."

"Ah! Then it must have been your footstep I heard," said the detective. "Well, I soon recovered, and left the house."

"What about the stiletto?"

"It was lying on the floor near the table. I saw it glittering in the lamplight. As there was blood on it and I saw the wound, I knew that Mrs. Jersey had been killed by it. I slipped it into my pocket with a vague idea that thereby I might trace the assassin."

"Did you leave it purposely in the coat?"

"No," said Bawdsey, frankly. "I did not. I was so moved and--as a woman would say--flustered by the death, that I forgot all about it. Lord Derrington woke up and went home. I said nothing about the murder to him at the time. I had not the nerve. It was only after he departed that I remembered the stiletto. I thought he might make a row and accuse me of the crime. But he said nothing, and I judged it wise to let sleeping dogs lie. So that is all I can tell you, Mr. Brendon, and you will see that I am not such a bad man as you try to make out."

"Oh, you have spoken clearly enough," said George. Then after a pause, "Yes, I think you are honest, so far as I can judge. I trust you."

Bawdsey looked delighted. "Will you have a glass of wine with me to show that?" he asked rising.

"On the Arab principle of bread and salt?" said Brendon. "Certainly."

Bawdsey nodded in a pleased manner, and went to his sideboard at the end of the room. George mechanically took up the newspaper. His eyes were caught by a cross-heading--"Strange Affair in an Essex Church," and by the words "destruction of the registers." Just as he was about to glance over the article, never thinking what it meant to him, Bawdsey returned with the wine and two glasses. He uttered an exclamation of dismay when he saw the paper in George's hand.

"Hang it, I never meant you to see that!" he said.

"Why not?" replied George. "Is it this news about a lady trying to tear the registers?" He started and looked at Bawdsey, who was uneasy and pale. "It's Lola!" said George.

"No, and yet--why should you not know? I believe it is Lola, though no name is mentioned."

George picked up the paper again and read rapidly. No name was mentioned, as it was said that the strange lady who had been arrested refused to give any name. It seemed that she went to Wargrove Church and asked to see the registers for a certain year--the registers of marriage. The sexton took the fee and showed the books. Then it appeared that the strange lady searched for an hour. The sexton left the vestry for a few minutes. When he returned he saw that she had torn a page out of the book. Being taken by surprise she had tried to conceal her theft, but the sexton seized her, rescued the torn page, and called for assistance. The end of it was that the strange lady--who was described as having a foreign air--was arrested and placed in prison. "It is Lola," said George, breathlessly.

"Yes," assented Bawdsey, also pale. "She evidently tried to destroy the evidence of your mother's marriage."

George gave a cry. "Wargrove," he said, "Wargrove in Essex. It was in the parish church that the marriage took place. And Lola knew--Lola----" he paused. The eyes of the two men met.