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"Lady Heyton is in bed and asleep, I hope, my lord," said Celia; and reluctantly and with a touch of colour, she added, "I think it would be better not to disturb her ladyship; she she is very much upset; very ill, indeed." He nodded. "Not to be surprised at!" he said. "I'm feeling pretty seedy myself. Here, will you come with me and have a glass of wine?"
"Derrick," he said; "it is the name that you shall always call me by; but the world will know me as Lord Heyton." She started in his arms and, drawing back her head, gazed up at him in amazement; and she listened as he told her the wonderful news; at first with bewilderment and then with a gravity and a lack of enthusiasm which surprised him. "You are glad, dearest?" he asked.
But you must remember Lord Heyton is very much upset; when one's nerves are on the rack, the least thing, trifling though it may be " "Quite so; quite so," said Mr. Jacobs, with a nod of comprehension.
There were prints on the door of the safe, inside, on the poker oh, well, everywhere; because, you see, when a man's engaged in this kind of work, he's naturally nervous, his hands are sweaty. And these finger-prints were those of a gentleman's hands. Do you want me to go on, Lord Heyton?"
"Oh, my lord, the Marquess is dead!" stammered Simcox. "Dead!" echoed Heyton, his face livid, his whole form shaking as if with palsy. "Well, Jenkins thinks so, my lord. If so, it's murder." "Murder!" echoed Heyton, his voice again hoarse. "Yes, my lord. There's been a burglary; the safe, the safe in his lordship's dressing-room, has been broken into.
"All the same, I'd try to get rid of them," said Heyton, doggedly. "I saw one or two of them, evil-looking chaps, lurking about the plantation." "Looking for wood for their fires, no doubt," said the Marquess. "But I'll speak to the steward, if you wish it; though, as I say, they are on common land and it will not be easy to turn them off."
Jacobs' Homburg hat. "All right, my lord," he said, as Heyton muttered a sullen apology. "I was just taking a stroll." He went up the steps, and stood beside Heyton, looking at the view with obvious admiration; then presently, he said, "I was going to ask you if you'd mind signing a paper for me, my lord. It's just a little report for Scotland Yard; scarcely necessary perhaps, but still "
The light fell on the figure of the Marquess, lying on its back, where he had fallen; his arms were stretched out, he was quite motionless, and a thin stream of blood was trickling from his forehead; it had already reddened his face and made a small pool on the carpet. Heyton stood and gazed at this horrible sight, as if he were turned to stone.
Jacobs' company, patrolled the woods and, following the clue Lord Heyton had offered him, had visited the gipsy encampment and examined the members of the tribe. He came upon nothing to rouse his suspicions of them; indeed, he hit upon no clue whatever; but he still kept up a kind of patrol and scrutinised every person who approached the Hall. If Mr.
Then then you, Green, are Lord Heyton?" He smiled as if he himself had conferred the title of nobility on Derrick. "Well, this knocks me out. No more detective novels for me! Realism is my line for the future. And yet, what a novel it would make!" "You shall write it some day, Reggie," said Derrick, with a smile. "Some day?" retorted Reggie. "I'm going to write it at once!
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