B. Fletcher Robinson

“ One Christmas Eve, just as dusk was closing in, de Laune was trotting down the drive—he had been hunting at a distant meeting—when he heard a fearful screaming from the lower gardens towards the cliff. He put spurs to his horse, and in two minutes was galloping through the shadows of the fir avenue towards the sea. All of a sudden his horse pulled up dead, threw him, and bolted. When he got to his feet—he wasn't hurt, luckily—what did he see but the body of his son, lying with his throat torn out, and the white wolf standing over him, the broken chain dangling at its neck. ”

“ The news was out after breakfast—the news that led to mild hysterics and scurrying lady's-maids to the packing of boxes, and the chastened sorrow of those gentlemen who owed the baron money. Through all the turmoil of the morning moved the little detective, the most sympathetic of men. ”

“ He seemed rather to be arguing with himself than addressing a listener.
“Baron Steen,” he said, “met with his death on an open path between a shallow duck-pond and a little pavilion. He had fought hard for life, had rolled and struggled with his enemy. There were four or five punctured wounds in his throat and neck, from which he had bled profusely. And now for the thing that killed him—whatever it was. It could not have fled down the cliff path, for the boat's crew waiting below had heard the screams, and had come running up by that way. ”

“ I jumped back, staring at him with a sudden exclamation.
“Who has been killed?” I stammered out.
“Baron Steen. We found him on the cliffs yonder. He was badly cut about.”
“It's impossible, Inspector,” I cried. “He left the roulette-table not a quarter of an hour before you came.”
“Ah—he was a cool hand, Mr. Phillips. It was like him to put off bolting till the last minute. The warrant against him for company frauds is in my pocket now. But some one gave the game away to him, for his yacht is lying off the beach there, with a boat from her waiting at the foot of the cliff. ”

“ Pretty woman, got into trouble in New York, was cut by all America, and captured Slingsly and London Society at one blow. Scandal never does cross the Atlantic somehow—all the dirty linen gets washed in the herring-pond. That's old Lord Blane by the fire; very respectable, and lends money on the sly. 'Private gentleman will make advances on note of hand'—you know. Fine woman Mrs. Billy Blades—that's she on the sofa. She's been making desperate love to Steen, but no go. The gay old dog's too clever for her. ”

“ On my return from the farm I examined the gardens again with great minuteness. At the corner of the little pavilion, about fifteen feet from where the body had lain, there was a patch of bloody snow. This puzzled me a good deal, until the solution offered itself that the murderer had tried to wash his hands in the snow, the water of the pond being frozen hard. Yet his clothing would also bear the stain. What had he worn that showed so white to you in the starlight? Could it have been that he wore no clothes at all?
“A naked man! The suggestion was full of possibilities. ”

“ It could only have retired by the yew avenue, and it did not break through the hedge. That, again, the snow proved clearly. So, we may take it, that whatever the thing may have been which you saw—it killed Baron Steen; further, it escaped into the house—this, you will remember, we decided in the garden. Let us imagine it was a man—that you were deceived by the uncertain light. His clothes must of necessity have been drenched in blood. He could not have struggled so fiercely with his victim and escaped those fatal signs. ”

“ If we take these facts as proved, it must have run straight on.”
“That is so.”
We had our backs to the laughing fauns. Before us lay a broad triangle of even snow, with the chapel and wing of the house for its sides, and for its base the carriage-drive on which we stood. There was no shrub or tree in any part of it that might conceal a fugitive. Close to the wall of the house ran a path ending in a small side door. The chapel, which was joined to the mansion, had no entrance on the garden side. ”

“ The only open fires are in the reception-rooms. When the baron made the alterations last year, they left the grates for the sake of appearance; but they are never lighted, save on the ground-floor.”
“And in what reception-rooms are there fires at the present moment?”
“The dining-room fire has died out by now,” said the young man, ticking off the numbers on his fingers. “But there is one in the big hall, one in the library where the party is playing, one in the little drawing-room, and one in the baron's room.” ”

“ It was fortunate that I had brought assistants to help me in Steen's capture. Their presence gave me a wider scope, for they were both good men. I left them to search the pavilion and laurels for the clothing, which the murderer might have concealed when he realized how fatal was its evidence. As I walked back to the house I began to understand the situation more clearly. The main drive, curving down the slope of the park, was in view of a tall man coming up by the yew walk. The murderer might have noticed our approach. ”

“ The colour faded from the young man's cheeks, but he stood stiff and silent, never taking his eyes from the little detective's face.
“And what can I do, sir?” he asked, when the tale was over. “He was a good master to us, sir; whatever there was against him, he was good to us. You can trust me to help catch the scoundrel who killed him if I can.” ”

“ Henderson.”
“And where is Mr. Henderson?”
“He is the baron's man, sir. I should not presume to inquire where he was. Beg pardon, sir, but are you staying here to-night?”
“This is a friend of mine,” I interposed. “He will stay the night; but you need not trouble about that now.”
“A smart fellow like you can keep his mouth shut,” continued the inspector, sweetly. “You wouldn't go shouting all over the house if you were let into a secret—now, would you?”
“Oh no, sir; on my word I wouldn't.”
And so Peace told him of the projected arrest, of the murder, and of his own identity. ”

“ What happened I take to be as follows:—Terry was in bed when the old man tried to creep past his window. Somehow he heard him, and, looking out, understood what was up. Perhaps that rascal Henderson had told him the truth about his father; perhaps Steen had promised him compensation—he had a mother and sister dependent on him—which promise the financier meant to avoid, along with many more serious obligations, by running away. At any rate, passion, revenge, the sense of injustice—call it what you like—took hold of the lad. He caught up the first handy weapon ”

“ Phillips—well, and did you hear it?”
“It came from over there—in the fir avenue,” said I, pointing with a trembling finger. “I don't understand it, Inspector; I don't indeed. There was something that came up that yew walk behind you about a minute afterwards. I should have thought it would have passed you.”
“No, I saw nothing. What was it like?”
“A sort of a dog,” I stammered; for under his steady eye I had not nerve enough to tell him of my private imaginings.
“A dog—that's curious. Are all the rest of you in bed?”
“No; they're gambling.” ”

“ I told him; “but why must it be kept a secret from the ladies?”
“Because the beast walks, man. There's not a labourer in Norfolk who would go into the lower gardens on any night of the year, much less on Christmas Eve.” ”

“ Yet, he cannot have burned his clothes, for the fires are downstairs where people were passing. Nor can he have washed them, for neither the bath-rooms nor the bedroom basins have been recently used. I have spent some time in searching boxes and wardrobes with no result. ”