Weed-on-the-Sands is a quiet little watering-place on the south coast in the county of Sussex. Round the original fishing-village a flourishing town of villas1 and shops has grown, and as it is reached only by a branch line from the main trunk railway it is rarely overcrowded. In fact, a select number of invalids2 and holiday-makers come to Weed-on-the-Sands every year for cure and enjoyment3. The general public find the place too quiet, as the tiny town has no bandstand, or esplanade, or entertainments of any kind whatsoever4. There are smooth sands, with seaweed-covered rocks--hence the odd name of the resort--a rude jetty, which stretches out some little distance into deep water, and one or two or three crooked5 streets, which are united with the wider and straighter thoroughfares of the new town. A prettier or quieter or more agreeable place could scarcely be found in England, and certainly not on the south coast.
To this miniature Eden Mr. and Mrs. Shawe came to pass their honeymoon6, and took rooms at an old-fashioned inn, called the Three Fishers. The landlady7 was a buxom8 widow belonging to the Dickens era, and having a sympathy with lovers, or, rather, with newly-married couples, she made them extremely comfortable. Audrey and her husband greatly enjoyed the peace after the exciting events in which they had so lately taken part. They wandered on the sands and drove about the surrounding country, and found, more than ever, that they were all in all to one another. After a week of this dwelling9 in Paradise the doings of the last few months became more dreamlike and endurable. To poor Audrey this atmosphere of peace and sympathy and love was like a forecast of heaven.
"I wish it would last for ever," she said, when they sat one morning on the rocks at the far end of the sandy beach.
"It will last all our lives," murmured the happy husband, who was lying at her feet with his head on her lap.
Mrs. Shawe looked doubtful. "I don't think so," she said seriously. "We must go back to the world, Ralph, and then our troubles will begin again."
"Well, we can bear them, dearest, so long as we have one another. Besides, I don't see why we should have further trouble. We shan't be rich, certainly, but I daresay we'll manage to keep a tiny flat and one servant. Then while I am working you can stay at home and look after the house. Lady Sanby, as the fairy godmother, will take us into what society we need."
"I don't think we'll need any," replied Audrey, gazing at the bright blue sea that sparkled in the sunshine. "I would rather stay at home night after night with you."
"But, my dear, you would weary of such tame domesticity."
"No I wouldn't, Ralph. All my life I have wanted real sympathy and love, and I have never had any, save from my poor dear mother, who was always kind. It will be a joy to feel that I am at peace, safe in the shelter of your arms."
"Dear," said Ralph, kissing the wrist of the arm which lay round his neck, "I shall do all a man can do to make you really happy. Then, I take it," he added, with some hesitation10, "that you have given up all idea of searching into the mystery of your mother's death?"
"I think so," rejoined Audrey, slowly. "Because I am afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"That I may find papa is the criminal. After what you have told me, it seems to me--but I may be quite wrong--that either papa or Rosy11 Pearl is responsible for the death. Oh!"--she shuddered12--"it's too horrible."
"I don't agree with you, Audrey. To my mind Eddy13 Vail is the assassin. However, Perry Toat has no doubt seen him by this time, and when we return to London she will have some news for us."
Mrs. Shawe frowned and hugged her knees as she stared at the sea-line. "I really think that it would be best to leave the whole thing alone."
"As I said in my anonymous14 letter?"
"Yes, you were right in saying what you did. If my father is proved to be guilty it will indeed be the greatest grief of my life. I have no reason to love him, but it seems terrible that he should be a--"
"My darling, you have no proof that he committed the deed. I tell you that Eddy Vail, if anyone, is the guilty person. He altered the time of the still-room clock, and that in itself says volumes."
"All the same, I wish the case to be stopped," said Audrey, doggedly15; and from this decision Ralph could not move her. Privately16 he was pleased, as he was weary of the whole sordid17 business, and did not wish his early married life to be encumbered18 with criminal cases.
"I shall see Perry Toat when I return to London and tell her not to bother any more about the matter," he said, sitting up.
It was just at this moment, by one of those odd coincidences not uncommon19 in life, that Miss Perry Toat made her appearance from behind the rocks. She appeared so pat to the moment, and so suddenly upon the mention of her name, that Ralph almost believed she had been listening behind the rocks for the dramatic moment of appearance. But it seemed from her very first speech that this was not the case.
"Good-day, Mr. Shawe--good-morning, Mrs. Shawe," said Perry Toat, looking more like a sharp little rat than ever. "I just came down this morning from London by the early train, and guessing that you would be on the beach, I came in search of you. Your voices attracted me as I was poking20 about the rocks, so here I am."
"Yes, here you are," said Ralph, rather glumly21.
"You don't seem pleased to see me," said Miss Toat, drily.
"Would any man on his honeymoon be pleased to see a detective?" he retorted; then he laughed, and looked at his wife. "What do you say, Audrey?"
The girl flushed. "I say now what I said before, that I wish the whole case to drop," she said, with a frown.
"It is impossible to drop it now, Mrs. Shawe," replied Perry Toat, in a quiet voice. "In your own interests it is necessary that the matter should be gone into. I am sorry to interrupt your honeymoon, but what I have found out left me no alternative but to come down and report progress."
"What have you discovered?" asked Ralph, eagerly. And even Audrey, in spite of her late speech, seemed anxious to hear what the little woman had to say.
But Miss Toat did not seem very ready to satisfy their curiosity. Sitting down on the rocks she tucked her feet under her, and produced a cigarette. When this was lighted she began to smoke and went on talking, as if the barrister had not asked a pertinent22 question.
"Besides, I am too anxious to earn that thousand pounds to drop the case," she said quietly. "I am in love as well as you are, Mrs. Shawe, and I can only marry if I get this money."
Audrey shuddered. "I should not like a dowry earned in that way," she said.
"Why not? I am on the side of justice, and it is right to hunt down criminals who vex23 law-abiding citizens. My profession is a glorious one, although it is looked at askance. However, when I marry Edwin--he is a purser on a liner--I shall give up hunting for criminals. The arrest of Lady Branwin's murderer will be my last achievement in this line."
Ralph glanced at Audrey, and she looked down at her husband. The same thought was in the minds of both. It was Shawe who put it into words.
"Can you expect a man to supply a reward for his own capture?" asked the young man.
Perry Toat raised her eyebrows24. "What do you mean? Oh, I see," and she laughed softly. "Set your mind at rest, Mrs. Shawe. I do not believe that your father is guilty." She paused for effect, then added, calmly: "I have seen Miss Rosy Pearl."
Ralph threw away his cigarette with an ejaculation. "Oh! and did she tell you the truth?"
"She told me a great deal which I shall impart to you gradually. Her--"
"One moment," interrupted Ralph, hurriedly, "tell me your opinion of her. Is she really a stupid woman, or is that stupidity feigned25?"
"You ask me a hard question," said the little woman, gravely. "She is stupid in many ways; but she has a cunning, protective instinct, like that of many animals with small brain power. And this cunning is cleverly masked by her apparent simplicity26."
"Ah!" said the barrister, significantly, "then she was really in the passage on that night?"
"Yes, she was; but she wore a long rough cloak of Harris tweed which Sir Joseph had presented to her. She was therefore right when she denied to you, Mr. Shawe, that she had wo............