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"Gatton," I said, "this case appears to me to resolve itself into a deliberate conspiracy of which the end was not the assassination of Sir Marcus, but the conviction of Miss Merlin!" Gatton looked at me with evident complexity written all over him. "I begin to think the same," he confessed. "This business was never planned and carried out by a woman, I'll swear to that.
But at last the manuscript was completed and I determined to walk into the neighboring town, some miles distant, to post it and at the same time to despatch a code telegram to Inspector Gatton.
Gatton came in looking if anything more puzzled than when I had left him at the Red House; also I thought he looked tired, and: "Mix yourself a drink, Inspector," I said, pointing to a side-table upon which refreshments were placed. "Thanks," replied Gatton. "I have not had time to stop for a drink or even a smoke since I left you; but evidence is coming in quickly enough now."
Looking upward, I noticed that it was attached to a rod set so high in the wall on either side that the top of the drapery actually touched the ceiling. "Well," said Gatton, looking at me oddly, "in addition to the texture of the curtain do you notice anything else?" "No," I confessed.
He evidently thought he had got away unobserved. He was carrying that." "Good heavens!" I said. "The young fool seems determined to put a rope around his own neck." "As a matter of fact," continued Gatton, "he was not unobserved. He was followed right across St. James's Park. By the lake he lingered for some time; and the man tracking him kept carefully out of sight, of course.
Although she retained so brave a composure I recognized the strain which this new and cruel ordeal had imposed upon Isobel; and Gatton incurred a further debt of gratitude by his tactful behavior, for: "Miss Merlin," he said earnestly "you are a very brave woman. Thank you. I only wish I could have spared you this."
It is as clear as day that the whole object of this elaborate secrecy was to hide the fact of her death! She was infinitely more useful alive than dead, Mr. Addison; and they hoped to keep up the solemn farce until " "Yes?" "Until Sir Eric was hanged for the murder of his cousin!" "Gatton! What do you mean?" "He is the last of the Coverlys!" answered Gatton simply.
"Thank God, one doubt is resolved!" I said. "It cannot possibly have been Isobel in either of these cases!" "Right!" agreed Gatton, promptly. "I am as glad as you are. There is clearly a second woman in the case; yet I can't bring myself to believe that this elaborate scheme was the work of a woman." "Not of a jealous woman?" I suggested. "Not of any woman," he replied.
Wentworth's house to the path below, neither I nor any other witness who ever came forward beheld her again. At the end of a quest which exercised the intricate machinery of New Scotland Yard throughout the length and breadth of the land, Inspector Gatton was compelled to admit himself defeated in this particular.
Gatton stared at me almost savagely, then threw himself back into the armchair from which he had arisen, and was just reaching out for the tobacco-jar which I had pushed before him, when a bell rang. I heard Coates opening the front door, and wondering whom this late visitor could be, I stared questioningly at the Inspector. Came a tap upon the door. "Come in," I cried.
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