CHAPTER XLII. RUN TO EARTH.

Without waiting for a reply the Countess turned away, and went back into the house again. In the drawing-room Vera was seated, talking earnestly to Lord Ravenspur. There was an awkward pause as the Countess Flavio entered the room. Then Vera rose with a crimson face, and came in the direction of her mother.

"I suppose there is no occasion," she said, "to introduce you to one another, though it is so many years ago--"

"I have never seen Lord Ravenspur before in my life," the Countess said coldly, "and I am quite sure that he has never seen me, either. We are absolute strangers."

"But I thought," Vera stammered, "that Lord Ravenspur and yourself---- Oh, I don't know what I thought."

The girl paused abruptly, conscious that she was saying too much. For some time past she had been hugging what appeared to be a shameful secret to her breast. Her face paled with remorse now when she thought how she had misjudged these two people. But the embarrassment was not all Vera's, for Ravenspur was looking unhappy and uncomfortable. Only the Countess appeared to retain her cold self-possession. For some time no one spoke.

"Sooner or later, I suppose, I shall be entitled to an explanation," the Countess said at length. "It is now eighteen years since I was cruelly deprived of my child. It is just possible that Lord Ravenspur can explain his extraordinary conduct."

"I think I might manage to do that if we were alone," Ravenspur replied. "But, after all, you are Vera's mother, and what I have to say I could not utter in the child's hearing. Oh, I know that sounds like a cowardly remark, but my conscience tells me that I am only doing what is right."

Vera rose as if to go, but Ravenspur stretched out a hand and detained her. There was a determined look in his eyes.

"Not yet," he said; "there will be time for that later on. After dinner, if the Countess will give me the honour of an interview, I may be able to satisfy her that I am not the scoundrel she takes me to be. There are always two sides to a question."

"Yes, where the man is concerned," the Countess said coldly. "Let us hope in this case the same remark will apply to the woman--that is, if you are prepared to admit that I am a woman."

Ravenspur murmured something in reply. It seemed to him only right that mother and daughter should be alone. And, besides, he wanted to think the situation over. He had formed his own opinion of the Countess. He had implicitly believed all that his late friend Flavio had told him about his wife. He had anticipated something quite different to this. The woman was cold and self-contained and haughty, and yet Ravenspur could see nothing in her face to which he could take exception. Flavio had spoken of her as a fiend, a creature who had no title to the name of woman. His pictures had been glowing and full of colour. And now, before a word had been spoken, Ravenspur began to have his doubts. And how like the Countess was to Mrs. Delahay. As Ravenspur paced up and down the lawn, he began to see a little light in dark places. He was still turning the matter over in his mind when Walter and Venables came out of the house.

"Where are you going now?" Ravenspur asked. "What is that thing that you have in your hand?"

"It is a new collar and dog-chain," Walter explained. "It suddenly occurred to Venables just now that we had seen nothing of Bruno all day. I have been whistling for him for half an hour, and though I am almost certain he is hiding somewhere in the bracken on the common, I can't get him to answer the call."

"Probably afraid of a good thrashing for his work last night," Ravenspur murmured. "But you must manage to get hold of him, Walter. It will never do for a big hound like that to be roaming about the common. Those dogs are all right when they are well fed. But if the beast gets really hungry I wouldn't answer for the consequences. Whatever else happens, or whatever is neglected, you must find Bruno, and that at once."

Walter and Venables went off in the direction of the common, and for the next couple of hours sought everywhere for the dog. It seemed to them they could hear him every now and then. Presently Venables caught sight of his lean, dark-brown side as he crouched behind a great thicket of gorse. Walter called softly, and held a biscuit out in the direction of the bush. Then slowly, with his body bent to the ground and his head hung down, the great beast came, and Walter slipped the collar round his neck. He had hardly congratulated himself upon his success when a hollow groan close by attracted his attention. He turned eagerly to Venables. "Oh, yes, I heard it," the latter said with a smile. "Can't you guess who it is? I declare I had absolutely forgotten all about him. Unless I am greatly mistaken, that is our friend Stevens whom Perks tied up so neatly and artistically last night."

It was precisely as Venables had said. Stevens lay there groaning and shivering, quite helpless and almost unable to move. Even after his bonds were cut away it was some time before he had strength to rise. His teeth were chattering with the cold, although the day was quite a warm one. He was a mass of cramps and aches from head to feet. When once his blood began to stir again, he turned an angry face in the direction of his rescuers.

"Oh, you need not laugh," he said. "It is no laughing matter. I'll have the law against you for this, see if I don't."

"We will talk about that presently," said Venables coolly. "In the meantime, you had better come as far as the house and have something to eat. And you will be wise if you say nothing, or know nothing, of what happened last night. Your accomplice, Silva, lies in bed at the point of death, so you have nothing to fear from him. If you had gone straight with us, you would not have fallen into this sorry plight. Have you got any money?"

"I spent it all in coming down last night," Stevens said.

"Oh, well, we'll see you back to town again," Walter replied. "Meanwhile, we have other work to do. We will take you to the house and see that you are properly fed, and then you can kill time as best you can for the evening. You can return by the last train."

It was dark before Stevens reached the station with the few shillings in his pocket necessary to get him back to London again. As he stepped into a third-class carriage he did not realise that Walter and Venables were taking their places at the end of the train. It was just the same at Waterloo Station, where Stevens got out, and a moment later he was being followed by the pair, who had been joined now by Dallas.

"What is the game, gentlemen?" the Inspector asked. "Surely that man is the witness Stevens who gave such startling evidence at the Delahay inquest?"

"That is right enough," Walter said. "We are going to follow him and see where he goes to. Unless I am greatly mistaken, he can give you a great deal more information than he did at the inquest. And now, perhaps, I had better tell you of the discovery which Lord Ravenspur made last night. But, before doing that, I want to know if you missed anything from Mr. Delahay's studio. For instance, did you find a watch on the body?"

"There was no watch," Dallas said, after a moment's thought. "We found a purse in his trousers pocket with some gold in it, but nothing besides. Was he wearing a watch?"

"I am sure if you ask Mrs. Delahay she will tell you so," Walter replied. "He was wearing a watch and chain, and on the chain was an ornament which my uncle had given him. My uncle bought that ornament yesterday from a man who is obviously a receiver of stolen goods, and that ornament was sold to the shady individual in question by John Stevens. In proof of what I say, here it is."

Dallas' eyes gleamed as he took the trinket in his hand. He said no more as he walked thoughtfully by the side of his companions, till at length Stevens turned into a shady street, where he entered a dingy public-house. Without the slightest hesitation Dallas followed. He had quite made up his mind what he was going to do. For the time being, at any rate, the public-house was empty. Stevens was sitting in an armchair behind a partition with a glass in his hand. He started and his face changed colour as his eyes fell upon Dallas. The Inspector's manner was genial enough, but there was a grimness on his face that Stevens did not relish.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" he stammered.

"Well, unless I am greatly mistaken, you can do a great deal," Dallas replied. "That matter of the Delahay murder, you know. You remember what you told us at the inquest?"

"Yes, and every word of it was true," Stevens said tremulously. "If it is the last word I ever say, it was true."

"And I believe it," Dallas went on. "The only fault I find in your evidence is that you did not tell us enough. Why didn't you finish your story while you were about it?"

Stevens looked stealthily at his tormentor. He gulped his glass of liquor down hastily, for there was a queer dryness at the back of his throat that almost choked him.

"Come," Dallas said, with a quick and sudden sternness. "Speak out, or it will be all the worse for you. Tell us who it was who murdered Mr. Louis Delahay?"