# The Loudwater Mystery/Chapter 11
### CHAPTER XI

MR. MANLEY did not lunch with Mr. Flexen and the lawyer. In cultivating Mr. Flexen he had been forced to see less than usual of Helena, and, interesting a companion as Mr. Flexen was, Mr. Manley very much preferred her society. He found her less nervous than she had been the day before, but she still wore a sufficiently anxious air, and was still restless. She seemed more pleased to see him than usual, and the warmth of her welcome gave him a sudden sense that she was even fonder of him than he had thought, or hoped. It stirred him to an admirable response.
At lunch she questioned him with uncommon particularity about the proceedings of Mr. Flexen, the discoveries he had made, the lines on which he was making his investigation. Her interest seemed natural enough, and he told her all that he knew, which was little. She seemed much disappointed by his lack of information. He was careful not to tell her that Mr. Flexen had inquired of him whether he knew of any entanglement between Lord Loudwater and a woman. Thanks to his imagination he ​was a young man of uncommon discretion, and it was plain that she was suffering anxiety enough.
At the end of her fruitless questioning she sighed and said: "Of course, the whole affair is of no great interest to you really."
"It isn't of very great interest to me," said Mr. Manley. "You see, the victim of the crime, if it was a crime, was such an uninteresting creature. Nature, as I've told you before, intended him for a bull, changed her mind when it was too late to make a satisfactory alteration, and botched it. You must admit that the bull man is a very dull kind of creature, unless he can make things lively for you by prodding you with his horns. When he is dead, he is certainly done with."
"I wish he was done with," she said, with a sigh.
"Well, as far as you are concerned, he is done with, surely," he said, in some surprise.
"Of course, of course," she said quickly. "But still, he seems likely to give a great deal of trouble to somebody; and if there is a trial, how am I to know that my name won't be brought up?"
"I don't think there's a chance of it," he said. "How should it be brought up?"
"One never knows," she said, with a note of nervous dread in her voice.
"Well, as far as I'm concerned, he'll get no help in making a posthumous nuisance of himself from me; and I'm inclined to think that, as things are ​going, he'll need my help to do that," he said in a tone of quiet satisfaction.
"A posthumous nuisance—you do have phrases! And how you do dislike him!" she said.
"The moderately civilized man, with a gentle disposition like mine, always does hate the bull man. Also, he despises him," said Mr. Manley calmly.
She was silent a while, thinking; then she said: "What did you mean by saying: 'If it was a crime.' What else could it have been?"
"A suicide. The evidence was that the wound might have been self-inflicted," said Mr. Manley.
"Absurd! Lord Loudwater was the last man in the world to commit suicide!" she cried.
"That's purely a matter of individual opinion. I am of the opinion that a man of his uncontrollable temper was quite likely to commit suicide," he said firmly. "As for its being absurd, if there is any attempt to prove any one guilty of murdering him on purely circumstantial evidence, that person won't find anything absurd in the theory at all. In fact, he'll work it for all it's worth. I think myself that, with Dr. Thornhill's evidence in mind, the police, or the Public Prosecutor, or the Treasury, or whoever it is that decides those things, will never attempt in this case to bring any one to trial for the murder on merely circumstantial evidence."
"Do you think not?" she said in a tone of relief.
"I'm sure of it," said Mr. Manley. "But why ​do we waste our time talking about the tiresome fellow when there are things a thousand times more interesting to talk about? Your eyes, now——"
Mr. Flexen instructed Inspector Perkins and his men to make inquiries about the rides of Lord Loudwater and to try to learn whether any one had seen a strange car, or, indeed, a car of any kind, in the neighbourhood of the Castle about eleven o'clock on the night of the murder. Also, he could see his way to using the newspaper men to help him to discover whether there had been any entanglement known to the club gossips or the people of the neighbourhood between Lord Loudwater and a lady in London. It was not unlikely that he had talked of it to some one, for if they quarrelled so furiously he must need sympathy; and if he had not talked, the lady probably had, though it might very well be that she was not in the circle in which the Loudwaters moved in London. He had some doubt, however, that she was a London woman at all. She had shown too intimate a knowledge of Lord Loudwater's habits at Loudwater and of the Castle itself, for it was clear from William Roper's story that she had gone straight to the library window and through it, in the evident expectation of finding Lord Loudwater asleep as usual in his smoking-room. It was this doubt which prevented him from appealing to Scotland Yard for help in clearing up this particular point. He wished to make sure first that the woman did not belong to ​the neighbourhood. On the other hand, she might always be some one who had been a guest at the Castle.
He was about to go in search of Lady Loudwater to question her about their friends and acquaintances who might have this knowledge of the Castle and the habits of her husband, when the sleuth from the Wire and the sleuth from the Planet arrived together, in all amity and the same vexation at being prevented by this errand from spending the afternoon at the same bridge table. The sleuth of the Wire was a very solemn-looking young man, with a round, simple face. The sleuth of the Planet was a tall, dark man, with an impatient and slightly worried air, who looked uncommonly like an irritable actor-manager.
Both of them greeted Mr. Flexen with affectionate warmth, and Douglas, the tall sleuth of the Planet, at once deplored, with considerable bitterness, the fact that he had been robbed of his afternoon's bridge. Gregg, the sleuth of the Wire, preserved a gently-blinking, sympathetic silence.
Mr. Flexen at once sent for whisky, soda and cigars, and over them took his two friends into his confidence. He told them that it was very doubtful whether it was a case of murder or suicide; that the jury's verdict was not in accordance with the directions of the Coroner, but just a piece of natural, pig-headed stupidity. This produced another bitter ​outcry from Douglas about the loss of his afternoon. Mr. Flexen did not soothe him at all by pointing out that he was in a beautiful country on a beautiful day. Then he told them about the coming of the mysterious woman and her violent quarrel with the Lord Loudwater just about the probable time of his death. Douglas at once lost his irritated air and displayed a lively interest in the matter; Gregg listened and blinked. Mr. Flexen told them also of Hutchings, his threats, and his visit to the Castle. That was as far as his confidences went. But they were enough. He had given them the very things they wanted, and they both assured him that they would at once inform him of any discoveries they might make themselves. They left him feeling sure that he might safely leave the servants and the villagers to them and the policemen. If any one in the neighbourhood knew anything about the mysterious woman, they would probably ferret it out. What was far more important was that tomorrow's Wire and Planet would contain such an advertisement of her that any one in London or the country who knew of her relations with the dead man would learn at once the value of that knowledge.
When they had gone he sent for Mrs. Carruthers, and learned, to his annoyance, that none of the upper servants except Elizabeth Twitcher had been in service at the Castle for more than four months. She could only say that during the six weeks that ​she had been housekeeper there had been very few visitors; and they had been merely callers, except when Colonel Grey had been coming to the Castle and there had been small tennis parties. She had heard nothing from the servants about his lordship's being on particularly friendly terms with any lady in the neighbourhood. Hutchings would be the most likely person to know a thing like that. He had been in service at the Castle all his life. Of course, her ladyship, too, she might know.
Mr. Flexen made up his mind to seek out Hutchings at once and question him on the matter; but Mrs. Carruthers had only just left him when he saw Olivia come into the rose-garden with Colonel Grey. He watched them idly and perceived that, for the time being at any rate, Olivia had lost her strained and anxious air. She was plainly enough absorbed, wholly absorbed, in Grey. She had eyes only for him, and Mr. Flexen suspected that her ears were at the moment deaf to everything but the sound of his voice. They did look a well-matched pair.
It occurred to him that he might as well again question Olivia about her husband's possible intrigue with another woman and be done with it. There could be no harm in Colonel Grey's hearing the questions. As for interrupting their pleasant converse, he thought that they would soon recover from the interruption. Accordingly he went out to the rose-garden.
​Absorbed in one another, they did not see him till he was right on them, and then he saw a curious happening. At the sight of him a sudden, simultaneous apprehension filled both their faces, and they drew closer together. But he had an odd fancy that they did not draw together for mutual protection, but mutually to protect. Then, almost on the instant, they were gazing at him with politely inquiring eyes, Lady Loudwater smiling. He felt that they were intensely on their guard. It was uncommonly puzzling.
He changed his mind about questioning Lady Loudwater in the presence of Grey, and asked if she could spare him a minute or two to answer a few questions.
"Oh, yes. I'm sure Colonel Grey will excuse me," she said readily.
"But why shouldn't you question Lady Loudwater before me?" said Colonel Grey coolly; but he slapped his thigh nervously with the pair of gloves he was carrying. "It's always as well for a woman to have a man at hand in an awkward affair like this, which may lead to a good deal of unpleasantness if anything goes wrong. I'm a friend of Lady Loudwater, and I don't suppose you fear that anything you discuss before me will go any further, Mr. Flexen."
He was cool enough, but Mr. Flexen did not miss the note of anxiety in his voice.
​"I don't mind at all if Lady Loudwater would like it," he said readily. "But it's rather a delicate matter."
"Oh, I should like Colonel Grey to hear everything," said Olivia quickly.
"It's about the matter of an entanglement between Lord Loudwater and some lady. Are you quite sure there was nothing of the kind before his marriage, if not after it?" said Mr. Flexen.
"I don't know for certain," said Olivia readily. "But two or three times Lord Loudwater did talk about other women in a boasting sort of way. Only it was when he was trying to annoy me; so I didn't pay much attention to it."
"And you never tried to find out whether it was the truth or not?" said Mr. Flexen.
"No, never. You see, I didn't particularly care," said Olivia, with unexpected frankness. "If I'd cared, I expect it would have been very different."
"And did Lord Loudwater never mention the name of any lady when he was boasting?" said Mr. Flexen.
"No. Never. It was just general boasting. And he certainly gave me to understand that it was two or three, not one," said Olivia.
"Have you any suspicion that he had any particular lady in mind—any of your common friends, for example—some one who has stayed at the Castle?" said Mr. Flexen.
​"None at all. I haven't the slightest idea who it could have been. It must have been some one I don't know, or I should have been nearly sure to notice something," said Olivia.
"Can you tell me any one who might know?"
Olivia shook her head, and said: "No. I don't know any friend of my husband well enough to say. He never told me who his chief friends were. It never occurred to me that he had an intimate friend. I always thought he hadn't, in fact."
"I tell you what: you might inquire of Outhwaite, you know the man I mean, the man who used always to be getting fined for furious driving. He was a friend of Loudwater, the only friend I ever heard him mention, indeed. If he ever confided in any one, that would be the most likely man," said Colonel Grey.
"Thank you. That's an idea. I'll certainly try him," said Mr. Flexen, and he turned as if to go.
But Olivia stopped him, saying: "Do you think, then, that a woman did it, Mr. Flexen?"
"Well, there is a certain amount of evidence which lends some colour to that theory, but I don't want any one to know that," said Mr. Flexen.
And then he could have sworn that he heard Olivia breathe a faint sigh of relief.
But Colonel Grey broke in in a tone of some acerbity and more anxiety: "It's nonsense to talk of any one having done it in face of the medical ​evidence—any one, that is, but Loudwater himself. He committed suicide."
"You think him a likely man to have committed suicide, do you?" said Mr. Flexen.
"Yes. A man of his utterly uncontrollable temper is the very man to commit suicide," said Colonel Grey firmly.
"It is, of course, always possible that he committed suicide," said Mr. Flexen in a non-committal tone.
"It's most probable," said Colonel Grey curtly.
"What do you think, Lady Loudwater?" said Flexen.
"Why, I haven't thought much about it. I always—I—but now I do think about it, I—I—think it's not unlikely," said Olivia, in a tone of no great conviction. "And he was so frightfully upset, too, that night—not that he had any reason to be; but he was."
"Ah, well; my duty is to investigate the matter till there isn't a shadow of doubt left," said Mr. Flexen in a pleasant voice. "I daresay that I shall get to the bottom of it."
With that he left them and went back into the Castle.
At the sight of his back Olivia breathed so deep a sigh of relief that Grey winced at it.
"If only it could be proved that Egbert did commit suicide!" she said wistfully.
​"I don't see any chance of it," said Colonel Grey gloomily. Then he added in a tone of but faint hope: "Unless he wrote to one of his friends that he intended to commit suicide."
Olivia shook her head and said: "Egbert wouldn't do that. He hated letter-writing."
"Besides, if he had, we should have heard of it by now," said Grey.
"The friend might be away," said Olivia. "I know that Mr. Outhwaite was in France."
"That's hoping too much," said Grey.
They strolled on in silence, his eyes on her thoughtful face, which under Mr. Flexen's questioning had again grown anxious. Then he said: "This sun is awfully hot. Let's stroll through the wood to the pavilion. It will be delightful there."
"Very well," said Olivia, smiling at him.
Mr. Flexen went back to his room, rang for Holloway, and bade him find Mr. Manley, if he were in, and ask him to come to him. Holloway went, and presently returned to say that Mr. Manley had gone out to lunch, but left word that he would be back to dinner.
Mr. Flexen, therefore, gave his mind to the consideration of his talk with Colonel Grey and Olivia, and the longer he considered it, the more their attitude intrigued and puzzled him. They certainly knew something about the murder, something of the first importance. What could it be?
​Again he asked himself could either, or both of them, have actually had a hand in it? It seemed improbable; but he was used to the improbable happening. He could not believe that either of them would have dreamt of committing murder to gain a personal end—to save themselves, for example, from the injuries with which Lord Loudwater had threatened them. But would they commit murder to save some one else, one to save the other, for example, from such an injury? Murder was, indeed, a violent measure; but Mr. Flexen was inclined to think that either of them might take it. Mr. Manley's confident declaration that they were both creatures of strong emotions had impressed him. He felt that Colonel Grey, under the impulse to save Lady Loudwater, would stick at very little; and he was used to violence and to hold human life cheap. On the other hand, Lady Loudwater would go a long way—a very long way—if any one she loved were threatened. The fact that she had good Italian blood in her veins was very present in his mind.
Again, it would be a matter of sudden impulse, not of grave deliberation. The irritating sound of Lord Loudwater's snores and the sight of the gleaming knife-blade on the library table coming together after their painful and moving discussion of their dangers might awake the impulse to be rid of him, at any cost, in full strength. He was not disposed to underrate the suggestion of that naked knife-blade ​on them when they were strung to such a height of emotion. Again, he asked himself, had either of them murdered Lord Loudwater to save the other?
At any rate, they knew who had committed the murder. Of that he was sure.
Could they be shielding a third person? If so, who was that third person?