The Millionaire Mystery by Fergus Hume

Author:Fergus Hume
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008137632
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2018-04-12T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XV

TROUBLE

THE Rector and Sophy looked at one another, and then at Lestrange, smiling and confident. They knew Alan too well to credit so monstrous an accusation for one moment. Indeed, the idea appeared so ridiculous to Sophy that she laughed outright.

Lestrange frowned.

‘You laugh now,’ he said. ‘You will weep later. What I say is true. Thorold stole the body of your father—your supposed father!’ he sneered, ‘for, say what you like, you are my child.’

‘I don’t acknowledge the relationship,’ retorted the girl with spirit, ‘and I never will. Mr Marlow was my father. I shall always think of him as such. As to your accusation of Mr Thorold, it is merely another trick to cause me trouble. I suppose you will say next that he murdered Dr Warrender?’

‘I say nothing of the sort,’ replied the Captain, nettled by her open contempt, ‘yet he may have done so, for all I know. But I state only what I can prove.’

‘You cannot prove this ridiculous charge!’ cried the Rector. ‘Mr Thorold is incapable of such a crime.’

‘Ah!’ drawled the other coolly, ‘you see, Mr Thorold is scientific, and does not look upon his deed as a crime.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ asked Mr Phelps sharply.

‘I mean that Mr Thorold was once a medical student—at least, I have been told as much.’

‘It is true, quite true,’ said Sophy, opening her eyes, for in her innocence she did not see what the man meant. But the Rector did, and winced. He anticipated the accuser.

‘You mean that Mr Thorold stole the body for scientific purposes?’

‘For dissection—yes. Mr Thorold is, I understand, an enthusiast in surgery. Marlow—or, rather, I should say, Beauchamp—died of an obscure disease, and Warrender and Thorold removed the body to hold a post-mortem on it. They were the men seen by Cicero Gramp—you see, I know all about it. They probably carried the body to the moor hut to dissect it. Whether they quarrelled or not, I do not know, nor do I know if it was Thorold who killed the doctor. All I say is, that those two stole the body.’

‘Oh, indeed!’ remarked Mr Phelps ironically, ‘and Thorold put the remains of Dr Warrender back in the vault, I suppose? And what did he do with Marlow’s body?’

‘I don’t know. Buried it on the moor, very likely.’

‘Mr Thorold had not the key of the vault,’ cried Sophy indignantly. ‘It had been stolen by the Quiet Gentleman.’

‘So I understand,’ retorted Lestrange sharply. ‘And who says so? Mr Thorold himself. Believe me, sir,’ he turned to the Rector, ‘that key was never stolen. Thorold had it in his pocket. He lied about that for his own safety.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ said Mr Phelps decisively. ‘Thorold was at Bournemouth on the night the crime was committed.’

‘I know he was!’ cried Sophy, with emphasis. ‘He was with me and Miss Parsh.’

‘You are wrong, both of you. He came back to Heathton on that night, and returned to Bournemouth before dawn. I understand it is only an hour’s journey from here.

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