CHAPTER XLIV.

THE END OF THE CHASE

“Don’t move,” said Larry. “Resistance is useless. Listen to that.”

There was the faint sound of a crash in the hall.

“Those are police officers, and they are inside the house,” said Larry laconically.

Slowly David pushed the girl away from him and faced the intruder, looking at him from under his heavy brows. Larry did not see the man’s hand move, so quick was the motion. A wind fanned his cheek, a panel splintered, and the two shots sounded like one to the half-fainting girl.

David Judd stood for a moment erect, then staggered a little.

“My beautiful plays!” he said, and choked.

Then, without another word, he crashed to the floor, dead.

“David, David!” Dr. Judd threw himself upon the body. “David, don’t act! I will get you beautiful actors for your work. I don’t like to see you doing it, David! It frightens me. Tell him not to!”

The big man, his florid face gone white, looked up appealingly at Larry Holt, who stood with his smoking pistol in his hand, his eyes fixed upon the two.

“Mr. Holt, you have influence with him,” whined the doctor, his face streaming with tears. “Tell him, please, not to do this! It frightens me when he acts. Sometimes he acts for hours in this room--little pieces from his own wonderful plays. You must ask him to read you some, Mr. Holt. David----!” He shook the body, but David was beyond the voice of his brother.

Then the doctor stood up. He came across to Larry, laying his large hand on the other’s like a frightened child. Larry was so overwhelmed by the tragedy of it all that he could not speak. This grown man, whose brilliant brain had conceived and dared so much, was for a moment like a little child.

Suddenly the doctor’s head came up.

“I am sorry,” he said huskily. “Poor boy!”

He looked at Larry Holt long and steadily.

“Mr. Holt,” he said, “I have been behaving childishly, but I am perfectly sane. I accept full responsibility for all my acts--and all the acts of my brother. I know quite well what I have done.”

Harvey had burst into the room and stopped dead at the scene, until Larry beckoned him forward.

“Take him,” he said.

“I wish we had finished you,” said Dr. Judd as they led him away.

The girl was in Larry’s arms now, her face hidden against his shoulder.

“This is the end of the bad road,” he whispered, and she nodded. As they came into the vestibule, one of the police officers who filled the hall saluted him.

“We’ve taken the servant, sir. He was locked up in another part of the house.”

“He knows nothing about it,” said Larry. “You can safely release him. And, anyway, I haven’t taken the trouble to get a warrant for him.”

A tall man came out of the broken doorway which Larry discovered led to the servants’ quarters, and took the girl’s hand in his.

“You’ve had a terrible experience, Miss Stuart,” he said, and she recognized the Police Commissioner, and tried to smile. “I have my car here. You had better come along, Larry. Harvey can charge Dr. Judd.”

They drove back to Scotland Yard, and Larry said very little on the journey. He sat by the girl’s side, her hand in his, and answered the questions the Commissioner put to him briefly and without elaboration. It was when they were back in the Commissioner’s office that Larry spoke.

“John,” he said, “I hope you are not going to report this matter to the Government as an achievement on my part.”

Sir John looked at him with an inquiring frown.

“Of course I shall,” he said. “Who else takes credit?”

Larry put his hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“Here is the best detective we have had in Scotland Yard for many years,” he said simply.

Diana laughed.

“You silly man,” she scoffed, “of course I am not. Who was the best detective you could have had to deal with this case?”

“You,” he said.

She shook her head.

“The best detective was Dr. Judd, if you could have secured his services. And he was best because he knew most of this matter, knew all the secrets which we were trying to discover. I was in very much the same position; I was inside the game. Once I knew, as I did, that Clarissa Stuart was myself, I was able to mystify you. For when it was clear that poor Emma--I nearly called her aunt--poor Emma Ward was the charwoman who had seen my--my father, and had left in such a state of great agitation, there was no doubt whatever in my mind that it was my father. And when that was clear, the rest was rather easy. I knew then that I was the objective of the gang. No, Larry, you are and you have been wonderful.”

Larry shook his head with a smile.

“Anyway,” said the Commissioner dryly, “does it matter who gets the credit?”

“Why?” asked Larry in surprise.

“I mean, so long as it goes into the family,” said Sir John, and the colour came to the girl’s face.

“There’s a great deal in that, Sir John,” she said, “and now I am going to take him home.”

That night, after she had gone to bed, and Larry sat before his little fire, his bright brier between his teeth and his mind at peace, Sunny came in to him, bearing an armful of laundry.

“Two of your collars are missing, sir.”

“And the man who wears the collars was nearly missing, Sunny,” chuckled Larry. “Do you know, one of the first things I thought about in that infernal place was whether you’d get the news in time to stop the papers.”

“I could have always sent them back, sir,” said Sunny gravely.

“You’re a cheerful soul,” said Larry. “Well were you named Sunny! And Sunny,” he said, “I want to tell you that I’m going to be married.”

“Yes, sir,” said Sunny, and his brows knit in thought.

“Well?” said Larry.

“Well, sir,” said Sunny slowly, “I think you’ll want some new socks. They dress very smartly at Monte Carlo.”

“By Jove!” said Larry, and then his face fell. “We can’t go to Monte Carlo in the summer, you silly ass. It would be too hot. No, I’m going to Scotland for--for--after I’m married.”

Sunny was interested.

“Then you’ll be wanting a kilt, sir,” he said.