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"Yes, I know," he remarked, with a nod. "That is well. She is a good soul. Warm-hearted, but eccentric. By the way, the house will not be so dull presently; for my son, Lord Heyton, and his newly-married wife are coming to stay." As he made the announcement, he checked a sigh and turned away.
Here, don't make more fuss than is necessary, Smith; keep the house quiet and tell the servants to keep their mouths shut." Smith looked at him with surprise; for Heyton's manner was scarcely that of a son whose father had nearly been done to death. The Inspector was in the hall and Heyton signed to him to follow into the library. "This is dreadful news, my lord," said the Inspector.
Have you any idea how they got in, my lord; have any of the servants found a window or a door open?" "No," replied Heyton; then he added, as if he had suddenly remembered. "Here, by George, that's strange! I mean about the window. I found one of the back windows open when I went down this morning for a swim." "Oh!" said the Inspector. "I should like to see that window, my lord. But one moment!
He went to the sideboard, poured out some brandy and pushed the glass towards the wretched man. "Drink that, my lord, and pull yourself together," he said, in a matter-of-fact way. "That's right," as Heyton stretched out a shaking hand and poured some of the spirit down his throat and some over his waistcoat. "Now, you'll want some money. Oh, I know!
As he reached it, he glanced over his shoulder at the silent, blood-stained form lying on the floor; he wondered whether his father were dead or only stunned. For a moment, he wished that the blow had been fatal: he, Heyton, would be the Marquess; there would be plenty of money ready to his hand, there would be no need to steal his own jewels, he thought, with an hysterical giggle.
Marquess, I congratulate you and you, too, Lord Heyton." Now, indeed, Derrick started. "Do you mean that I ?" he stammered, overwhelmed by the significance of the title by which Mr. Jacobs had addressed him. Mr. Jacobs nodded, as cheerfully as before. "Quite so," he said. "Your father being the Marquess of Sutcombe, you are, of course, Lord Heyton."
"No, no," panted the Marquess; "even if you had not come to-day, I should have told the truth, Wilfred. Would to God I had told it before!" "Here, but look here!" Heyton broke out, with a kind of impatient insolence. "This is all very well.
Fact is, we all lie abed too late; I've half a mind to get up for a bath in the lake every morning." The valet grinned to himself as he answered respectfully, "Yes, my lord. Very pleasant in the morning." When he had half finished dressing, Heyton called to Miriam. "I say, Miriam, what about a drive this morning? We might go over to Teynsham." "I don't know; I'll see," she called back listlessly.
Declining the porter's offer of the lift, he went quickly up the stairs, which, unlike those of Brown's Buildings, were carpeted and well-lit, and rang the bell of a flat on the second floor. "Lord Heyton in?" he inquired of the servant. "Yes, I know he is," he added quickly, as he caught the scent of a cigarette. "Is he alone? All right, don't trouble to announce me."
When the door had closed on her, Heyton rose and began to move about the room unsteadily. His narrow forehead was contracted, as if he were thinking deeply; his lips worked, his hands closed and unclosed in his pockets in which they were thrust, and he glanced from side to side furtively. So might a criminal look while plotting a coup more than usually risky and dangerous.
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