"Come, come," he said in his paternal way. "Isn't that going a little too far – to accuse a woman of poisoning upon such slight evidence? How is your father's health?"
"Failing every day. Every day he grows weaker, but he will see no doctor – does not believe in them and will never let one enter his house if it can be avoided. But he is weakening steadily. And it is not because of his seventy-six years, either, for a haler and heartier man never lived – until Paula started this wicked thing upon him, and began making him bread-and-milk for supper. She says he eats too heavily; that it is not good for him. And Father takes every word as law."
"A somewhat unwise course with any woman – begging your pardon," put in Mr. Narkom with a smile. "And now tell me what arrangements your father has made for the future of his second wife and her son. Or don't you know?"
"As it happens, I do. Father is a great stickler for inheritance – or was until Paula got hold of him – and upon his marriage with her, when my brother and I were only children (I am twenty-seven and Ross is twenty-nine), he made this point quite clear to her, I understood, assuring her upon the birth of Cyril of a sufficient income for her own and Cyril's needs when death should claim him for its own.
"Paula, however, has always wanted Aygon Castle; always envied us as its rightful owners; always said what she would do with it if it belonged to her. And now that Ross has taken up with this electrical hobby (an extravagant one, as you no doubt know), he has installed a complete lighting plant in the Castle instead of the musty old lamps which we used to use, and has thereby frightened all the old tenants of the place nearly out of their wits. For they have never seen such a thing before!"
"And yet we live in modern times, and in the year of grace Nineteen-Twenty-Two," said Mr. Narkom quietly.
"But you must remember that our village is miles away from anywhere," she returned quickly. "It is a sort of rock-bound fortress which is almost as impenetrable as the fortresses of old. Miles of heather-covered hills and crags surround us, and the nearest town – Cragnorth – is a three hours' journey away. Many of the villagers have never even seen a train, so that this modern installation of electricity into the old castle is like some witchcraft that terrifies them. Paula has made a tremendous fuss, too, saying that the place is ruined, that it is vandalism, and has so inflamed Father that quarrels take place all the time between him and Ross, and he has threatened to disinherit him if he continues in such mad practices."
Mr. Narkom nodded vigorously several times.
"Aha! now we have come to the root of the affair altogether," he said with some satisfaction. "That was the point I was waiting for. Your father has actually volunteered that statement, Miss Duggan?"
"He has. And in my presence."
"And how does your brother Ross take it?"
"Ross has the family temper, Mr. Narkom. Ross said hot words which he should never have uttered, and then dashed off to his fiancée's house, three miles distant – a sweet girl, whom we all love – and did not come back until the next afternoon."
"I see, I see. A very unpleasant affair altogether. And you, naturally loving your brother, Miss Duggan, have pieced things together, and have now come to me to see what I can do for you? I must have a few minutes to think this over." A finger touched the bell at his side. Almost immediately a head appeared and Mr. Narkom gave his orders. "Tell Mr. Deland to come here, Petrie. I want to speak to him."
"Very good, sir."
"And now, to look the thing straight in the face. You can bring me no actual proof of guilt upon your stepmother's part but your own love for your brother and your woman's intuition, added to what you have seen. One can bank upon a woman's intuition very often – but not in a case of this sort. That you will readily understand. However, something is obviously wrong and wants looking into. So I've sent for one of my best men, Miss Duggan, and if he thinks enough of the case to take it up, I will entrust the matter entirely to him. He happens to have looked in this morning, luckily, and – here he is!"
Even as he spoke, the door opened, and Mr. Deland came in. He was a tallish, well-set-up man, with eyes neither green nor gray, but with that something in the bearing of him which mutely stands sponsor for the thing called Birth. And he was dressed in the trappings of the average young-man-about-town. Anything more unlike a police officer or a private detective would be difficult to imagine.
Mr. Narkom crossed over to him and, drawing him aside, with a muttered apology to the anxious-faced girl who watched him, spoke a few words in a low tone into his ear. Mr. Deland's expression changed from feigned interest to the real thing. The two men spoke again for a few moments in the same low-toned voices, and then Mr. Narkom addressed her.
"Miss Duggan," he said, rather pompously, she thought – "Mr. Deland has promised his interest in the case. I have given him but the barest outlines. It is for you to fill in the story in the manner that you have filled it in for me. Sit down, Mr. Deland. Now, Miss Duggan, please begin all over again."
She looked into this strange man's eyes with her own anguished ones, and bit her lip a moment to keep back the tears that had been impending since the beginning of her story. Her lips trembled. But the eyes were kind – and understanding. Something in the face spoke to her as lips can never do. She leaned forward in her seat, shutting her hands together one upon another in her distress.
"Mr. Deland," she said brokenly, "help me, please —please! I am in despair; every moment that passes! I am terribly afraid for Father's life, even as I have told Mr. Narkom here. But there are some things which a woman cannot tell. Those things which she feels in her heart – and has no concrete facts with which to explain them. Father will die if you do not come to my rescue immediately. He will die, and by no natural means. I tell you, my father is being poisoned slowly, and because of his very taciturnity none of us can save him! Even now, as I sit here, something tells me that things are not right with him, or with Ross, my brother! All my life long I have had these premonitions. There must be gipsy blood in me, I think. But there it is. Oh, help me to save him, to save my brother Ross's inheritance. And my blessing will go with you to the end of your days!"
CHAPTER II
CLEEK TO THE RESCUE
She stopped speaking suddenly and choked back a sob, covering her face with her gloved hands, and for a moment Deland sat looking at her, eyes narrowed, and the curious little one-sided smile so characteristic of the man travelling up his face. Here was very evident distress indeed. And real, too, if he knew anything of women. And yet – where was the evidence, the intention to murder, as she had suggested? There was absolutely nothing to go upon but a woman's intuition – and that, strangely enough, very rarely went wrong. He'd bank a good deal upon a woman's intuition every time, and feel he'd get good credit.
"Listen, Miss Duggan," he said, leaning forward in his seat and surveying her with keen, critical eyes. "You are very grieved, I know, but, as Mr. Narkom has just told me, you have nothing to go upon but —actually– your own intuition. My friend here does not always bank on that. I do. A woman's intuition is often a great deal safer than a whole chain of circumstantial evidence. That is where Mr. Narkom and I differ – eh, old friend? At any rate, as there is another case besides yours up in Argyllshire awaiting my investigation, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll come up to Scotland to-morrow – to-night, in fact, by the midnight train – and look into both cases at once. And if I can find anything requiring my assistance I'll gladly give it. How will that do?"
Mr. Narkom stifled an exclamation of surprise. Here was an interest which he had never dreamed of awakening. Cleek (for such was the admirable gentleman in his admirably cut clothes) rarely, if ever, showed such immediate interest unless there was more in the thing than met the eye in the first place. And although this Miss Duggan was obviously in earnest, he himself would be inclined to put the thing down to a woman's natural jealousy for her rightful possessions, and a natural love for the man who was beloved to her by all the ties of flesh and blood and for whom she would fight, if necessary, to the bitter end. He had seen this sort of thing before – and paid