<h2><SPAN name="page163"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>CHAPTER XIV<br/> KITTY SENDS A TELEGRAM</h2>
<p>“<span class="smcap">And</span> when will you arrest
him?” Lady Clevedon demanded.</p>
<p>“Ah, yes,” I returned slowly, “that is just
it. You see, the difference between knowing and proving is
several thousand miles and this brick wall—”</p>
<p>“Oh, you and your brick walls!” the old lady
cried, waving her hands with an impatient and fretful
gesture. “I want to see the murderer hanged and the
whole thing cleared away and forgotten. He was stabbed with
my hatpin and there are people silly enough to—”</p>
<p>“But, Auntie, Mr. Holt must be able to prove his case
before he can arrest—anyone,” Miss Kitty Clevedon
chimed in.</p>
<p>She spoke naturally and the colour had returned to her
cheeks. My graphic description of the difference between
knowledge and proof had apparently brought its consolation.</p>
<p>The old lady snorted disagreeably but seemed to have no
convincing retort ready.</p>
<p><SPAN name="page164"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
164</span>“And what is the brick wall you chatter so much
about?” she demanded.</p>
<p>“I want to know,” I said slowly, examining the
back of my left hand with apparent solicitude, “what hold
the late Sir Philip Clevedon had over Miss Clevedon that she
broke off her engagement with Mr. Ronald Thoyne and consented to
marry the late baronet?”</p>
<p>There was for a moment or two a dead silence in the room, a
silence that could be felt and almost touched. It was the
old lady who finally exploded in a manifestation of wrath.</p>
<p>“My niece was never engaged to Ronald Thoyne,” she
cried. “You are impertinent.”</p>
<p>“Never?” I queried, ignoring her concluding
sentence.</p>
<p>“And she never promised to marry Sir Philip
Clevedon.”</p>
<p>“No?”</p>
<p>She turned suddenly on the girl who, as I have said, was
seated a little behind her.</p>
<p>“Was that what they meant at the inquest?” she
demanded. “They said—that housekeeper,
wasn’t it?—that Philip Clevedon and Ronald Thoyne
quarrelled over—over a—a woman. Was that
it? Tell me the truth.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know what Mr. Holt is talking
about,” the girl replied carelessly.</p>
<p><SPAN name="page165"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>She
had entirely recovered her equanimity and was completely mistress
of herself again.</p>
<p>“You were not engaged to Mr. Thoyne?” I asked.</p>
<p>“I was not.”</p>
<p>“And Sir Philip did not want to marry you?”</p>
<p>“Yes, he did,” Lady Clevedon interposed.
“He proposed to you a year ago and you refused him.
Was it over you they quarrelled, Kitty?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know anything about it,” Miss
Clevedon returned a little wearily. “I don’t
know why they should.”</p>
<p>The old lady rose from her seat and strode towards a little
bureau in one corner of the room from which she took a bundle of
newspaper cuttings.</p>
<p>“Yes, here is the report,” she said, and she began
to read an extract from Mrs. Halfleet’s evidence in a loud,
rather strident voice.</p>
<blockquote><p>“<i>I heard Sir Philip say</i>,
‘<i>You are talking nonsense</i>. <i>I cannot compel
her to marry me against her will</i>. <i>The decision rests
with her</i>.’ <i>He was not exactly shouting but was
speaking a little more loudly than usual</i>. <i>Mr. Thoyne
seemed angry</i>. ‘<i>You must release her from her
promise</i>,’ <i>he said</i>. <i>His voice was hoarse
and he struck the table with his stick as he spoke</i>. <SPAN name="page166"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span><i>I think
Sir Philip stood up from his seat then</i>. <i>I did not
see him</i>, <i>of course</i>, <i>but I seemed to hear him
walking up and down</i>. <i>And he spoke sharply</i>,
<i>almost angrily</i>. <i>The words appeared to come out
with a sort of snap</i>. ‘<i>I have nothing to say in
this matter</i>,’ <i>Sir Philip declared</i>.
‘<i>I neither hold her to her promise nor release her from
it</i>. <i>The decision rests solely with her</i>.
<i>If she notifies me that she cannot marry me</i>, <i>I have no
power to compel her</i>. <i>But I am not prepared to take
your word for it</i>. <i>The decision must come from
herself</i>.’ <i>Mr. Thoyne said</i>, ‘<i>That
is your last word</i>, <i>is it</i>?’ <i>to which Sir
Philip replied</i>, ‘<i>My first word and my
last</i>. <i>As far as I am concerned I am engaged and
remain engaged until the young lady herself notifies me that the
engagement is at an end</i>.’ <i>Then Mr. Thoyne
said</i>, ‘<i>If you don’t release her I shall find a
way of making you</i>—<i>I shall find a
way</i>.’”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The old lady ceased reading and glanced at Kitty over the top
of her spectacles.</p>
<p>“What is behind it?” she cried. “Tell
me, what is behind it all?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Kitty said. “How
should I know?”</p>
<p>“But—was it—who was it?”</p>
<p>“It may have been—Nora Lepley.”</p>
<p><SPAN name="page167"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>I
think she uttered the name quite on the spur of the moment and
with no previous intention of taking that way out. At all
events, for a moment or two the suggestion seemed rather to
impress the old lady, then she shook her head.</p>
<p>“I don’t say that Nora Lepley—Philip
Clevedon was like all other men, I dare say, no better and no
worse. But he wouldn’t want to <i>marry</i>
her. They might fight over Nora Lepley, yes, but it
wouldn’t be because either of them wanted to marry
her.”</p>
<p>“Why shouldn’t they want to marry Nora—she
is very nice?” Kitty said.</p>
<p>“Don’t talk nonsense, child,” the old lady
cried.</p>
<p>“These are democratic days—” I was
beginning, but the old lady turned on me almost ferociously.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t asking you for your views,” she
said. “And we’ll leave it at that. These
two men quarrelled over Nora Lepley, or Jane Smith, or Martha
Tompkins, and so—”</p>
<p>I rose from my seat and stood regarding them with a smile.</p>
<p>“And so my question goes unanswered,” I murmured,
“and my brick wall remains.”</p>
<p>The old lady looked from me to Miss Kitty Clevedon and then
back again.</p>
<p><SPAN name="page168"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
168</span>“Yes,” she said, “and that ends the
case. You must drop it—do you hear?—drop
it. I am getting in deeper than I thought.”</p>
<p>I laughed quietly and then went towards the door.</p>
<p>“I am seeing Mr. Thoyne at Ilbay to-morrow,” I
said, pausing there to make quite sure Kitty heard me, “and
I will ask him.”</p>
<p>I left them, probably wondering what might be the precise
meaning of that last promise—or was it a threat?—and
finding my way out strolled slowly down to the big gates.</p>
<p>Once in the public road, however, I indulged in a course of
action that might possibly have seemed a little strange to an
uninitiated spectator. First of all I stood glancing here
and there around me as if looking for someone or something.
Then I made my way to the side of the road and clambered to the
top of a small pile of boulders on the summit of which I found a
seat on a flat stone, so placed that I was invisible to anyone
coming from Hapforth House or proceeding in either direction
along the road. Having made myself as comfortable as the
circumstances permitted, I took out my watch. “Now
for the test,” I murmured. “Unless I am out in
all my deductions Kitty Clevedon will emerge from Hapforth House
in something like half an hour.”</p>
<p><SPAN name="page169"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>In
point of fact it was precisely twenty-three minutes, and
curiously enough she did exactly as I had done—stood
outside the big gates and looked carefully about her in all
directions. But there the resemblance ended. She did
not, like me, climb any of the neighbouring rocks, but set off at
a smart pace in the direction of Cartordale village, whither also
in a very few minutes I followed her. “Mistake number
one, young lady,” I murmured. “You should have
taken your car into Midlington. You wouldn’t have
lost much time and you would have made it safe. Now, then,
for the post office.”</p>
<p>I was right again. It was into the little village post
office that Kitty Clevedon turned. I did not follow her,
but instead stepped into the garden that ran alongside the house
and sat myself down on a rustic seat that stood just below a
small window, and was hidden from the roadway by a huge, black,
soft-water butt. It had been a discovery of my own, made
quite casually a few days previously, and merely noted as I noted
everything. From that seat it was possible to hear quite
plainly the tapping of the telegraph instrument within. Ah,
there it was now, tap-tap-tap-tap, H, TAP-tap-TAP, K, TAP-tap,
N—oh, yes, of course “H. knows—”</p>
<p>Poor Kitty! She did not dream that the man <SPAN name="page170"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>she dreaded
was seated under that little window reading her message as easily
as if she had shown him the form on which she had written
it. “H. knows your address and is coming to-morrow to
see you.” I sped out of the garden and through the
village, and taking a short cut met Kitty on her way back to
Hapforth House. I was strolling along dragging my stick
behind me, and I stopped as I reached her.</p>
<p>“Have you sent your telegram to Mr. Thoyne?” I
asked.</p>
<p>She was trying to bluff me and I did not mean to spare
her. Why should I? It was she who had declared
war.</p>
<p>“My—my—I do not understand you, Mr.
Holt,” she stammered, for once taken off her guard.</p>
<p>“Quite a random shot of mine,” I replied
smilingly. “I inadvertently let out that I was going
to Ilbay to see Mr. Thoyne, and it was natural you should want to
warn him.”</p>
<p>“But what have I to do with—with Mr. Thoyne, and
why should I want to warn him? Why shouldn’t you
visit him if you wish?”</p>
<p>“But you did send him a wire, didn’t you?” I
persisted.</p>
<p>“You are impertinent, Mr. Holt!” she cried.</p>
<p>“Yes, I fear I am,” I agreed. “One
often <SPAN name="page171"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
171</span>has to be in such jobs as this. And it is your
own fault, you know.”</p>
<p>“My fault!”</p>
<p>“Yes, you challenge me by your whole attitude.
Your visit that night—”</p>
<p>“I have already denied any visit.”</p>
<p>“You adhere to that—good. But, don’t
you see that that is the challenge? And now we have this
quarrel between Thoyne and Sir Philip Clevedon—”</p>
<p>She turned on me swiftly with flaming cheeks and eyes that
sparkled angrily, but I interrupted the coming outburst.</p>
<p>“I am sorry I have offended you,” I said,
“but I am afraid that was inevitable. You would have
done better to trust me. Anyway, I am in this case and I
intend to solve the problem it presents. If it is to be war
between us—”</p>
<p>“I do not understand you, Mr. Holt.”</p>
<p>“Let it be war, then, and we’ll fight it
out.”</p>
<p>And I continued on my way, still dragging my stick behind
me.</p>
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