CHAPTER XII.

MR. BENSON FORMS A PLAN

“You went to see Dr. Laidlaw!” Mr. Benson repeated. “Why?”

Lady Evenden seemed almost as if she had expected and prepared for the question; for, a hard light came into her eyes and her chin set determinedly.

“Mr. Benson,” she said, “I once told you that nothing on earth will make me divulge certain things that concern only Dr. Laidlaw and myself. It is sufficient for me to tell you that occasionally I have to see Dr. Laidlaw. I saw him that fatal night in the Prior’s Tower. My visit to him, and his visit to the tower, had not the remotest connection with the murder, any more than it would have any connection with your murder, supposing that you were found dead outside this room, and it were proved that I had received Dr. Laidlaw here.”

“In view of my earlier experiences to-night, my dear lady,” said the old lawyer dryly, “I can scarcely congratulate you on the happiness of your simile. The little rat-faced scoundrel made two attempts on my life to-night.”

“He did not, Mr. Benson.” Lady Evenden spoke with quiet conviction.

“My dear lady, are you in possession of your senses? Do you infer that I imagined his presence in my bedroom and imagined this crack on the head the murdering little hound gave me, and that he aimed another with a stick when he thought I was lying on the ground?”

“He did not come to your room to do you any harm at all,” said Lady Evenden.

“Why did he come at all? Just to have a friendly little chat?” asked Mr. Benson facetiously.

“He came to try to recover certain papers.” The lady frowned.

Mr. Benson stared at her in mingled astonishment and horror.

“Did you know he was coming?” he asked in tones as sharp as the crack of a whip. She saw what was moving in his mind, shivered slightly, and answered:

“Oh, Mr. Benson, if you could only understand. No, of course I did not know he was coming. I would not dream of doing anything to hurt you, my best friend. I want you to clearly understand that my association with Dr. Laidlaw is a perfectly innocent one. He is necessary to me for certain reasons. What those reasons are I cannot divulge. It must be sufficient for me to tell you that should evil--I am sure it would be unmerited evil--come upon Dr. Laidlaw, then that day I should probably suffer horrors beyond compare--horrors that would make death preferable, and I should take death in preference.”

There was great earnestness in the agitated face as she spoke, but Mr. Benson remained hard.

“You must tell me at once what he is holding over you,” he said. “I must insist upon that. If you say that you did not know he was coming to my room to-night, how do you know he came to recover papers?”

“Because he told me so--since,” she replied, biting her lip.

“You’ve seen him since?” asked the lawyer. “God bless my soul! Where?”

“Oh, does all this questioning really matter?” she asked wearily. “I saw him in the Prior’s Room.”

“How?” Mr. Benson asked. “By assignation?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I told you it is necessary for me to see him on certain occasions.”

“This is absolutely the most terrible state of affairs I have ever heard of in my life,” declared the lawyer. “Your son awaits his trial for murder, and you, his mother, shield Dr. Laidlaw, who bled your late husband white by blackmail for seven years, and is bleeding you!”

“Whatever do you mean?” Lady Evenden’s great eyes opened wide. “Dr. Laidlaw merely acted as an inquiry agent for my husband, and made certain visits to Russia because he knew the language so well.”

“Who told you that?” Mr. Benson asked.

“My late husband,” she replied at once. “And Dr. Laidlaw confirmed it.”

“Then answer me this, my dear lady,” said the lawyer. “Why should the little hound be so particular about recovering certain papers, not even stopping at murder to get them? Listen to me. I saw murder in that man’s eyes to-night, and if I hadn’t rattled him by staring at him, and, later, by fighting him, then I should have followed your stepson----”

“Dr. Laidlaw did not kill my stepson,” she interrupted.

“Who did then?” Benson snapped back immediately.

“I do not know--none of us knows,” replied Lady Evenden.

“Who are ‘none of us’?” asked Mr. Benson.

“I mean neither Dr. Laidlaw, myself, the police, you, nor anyone else,” she replied.

“Who was the other woman in the tower besides you and your companion?” he asked, reminded that he had not had a reply to his previous question.

A puzzled look came into the eyes of Lady Evenden. “My companion?” she asked. “And another woman?” She looked at him for a moment in doubt; then, with suspicion, she asked, “Have you been employing my companion to spy upon me?”

“Don’t add stupidity to your stubbornness, for heaven’s sake,” the lawyer said impatiently. “Certainly not. Now listen to me. On the night of Sir John’s murder, there were three women in that tower. One was you, one was your companion, and what I want to know is, who was the other?”

“But, Mr. Benson, you frighten me. Do you really mean what you are saying?”

Lady Evenden could not possibly be acting, the lawyer decided. Her agitation was far too real for that.

“Jill Kilby in the Prior’s Tower? Another woman? Who was the other woman, and what did she want?”

“That is what I am trying to find out, of course,” said the lawyer. “When we get an explanation of all these various things, then we shall have the secret of the murder.”

“Tell me”--Lady Evenden made a great effort to remain calm, but her agitation was betrayed by her dilated eyes and the continual movement of her hands,--“what was Jill Kilby doing there?”

“I suppose she felt it her duty to keep near you. She was certainly instructed to be very careful that you got into no danger during the time of your terrible collapse following Sir Michael’s death,” he replied.

“My God!” she exclaimed. “What did she see?”

“That I do not know,” replied Mr. Benson gravely. “This much I do know, that if it is necessary I am going to put her on the witness stand, and you on the witness stand, and that little blackmailing doctor in the dock--to save your son.”

“You must not dream of doing anything of the sort.” Now she made no attempt to disguise her perturbation. She rose from her seat and threw herself down on her knees at the old lawyer’s feet, clasped his hand with both hers, and pleaded, “You know nothing of what you are doing! Oh! for pity’s sake, don’t do that! I am innocent of any wrong, Mr. Benson. Dr. Laidlaw is not the blackmailer you think----”

“Yes, he is,” Mr. Benson snapped. “He blackmailed Sir Michael for seven years. I have absolute proof of it in Sir Michael’s handwriting, and all the bank evidence complete.”

“Well, I can’t believe it.” Mr. Benson made an impatient movement and gave vent to an expression of exasperation. “In any case,” she went on, “I know it is terrible, Mr. Benson; I can’t see why he blackmailed my husband--he has money without that, and I understood he got a good income from my husband for his inquiry work. But that has nothing to do with my terrible position now. Listen, Mr. Benson. The moment anything happens to Dr. Laidlaw, I die. He has been the very best friend in some respects. Certainly I should have been dead without him--dead or worse. I cannot and will not have any complication in this matter for Dr. Laidlaw.”

At the end of her excitedly-spoken sentences Lady Evenden completely collapsed, bent her face down on the old lawyer’s knees, and sobbed--great, bitter sobs that shook her whole frame. Mr. Benson was deeply moved. He did not attempt to speak to her, but bent forward, laid one hand upon her shoulder, and, with the other, gently patted her head. The hardness had quite gone out of his eyes, and there was a look of infinite pity there, as he bent over the woman who had at last broken down under the deluge of troubles and fearful buffetings of erratic fate.

There were pity and tenderness reflected in the fine old face of the lawyer, but there was no despair. Indeed, behind the emotions, that were at present predominantly represented, there was an indefinable power, also, expressed. Mentally he was a giant among men, this veteran lawyer, and even while he patted his fair client’s bowed head, and the pity of it all surged over his heart like a tidal wave, yet all the while his mind was working--and working at lightning speed.

After a time she ceased her heart-breaking sobs and looked up.

“Forgive me,” she said. “I simply----”

“Not another word, my child,” ordered the lawyer. “Now just obey me. I’ll not distress you by talking about Laidlaw to-night. You get back to bed, and, before you go, take a good stiff glass of brandy; it’ll do you good. Whatever you do, don’t worry. I’ll manage everything all right. Only, my dear, whatever the consequence may seem to be to you, take my word for it that you’d probably be a happier woman if you came and told me everything.”

Lady Evenden was about to speak, when he overrode her interruption. “No, no--not to-night. I’m not going to worry you any more now. Don’t come to any decision to-night at all. Just don’t worry. Good night, my dear lady.”

“Good night, my dear friend,” she said. “Oh! what shall I do about Jill----”

“Nothing,” he answered, “nothing at all. Don’t mention a word about that--just forget it.” With a gentle smile and an old-world kiss of the fair hand, the chivalrous old man left the boudoir and returned along the corridor to the main staircase on his way to the library. There he found a little note from Wilfred to say that he would keep the appointment on the following day--later that day it was, really, for the hands of the clock pointed to ten minutes past four--and that he had nothing further to say that night.

“Well,” said Mr. Benson to himself, “you’ve had an exciting night for an old man. You’d better get yourself a drop of that excellent old whisky and see what that does. Aye, that’s better,” he said, after drinking some of the old liquor. “That’s better. That’s the thing too. The whole key lies in that little doctor. If he’s arrested he might possibly do harm. I doubt it myself, but he might. Yet he is the key, and he must be turned in the lock, so to speak. Yes, I’ll do it. A bit hot, perhaps, for nowadays, but I’ll do it. I’ll kidnap the little devil, that’s what I’ll do, and take him to that old farm, Swinerigmire. The house is empty, and I’ll get Joe Litt to act as his jailer, and if necessary we can have a quiet little bit of gentle torture--The little worm! Now, let’s go to bed.”

Mumbling away to himself in his quaint manner when alone, the venerable old fellow made his way to his room and lay down again. Just before his eyes closed he might have been heard mumbling a little disconnectedly, “Just the same, Alice--just the same. You’ve been gone nearly sixty years but you’re just the same. You shouldn’t have gone, Alice--night before our wedding day--too lonely, Alice. Yes--yes--soon now, Alice--a little more work to do--then----”

* * * * * * * *

Mr. Benson awoke in the morning, like a giant, refreshed, and ate a hearty breakfast, discarded his head bandage, and set about the day’s work. He communicated with the superintendent of the Norwich police and learnt that there were to be no applications for additional evidence. The Crown case as presented in the police court would be submitted at the assize court, and that only.

He read a long letter from Sir Courtney Caldecott’s clerk commenting on the defense brief, to which he replied. He telephoned to his office, and listened to the acting senior partner as he posted his chief in all the various ramifications of the work of that important office. Then he went round to the stables and asked for a hunter to be saddled.

“They’re a bit fresh, sir,” said the head groom a little dubiously. “You see, we haven’t been giving them much exercise lately.”

Mr. Benson stared at him incredulously for a moment. Then, with indignation which made the groom tremble, he asked:

“Are you suggesting that Chris Benson can’t manage any damned thing on four legs--or two either, if it comes to that?” he added truculently. “Saddle something that can take a fence or two. One with a bit of blood about it, my lad!”

“’Mazing old gentleman, that,” muttered the groom as Mr. Benson left. “Shouldn’t like to get into his black books. Only good jumper in the stable is Prince--an’ he’s a devil, he is. Well, if the poor old gentleman breaks his skull open, I got witnesses to prove he asked for a good jumper with a bit of blood about him.”

Mr. Benson meanwhile got Roberto to rake him out a pair of riding breeches and leggings to fit. And presently the lawyer appeared in the hall wearing his morning coat and vest above the riding breeches and leggings. He might have stepped right out of the sixties, with his drab, flat-topped hat and old-fashioned stock.

Prince, a great black colt of sixteen hands, was led round by the head groom, who seemed to have difficulty in controlling him. His mouth frothed in his excitement, and there was a dangerous white gleam in his rolling eyes. As Mr. Benson surveyed him, he smiled. Prince was a goodly sight to a lover of horses.

The lawyer bent his leg and the groom took it. With surprising speed, the old man sprang into the saddle; and, before Prince could do any further “showing off,” he found his rider to be a person with a light but firm hand, and, if necessary, a resolute spur. Prince decided to behave himself.

It was some time later that horse and rider approached an apparently deserted farm in the midst of poor, derelict fen land. A tall man, uncouth in appearance, but with big, honest eyes, came out.

“This is a sight for sore eyes, Mr. Benson,” he greeted the lawyer with a laugh. “I’ve seen you like this many a time when I was a lad, but never for the last thirty years, I’ll warrant.”

“There’s work to be done, Joe,” said the lawyer. “How many lads can you get in the next six hours--trusty and tight-mouthed?”

“Is it a poachin’ round-up?” asked Joe Litt, for that was the name of the man.

“No, it’s worse. But I’m backing it. How many?” the lawyer snapped.

“Three do?” asked the man.

“Ample,” agreed Mr. Benson, dismounting. “We’ll have a talk about it. Got an apple for this youngster?”

Joe Litt smiled and went back to the half-ruined house. When he returned he had two apples in his hand. Joe led Prince off to the stable. For an hour the lawyer and Joe were in close consultation. Then, at the end of that time, Prince was brought out again and the lawyer mounted.

“That’ll be all right, sir,” promised Joe Litt. “The four of us’ll be at the library window at nine o’clock.”