"Well, it may be so—probably it was," the detective acquiesced. "But what do you take to have been the motive in Dr. Bastow's case, Sir Felix?"
"I cannot imagine." The lawyer's tone was puzzled. "I should have said that he had not an enemy in the world. In spite of the disappearance of the Chinese box, I don't believe it was robbery, the doctor's watch and pocket-book being left intact seem to decide that. While as to Mrs. Carr—"
"The crime would be absolutely motiveless," the detective interrupted.
"Even if the secret the doctor spoke of referred to her—of which I am doubtful—it explains nothing. Even if she were a proved murderess, she would hardly shoot a man for discovering her identity. But what about the assistant, inspector?"
"Well, he would hardly shoot a man for refusing to let him marry his daughter," countered the detective. "And he has not a dark beard."
Sir Felix took his arm from the mantelpiece and drew himself up.
"I don't believe in your man with the dark beard, inspector. I believe the words on the paper are just a scribbled note in Dr. Bastow's own writing. While as for Turner—well, he isn't a witness I should care to put in the box. But now, inspector, if there is nothing else this morning, I am a busy man, you know. And I must see Miss Bastow before I go."
Left alone, the detective sat down again at the table and applied himself afresh to his notes of the case.
Outside, just coming out of her office, the K.C. encountered the dead man's secretary. Iris Houlton was wearing the plain workaday frock she had worn in her late employer's lifetime. She looked a dowdy little person with her shingled brown hair all tousled. She did not raise her eyes, though she stopped and drew back as Sir Felix came out of the morning-room. Sir Felix stopped too.
"Good morning, Miss Houlton. You had my letter this morning, I expect?"
"Yes, Sir Felix."
"I hope you will see your way to undertaking my work. I know that my poor friend found you so satisfactory in every way that I—"
"You are very kind, Sir Felix," the girl said demurely when he paused. "But"—she did not raise her downcast lids, though a faint smile flickered round her lips for a second—"I shall not need to look out for another post. My circumstances have altered. And I am inquiring about a flat. I have answered your letter, Sir Felix. You will get it by the next delivery. I am sorry not to be able to do what you want."
"Oh, that is all right," Skrine said easily. "Secretaries as secretaries are not difficult to find. But I always understood you were something very special. However, my loss is your gain. I congratulate you most heartily, Miss Houlton. It is pleasant to hear of good luck coming some one's way; I am sure there is trouble enough for everybody as a rule."
"Thank you very much, Sir Felix. I am much obliged to you." She gave him that vague, enigmatic smile once more as with a slight bow she turned back into her office.
Sir Felix looked after her, and then went on to find himself confronted by Miss Lavinia, who had come quietly down the stairs from the drawing-room.
She glanced at him curiously.
"What do you make of that young person, Sir Felix?"
"I don't make anything of her," Skrine answered testily. "I am looking out for a secretary, and I thought she might do, but—"
"Dear me!" Miss Lavinia interrupted. "I shouldn't have thought a female secretary would have been in your line, Sir Felix. But all you men are alike nowadays—keep half a dozen young women running after you."
This pleasantry was obviously not to Sir Felix's liking. He drew his brows together.
"Really, Miss Priestley!"
"Really, Sir Felix!" she mocked. "Well, I shall be surprised if you do not find Miss Iris Houlton as sly as they make 'em."
"I shall not find her anything at all," Sir Felix returned. "She is not going to take another engagement, she says. Come into money, I gather."
"Dear me!" exclaimed Miss Lavinia. "I should like to know where she got it from. Well, you haven't lost much, Sir Felix. I think—I really think I would rather have Mary Ann Taylor as a parlourmaid than that young woman as a secretary, and that is saying a great deal!"
Chapter VII
"Can you call to mind any friend or acquaintance of Dr. Bastow's who wears a dark beard?"
"Don't know any of his friends or acquaintances at all, except Sir Felix Skrine. He entertained at his club—the Corinthian—or if he had anyone in for a pipe and a chat he had them in his own room. As for beards, nobody wears them. Men were a great deal better-looking in my opinion when they used to in my young days. Not but what they were inconvenient sometimes!" Miss Lavinia added candidly.
Whereat in spite of the gravity of the occasion a faint titter ran through the room.
The adjourned inquest had been opened this morning and, as Inspector Stoddart had prophesied, Miss Lavinia was one of the first witnesses called. After her account of the finding of the body of her brother-in-law given with her usual energy, the coroner proceeded to ask her a few questions, which Miss Lavinia, in no way cowed, seemed inclined to counter with some of her own.
"Why do you ask me about a man with a dark beard?" she demanded now.
The coroner stroked the side of his nose reflectively with his pen handle. Inspector Stoddart standing at the back of the court gave an almost imperceptible nod and the coroner went on.
"A paper was found on Dr. Bastow's desk on which apparently in his handwriting were these words:
"'It was the Man with the Dark Beard.'"
Miss Lavinia stared at him. She did not appear in the least impressed.
"Well, what of that?"
The coroner took no notice of the question.
"Then I am to take it that so far as you know there were no men with dark beards in Dr. Bastow's circle?"
"I have just said so," was Miss Lavinia's reply, spoken with uncompromising abruptness.
There was a pause. The coroner conferred a minute or two with Inspector Stoddart, and then signified to Miss Lavinia that her examination was over. The lady stood down with one of her loudest sniffs.
Iris Mary Houlton was the next witness called.
The secretary came forward from her seat near Hilary Bastow and stepped into the witness-box, and after being sworn testified that the statement she had previously given to Inspector Stoddart and now read over to her was correct in every particular.
As she stood there, the clear light from the high window behind falling full upon her, Hilary Bastow looking at her was struck by the subtle change that seemed to have come over her. The Iris Houlton who had been Dr. Bastow's secretary had always appeared to Hilary to be a plain, dowdy little person who had a curious trick of dropping her eyes and never looking anyone in the face. This new Iris Houlton, in her expensive mourning, much more expensive and elaborate than Hilary's own, seemed to have no difficulty in looking the world in the face. Her complexion, which Hilary remembered as dull and sallow looking, was now pink and white, the lipstick had obviously been called in to aid nature, and the eyelashes and eyebrows, formerly indefinite and almost invisible, were now darkened and finely pencilled. She gave her evidence too in a clear, distinct rather musical voice totally unlike the almost inaudible fashion in which she had usually answered any inquiry