The Green Eyes of Bâst | Page 9

faults, and I knew they had been many, he had evidently
possessed the redeeming virtue of being a good employer.
"A couple of hours' sleep would make a new man of you," said Gatton
kindly. "I understand your feelings, but no amount of sorrow can mend
matters, unfortunately. Now, I don't want to worry you, but there are
one or two points which I must ask you to clear up. In the first place
did you ever see this before?"
From his pocket he took out the little figure of Bâst, the cat-goddess,
and held it up before Morris.
The man stared at it with lack-luster eyes, scratching his unshaven chin;
then he shook his head slowly.
"Never," he declared. "No, I am positive I never saw a figure like that
before."
"Then, secondly," continued Gatton, "was your master ever in Egypt?"
"Not that I am aware of; certainly not since I have been with him--six
years on the thirty-first of this month."
"Ah," said Gatton. "Now, when did you last see Sir Marcus?"
"At half-past six last night, sir. He was dining at his club and then
going to the New Avenue Theater. I booked a seat for him myself."
"He was going alone, then?"
"Yes."
Gatton glanced at me significantly and I experienced an uncomfortable
thrill. In the inspector's glance I had read that he suspected the presence
of a woman in the case and at the mention of the New Avenue Theater
it had instantly occurred to me that Isobel Merlin was appearing there!
Gatton turned again to Morris.
"Sir Marcus had not led you to suppose that there was any likelihood of

his not returning last night?"
"No, sir; that was why, knowing his regular custom, I became so
alarmed when he failed to come back or to 'phone."
Gatton stared hard at the speaker and:
"It will be no breach of confidence on your part," he said, speaking
slowly and deliberately, "for you to answer my next question. The best
service you can do your late master now will be to help us to apprehend
his murderer."
He paused a moment, then:
"Was Sir Marcus interested in some one engaged at the New Avenue
Theater?" he asked.
Morris glanced from face to face in a pathetic, troubled fashion. He
rubbed the stubble on his chin again and hesitated. Finally:
"I believe," he replied, "that there was a lady there who--"
He paused, swallowing, and:
"Yes," Gatton prompted, "who--?"
"Who--interested Sir Marcus; but I don't know her name nor anything
about her," he declared. "I knew about--some of the others, but Sir
Marcus was--very reserved about this lady, which made me think--"
"Yes?"
"That he perhaps hadn't been so successful."
Morris ceased speaking and sat staring at a bookcase vacantly.
"Ah," murmured Gatton. Then, abruptly: "Did Sir Marcus ever visit
any one who lived in College Road?" he demanded.

Morris looked up wearily.
"College Road?" he repeated. "Where is that, sir?"
"It doesn't matter," said Gatton shortly, "if the name is unfamiliar to
you. Had Sir Marcus a car?"
"Not latterly, sir."
"Any other servants?"
"No. As a bachelor he had no use for a large establishment, and Friars'
Park remains in the possession of the late Sir Burnham's widow."
"Sir Burnham? Sir Marcus's uncle?"
"Yes."
"What living relatives had Sir Marcus?"
"His aunt--Lady Burnham Coverly--with whom I believe he was on bad
terms. Her own son, who ought to have inherited the title, was dead,
you see. I think she felt bitterly towards my master. The only other
relative I ever heard of was Mr. Eric--Sir Marcus's second cousin--now
Sir Eric, of course."
I turned aside, glancing at some books which lay scattered on the table.
The wound was a new one and I suppose I was not man enough to hide
the pain which mention of Eric Coverly still occasioned me.
"Were the cousins good friends?" continued the even, remorseless
voice of the inquisitor.
Morris looked up quickly.
"They were not, sir," he answered. "They never had been. But some
few months back a fresh quarrel arose and one night in this very room
it almost came to blows."

"Indeed? What was the quarrel about?"
The old hesitancy claimed Morris again, but at last:
"Of course," he said, with visible embarrassment, "it was--a woman."
I felt my heart leaping wildly, but I managed to preserve an outward
show of composure.
"What woman?" demanded Gatton.
"I don't know, sir."
"Do you mean it?"
A fierce note of challenge had come into the quiet voice, but Morris
looked up and met Gatton's searching stare unflinchingly.
"I swear it," he said. "I never was an eavesdropper."
"I suggest it was the same woman that Sir Marcus went to see last
night?" Gatton continued.
The examination of Morris had reached a