The Poisoned Goblet

Chapter I.—The Warning-3

He handed a sheaf of papers to the detective. “Now, here are some notes that I have made and they should save you a lot of trouble. They include the life histories of the twenty-six employees at the Abbey, and impressions I have formed of the temperaments and characters, also my opinion of the friends of Lady Ardane who were staying with her when I arrived and are still there now.”

He shook his head disgustedly. “Really, I have never fished in more empty waters, for none of these men or women appear likely to be taking any part against Lady Ardane. She is most popular with everyone and the child, too. It is true that few of the servants have a record of long service behind them, but they are a foolish lot, and I can pick out no one among them who seems in any way competent enough to be assisting in a conspiracy such as this. And the same with these friends of hers now at the Abbey, including some very uninteresting and shallow society women.” He shrugged his shoulders. “At any rate, I gave the women the 'once-over' and then dismissed them at once from my calculations.” He smiled sarcastically. “But perhaps you may be more successful there than I have been. I am no ladies man.”

“Well, what exactly am I being sent down for?” asked Larose.

“Mainly to determine who are the confederates inside the Abbey and through them get a line as to where the gang are, outside, and incidentally, help keep an eye upon the child and make sure nothing happens to him.”

“And those letters that Lady Ardane received?” asked Larose. “What about them?”

“Both in the same disguised hand-writing and very short. The first, as far as her ladyship remembers, 'Look out or your child will be taken from you, but on no account let it be known that you have been warned or I shall suffer,' and the second, received only yesterday, 'Be on your guard more than ever now, for among your shooting party will be another who is your enemy and the luck may not be with you this time.' Both posted in Norwich.”

“And she has asked for no police protection?” frowned Larose.

Naughton Jones shook his head. “What would have been the good of it? She could not have the police hanging about indefinitely, and besides, Mr. Larose”—he looked very stern and uncompromising—“her ladyship is, as I have told you, an American, and she has a profound distrust of all police officials, indeed, it was with some difficulty that I persuaded her to ask for your services. She was very much against it at first.”

A short silence followed and then Larose said slowly. “And you really must throw up the case, Mr. Jones?”

“Yes,” replied Jones curtly. “I must”

“But you and I together,” began the detective, “we——”

Jones turned away his eyes. “I must throw it up,” he repeated. “There is no help for it.”

“But I should have thought,” persisted Larose, “that at such a critical stage——”

Jones turned on him angrily. “I don't want to leave it,” he said quickly. “Don't you understand that, and don't you understand also, what two weeks of complete failure mean to a man of my temperament? Do you think I am not sorry, too, for that poor woman eating out her heart, and night and day expecting some dreadful blow to fall?” His voice dropped suddenly to gentler tones. “I am doing the best I can for her and in advising her to ask for your services I am thereby going against all the prejudices of my life.” He frowned scornfully. “Must I again refer to my estimation of the official police, and must I ask you to realise how humiliating it is for me to come here this morning? Please, please Mr. Larose, stress no more upon my enforced departure. It is unavoidable.”

“All right, Mr. Jones,” said Larose quickly. “I will not refer to it again.” He glanced down at the papers on the desk. “So I am to appear there as a guest, am I?”

Naughton Jones smiled a disdainful smile. “You may appear to some people there as a guest, but if I have any grasp of the situation at Abbey, to those with whom we are most concerned your true identity will become known at once.”

He pointed to the papers before them on the desk. “You will find all your instructions there. Yes, you are to go down as a friend of her cousin Paris Lestrange, the K.C., and you are to call upon this gentleman straight away at his chambers in Lincoln's Inn Fields, so that you will not be entirely unknown to each other when you meet at the Abbey. I have just come from him and made an appointment for you at 12.30.” He looked rather annoyed. “We had to take him into our confidence because it would have seemed strange for Lady Ardane to have invited a man of your age—as her friend.”

“What sort of a man is he?” asked Larose.

Naughton Jones pursed up his lips. “Oh! quite reliable and all that, but personally, one I do not particularly care for.” He frowned as if at some unpleasant memory. “I crossed swords with him last year at the Leeds Assizes when he was defending the forger, Stringer Blake, and although he was most rude and discourteous to me when in the witness box, it is generally conceded he did not come too well out of the encounter. At any rate my evidence turned the scale and friend Stringer was sent down for seven years.”

“Ah! I remember now!” exclaimed Larose. “I've seen this Lestrange in the Courts. Between thirty-five and forty, dark and rather good-looking. He goes in for racing and owns a few horses himself.”

Jones nodded. “Yes, that's the fellow, and if the report speaks true he's anxious to hang up his hat at the Abbey. Admiral Charters, one of the visitors up there, told me last week that he'd proposed many times to Lady Ardane and everyone knew it.” The great investigator smiled acidly. “A very presumptuous and conceited man!”

“And I am to go and see him now,” asked Larose, “directly I have received that order that you told me I am about to have from the Chief.”

“Yes,” nodded Jones, “I have just come from Lincoln Inn Fields, and have arranged the appointment for you.” He looked amused. “I might mention he did not seem over-pleased.”

Larose looked amused. “What displeased him?” he asked. “Association with a policeman?” He laughed. “I suppose he thinks I'll be disgracing him by putting my knife into my mouth! Really——”

But the telephone tinkled and he cut short what he was going to say. He lifted the receiver and then making the reply, “Very good, sir, I'll come at once,” replaced it and rose quickly to his feet.

“It's the Chief, Mr. Jones,” he explained. “Just wait a minute or two, will you. He says very little, and I don't suppose he'll keep me long,” and then, receiving a nod of acquiescence, he left the room.

With the closing of the door, the gloomy look dropped at once from the face of the great investigator, and taking a highly-colored pink newspaper out of his pocket, he began to scan down its columns with all appearance of great interest.

“Hum! hum!” he remarked, “a very tricky programme with the winners well concealed, and if anyone's not careful, he'll be brought home a cot case this afternoon. Ho! ho!” he went on, “but 'Track-Watcher' is all at sea in these selections and that nap for the 3.30 is indicative of very poor judgement, to my mind.” He shook his head emphatically. “'Wet Kisses' will never act in the heavy going, and 'The Bishop' will come right away from her as he turns for home.” He snorted contemptuously. “Then, of course, 'Maid of Orleans' will be too strong for 'The Parson's Nose,' and 'Sweet Seventeen' will beat the 'The Unwanted Babe' every time.”

His contempt became accentuated as he read on. “Numbskull! Fool! Imbecile!” he ejaculated. “So, his best bets of the day are 'Slippery d**k' and 'Dirty Dog!' Why, 'Slippery d**k' will never get round those turns and 'Dirty Dog' just hates the mud!” He almost gasped. “Great Scot! the man must have been intoxicated when he picked those out and——” But he heard someone outside, and in a lightning movement the pink paper was back in his pocket.

The door opened, and Larose returned to the room. “Yes, it's all right,” he announced cheerfully. “I'm to go and I'll be starting in less than half an hour.” He reseated himself at the desk and went on in sharp and business-like tones. “And now, please Mr. Jones, just tell me who at the Abbey, besides Lady Ardane, know that I am coming down?”

“No one, not a soul,” replied Jones emphatically, “and there, at any rate for the time being, we are quite safe. We only decided upon everything this morning, and our conversation took place outdoors, in whispers, and in a part of the garden where we could not possibly be overheard.”

“Good,” exclaimed Larose, “then I'll get you to give me an introduction to her ladyship at once.”

“There's a letter among the papers there, and you'll present it to her when you arrive.”

“But that's not the sort of introduction I mean,” said Larose. “I want you to introduce me over the phone, so that she'll be able to recognise my voice, and I want to say something particular to her, as well. What's her number?”

Jones gave it with a frown and then sat with a very bored expression on his face until the call was put through.

“Just say that you want to introduce a friend to her,” whispered Larose quickly, when Jones was holding the receiver to his ear. “Don't on any account mention my name.”

Jones flashed him a look of withering scorn, and began to speak into the mouthpiece. “Yes—yes—a most pleasant journey, thank you… Certainly, everything is all right… No thanks at all. I knew I could manage it… Now, I have a friend here and——”

But Larose had deftly plucked the receiver from his hand, and with a smile of apology to the amazed Jones, he at once took up the conversation.

“It is the friend speaking… Good afternoon… I'm sure it's very kind of you to ask me down for the shooting, although kangaroos are more in my line than pheasants… Still, I have shot more than kangaroos in my time, and as I'm quite handy with my gun, I may be a welcome acquisition to your house-party. I'm starting almost at once, but I want to speak to you to-night, right away from where you are now… You understand?… Yes, I want to have a chat with you before I arrive… Let me see. Now it's exactly 12 o'clock… Certainly, it is absolutely necessary, and not a soul must know, until the last moment, that you are motoring anywhere… Well, say the Royal Hotel, then… In the lounge at ten minutes to six… Yes, I must see you. All right then, you'll be there at ten minutes to six and please don't be late… Oh! I shall recognise you, and I'll come up and speak to you… Oh! one thing more. Please bring a plan of your place, if you have one. No, that's all. Good morning.”