Lady Molly of Scotland Yard | Page 6

did she not come and add the weight of her testimony against him if, indeed, he was guilty?
And if Mr. Lydgate was innocent, then where was the criminal? And why had Susan Nicholls disappeared?
Why? Why? Why?
Well, the next day would show. Mr. Lionel Lydgate had been cited by the police to give evidence at the adjourned inquest.
Good-looking, very athletic, and obviously frightfully upset and nervous, he entered the little courtroom, accompanied by his solicitor, just before the coroner and jury took their seats.
He looked keenly at Lady Molly as he sat down, and from the expression on his face I guessed that he was much puzzled to know who she was.
He was the first witness called. Manfully and clearly he gave a concise account of his association with the deceased.
"She was pretty and amusing," he said. "I liked to take her out when I was in the neighborhood; it was no trouble to me. There was no harm in her, whatever the village gossips might say. I know she had been in trouble, as they say, but that had nothing to do with me. It wasn't for me to be hard on a girl, and I fancy that she has been very badly treated by some scoundrel."
Here he was hard pressed by the coroner, who wished him to explain what he meant. But Mr. Lydgate turned obstinate, and to every leading question he replied stolidly and very emphatically:
"I don't know who it was. It had nothing to do with me, but I was sorry for the girl because of everyone turning against her, including her sister, and I tried to give her a little pleasure when I could."
That was all right. Very sympathetically told. The public quite liked this pleasing specimen of English cricket-, golf- and football-loving manhood. Subsequently Mr. Lydgate admitted meeting Mary on December 26th and January 1st, but he swore most emphatically that that was the last he ever saw of her.
"But the 23rd of January," here insinuated the coroner; "you made an appointment with the deceased then?"
"Certainly not," he replied.
"But you met her on that day?"
"Most emphatically no," he replied quietly. "I went down to Edbrooke Castle, my brother's place in Lincolnshire, on the 20th of last month, and only got back to town about three days ago."
"You swear to that, Mr. Lydgate?" asked the coroner.
"I do, indeed, and there are a score of witnesses to bear me out. The family, the house-party, the servants."
He tried to dominate his own excitement. I suppose, poor man, he had only just realised that certain horrible suspicions had been resting upon him. His solicitor pacified him, and presently he sat down, whilst I must say that everyone there present was relieved at the thought that the handsome young athlete was not a murderer, after all. To look at him it certainly seemed preposterous.
But then, of course, there was the deadlock, and as there were no more witnesses to be heard, no new facts to elucidate, the jury returned the usual verdict against some person or persons unknown; and we, the keenly interested spectators, were left to face the problem--Who murdered Mary Nicholls, and where was her sister Susan?

4
AFTER the verdict we found our way back to our lodgings. Lady Molly tramped along silently, with that deep furrow between her brows which I knew meant that she was deep in thought.
"Now we'll have some tea," I said, with a sigh of relief, as soon as we entered the cottage door.
"No, you won't," replied my lady, dryly. "I am going to write out a telegram, and we'll go straight on to Canterbury and send it from there."
"To Canterbury!" I gasped. "Two hours' walk at least, for I don't suppose we can get a trap, and it is past three o'clock. Why not send your telegram from Ninescore?"
"Mary, you are stupid," was all the reply I got.
She wrote out two telegrams--one of which was at least three dozen words long--and, once more calling to me to come along, we set out for Canterbury.
I was tea-less, cross, and puzzled. Lady Molly was alert, cheerful, and irritatingly active.
We reached the first telegraph office a little before five. My lady sent the telegram without condescending to tell me anything of its destination or contents; then she took me to the Castle Hotel and graciously offered me tea.
"May I be allowed to inquire whether you propose tramping back to Ninescore to-night?" I asked with a slight touch of sarcasm, as I really felt put out.
"No, Mary," she replied, quietly munching a bit of Sally Lunn; "I have engaged a couple of rooms at this hotel and wired the chief that any message will find us here to-morrow morning."
After that there was nothing for it but quietude, patience, and finally supper and bed.
The next morning my lady