The Riddle of the Spinning Wheel Read online

  Produced by Annie McGuire

  THE RIDDLE OF THESPINNING WHEEL

  * * * * *

  By MARY E. and THOMAS W.HANSHEW

  * * * * *

  AUTHORS OF

  "Cleek, the Man of Forty Faces," "Cleek's GovernmentCases," "The Riddle of the Frozen Flame," "TheRiddle of the Night," "The Riddle of thePurple Emperor," "The Riddle ofthe Mysterious Light," etc.

  A. L. BURT COMPANYPublishersNew YorkPublished by arrangement with Doubleday, Page & Company

  COPYRIGHT, 1922, BYDOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE I. The Girl from Scotland 1 II. Cleek to the Rescue 13 III. The Castle o' Dreams 21 IV. The Morning Call 38 V. A Startling Discovery 57 VI. When the Sword Fell 65 VII. The Summons 76 VIII. When the Blow Fell 85 IX. A Double Tragedy 95 X. The Woman in the Case 108 XI. A New Clue 117 XII. Cleek Makes a Startling Assertion 128 XIII. Mr. Narkom Voices an Opinion 142 XIV. In Which Rhea Takes a Hand 149 XV. Another Fly in the Web 159 XVI. "Tens!" 170 XVII. A Pair of Boots 180 XVIII. Enter Cyril 192 XIX. Dollops Makes a Discovery 202 XX. "Pins and Needles" 212 XXI. "A Lunnon Gentleman" 221 XXII. Damning Evidence 226 XXIII. A Startling Denouement 233 XXIV. Hare and Hounds 239 XXV. The Man in the Black Mask 247 XXVI. The End in Sight 265 XXVII. What Happened in the Library 278 XXVIII. The Secret of the Singing Wheel 284 XXIX. "As a Tale That Was Told" 297

  THE RIDDLE OF THESPINNING WHEEL

  CHAPTER I

  THE GIRL FROM SCOTLAND

  Mr. Maverick Narkom, Superintendent of Scotland Yard, looked up from theletter he was perusing, a wrinkle in his brow and one hand spread outover the sheet to keep it open, as the sound of a soft knock brokethrough the stillness, and with an exasperation born of the knottyproblem upon which he was at work, called out an irritable "Come in."

  Inspector Petrie's head appeared in the aperture, stiff hand at thesalute.

  "I know you wasn't to be disturbed, sir," he began apologetically, "butthere's a leddy come to see you. Seemed distressed, and said it wasurgent, and begged me for the love of 'even to let her in."

  "And, being a religious man, you succumbed, of course," rapped out Mr.Narkom in a tone of exasperation. "Oh, well, where's her card? What withone thing and another, this morning's work has practically gone toblazes. Not a minute's peace, by James! What's the lady's name, Petrie?"

  Inspector Petrie came forward, a strip of pasteboard in his hand uponwhich was engraved a name and something written in a woman's handunderneath.

  "_Miss Maud Duggan._ H'm. Scotch, I take it. And what's this! _Schoolfriend of Miss Ailsa Lorne._--Ailsa Lorne, eh? Haven't heard from her ina month of Sundays. Said her business was important--eh, Petrie?"

  "Very important, sir."

  "Oh, well, then, show her up. This cipher business requires entirequiet, and so long as I can't seem to enforce that, I might as wellattend to the matter in hand."

  "Very good, sir." Bowing, Petrie withdrew. Meanwhile Mr. Narkom slippedhis arms into his coat--it was June, and the heat-wave had London in itsgrip, and allied with an equally warm problem he had thought himselffully justified in shedding it--and sat at his desk, drumming hisfingers upon the top of it to the tune of "God Save the King."

  A moment later "Miss Maud Duggan" was standing before him--a slim,pale-faced woman with dark-ringed eyes and a twitching, nervous mouth.She came toward him, hands clasped over heaving breast, entire bodyaflame with the intensity of her quest. Mr. Narkom, waving her to a seatwith none too much cordiality, mentally labelled her "highly strung,"and seated himself with an effort to interest himself in what she had tosay.

  "Miss Duggan, I believe?" he began, with a creditable attempt atcordiality. "Friend of Miss Lorne's?"

  "That's right," she said in a hesitating voice, with just a trace ofScotch accent that told of the part of the British Isles which gave herbirth. "I _am_ a friend of Ailsa's--an old school friend--although wehaven't seen each other for a matter of five years. But I wrote toher--when the trouble began--and she told me to come to you. Here is herletter, if you care to see it."

  "I prefer to listen to your version of the story first, my dear younglady," returned Mr. Narkom, with a reassuring smile. She was palpablynervous. "You are in trouble, of course? No one ever visits theseoffices for any other reason. Now just set yourself at ease and tell meall about it. Is it a family matter, or what?"

  "Yes, it is a family matter. And a very serious one at that, Mr.Narkom," returned Miss Duggan in her rapid voice. "And I am so worried Idon't know which way to turn--and so, in desperation, I came down--allthe way from Scotland--to consult you. You will help me, I know. It isabout my father. His life is in danger, in very grave danger, and I amafraid that even now, while I am away, something may happen to him, andthat woman practise her cunning successfully at last."

  "In danger?" Mr. Narkom sat forward in his chair, his professionalinstincts awake at the word. "Who is the woman of whom you speak, MissDuggan, and why should she have designs on your father's life? Begin atthe beginning and tell me where you live, and all about it. There'splenty of time, you know. Things don't happen so rapidly as a lot of youyoung people imagine. You are Scotch, are you not?"

  "I am. And my father is Sir Andrew Duggan, of whom you have no doubtheard. He--he has large possessions in Scotland. A big landowner, youknow----"

  "And a hard one," said Mr. Narkom mentally recalling certain paragraphsabout the gentleman which appeared from time to time in the Scotchpapers.

  "Our home is at Aygon--Aygon Castle, in Argyllshire. And there are twoof us by our father's first marriage--my brother Ross and me. Ross, asyou know, is heir to the estates, of course, as eldest son of the line(that part of them which is entailed); but some seventeen years ago myfather married again, an Italian woman whom he met upon one of hisperiodical journeys abroad."

  "And this is the woman in question?"

  "It is!" Her voice ran up a tiny scale of excitement. She shut herhands together and breathed hard, and leaning forward in her seat, lether big dark eyes dwell a moment upon his face. "That woman is awould-be murderer, a fiend incarnate, prompted to heaven knows whatawful action by her ambitions for her son Cyril!"

  "Your father's child?"

  "My father's child. Cyril is sixteen this birthday--a nice lad, but withall the Latin traits of his mother's race--those traits which mix sobadly with our Scotch character, Mr. Narkom. Paula has planned thisthing from the beginning--slowly, secretly, steadily. She has planned towrest the estates from Ross, to turn his own
father against him, so thatat the last he will remake his will and leave all that he possesses toCyril--and rob Ross of his rightful inheritance!"

  "My dear lady, have you any foundation for believing this?" put in Mr.Narkom at this juncture, as she paused. "An ambitious woman is notnecessarily a potential murderess, you know."

  "But this one is. One can see it in her eyes when she looks at Ross, andone can read it in every gesture--every thought that passes across herface. She is a dangerous woman, Mr. Narkom, who will stop at nothing.Her own father, I believe, had a career that was shrouded in mystery, sofar as we can trace, but there was theft in it, and crime, too--thatmuch I have ascertained. His daughter is the fitting descendant of thefamily. I repeat, there is nothing she will stop at--nothing!--and nowthat Ross has taken up with this electricity installation--he has beenmad on engineering ever since he was big enough to toddle, but Fatherwould not permit him to go in for it--Lady Paula has used it to her owndesperate plans, and has practically succeeded in turning Father againstRoss, so that the two hardly speak when they meet, and avoid each otheras much as possible in the daily round of life."

  "And what, my dear young lady, makes you think that--er--Lady Paulawould wish to murder your father?"

  "My eyes--and my ears, too. Both of which are sharper than one mightimagine. When Paula mixes my father's food--he is an old man and full ofwhims and cranks, Mr. Narkom, and he has been much attached to hissecond wife and trusts her absolutely--and at night he takesbread-and-milk for supper, nothing else. And no one but Paula must makeit. She has a little sitting-room of her own just off my father's study,where there is a little gas-stove and all the necessary paraphernaliafor mixing an invalid's food, and last week I made a point of going into watch her--found an excuse to get some note-paper and stepped intothe room quietly. She was stirring the milk in the saucepan, and in herhand was a little phial of some whitish powder which she was just aboutto empty into it when the sound of my step startled her. Instantly sheswung round, went as pale as death, and clapped her hand to her heart.'How you startled me!' she exclaimed. 'You should not enter the room sosoftly, Maud. It is dangerous.' 'Not more dangerous than what you are atpresent doing,' I wanted to answer, but I dared not. I had no proof, andto accuse her without it might only make Father turn entirely from Rossand me in his quick-tempered, irascible fashion. But she slipped thephial into her pocket and finished making the bread-and-milk while Ifumbled in the stand where the house paper is kept, all the timewatching her from the tail of my eye. And I could see how her handstrembled, Mr. Narkom, so that she slopped the milk over into the saucerfrom the cup. It's poisoning she is practising upon him-- I know it,intuitively!" She clenched her hand, and sent an agonized look into theSuperintendent's face. "And all because she is determined to get theestates for Cyril, and then kill poor Father, and take _everything_, andturn us all out of our rightful home!"

  Mr. Narkom took out his handkerchief and wiped the beads of perspirationfrom his brow. The day was warm, and this excitable and evidently verymuch upset young woman only made matters warmer.

  "Come, come," he said in his paternal way. "Isn't that going a littletoo far--to accuse a woman of poisoning upon such slight evidence? Howis your father's health?"

  "Failing every day. Every day he grows weaker, but he will see nodoctor--does not believe in them and will never let one enter his houseif it can be avoided. But he is weakening steadily. And it is notbecause of his seventy-six years, either, for a haler and heartier mannever lived--until Paula started this wicked thing upon him, and beganmaking him bread-and-milk for supper. She says he eats too heavily; thatit is not good for him. And Father takes every word as law."

  "A somewhat unwise course with any woman--begging your pardon," put inMr. Narkom with a smile. "And now tell me what arrangements your fatherhas made for the future of his second wife and her son. Or don't youknow?"

  "As it happens, I do. Father is a great stickler for inheritance--or wasuntil Paula got hold of him--and upon his marriage with her, when mybrother and I were only children (I am twenty-seven and Ross istwenty-nine), he made this point quite clear to her, I understood,assuring her upon the birth of Cyril of a sufficient income for her ownand Cyril's needs when death should claim him for its own.

  "Paula, however, has always wanted Aygon Castle; always envied us as itsrightful owners; always said what _she_ would do with it if it belongedto _her_. And now that Ross has taken up with this electrical hobby (anextravagant one, as you no doubt know), he has installed a completelighting plant in the Castle instead of the musty old lamps which weused to use, and has thereby frightened all the old tenants of the placenearly out of their wits. For they have never seen such a thing before!"

  "And yet we live in modern times, and in the year of graceNineteen-Twenty-Two," said Mr. Narkom quietly.

  "But you must remember that our village is miles away from anywhere,"she returned quickly. "It is a sort of rock-bound fortress which isalmost as impenetrable as the fortresses of old. Miles ofheather-covered hills and crags surround us, and the nearesttown--Cragnorth--is a three hours' journey away. Many of the villagershave never even seen a train, so that this modern installation ofelectricity into the old castle is like some witchcraft that terrifiesthem. Paula has made a tremendous fuss, too, saying that the place isruined, that it is vandalism, and has so inflamed Father that quarrelstake place all the time between him and Ross, and he has threatened todisinherit him if he continues in such mad practices."

  Mr. Narkom nodded vigorously several times.

  "Aha! now we have come to the root of the affair altogether," he saidwith some satisfaction. "That was the point I was waiting for. Yourfather has actually volunteered that statement, Miss Duggan?"

  "He has. And in my presence."

  "And how does your brother Ross take it?"

  "Ross has the family temper, Mr. Narkom. Ross said hot words which heshould never have uttered, and then dashed off to his fiancee's house,three miles distant--a sweet girl, whom we all love--and did not comeback until the next afternoon."

  "I see, I see. A very unpleasant affair altogether. And you, naturallyloving your brother, Miss Duggan, have pieced things together, and havenow come to me to see what I can do for you? I must have a few minutesto think this over." A finger touched the bell at his side. Almostimmediately a head appeared and Mr. Narkom gave his orders. "Tell Mr.Deland to come here, Petrie. I want to speak to him."

  "Very good, sir."

  "And now, to look the thing straight in the face. You can bring me noactual proof of guilt upon your stepmother's part but your own love foryour brother and your woman's intuition, added to what you have seen.One can bank upon a woman's intuition very often--but not in a case ofthis sort. That you will readily understand. However, something isobviously wrong and wants looking into. So I've sent for one of my bestmen, Miss Duggan, and if he thinks enough of the case to take it up, Iwill entrust the matter entirely to him. He happens to have looked inthis morning, luckily, and--here he is!"

  Even as he spoke, the door opened, and Mr. Deland came in. He was atallish, well-set-up man, with eyes neither green nor gray, but withthat something in the bearing of him which mutely stands sponsor for thething called Birth. And he was dressed in the trappings of the averageyoung-man-about-town. Anything more unlike a police officer or a privatedetective would be difficult to imagine.

  Mr. Narkom crossed over to him and, drawing him aside, with a mutteredapology to the anxious-faced girl who watched him, spoke a few words ina low tone into his ear. Mr. Deland's expression changed from feignedinterest to the real thing. The two men spoke again for a few moments inthe same low-toned voices, and then Mr. Narkom addressed her.

  "Miss Duggan," he said, rather pompously, she thought--"Mr. Deland haspromised his interest in the case. I have given him but the barestoutlines. It is for you to fill in the story in the manner that you havefilled it in for me. Sit down, Mr. Deland. Now, Miss Duggan, pleasebegin all over again."

  She looked i
nto this strange man's eyes with her own anguished ones, andbit her lip a moment to keep back the tears that had been impendingsince the beginning of her story. Her lips trembled. But the eyes werekind--and understanding. Something in the face spoke to her as lips cannever do. She leaned forward in her seat, shutting her hands togetherone upon another in her distress.

  "Mr. Deland," she said brokenly, "help me, please--_please_! I am indespair; every moment that passes! I am terribly afraid for Father'slife, even as I have told Mr. Narkom here. But there are some thingswhich a woman cannot tell. Those things which she feels in herheart--and has no concrete facts with which to explain them. Father willdie if you do not come to my rescue immediately. He will die, and by nonatural means. I tell you, my father is being poisoned slowly, andbecause of his very taciturnity none of us can save him! Even now, as Isit here, something tells me that things are not right with him, or withRoss, my brother! All my life long I have had these premonitions. Theremust be gipsy blood in me, I think. But there it is. Oh, help me to savehim, to save my brother Ross's inheritance. And my blessing will go withyou to the end of your days!"