We were traversing a particularly noisy and unsavoury section of the Commercial Road, and although I could see that Wessex was anxious to impart particulars of the case to Harley, so loud was the din that I recognized the impossibility of conversing, and therefore:
"Have you time to call at my rooms, Wessex?" I asked.
"Well," he replied, "I have three-quarters of an hour."
"You can do it in the car," said Harley suddenly. "I have been asked to look into this case myself, and before I definitely decline I should like to hear your version of the matter."
Accordingly, we three presently gathered in my chambers, and Wessex, with one eye on the clock, outlined the few facts at that time in his possession respecting the missing girl.
Two days before the news of the disappearance had been published broadcast under such headings as I have already indicated, a significant scene had been enacted in the gamekeeper's cottage.
Molly Clayton, a girl whose remarkable beauty had made her a central figure in numerous scandalous stories, for such is the charity of rural neighbours, was detected by her stepfather, about eight in the evening, slipping out of the cottage.
"Where be ye goin', hussy?" he demanded, grasping her promptly by the arm.
"For a walk!" she replied defiantly.
"A walk wi' that fine soger from t' Manor!" roared Bramber furiously.
"You'll be sorry yet, you barefaced gadabout! Must I tell you again that t' man's a villain?"
The girl wrenched her arm from Bramber's grasp, and blazed defiance from her beautiful eyes.
"He knows how to respect a woman--what you don't!" she retorted hotly.
"So I don't respect you, my angel?" shouted her stepfather. "Then you know what you can do! The door's open and there's few'll miss you!"
Snatching her hat, the girl, very white, made to go out. Whereat the gamekeeper, a brutal man with small love for Molly, and maddened by her taking him at his word, seized her suddenly by her abundant fair hair and hauled her back into the room.
A violent scene followed, at the end of which Molly fainted and Bramber came out and locked the door.
When he came back about half-past nine the girl was missing. She did not reappear that night, and the police were advised in the morning.
Their most significant discovery was this:
Captain Ronald Vane, on the night of Molly's disappearance, had left the Manor House, after dining alone with his host, Sir Howard Hepwell, saying that he proposed to take a stroll as far as the Deep Wood.
He never returned!
From the moment that Gamekeeper Bramber left his cottage, and the moment when Sir Howard Hepwell parted from his guest after dinner, the world to which these two people, Molly Clayton and Captain Vane, were known, knew them no more!
I was about to say that they were never seen again. But to me has fallen the task of relating how and where Paul Harley and I met with Captain Vane and Molly Clayton.
At the end of the Inspector's account:
"H'm," said Harley, glancing under his thick brows in my direction, "could you spare the time, Knox?"
"To go to Deepbrow?" I asked with interest.
"Yes; we have ten minutes to catch the train."
"I'll come," said I. "Sir Howard will be delighted to see you, Harley."
II. The Clue Of The Photographs
"What do you make of it, Inspector?" asked my friend. Detective-Inspector Wessex smiled, and scratched his chin.
"There was no need for me to come down!" he replied. "And certainly no need for you, Mr. Harley!"
Harley bowed, smiling, at the implied compliment.
"It's a common or garden elopement!" continued the detective.
"Vane's reputation is absolutely rotten, and the girl was clearly infatuated. He must have cared a good bit, too. He'll be cashiered, as sure as a gun!"
Leaving Sir Howard at the Manor, we had joined Inspector Wessex at a spot where the baronet's preserves bordered a narrow lane. Here the ground was soft, and the detective drew Harley's attention to a number of footprints by a stile.
"I've got evidence that he was seen here with the girl on other occasions. Now, Mr. Harley, I'll ask you to look over these footprints."
Harley dropped to his knees and made a brief but close examination of the ground round about. One particularly clear imprint of a pointed toe he noticed especially; and Wessex, diving into the pocket of his light overcoat, produced a patent- leather shoe, such as is used for evening wear.
"He had a spare pair in his bag," he explained nonchalantly, "and his man did not prove incorruptible!"
Harley took the shoe and placed it in the impression. It fitted perfectly!
"This is Molly Clayton, I take it?" he said, indicating the prints of a woman's foot.
"Yes," assented Wessex. "You'll notice that they stood for some little time and then walked off, very close together."
Harley nodded absently.
"We lose them along here," continued Wessex, leading up the lane; "but at the corner by the big haystack they join up with the tracks of a motor-car! I ask for nothing clearer! There was rain that afternoon, but there's been none since."
"What does the Captain's man think?"
"The same as I do! He's not surprised at any madness on Vane's part, with a pretty woman in the case!"
"The girl left nothing behind--no note?"
"Nothing."
"Traced the car?"
"No. It must have been hired or borrowed from a long distance off."
Where the tracks of the tires were visible we stopped, and Harley made a careful examination of the marks.
"Seems to have had a struggle with her," he said, dryly.
"Very likely!" agreed Wessex, without interest.
Harley crawled about on the ground for some time, to the great detriment of his Harris tweeds, but finally arose, a curious expression on his face--which, however, the detective evidently failed to observe.
We returned to the Manor House where Sir Howard was awaiting us, his good-humoured red face more red than usual; and in the library, with its sporting prints and its works for the most part dealing with riding, hunting, racing, and golf (except for a sprinkling of Nat Gould's novels and some examples of the older workmanship of Whyte-Melville), we were presently comfortably ensconced. On a side table were placed a generous supply of liquid refreshments, cigars and cigarettes; so that we made ourselves quite comfortable, and Sir Howard restrained his indignation, until each had a glass before him and all were smoking.
"Now," he began, "what have you got to report, gentlemen? You, Inspector," he pointed with his cigar toward Wessex, "have seen Vane's man and all of you have been down to look at these damned tracks. I only want to hear one thing; that you expect to trace the disgraceful couple. I'll see to it"--his voice rose almost to a shout--"that Vane is kicked out of the service, and as to that shameless brat of Bramber's, I wish her no worse than the blackguard's company!"
"One moment, Sir Howard, one moment," said Harley quietly; "there are always two sides to a case."
"What do you mean, Mr. Harley? There's only one side that interests me--the outrage inflicted upon my hospitality by this dirty guest of mine. For the girl I don't give twopence; she was bound to come to a bad end."
"Well," said Harley, "before we pronounce the final verdict upon either of them I should like to interview Bramber. Perhaps," he added, turning to Wessex, "it would be as well if Mr. Knox and I went alone.
The presence of an official detective sometimes awes this class of witness."
"Quite right, quite right!" agreed Sir Howard, waving his cigar vigorously. "Go and see Bramber, Mr. Harley; tell him that no blame attaches to himself whatever; also, tell him with my compliments that his stepdaughter is--"
"Quite so, quite so," interrupted Harley, endeavouring to hide a smile.