Sindal immediately showed interest.
“News!” he exclaimed. “Of course I’ll go — I’m jolly anxious to get hold of any news relating to this affair, I can assure you!”
“All right,” agreed Weathershaw. “We’ll get a car about half past eight; they’ll run us out in half an hour.”
It was just nine o’clock when these two turned into the Stanbury Arms, an old wayside inn which stood a little way outside Lithersdale village. It was one of those places which had originally been farmstead as well as hostelry, and in it were a number of low-ceilinged, wainscoted parlors; into one of these, Sindal and his companion turned. Sindal rang a handbell which stood on the table.
“They keep particularly good ale here,” he said. “Better try some — for the good of the house, anyway.”
“Anything you like,” answered Weathershaw indifferently. “I daresay my man will do with a glass when he comes in.”
The landlord, who presently brought in a foaming jug of ale and clean glasses, looked knowingly at Sindal as he felt in his pockets for change.
“Owt more been heard about things, Mr. Sindal?” he asked familiarly. “I expect all you lawyer gentlemen’s up to t’ neck in enquiries, like. It’s a queer business, an’ all — and theer’s some strange things bein’ said about it, my conscience!”
“What’s being said?” asked Sindal, with a glance at Weathershaw.
“Nay, all sorts!” answered the landlord. “You know how folks talks when they come and sit i’ houses like this — ivvery man ’at comes in’s gotten some theory or other. Theer’s them ’at says ’at neither t’ police, nor t’ crowner, nor any o’ you lawyers hes gotten t’ stick be t’ right end yet — ’at theer’s a far greater mystery about owd Sir Cheville’s death than anybody’s aware on. And that’s what I think.”
“Does anybody suggest what the mystery is?” asked Sindal.
“Well, no, sir, I couldn’t say ’at anybody does exactly that theer,” answered the landlord. “But theer were a man in here this afternoon ’at laid t’ law down pretty dogmatic. ‘Yon owd feller weren’t murdered ower that will he’d made! ’ says he. ‘He wor made away wi’ for summat at hed nowt to do wi’ no wills! ’ ‘Well, an’ what? ’ says another man. ‘Never ye mind! ’ says t’ first chap. ‘What I’m sayin’s reight — ye’ll see what he was slain for, i’ due time — ye mark my words! ’ That’s t’ way ’at they will talk, you know, Mr. Sindal,” concluded the landlord as he left the parlor.
Sindal glanced at Weathershaw when the landlord had gone.
“That’s it!” he said with a grim laugh. “Talk, talk! — and never anything at the end of it. Well, going to try this fine old ale? — cold as snow!”
Weathershaw, who had been looking out of the window, suddenly moved to the door.
“A moment!” he said. “Here’s my man!”
He went swiftly out to the road, and Sindal, looking after him, saw him meet Hartley, who came quietly along as if he had no other business in hand than to call at the inn. Together, the two men turned aside, and became absorbed in what was evidently an important conversation. Suddenly Weathershaw, motioning his companion to follow, turned and strode swiftly back.
“Sindal!” he exclaimed, as he came in, with Hartley on his heels. “The time’s come for action! Will you ring up the police at Hallithwaite, and say that you — they don’t or won’t know me, so you must take responsibility — want them to send up superintendent, inspector, and a couple of men, plain-clothes men, here to the Stanbury Arms, at once. Tell them it’s most urgent — I’ll tell you why, after.”
Sindal, carried away by Weathershaw’s emphasis, started for the door. But with his hand on it, he turned, for one word.
“Arrest?” he asked.
Weathershaw was pouring out a glass of ale for Hartley. He answered with equal brevity.
“Probably!” he said.
He glanced at his man when Sindal had hurried off; Hartley, cool and unperturbed, was lifting his glass to his mouth.
“Two of ’em, then?” said Weathershaw.
“Two!” replied Hartley.
“In the same house?”
“In the same house.”
“And — both at the same game?”
“So I found out!”
“We’re on the right track, without doubt,” said Weathershaw musingly. He pulled out his watch. “Those fellows can get up here before ten,” he added. “It’ll be about dark by that time, and so—”
Sindal came hurrying back.
“I say!” he said. “Marrows, the superintendent, and Calvert, the inspector, are here in the village now — they’re at the vicarage. I’ll run along there and fetch them. Two other men are coming straight up. Look here! — am I to tell Marrows anything until—”
“Leave it to me!” broke in Weathershaw. “Get him and Calvert here, if you can, at once. Then — I’ll explain. Where’s that telephone? — I want to ask Sir Marston to run down here.”
Sindal led him into the hall, pointed out the telephone at the end of it, and then leaving the house ran along to the vicarage. And in his excitement on bursting into the Vicar’s study, he did not at first notice that Birch was there, and when, turning to look round, he saw him, he was still so engrossed by the needs of the moment that he failed to connect the presence of his brother-solicitor with that of the police.
“Come away at once, Marrows!” he repeated. “Both of you! — you’re wanted.”
But Marrows was as cool as Sindal was excited.
“What are we wanted for, Mr. Sindal?” he asked. “We’ve business here, yet.”
Even then Sindal made no guess at what was happening. His sole concern was to get the police to Weathershaw.
“The fact is,” he said, seeing that an explanation was necessary before the superintendent would move — “the fact is, Sir Marston and myself have been employing a private detective in this business — Weathershaw, of Manchester. He’s made a discovery — I can’t tell you what it is, but I know him well enough to know that it’s highly important. And he wants your official help — just now. He wants you to arrest somebody. Two of your men are coming up now, from town.”
Marrows, who had listened to this with evident astonishment, glanced at Calvert and then turned again to Sindal.
“Just step outside a minute, Mr. Sindal,” he said. “We’ll join you presently. Now, Mr. Birch,” he went on, when Sindal had gone out into the hall, “you’ve heard that? I hope there’s something in it, for your sake — for to tell you the truth, I was just going to tell you and Mam’selle there that you’d have to go back to Hallithwaite with me! But, as things are — will you give me your word that you’ll stop here until I’ve seen what this new business is?”
“With the Vicar’s permission,” answered Birch.
The Vicar waved a hand, implying consent, and Marrows, after a moment’s hesitation, signed to Calvert to follow him and joined Sindal.
“Do you know any more than you’ve told us, Mr. Sindal?” he asked, as all three hurried down the road toward the inn. “I know this Weathershaw by reputation, but, of course, I’d no knowledge that you were employing him. What is it he’s found out?”
“I’ve no more idea than you have,” answered Sindal. “But I know that he’s had a theory about this affair from the time of his arrival, and I’m confident that he wouldn’t want your help unless he felt sure of what his line is.”
“Well, let’s hope we’re going to have the thing cleared up!” said Marrows. “Matters were beginning to look queer for more than one person, Mr. Sindal.”