THE CROW'S INN TRAGEDY (Murder Mystery Classic). Annie Haynes

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СКАЧАТЬ Todmarsh permitted himself a slight smile.

      "If we knew that, my dear uncle, it wouldn't be long before this wave of crime that is sweeping over the Metropolis was checked. But I have heard that even the rank and file of his own followers do not know who he is, though he is spoken of sometimes as the Yellow Dog. Anyway, he has a genius for organization. But now we must think of something more cheerful, Uncle James. I want you to see our refectory and the recreation rooms, and our little rooms, cells, kitchens. Through here"--throwing open a glass door--"we go to our playground as you see."

      Mr. Collyer peered forth. In front of him was a wide, open space, partly grass, partly concrete. On the grass a game of cricket was proceeding, the players being youths apparently all under twenty. On the concrete older men were having a game at racquets. All round the open space at the foot of the high wall that surrounded the Community grounds there ran a flower border, just now gay with crocuses and great clumps of arabis--white and purple and gold. The walls themselves were covered with creepers that later on would blossom into sweetness. Here and there men were at work. It was a pleasant and a peaceful scene and the Rev. James Collyer's eyes rested on it approvingly.

      "There are always some of us at play," Aubrey smiled. "These men have been on night work--porters, etc. You know we undertake all sorts of things and our record is such--we have never had a case of our trust being betrayed--that our men are in constant request."

      "I do not wonder," his uncle said cordially. "It is--I must say it again, Aubrey--wonderful work that you are carrying on. Now what have these men been before they came to you?"

      Todmarsh was leading the way to the other part of the house.

      "Wastrels; drunkards most of them," he said shortly. "Discharged prisoners, sentenced for some minor offence. I told you that we meet prisoners on their release. Many of them are the wreckage--the aftermath of the War."

      The rector sighed.

      "I know. It is deplorable. That terrible War--and yet, a most righteous War."

      "No war is righteous," Aubrey said quickly. Then his expression changed, the rapt look came back to his eyes. They looked right over his uncle's head. "No war can be anything but cruel and wicked. That is why we have made up our minds that war shall stop."

      Mr. Collyer shook his head.

      "War will never stop, my boy, while men and women remain what they are--while human nature remains what it is, I should say."

      Todmarsh's eyes looked right in front of him over the Community playing fields.

      "Yes, it will! Quarrelling there will be--must be while the world shall last. But all disputes shall be settled not by bloodshed and horrible carnage, but by arbitration. Every day the League of Nations' labours are being quietly and ceaselessly directed to this end, and I think very few people realize how enormously the world is progressing."

      "Your Uncle Luke does not think so. He does not believe in the League of Nations," Mr. Collyer dissented. "He, I regret to say, used a lamentably strong expression--'damned rot,' he called it!"

      "Oh, Uncle Luke is hopeless," Aubrey returned, shrugging his shoulders. "The League of Nations means nothing to him. He is one of the regular fire-eating, jingo-shouting Britons that plunged us all into that horrible carnage of 1914. But his type is becoming scarcer every day as the world grows nearer the Christian ideal, thank Heaven!"

      "Sometimes it seems to me to be growing farther from the Christian ideal instead of nearer." The clergyman sighed. "I am going through a terrible experience now, Aubrey. I must confess it is a great trial to my faith."

      Instantly Todmarsh's face assumed its most sympathetic expression.

      "I am so sorry to hear it, Uncle James. Do tell me about it, if it would be any relief to you. Sit down"--as they entered the refectory--"what is it? Tony?"

      But the rector put aside the proffered chair.

      "No, no. I must see all I can of the Settlement. No, it has nothing to do with Tony, I am thankful to say. He is to the full as much bewildered as I am myself. It is the emeralds--the cross!"

      "The Collyer cross?" Aubrey exclaimed. "What of that?"

      "Well--er, circumstances arose that made it--er--desirable that I should ascertain its value. I took it to your Uncle Luke, thinking that he might be able to help me, and he discovered that the stones were paste."

      "Impossible!" Aubrey stared at his uncle. "I cannot believe it. But, pardon me, Uncle James, I don't think that either you or Uncle Luke are very learned with regard to precious stones. I expect it is all a mistake. The Collyer emeralds are genuine enough!"

      "Oh, there is no mistake," Mr. Collyer said positively. "I had them examined by a well-known expert this morning. They are paste--not particularly good paste, either. If I had known rather more about such things, I might have discovered the substitution sooner. Not that it would have made much difference! You are wrong about your Uncle Luke, though, Aubrey. He has an immense fund of information about precious stones. He told me that he was about to dispose of--"

      "Hush! Don't mention it!" Aubrey interrupted sharply. "I beg your pardon, Uncle James, but it is so much safer not to mention names, especially in a place like this. But what in the world can have become of the emeralds? One would have been inclined to think it was the work of the Yellow Gang. But they seem to confine their activities to London. And how could it have been effected in peaceful little Wexbridge? Now--what is that?" as a loud knock and ring resounded simultaneously through the house. "Tony, I declare!" as after a pause they heard voices in the hall outside.

      A moment later Hopkins opened the door and announced "Mr. Anthony Collyer."

      "Hello, dad, I guessed I should find you here," the new-comer began genially. "Aubrey, old chap, is the gentleman who announced me one of your hopefuls? Because if so I can't congratulate you on his phiz. Sort of thing the late Madame Tussaud would have loved for her Chamber of Horrors, don't you know!"

      "Hopkins is a most worthy fellow," Aubrey returned impressively. "One of the most absolutely trustworthy men I have. There is nothing more unsafe than taking a prejudice at first sight, Tony. If you would only--"

      "Dare say there isn't," Tony returned nonchalantly. "You needn't pull up your socks over the chap, Aubrey. I'll take your word for it that he possesses all the virtues under the sun. I only say, he don't look it! Come along, dad, I have ordered a morsel of lunch at a little pub I know of, and while you are eating it I will a scheme unfold that I know will meet with your approval."

      The rector did not look as if he shared this conviction.

      "Well, my boy, I have been telling my troubles to Aubrey. The emeralds--"

      "Oh, bother the emeralds, dad! It is the business of the police to find them, not yours and mine or Aubrey's."

      Anthony Collyer was just a very ordinary type of the young Englishman of to-day, well-groomed, well set up. There was little likeness to his father about his clear-cut features, his merry, blue eyes or his lithe, active form. The pity of it was that the last few years of idleness had blurred the clearness of his skin, had dulled his eyes and added just a suspicion of heaviness to the figure which ought to have been in the very pink of condition. Tony Collyer had let himself run to seed of late and looked it and knew it. To-day, however, there was a new look of purpose about his face. His mouth was set in fresh, strong lines, and his eyes met his father's firmly.

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