diff options
Diffstat (limited to '25388-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 25388-h/25388-h.htm | 9683 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 25388-h/images/cover01.jpg | bin | 0 -> 51737 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 25388-h/images/p72.png | bin | 0 -> 35972 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 25388-h/images/p72tn.png | bin | 0 -> 22479 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 25388-h/images/publogo.jpg | bin | 0 -> 3485 bytes |
5 files changed, 9683 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/25388-h/25388-h.htm b/25388-h/25388-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b79d91 --- /dev/null +++ b/25388-h/25388-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9683 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=us-ascii" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Herapath Property, +by J. S. Fletcher.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-family: serif; } + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; + page-break-after: avoid; } + p { margin-top: 0.5em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + p.toclink {text-align: right; font-size: 80%;} + p.ad {text-indent: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; clear:right;} + p.adt {margin-top: 0em;} + + hr {width: 65%; margin: 2em auto 2em auto; clear: both;} + hr.ad1 {width: 40%; border-top: 3px solid black; + border-left: 0em; border-right: 0em; + margin-bottom: 8px; + border-bottom: 1px solid gray; height: 6px;} + hr.ad3 {width: 40%; border-top: 1px solid gray; + border-left: 0em; border-right: 0em; + margin-top: 5px; + border-bottom: 3px solid black; height: 6px;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + td { vertical-align: top;} + .toctd {text-align: left; text-indent: 1em; font-variant: small-caps;} + + .iefix {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} + + .nowrap { white-space: nowrap; } + .newpage { page-break-before: always; } + .pagenum { visibility: visible; + position: absolute; + right: 4px; + text-indent: 0em; + font-size: 70%; + text-align: right;} + + .blockquot{margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em;} + .tn {margin: 4em 0% 0em 0%; padding: 1em; background-color: #f6f2f2; + color: black; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 80%; + border: dotted black 1px; text-indent: 0em;} + #tn p {text-indent: 0em;} + + .notop {margin-top: 0em;} + .nobot {margin-bottom: 0em;} + .nopad {margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em;} + .pad1 {margin: 1em auto;} + .pad1bot {margin: 0em auto 1em auto;} + .pad2 {margin: 2em auto;} + .pad2top {margin: 2em auto 0em auto;} + .pad2bot {margin: 0em auto 2em auto;} + .pad4top {margin: 4em auto 0em auto;} + .pad4bot {margin: 0em auto 4em auto;} + .noborder {border: 0px;} + .bord {border: dotted blue 1px;} + + .center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .subtitle {font-variant: small-caps; text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; + margin-bottom: 2em;} + .caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: 90%;} + .r {text-align: right;} + .l {text-align: left;} + .fl {text-align: left; float: left;} + .fr {text-align: right; float: right;} + .i {font-style: italic;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + .b {font-weight: bold;} + .g {letter-spacing: 0.4em;} + .sup {vertical-align: super; font-size: 90%;} + .sub {vertical-align: sub; font-size: 90%;} + + .s1 {text-indent: 0em; text-align: center; font-size: 400%;} + .s2 {text-indent: 0em; text-align: center; font-size: 300%;} + .s4 {text-indent: 0em; text-align: center; font-size: 200%;} + .s5 {text-indent: 0em; text-align: center; font-size: 150%;} + .s6 {text-indent: 0em; text-align: center; font-size: 120%;} + .s7 {text-indent: 0em; text-align: center; font-size: 100%;} + + .w200px {width: 200px;} + .w10 {width: 10%;} + .w15 {width: 15%;} + .w20 {width: 20%;} + .w40 {width: 40%;} + .w100 {width: 100%;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-top: + 0em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + +@media print { + p.toclink {visibility: hidden;} + .pagenum {visibility: hidden;} } + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Herapath Property, by J. S. Fletcher + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Herapath Property + +Author: J. S. Fletcher + +Release Date: May 8, 2008 [EBook #25388] +Last updated: January 31, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERAPATH PROPERTY *** + + + + +Produced by Andrew Wainwright, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter w40"> +<img class="w100 noborder" src="images/cover01.jpg" alt="Book Cover" /> +</div> + +<hr class="ad1 pad1top" /> + +<p class="s2 notop nobot">THE</p> +<p class="s1 notop nobot">HERAPATH</p> +<p class="s1 notop nobot">PROPERTY</p> + +<hr class="ad3 pad2bot" /> + +<p class="s5 nobot">BY</p> + +<p class="s4 notop pad2bot">J. S. FLETCHER</p> + +<div class="figcenter w15"> +<img class="w100" src="images/publogo.jpg" alt="Publisher’s Logo" /> +</div> + +<hr class="pad4top ad1" /> + +<p class="s6 nobot notop">NEW YORK</p> +<p class="s5 notop nobot">ALFRED · A · KNOPF</p> +<p class="s6 notop nobot">MCMXXII</p> + +<hr class="ad3 pad4bot" /> + +<p class="s6">COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY<br /> +ALFRED A. KNOPF, <span class="smcap">Inc.</span></p> + +<p class="s7"><i>Published October, 1921</i></p> + +<p class="s7 pad2bot"><i>Second Printing, May, 1922</i></p> + +<p class="s7">PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a id="CONTENTS" name="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class="center"><table class="iefix" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr><td class="r smcap">chapter</td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">I</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">Jacob Herapath is Missing, 9</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">II</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">Is it Murder? 18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">III</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Barthorpe Takes Charge, 27</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">IV</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">The Pressman, 36</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">V</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">The Glass and the Sandwich, 45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">VI</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">The Taxi-cab Driver, 54</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">VII</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">Is There a Will? 64</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">VIII</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">The Second Witness, 74</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">IX</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">Greek Against Greek, 83</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">X</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">Mr. Benjamin Halfpenny, 91</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XI</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">The Shadow, 100</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XII</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">For Ten Per Cent, 109</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XIII</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">Adjourned, 118</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XIV</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">The Scottish Verdict, 127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XV</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">Young Brains, 136</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XVI</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">Nameless Fear, 145</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XVII</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">The Law, 154</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XVIII</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">The Rosewood Box, 163</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XIX</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">Weaving the Net, 172</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XX</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">The Diamond Ring, 181</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="r"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[Pg vi]</a></span>XXI</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">The Deserted Flat, 190</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XXII</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">Yea and Nay, 199</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XXIII</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">The Accusation, 208</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XXIV</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">Cold Steel, 217</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XXV</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">Professional Analysis, 226</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XXVI</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">The Remand Prison, 235</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XXVII</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">The Last Cheque, 244</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XXVIII</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">The Hotel Ravenna, 253</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XXIX</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">The Note in the Prayer-book, 263</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XXX</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">The White-haired Lady, 273</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XXXI</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">The Interrupted Dinner-party, 283</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XXXII</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">The Yorkshire Proverb, 290</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XXXIII</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">Burchill Fills the Stage, 294</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XXXIV</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">Davidge’s Trump Card, 304</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="r">XXXV</td><td class="toctd"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">The Second Warrant, 312</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr /> + +<h1>THE<br /> +HERAPATH<br /> +PROPERTY</h1> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">jacob herapath is missing</p> + +<p>This was the third week of Selwood’s secretaryship to Jacob Herapath. +Herapath was a well-known man in London. He was a Member of Parliament, +the owner of a sort of model estate of up-to-date flats, and something +of a crank about such matters as ventilation, sanitation, and lighting. +He himself, a bachelor, lived in one of the best houses in Portman +Square; when he engaged Selwood as his secretary he made him take a +convenient set of rooms in Upper Seymour Street, close by. He also +caused a telephone communication to be set up between his own house and +Selwood’s bedroom, so that he could summon his secretary at any hour of +the night. Herapath occasionally had notions about things in the small +hours, and he was one of those active, restless persons who, if they get +a new idea, like to figure on it at once. All the same, during those +three weeks he had not once troubled his secretary in this fashion. No +call came to Selwood over that telephone until half-past seven one +November morning, just as he was thinking of getting out of bed. And the +voice which then greeted him was not Herapath’s. It was a rather +anxious, troubled voice, and it belonged to one Kitteridge, a + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> + +middle-aged man, who was Herapath’s butler.</p> + +<p>In the act of summoning Selwood, Kitteridge was evidently interrupted by +some person at his elbow; all that Selwood made out was that Kitteridge +wanted him to go round at once. He dressed hurriedly, and ran off to +Herapath’s house; there in the hall, near the door of a room which +Herapath used as a study and business room, he found Kitteridge talking +to Mountain, Herapath’s coachman, who, judging by the state of his +attire, had also been called hurriedly from his bed.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Kitteridge?” demanded Selwood. “Mr. Herapath ill?”</p> + +<p>The butler shook his head and jerked his thumb towards the open door of +the study.</p> + +<p>“The fact is, we don’t know where Mr. Herapath is, sir,” he answered. +“He hasn’t slept in his bed, and he isn’t in the house.”</p> + +<p>“Possibly he didn’t come home last night,” suggested Selwood. “He may +have slept at his club, or at an hotel.”</p> + +<p>The butler and the coachman looked at each other—then the coachman, a +little, sharp-eyed man who was meditatively chewing a bit of straw, +opened his tightly-compressed lips.</p> + +<p>“He did come home, sir,” he said. “I drove him home—as usual. I saw him +let himself into the house. One o’clock sharp, that was. Oh, yes, he +came home!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>“He came home,” repeated Kitteridge. “Look here, sir.” He led the way +into the study and pointed to a small table set by the side of +Herapath’s big business desk. “You see that tray, Mr. Selwood? That’s +always left out, there, on that table, for Mr. Herapath every night. A +small decanter of whiskey, a syphon, a few sandwiches, a dry biscuit or +two. Well, there you are, sir—he’s had a drink out of that glass, he’s +had a mouthful or so of sandwiches. Oh, yes, he came home, but he’s not +at home now! Charlesworth—the valet, you know, sir—always goes into +Mr. Herapath’s room at a quarter past seven every morning; when he went +in just now he found that Mr. Herapath wasn’t there, and the bed hadn’t +been slept in. So—that’s where things stand.”</p> + +<p>Selwood looked round the room. The curtains had not yet been drawn +aside, and the electric light cast a cold glare on the various +well-known objects and fittings. He glanced at the evidences of the +supper tray; then at the blotting-pad on Herapath’s desk; there he might +have left a note for his butler or his secretary. But there was no note +to be seen.</p> + +<p>“Still, I don’t see that there’s anything to be alarmed about, +Kitteridge,” he said. “Mr. Herapath may have wanted to go somewhere by a +very early morning train——”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No, sir, excuse me, that won’t do,” broke in the butler. “I thought of +that myself. But if he’d wanted to catch a night train, he’d have taken +a travelling coat, and a rug, and a bag of some sort—he’s taken nothing +at all in that way. Besides, I’ve been in this house seven years, and I +know his habits. If he’d wanted to go away by one of the very early +morning trains he’d have kept me and Charlesworth up, making ready for +him. No, sir! He came home, and went out again—must have done. +And—it’s uncommonly queer. Seven years I’ve been here, as I say, and he +never did such a thing before.”</p> + +<p>Selwood turned to the coachman.</p> + +<p>“You brought Mr. Herapath home at one o’clock?” he said. “Alone?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> + +<p>“He was alone, sir,” replied the coachman, who had been staring around +him as if to seek some solution of the mystery. “I’ll tell you all that +happened—I was just beginning to tell Mr. Kitteridge here when you come +in. I fetched Mr. Herapath from the House of Commons last night at a +quarter past eleven—took him up in Palace Yard at the usual spot, just +as the clock was striking. ‘Mountain,’ he says, ‘I want you to drive +round to the estate office—I want to call there.’ So I drove +there—that’s in Kensington, as you know, sir. When he got out he says, +‘Mountain,’ he says, ‘I shall be three-quarters of an hour or so +here—wrap the mare up and walk her about,’ he says. I did as he said, +but he was more than three-quarters—it was like an hour. Then at last +he came back to the brougham, just said one word, ‘Home!’ and I drove +him here, and the clocks were striking one when he got out. He said +‘Good night,’ and I saw him walk up the steps and put his key in the +latch as I drove off to our stables. And that’s all I know about it.”</p> + +<p>Selwood turned to the butler.</p> + +<p>“I suppose no one was up at that time?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“Nobody, sir,” answered Kitteridge. “There never is. Mr. Herapath, as +you’ve no doubt observed, is a bit strict in the matter of rules, and +it’s one of his rules that everybody in the house must be in bed by +eleven-thirty. No one was ever to sit up for him on any occasion. That’s +why this supper-tray was always left ready. His usual time for coming in +when he’d been at the House was twelve o’clock.”</p> + +<p>“Everybody in the house might be in bed,” observed Selwood, “but not +everybody might be asleep. Have you made any inquiry as to whether +anybody heard Mr. Herapath moving about in the night, or leaving the +house? Somebody may have heard the hall door opened and closed, you +know.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll make inquiry as to that, sir,” responded Kitteridge, “but I’ve +heard nothing of the sort so far, and all the servants are aware by now +that Mr. Herapath isn’t in the house. If anybody had heard anything——”</p> + +<p>Before the butler could say more the study door opened and a girl came +into the room. At sight of her Selwood spoke hurriedly to Kitteridge.</p> + +<p>“Have you told Miss Wynne?” he whispered. “Does she know?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>“She may have heard from her maid, sir,” replied Kitteridge in low +tones. “Of course they’re all talking of it. I was going to ask to see +Miss Wynne as soon as she was dressed.”</p> + +<p>By that time the girl had advanced towards the three men, and Selwood +stepped forward to meet her. He knew her as Herapath’s niece, the +daughter of a dead sister of whom Herapath had been very fond; he knew, +too, that Herapath had brought her up from infancy and treated her as a +daughter. She was at this time a young woman of twenty-one or two, a +pretty, eminently likeable young woman, with signs of character and +resource in eyes and lips, and Selwood had seen enough of her to feel +sure that in any disturbing event she would keep her head. She spoke +calmly enough as the secretary met her.</p> + +<p>“What’s all this, Mr. Selwood?” she asked. “I understand my uncle is not +in the house. But there’s nothing alarming in that, Kitteridge, is +there? Mr. Herapath may have gone away during the night, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Kitteridge thinks that highly improbable,” replied Selwood. “He says +that Mr. Herapath had made no preparation for a sudden journey, has +taken no travelling coat or rug, or luggage of any sort.”</p> + +<p>“Did he come in from the House?” she asked. “Perhaps not?”</p> + +<p>Kitteridge pointed to the supper-tray and then indicated the coachman.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>“He came in as usual, miss,” he replied. “Or rather an hour later than +usual. Mountain brought him home at one o’clock, and he saw him let +himself in with his latch-key.”</p> + +<p>Peggie Wynne turned to the coachman.</p> + +<p>“You’re sure that he entered the house?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“As sure as I could be, miss,” replied Mountain. “He was putting his key +in the door when I drove off.”</p> + +<p>“He must have come in,” said Kitteridge, pointing to the tray. “He had +something after he got in.”</p> + +<p>“Well, go and tell the servants not to talk, Kitteridge,” said Peggie. +“My uncle, no doubt, had reasons for going out again. Have you said +anything to Mr. Tertius?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Tertius isn’t down yet, miss,” answered the butler.</p> + +<p>He left the room, followed by the coachman, and Peggie turned to +Selwood. “What do you think?” she asked, with a slight show of anxiety. +“You don’t know of any reason for this, do you?”</p> + +<p>“None,” replied Selwood. “And as to what I think, I don’t know +sufficient about Mr. Herapath’s habits to be able to judge.”</p> + +<p>“He never did anything like this before,” she remarked. “I know that he +sometimes gets up in the middle of the night and comes down here, but I +never knew him to go out. If he’d been setting off on a sudden journey +he’d surely have let me know. Perhaps——”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>She paused suddenly, seeing Selwood lift his eyes from the papers +strewn about the desk to the door. She, too, turned in the same +direction.</p> + +<p>A man had come quietly into the room—a slightly-built, little man, +grey-bearded, delicate-looking, whose eyes were obscured by a pair of +dark-tinted spectacles. He moved gently and with an air of habitual +shyness, and Selwood, who was naturally observant, saw that his lips and +his hands were trembling slightly as he came towards them.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Tertius,” said Peggie, “do you know anything about Uncle Jacob? He +came in during the night—one o’clock—and now he’s disappeared. Did he +say anything to you about going away early this morning?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No—no—nothing!” he answered. “Disappeared! Is it certain he came in?”</p> + +<p>“Mountain saw him come in,” she said. “Besides, he had a drink out of +that glass, and he ate something from the tray—see!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius bent his spectacled eyes over the supper tray and remained +looking at what he saw there for a while. Then he looked up, and at +Selwood.</p> + +<p>“Strange!” he remarked. “And yet, you know, he is a man who does things +without saying a word to any one. Have you, now, thought of telephoning +to the estate office? He may have gone there.”</p> + +<p>Peggie, who had dropped into the chair at Herapath’s desk, immediately +jumped up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Of course we must do that at once!” she exclaimed. “Come to the +telephone, Mr. Selwood—we may hear something.”</p> + +<p>She and Selwood left the room together. When they had gone, Mr. Tertius +once more bent over the supper tray. He picked up the empty glass, +handling it delicately; he held it between himself and the electric +light over the desk; he narrowly inspected it, inside and out. Then he +turned his attention to the plate of sandwiches. One sandwich had been +taken from the plate and bitten into—once. Mr. Tertius took up that +sandwich with the tips of his delicately-shaped fingers. He held that, +too, nearer the light. And having looked at it he hastily selected an +envelope from the stationery cabinet on the desk, carefully placed the +sandwich within it, and set off to his own rooms in the upper part of +the house. As he passed through the hall he heard Selwood at the +telephone, which was installed in a small apartment at the foot of the +stairs—he was evidently already in communication with some one at the +Herapath Estate Office.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius went straight to his room, stayed there a couple of minutes, +and went downstairs again. Selwood and Peggie Wynne were just coming +away from the telephone; they looked up at him with faces grave with +concern.</p> + +<p>“We’re wanted at the estate office,” said Selwood. “The caretaker was +just going to ring us up when I got through to him. Something is +wrong—wrong with Mr. Herapath.”</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">is it murder?</p> + +<p>It struck Selwood, afterwards, as a significant thing that it was +neither he nor Mr. Tertius who took the first steps towards immediate +action. Even as he spoke, Peggie was summoning the butler, and her +orders were clear and precise.</p> + +<p>“Kitteridge,” she said quietly, “order Robson to bring the car round at +once—as quickly as possible. In the meantime, send some coffee into the +breakfast-room—breakfast itself must wait until we return. Make haste, +Kitteridge.”</p> + +<p>Selwood turned on her with a doubtful look.</p> + +<p>“You—you aren’t going down there?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Of course I am!” she answered. “Do you think I should wait +here—wondering what had happened? We will all go—come and have some +coffee, both of you, while we wait for the car.”</p> + +<p>The two followed her into the breakfast-room and silently drank the +coffee which she presently poured out for them. She, too, was silent, +but when she had left the room to make ready for the drive Mr. Tertius +turned to Selwood.</p> + +<p>“You heard—what?” he asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Nothing definite,” answered Selwood. “All I heard was that Mr. +Herapath was there, and there was something seriously wrong, and would +we go down at once.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius made no comment. He became thoughtful and abstracted, and +remained so during the journey down to Kensington. Peggie, too, said +nothing as they sped along; as for Selwood, he was wondering what had +happened, and reflecting on this sudden stirring up of mystery. There +was mystery within that car—in the person of Mr. Tertius. During his +three weeks’ knowledge of the Herapath household Selwood had constantly +wondered who Mr. Tertius was, what his exact relationship was, what his +position really was. He knew that he lived in Jacob Herapath’s house, +but in a sense he was not of the family. He seldom presented himself at +Herapath’s table, he was rarely seen about the house; Selwood remembered +seeing him occasionally in Herapath’s study or in Peggie Wynne’s +drawing-room. He had learnt sufficient to know that Mr. Tertius had +rooms of his own in the house; two rooms in some upper region; one room +on the ground-floor. Once Selwood had gained a peep into that +ground-floor room, and had seen that it was filled with books, and that +its table was crowded with papers, and he had formed the notion that Mr. +Tertius was some book-worm or antiquary, to whom Jacob Herapath for some +reason or other gave house-room. That he was no relation Selwood judged +from the way in which he was always addressed by Herapath and by Peggie +Wynne. To them as to all the servants he was Mr. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>Tertius—whether that +was his surname or not, Selwood did not know.</p> + +<p>There was nothing mysterious or doubtful about the great pile of +buildings at which the automobile presently stopped. They were practical +and concrete facts. Most people in London knew the famous Herapath +Flats—they had aroused public interest from the time that their founder +began building them.</p> + +<p>Jacob Herapath, a speculator in real estate, had always cherished a +notion of building a mass of high-class residential flats on the most +modern lines. Nothing of the sort which he contemplated, he said, +existed in London—when the opportunity came he would show the building +world what could and should be done. The opportunity came when a parcel +of land in Kensington fell into the market—Jacob Herapath made haste to +purchase it, and he immediately began building on it. The result was a +magnificent mass of buildings which possessed every advantage and +convenience—to live in a Herapath flat was to live in luxury. +Incidentally, no one could live in one who was not prepared to pay a +rental of anything from five to fifteen hundred a year. The gross rental +of the Herapath Flats was enormous—the net profits were enough to make +even a wealthy man’s mouth water. And Selwood, who already knew all +this, wondered, as they drove away, where all this wealth would go if +anything had really happened to its creator.</p> + +<p>The entrance to the Herapath estate office was in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>an archway which led +to one of the inner squares of the great buildings. When the car stopped +at it, Selwood saw that there were police within the open doorway. One +of them, an inspector, came forward, looking dubiously at Peggie Wynne. +Selwood hastened out of the car and made for him.</p> + +<p>“I’m Mr. Herapath’s secretary—Mr. Selwood,” he said, drawing the +inspector out of earshot. “Is anything seriously wrong?—better tell me +before Miss Wynne hears. He isn’t—dead?”</p> + +<p>The inspector gave him a warning look.</p> + +<p>“That’s it, sir,” he answered in a low voice. “Found dead by the +caretaker in his private office. And it’s here—Mr. Selwood, it’s either +suicide or murder. That’s flat!”</p> + +<p>Selwood got his two companions inside the building and into a +waiting-room. Peggie turned on him at once.</p> + +<p>“I see you know,” she said. “Tell me at once what it is. Don’t be +afraid, Mr. Selwood—I’m not likely to faint nor to go into hysterics. +Neither is Mr. Tertius. Tell us—is it the worst?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Selwood. “It is.”</p> + +<p>“He is dead?” she asked in a low voice. “You are sure? Dead?”</p> + +<p>Selwood bent his head by way of answer; when he looked up again the girl +had bent hers, but she quickly lifted it, and except that she had grown +pale, she showed no outward sign of shock or emotion. As for Mr. +Tertius, he, too, was calm—and it was he who first broke the silence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>“How was it?” he asked. “A seizure?”</p> + +<p>Selwood hesitated. Then, seeing that he had to deal with two people who +were obviously in full control of themselves, he decided to tell the +truth.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid you must be prepared to hear some unpleasant news,” he said, +with a glance at the inspector, who just then quietly entered the room. +“The police say it is either a case of suicide or of murder.”</p> + +<p>Peggie looked sharply from Selwood to the police official, and a sudden +flush of colour flamed into her cheeks.</p> + +<p>“Suicide?” she exclaimed. “Never! Murder? That may be. Tell me what you +have found,” she went on eagerly. “Don’t keep things back!—don’t you +see I want to know?”</p> + +<p>The inspector closed the door and came nearer to where the three were +standing.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I’d better tell you what we do know,” he said. “Our station was +rung up by the caretaker here at five minutes past eight. He said Mr. +Herapath had just been found lying on the floor of his private room, and +they were sure something was wrong, and would we come round. I came +myself with one of our plain-clothes men who happened to be in, and our +surgeon followed us a few minutes later. We found Mr. Herapath lying +across the hearthrug in his private room, quite dead. Close by——” He +paused and looked dubiously at Peggie. “The details are not pleasant,” +he said meaningly. “Shall I omit them?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No!” answered Peggie with decision. “Please omit nothing. Tell us +all.”</p> + +<p>“There was a revolver lying close by Mr. Herapath’s right hand,” +continued the inspector. “One chamber had been discharged. Mr. Herapath +had been shot through the right temple, evidently at close quarters. I +should say—and our surgeon says—he had died instantly. And—I think +that’s all I need say just now.”</p> + +<p>Peggie, who had listened to this with unmoved countenance, involuntarily +stepped towards the door.</p> + +<p>“Let us go to him,” she said. “I suppose he’s still here?”</p> + +<p>But there Selwood, just as involuntarily, asserted an uncontrollable +instinct. He put himself between the door and the girl.</p> + +<p>“No!” he said firmly, wondering at himself for his insistence. “Don’t! +There’s no need for that—yet. You mustn’t go. Mr. Tertius——”</p> + +<p>“Better not just yet, miss,” broke in the inspector. “The doctor is +still here. Afterwards, perhaps. If you would wait here while these +gentlemen go with me.”</p> + +<p>Peggie hesitated a moment; then she turned away and sat down.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” she said.</p> + +<p>The inspector silently motioned the two men to follow him; with his hand +on the door Selwood turned again to Peggie.</p> + +<p>“You will stay here?” he said. “You won’t follow us?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I shall stay here,” she answered. “Stop a minute—there’s one thing +that should be thought of. My cousin Barthorpe——”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Barthorpe Herapath has been sent for, miss—he’ll be here +presently,” replied the inspector. “The caretaker’s telephoned to him. +Now gentlemen.”</p> + +<p>He led the way along a corridor to a room with which Selwood was +familiar enough—an apartment of some size which Jacob Herapath used as +a business office and kept sacred to himself and his secretary. When he +was in it no one ever entered that room except at Herapath’s bidding; +now there were strangers in it who had come there unbidden, and Herapath +lay in their midst, silent for ever. They had laid the lifeless body on +a couch, and Selwood and Mr. Tertius bent over it for a moment before +they turned to the other men in the room. The dead face was calm enough; +there was no trace of sudden fear on it, no signs of surprise or anger +or violent passion.</p> + +<p>“If you’ll look here, gentlemen,” said the police-inspector, motioning +them towards the broad hearthrug. “This is how things were—nothing had +been touched when we arrived. He was lying from there to here—he’d +evidently slipped down and sideways out of that chair, and had fallen +across the rug. The revolver was lying a few inches from his right hand. +Here it is.”</p> + +<p>He pulled open a drawer as he spoke and produced a revolver which he +carefully handled as he showed it to Selwood and Mr. Tertius.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Have either of you gentlemen ever seen that before?” he asked. “I +mean—do you recognize it as having belonged to—him? You don’t? Never +seen it before, either of you? Well, of course he might have kept a +revolver in his private desk or in his safe, and nobody would have +known. We shall have to make an exhaustive search and see if we can find +any cartridges or anything. However, that’s what we found—and, as I +said before, one chamber had been discharged. The doctor here says the +revolver had been fired at close quarters.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius, who had watched and listened with marked attention, turned +to the police surgeon.</p> + +<p>“The wound may have been self-inflicted?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“From the position of the body, and of the revolver, there is strong +presumption that it was,” replied the doctor.</p> + +<p>“Yet—it may not have been?” suggested Mr. Tertius, mildly.</p> + +<p>The doctor shrugged his shoulders. It was easy to see what his own +opinion was.</p> + +<p>“It may not have been—as you say,” he answered. “But if he was shot by +some other person—murdered, that is—the murderer must have been +standing either close at his side, or immediately behind him. Of this I +am certain—he was sitting in that chair, at his desk, when the shot was +fired.”</p> + +<p>“And—what would the immediate effect be?” asked Mr. Tertius.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<p>“He would probably start violently, make as if to rise, drop forward +against the desk and gradually—but quickly—subside to the floor in the +position in which he was found,” replied the doctor. “As he fell he +would relinquish his grip on the revolver—it is invariably a tight grip +in these cases—and it would fall—just where it was found.”</p> + +<p>“Still, there is nothing to disprove the theory that the revolver may +have been placed—where it was found?” suggested Mr. Tertius.</p> + +<p>“Oh, certainly it may have been placed there!” said the doctor, with +another shrug of the shoulders. “A cool and calculating murderer may +have placed it there, of course.”</p> + +<p>“Just so,” agreed Mr. Tertius. He remained silently gazing at the +hearthrug for a while; then he turned to the doctor again. “Now, how +long do you think Mr. Herapath had been dead when you were called to the +body?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Quite eight hours,” answered the doctor promptly.</p> + +<p>“Eight hours!” exclaimed Mr. Tertius. “And you first saw him at——”</p> + +<p>“A quarter past eight,” said the doctor. “I should say he died just +about midnight.”</p> + +<p>“Midnight!” murmured Mr. Tertius. “Midnight? Then——”</p> + +<p>Before he could say more, a policeman, stationed in the corridor +outside, opened the door of the room, and glancing at his inspector, +announced the arrival of Mr. Barthorpe Herapath.</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">barthorpe takes charge</p> + +<p>The man who strode into the room as the policeman threw the door open +for him immediately made two distinct impressions on the inspector and +the doctor, neither of whom had ever seen him before. The first was that +he instantly conveyed a sense of alert coolness and self-possession; the +second that, allowing for differences of age, he was singularly like the +dead man who lay in their midst. Both were tall, well-made men; both +were clean-shaven; both were much alike as to feature and appearance. +Apart from the fact that Jacob Herapath was a man of sixty and +grey-haired, and his nephew one of thirty to thirty-five and +dark-haired, they were very much alike—the same mould of nose, mouth, +and chin, the same strength of form. The doctor noted this resemblance +particularly, and he involuntarily glanced from the living to the dead.</p> + +<p>Barthorpe Herapath bent over his dead uncle for no more than a minute. +His face was impassive, almost stern as he turned to the others. He +nodded slightly to Mr. Tertius and to Selwood; then he gave his +attention to the officials.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes?” he said inquiringly and yet with a certain tone of command. “Now +tell me all you know of this.”</p> + +<p>He stood listening silently, with concentrated attention, as the +inspector put him in possession of the facts already known. He made no +comment, asked no questions, until the inspector had finished; then he +turned to Selwood, almost pointedly ignoring Mr. Tertius.</p> + +<p>“What is known of this in Portman Square, Mr. Selwood?” he inquired. +“Tell me, briefly.”</p> + +<p>Selwood, who had only met Barthorpe Herapath once or twice, and who had +formed an instinctive and peculiar dislike to him, for which he could +not account, accepted the invitation to be brief. In a few words he told +exactly what had happened at Jacob Herapath’s house.</p> + +<p>“My cousin is here, then?” exclaimed Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>“Miss Wynne is in the larger waiting-room down the corridor,” replied +Selwood.</p> + +<p>“I will go to her in a minute,” said Barthorpe. “Now, inspector, there +are certain things to be done at once. There will, of course, have to be +an inquest—your people must give immediate notice to the coroner. +Then—the body—that must be properly attended to—that, too, you will +see about. Before you go away yourself, I want you to join me in +collecting all the evidence we can get on the spot. You have one of your +detective staff here?—good. Now, have you searched—him?”</p> + +<p>The inspector drew open a drawer in the front <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>desk which occupied the +centre of the room, and pointed to some articles which lay within.</p> + +<p>“Everything that we found upon him is in there,” he answered. “You see +there is not much—watch and chain, pocket articles, a purse, some loose +money, a pocket-book, a cigar-case—that’s all. One matter I should have +expected to find, we didn’t find.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that?” asked Barthorpe quickly.</p> + +<p>“Keys,” answered the inspector. “We found no keys on him—not even a +latch-key. Yet he must have let himself in here, and I understand from +the caretaker that he must have unlocked this door after he’d entered by +the outer one.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe made no immediate answer beyond a murmur of perplexity.</p> + +<p>“Strange,” he said after a pause, during which he bent over the open +drawer. “However, that’s one of the things to be gone into. Close that +drawer, lock it up, and for the present keep the key yourself—you and I +will examine the contents later. Now for these immediate inquiries. Mr. +Selwood, will you please telephone at once to Portman Square and tell +Kitteridge to send Mountain, the coachman, here—instantly. Tell +Kitteridge to come with him. Inspector, will you see to this arrangement +we spoke of, and also tell the caretaker that we shall want him +presently? Now I will go to my cousin.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + +<p>He strode off, still alert, composed, almost bustling in his demeanour, +to the waiting-room in which they had left Peggie—a moment later, +Selwood, following him down the corridor, saw him enter and close the +door. And Selwood cursed himself for a fool for hating to think that +these two should be closeted together, for disliking the notion that +Barthorpe Herapath was Peggie Wynne’s cousin—and now, probably, her +guardian protector. For during those three weeks in which he had been +Jacob Herapath’s secretary, Selwood had seen a good deal of his +employer’s niece, and he was already well over the verge of falling in +love with her, and was furious with himself for daring to think of a +girl who was surely one of the richest heiresses in London. He was angry +with himself, too, for disliking Barthorpe, for he was inclined to +cultivate common-sense, and common-sense coldly reminded him that he did +not know Barthorpe Herapath well enough to either like or dislike him.</p> + +<p>Half an hour passed—affairs suggestive of the tragedy of the night went +on in the Herapath Estate Office. Two women in the garb of professional +nurses came quietly, and passed into the room where Herapath lay dead. A +man arrayed in dismal black came after them, summoned by the police who +were busy at the telephone as soon as Selwood had finished with it. +Selwood himself, having summoned Kitteridge and Mountain, hung about, +waiting. He heard the police talking in undertones of clues and +theories, and of a coroner’s inquest, and the like; now and then he +looked curiously at Mr. Tertius, who had taken a seat in the hall and +was apparently wrapped in meditation. And still Barthorpe Herapath +remained closeted with Peggie Wynne.</p> + +<p>A taxi drove up and deposited the butler and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>coachman at the door. +Selwood motioned them inside.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Barthorpe Herapath wants both of you,” he said curtly. “I suppose +he will ask for you presently.”</p> + +<p>Kitteridge let out an anxious inquiry.</p> + +<p>“The master, sir?” he exclaimed. “Is——”</p> + +<p>“Good heavens!” muttered Selwood. “I—of course, you don’t know. Mr. +Herapath is dead.”</p> + +<p>The two servants started and stared at each other. Before either could +speak Barthorpe Herapath suddenly emerged from the waiting-room and +looked round the hall. He beckoned to the inspector, who was talking in +low tones with the detective, at a little distance.</p> + +<p>“Now, inspector,” he said, “will you and your officer come in? And the +caretaker—and you, Kitteridge, and you, Mountain. Mr. Selwood, will you +come in, too?”</p> + +<p>He stood at the door while those he had invited inside passed into the +room where Peggie still sat. And as he stood there, and Selwood wound up +the little procession, Mr. Tertius rose and also made as if to join the +others. Barthorpe stopped him by intruding himself between him and the +door.</p> + +<p>“This is a private inquiry of my own, Mr. Tertius,” he said, with a +meaning look.</p> + +<p>Selwood, turning in sheer surprise at this announcement, so pointed and +so unmistakable, saw a faint tinge of colour mount to the elder man’s +usually pale cheeks. Mr. Tertius stopped sharply and looked at Barthorpe +in genuine surprise.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You do not wish me to enter—to be present?” he faltered.</p> + +<p>“Frankly, I don’t,” said Barthorpe, with aggressive plainness. “There +will be a public inquiry—I can’t stop you from attending that.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius drew back. He stood for a moment staring hard at Barthorpe; +then, with a slight, scarcely perceivable bow, he turned away, crossed +the hall, and went out of the front door. And Barthorpe Herapath +laughed—a low, sneering laugh—and following the other men into the +waiting-room, locked the door upon those assembled there. As if he and +they were assembled on some cut-and-dried business matter, he waved them +all to chairs, and himself dropped into one at the head of the table, +close to that in which Peggie was sitting.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Now, inspector,” he began, “you and I must get what we may as well call +first information about this matter. There will be a vast amount of +special and particular investigation later on, but I want us, at the +very outset, while facts are fresh in the mind, to get certain +happenings clearly before us. And for this reason—I understand that the +police-surgeon is of opinion that my uncle committed suicide. With all +respect to him—I’m sorry he’s gone before I could talk to him—that +theory cannot be held for an instant! My cousin, Miss Wynne, and I knew +our uncle far too well to believe that theory for a single moment, and +we shall combat it by every means in our power when the inquest is held. +No—my uncle was murdered! Now I want to know all I can get to know of +his movements last night. And first I think we’ll hear what the +caretaker can tell us. Hancock,” he continued, turning to an elderly man +who looked like an ex-soldier, “I understand you found my uncle’s body?”</p> + +<p>The caretaker, obviously much upset by the affairs of the morning, +pulled himself up to attention.</p> + +<p>“I did, sir,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“What time was that?”</p> + +<p>“Just eight o’clock, sir—that’s my usual time for opening the office.”</p> + +<p>“Tell us exactly how you found him, Hancock.”</p> + +<p>“I opened the door of Mr. Herapath’s private room, sir, to pull up the +blinds and open the window. When I walked in I saw him lying across the +hearth-rug. Then I noticed the—the revolver.”</p> + +<p>“And of course that gave you a turn. What did you do? Go into the room?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir! I shut the door again, went straight to the telephone and rang +up the police-station. Then I waited at the front door till the +inspector there came along.”</p> + +<p>“Was the front door fastened as usual when you went to it at that time?”</p> + +<p>“It was fastened as it always is, sir, by the latch. It was Mr. +Herapath’s particular orders that it never should be fastened any other +way at night, because he sometimes came in at night, with his +latch-key.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Just so. Now these offices are quite apart and distinct from the rest +of the building—mark that, inspector! There’s no way out of them into +the building, nor any way out of the building into them. In fact, the +only entrance into these offices is by the front door. Isn’t that so, +Hancock?”</p> + +<p>“That’s quite so, sir—only that one door.”</p> + +<p>“No area entrance or side-door?”</p> + +<p>“None, sir—nothing but that.”</p> + +<p>“And the only tenants in here—these offices—at night are you and your +wife, Hancock?”</p> + +<p>“That’s all, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Now, where are your rooms?”</p> + +<p>“We’ve two rooms in the basement, sir—living-room and kitchen—and two +rooms on the top floor—a bedroom and a bathroom.”</p> + +<p>“On the top-floor. How many floors are there?”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, there’s the basement—then there’s this—then there’s two +floors that’s used by the clerks—then there’s ours.”</p> + +<p>“That’s to say there are two floors between your bedroom and this ground +floor?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir—two.”</p> + +<p>“Very well. Now, about last night. What time did you and your wife go to +bed?”</p> + +<p>“Eleven o’clock, sir—half an hour later than usual.”</p> + +<p>“You’d previously looked round, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“Been all round, sir—I always look into every room in the place last +thing at night—thoroughly.”</p> + +<p>“Are you and your wife sound sleepers?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir—both of us. Good sleepers.”</p> + +<p>“You heard no sound after you got to bed?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing, sir—neither of us.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No recollection of hearing a revolver shot?—not even as if it were a +long way off?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir—we never heard anything—nothing unusual, at any rate.”</p> + +<p>“You heard no sound of doors opening or being shut, nor of any +conveyance coming to the door?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, nothing at all.”</p> + +<p>“Well, one or two more questions, Hancock. You didn’t go into the room +after first catching sight of the body? Just so—but you’d notice +things, even in a hurried glance. Did you notice any sign of a +struggle—overturned chair or anything?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir. I did notice that Mr. Herapath’s elbow chair, that he always +sat in at his desk, was pushed back a bit, and was a bit on one side as +it were. That was all.”</p> + +<p>“And the light—the electric light? Was that on?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Then all you can tell us comes to this—that you never heard anything, +and had no notion of what was happening, or had happened, until you came +down in the morning?”</p> + +<p>“Just so, sir. If I’d known what was going on, or had gone on, I should +have been down at once.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe nodded and turned to the coachman.</p> + +<p>“Now, Mountain,” he said. “We want to hear your story. Be careful about +your facts—what you can tell us is probably of the utmost importance.”</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the pressman</p> + +<p>The coachman, thus admonished, unconsciously edged his chair a little +nearer to the table at which Barthorpe Herapath sat, and looked +anxiously at his interrogator. He was a little, shrewd-eyed fellow, and +it seemed to Selwood, who had watched him carefully during the informal +examination to which Barthorpe had subjected the caretaker, that he had +begun to think deeply over some new presentiment of this mystery which +was slowly shaping itself in his mind.</p> + +<p>“I understand, Mountain, that you fetched Mr. Herapath from the House of +Commons last night?” began Barthorpe. “You fetched him in the brougham, +I believe?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” answered the coachman. “Mr. Herapath always had the brougham +at night—and most times, too, sir. Never took kindly to the motor, +sir.”</p> + +<p>“Where did you meet him, Mountain?”</p> + +<p>“Usual place, sir—in Palace Yard—just outside the Hall.”</p> + +<p>“What time was that?”</p> + +<p>“Quarter past eleven, exactly, sir—the clock was just chiming the +quarter as he came out.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Was Mr. Herapath alone when he came out?”</p> + +<p>“No sir. He came out with another gentleman—a stranger to me, sir. The +two of ’em stood talking a bit a yard or two away from the brougham.”</p> + +<p>“Did you hear anything they said?”</p> + +<p>“Just a word or two from Mr. Herapath, sir, as him and the other +gentleman parted.”</p> + +<p>“What were they?—tell us the words, as near as you can remember.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Herapath said, ‘Have it ready for me tomorrow, and I’ll look in at +your place about noon.’ That’s all, sir.”</p> + +<p>“What happened then?”</p> + +<p>“The other gentleman went off across the Yard, sir, and Mr. Herapath +came to the brougham, and told me to drive him to the estate +office—here, sir.”</p> + +<p>“You drove him up to this door, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir. Mr. Herapath never was driven up to the door—he always got +out of the brougham in the road outside and walked up the archway. He +did that last night.”</p> + +<p>“From where you pulled up could you see if there was any light in these +offices?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir—I pulled up just short of the entrance to the archway.”</p> + +<p>“Did Mr. Herapath say anything to you when he got out?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. He said he should most likely be three-quarters of an hour +here, and that I’d better put a rug over the mare and walk her about.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Then I suppose he went up the archway. Now, did you see anybody about +the entrance? Did you see any person waiting as if to meet him? Did he +meet anybody?”</p> + +<p>“I saw no one, sir. As soon as he’d gone up the archway I threw a rug +over the mare and walked her round and round the square across the +road.”</p> + +<p>“You heard and saw nothing of him until he came out again?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing, sir.”</p> + +<p>“And how long was he away from you?”</p> + +<p>“Nearer an hour than three-quarters, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Were you in full view of the entrance all that time?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, I wasn’t. Some of the time I was—some of it I’d my back to +it.”</p> + +<p>“You never saw any one enter the archway during the time Mr. Herapath +was in the office?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir.”</p> + +<p>“All the same, some one could have come here during that time without +your seeing him?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Well, at last Mr. Herapath came out. Where did he rejoin you?”</p> + +<p>“In the middle of the road, sir—right opposite that statue in the +Square gardens.”</p> + +<p>“Did he say anything particular then?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir. He walked sharply across, opened the door, said ‘Home’ and +jumped in.”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t notice anything unusual about him?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing, sir—unless it was that he hung his head down rather as he +came across—same as if he was thinking hard, sir.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You drove straight home to Portman Square, then. What time did you get +there?”</p> + +<p>“Exactly one o’clock, sir.”</p> + +<p>“You’re certain about that time?”</p> + +<p>“Certain, sir. It was just five minutes past one when I drove into our +mews.”</p> + +<p>“Now, then, be careful about this, Mountain. I want to know exactly what +happened when you drove up to the house. Tell us in your own way.”</p> + +<p>The coachman looked round amongst the listeners as if he were a little +perplexed. “Why, sir,” he answered, turning back to Barthorpe, “there +was nothing happened! At least, I mean to say, there was nothing +happened that didn’t always happen on such occasions—Mr. Herapath got +out of the brougham, shut the door, said ‘Good night,’ and went up the +steps, taking his latch-key out of his pocket as he crossed the +pavement, sir. That was all, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Did you actually see him enter the house?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” replied Mountain, with a decisive shake of the head. “I +couldn’t say that I did that. I saw him just putting the key in the +latch as I drove off.”</p> + +<p>“And that’s all you know?”</p> + +<p>“That’s all I know, sir—all.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe, after a moment’s hesitation, turned to the police-inspector.</p> + +<p>“Is there anything that occurs to you?” he asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p>“One or two things occur to me,” answered the inspector. “But I’m not +going to ask any questions now. I suppose all you want at present is to +get a rough notion of how things were last night?”</p> + +<p>“Just so,” assented Barthorpe. “A rough notion—that’s it. Well, +Kitteridge, it’s your turn. Who found out that Mr. Herapath wasn’t in +the house this morning?”</p> + +<p>“Charlesworth, sir—Mr. Herapath’s valet,” replied the butler. “He +always called Mr. Herapath at a quarter past seven every morning. When +he went into the bedroom this morning Mr. Herapath wasn’t there, and the +bed hadn’t been slept in. Then Charlesworth came and told me, sir, and +of course I went to the study at once, and then I saw that, wherever Mr. +Herapath might be then, he certainly had been home.”</p> + +<p>“You judged that from—what?” asked Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, it’s been the rule to leave a supper-tray out for Mr. +Herapath. Not much, sir—whisky and soda, a sandwich or two, a dry +biscuit. I saw that he’d had something, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Somebody else might have had it—eh?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, but then you see, I’d had Mountain fetched by that time, and +he told me that he’d seen Mr. Herapath letting himself in at one +o’clock. So of course I knew the master had been in.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + +<p>Barthorpe hesitated, seemed to ponder matters for a moment, and then +rose. “I don’t think we need go into things any further just now,” he +said. “You, Kitteridge, and you, Mountain, can go home. Don’t talk—that +is, don’t talk any more than is necessary. I suppose,” he went on, +turning to the inspector when the two servants and the caretaker had +left the room. “I suppose you’ll see to all the arrangements we spoke +of?”</p> + +<p>“They’re being carried out already,” answered the inspector. “Of +course,” he added, drawing closer to Barthorpe and speaking in lower +tones, “when the body’s been removed, you’ll join me in making a +thorough inspection of the room? We haven’t done that yet, you know, and +it should be done. Wouldn’t it be best,” he continued with a glance at +Peggie and a further lowering of his voice, “if the young lady went back +to Portman Square?”</p> + +<p>“Just so, just so—I’ll see to it,” answered Barthorpe. “You go and keep +people out of the way for a few minutes, and I’ll get her off.” He +turned to his cousin when the two officers had left the room and +motioned her to rise. “Now, Peggie,” he said, “you must go home. I shall +come along there myself in an hour or two—there are things to be done +which you and I must do together. Mr. Selwood—will you take Miss Wynne +out to the car? And then, please, come back to me—I want your +assistance for a while.”</p> + +<p>Peggie walked out of the room and to the car without demur or comment. +But as she was about to take her seat she turned to Selwood.</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t Mr. Tertius come into the room just now?” she demanded.</p> + +<p>Selwood hesitated. Until then he had thought that Peggie had heard the +brief exchange of words between Barthorpe and Mr. Tertius at the door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Didn’t you hear what was said at the door when we were all coming in?” +he asked suddenly, looking attentively at her.</p> + +<p>“I heard my cousin and Mr. Tertius talking, but I couldn’t catch what +was said,” she replied. “If you did, tell me—I want to know.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Barthorpe Herapath refused to admit Mr. Tertius,” said Selwood.</p> + +<p>“Refused?” she exclaimed. “Refused?”</p> + +<p>“Refused,” repeated Selwood. “That’s all I know.”</p> + +<p>Peggie sat down and gave him an enigmatic look.</p> + +<p>“You, of course, will come back to the house when—when you’ve finished +here?” she said.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know—I suppose—really, I don’t know,” answered Selwood. “You +see, I—I, of course, don’t know exactly where I am, now. I suppose I +must take my orders from—your cousin.”</p> + +<p>Peggie gave him another look, more enigmatic than the other.</p> + +<p>“That’s nonsense!” she said sharply. “Of course, you’ll come. Do +whatever it is that Barthorpe wants just now, but come on to Portman +Square as soon as you’ve done it—I want you. Go straight home, Robson,” +she went on, turning to the chauffeur.</p> + +<p>Selwood turned slowly and unwillingly back to the office door as the car +moved off. And as he set his foot on the first step a young man came +running up the entry—not hurrying but running—and caught him up and +hailed him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Mr. Selwood?” he said, pantingly. “You’ll excuse me—you’re Mr. +Herapath’s secretary, aren’t you?—I’ve seen you with him. I’m Mr. +Triffitt, of the <i>Argus</i>—I happened to call in at the police-station +just now, and they told me of what had happened here, so I rushed along. +Will you tell me all about it, Mr. Selwood?—it’ll be a real scoop for +me—I’ll hustle down to the office with it at once, and we’ll have a +special out in no time. And whether you know it or not, that’ll help the +police. Give me the facts, Mr. Selwood!”</p> + +<p>Selwood stared at the ardent collector of news; then he motioned him to +follow, and led him into the hall to where Barthorpe Herapath was +standing with the police-inspector.</p> + +<p>“This is a newspaper man,” he said laconically, looking at Barthorpe. +“Mr. Triffitt, of the <i>Argus</i>. He wants the facts of this affair.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe turned and looked the new-comer up and down. Triffitt, who had +almost recovered his breath, pulled out a card and presented it with a +bow. And Barthorpe suddenly seemed to form a conclusion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>“All right!” he said. “Mr. Selwood, you know all the facts. Take Mr. +Triffitt into that room we’ve just left, and give him a +<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">résumé</span> +of them. And—listen! we can make use of the press. Mention two +matters, which seem to me to be of importance. Tell of the man who came out +of the House of Commons with my uncle last night—ask him if +he’ll come forward. And, as my uncle must have returned to this +office after he’d been home, and as he certainly wouldn’t walk +here, ask for information as to who drove him down to Kensington from +Portman Square. Don’t tell this man too much—give him the bare +outlines on how matters stand.”</p> + +<p>The reporter wrote at lightning speed while Selwood, who had some +experience of condensation, gave him the news he wanted. Finding that he +was getting a first-class story, Triffitt asked no questions and made no +interruptions. But when Selwood was through with the account, he looked +across the table with a queer glance of the eye.</p> + +<p>“I say!” he said. “This is a strange case!”</p> + +<p>“Why so strange?” asked Selwood.</p> + +<p>“Why? Great Scott!—I reckon it’s an uncommonly strange case,” exclaimed +Triffitt. “It’s about a dead certainty that Herapath was in his own +house at Portman Square at one o’clock, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Selwood.</p> + +<p>“And yet according to the doctor who examined him at eight o’clock he’d +been dead quite eight hours!” said Triffitt. “That means he died at +twelve o’clock—an hour before he’s supposed to have been at his house! +Queer! But all the queerer, all the better—for me! Now I’m off—for the +present. This’ll be on the streets in an hour, Mr. Selwood. Nothing like +the press, sir!”</p> + +<p>Therewith he fled, and the secretary suddenly found himself confronting +a new idea. If the doctor was right and Jacob Herapath had been shot +dead at midnight, how on earth could he possibly have been in Portman +Square at one o’clock, an hour later?</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the glass and the sandwich</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius, dismissed in such cavalier fashion by Barthorpe Herapath, +walked out of the estate office with downcast head—a superficial +observer might have said that he was thoroughly crestfallen and +brow-beaten. But by the time he had reached the road outside, the two +faint spots of colour which had flushed his cheeks when Barthorpe turned +him away had vanished, and he was calm and collected enough when, seeing +a disengaged taxi-cab passing by, he put up his hand and hailed it. The +voice which bade the driver go to Portman Square was calm enough, +too—Mr. Tertius had too much serious work immediately in prospect to +allow himself to be disturbed by a rudeness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + +<p>He thought deeply about that work as the taxi-cab whirled him along; he +was still thinking about it when he walked into the big house in Portman +Square. In there everything was very quiet. The butler was away at +Kensington; the other servants were busily discussing the mystery of +their master in their own regions. No one was aware that Mr. Tertius had +returned, for he let himself into the house with his own latch-key, and +went straight into Herapath’s study. There, if possible, everything was +still quieter—the gloom of the dull November morning seemed to be +doubly accentuated in the nooks and corners; there was a sense of +solitude which was well in keeping with Mr. Tertius’s knowledge of what +had happened. He looked at the vacant chair in which he had so often +seen Jacob Herapath sitting, hard at work, active, bustling, intent on +getting all he could out of every minute of his working day, and he +sighed deeply.</p> + +<p>But in the moment of sighing Mr. Tertius reflected that there was no +time for regret. It was a time—his time—for action; there was a thing +to do which he wanted to do while he had the room to himself. Therefore +he went to work, carefully and methodically. For a second or two he +stood reflectively looking at the supper tray which still stood on the +little table near the desk. With a light, delicate touch he picked up +the glass which had been used and held it up to the light. He put it +down again presently, went quietly out of the study to the dining-room +across the hall, and returned at once with another glass precisely +similar in make and pattern to the one which he had placed aside. Into +that clear glass he poured some whisky, afterwards mixing with it some +soda-water from the syphon—this mixture he poured away into the soil of +a flower-pot which stood in the window. And that done he placed the +second glass on the tray in the place where the first had stood, and +picking up the first, in the same light, gingerly fashion, he went +upstairs to his own rooms at the top of the house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<p>Five minutes later Mr. Tertius emerged from his rooms. He then carried +in his hand a small, square bag, and he took great care to handle it +very carefully as he went downstairs and into the square. At the corner +of Orchard Street he got another taxi-cab and bade the driver go to +Endsleigh Gardens. And during the drive he took the greatest pains to +nurse the little bag on his knee, thereby preserving the equilibrium of +the glass inside it.</p> + +<p>Ringing the bell of one of the houses in Endsleigh Gardens, Mr. Tertius +was presently confronted by a trim parlourmaid, whose smile was ample +proof that the caller was well-known to her.</p> + +<p>“Is the Professor in, Mary?” asked Mr. Tertius. “And if he is, is he +engaged?”</p> + +<p>The trim parlourmaid replied that the Professor was in, and that she +hadn’t heard that he was particularly engaged, and she immediately +preceded the visitor up a flight or two of stairs to a door, which in +addition to being thickly covered with green felt, was set in flanges of +rubber—these precautions being taken, of course, to ensure silence in +the apartment within. An electric bell was set in the door; a moment or +two elapsed before any response was made to the parlourmaid’s ring. Then +the door automatically opened, the parlourmaid smiled at Mr. Tertius and +retired; Mr. Tertius walked in; the door closed softly behind him.</p> + +<p>The room in which the visitor found himself was a large and lofty one, +lighted from the roof, from which it was also ventilated by a patent +arrangement <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>of electric fans. Everything that met the view betokened +science, order, and method. The walls, destitute of picture or ornament, +were of a smooth neutral tinted plaster; where they met the floor the +corners were all carefully rounded off so that no dust could gather in +cracks and crevices; the floor, too, was of smooth cement; there was no +spot in which a speck of dust could settle in improper peace. A series +of benches ran round the room, and gave harbourings to a collection of +scientific instruments of strange appearance and shape; two large +tables, one at either end of the room, were similarly equipped. And at a +desk placed between them, and just then occupied in writing in a +note-book, sat a large man, whose big muscular body was enveloped in a +brown holland blouse or overall, fashioned something like a smock-frock +of the old-fashioned rural labourer. He lifted a colossal, mop-like head +and a huge hand as Mr. Tertius stepped across the threshold, and his +spectacled eyes twinkled as their glance fell on the bag which the +visitor carried so gingerly.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, Tertius!” exclaimed the big man, in a deep, rich voice. “What +have you got there? Specimens?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius looked round for a quite empty space on the adjacent bench, +and at last seeing one, set his bag down upon it, and sighed with +relief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> + +<p>“My dear Cox-Raythwaite!” he said, mopping his forehead with a bandanna +handkerchief which he drew from the tail of his coat. “I am thankful to +have got these things here in—I devoutly trust!—safety. Specimens? +Well, not exactly; though, to be sure, they may be specimens of—I don’t +quite know what villainy yet. Objects?—certainly! Perhaps, my dear +Professor, you will come and look at them.”</p> + +<p>The Professor slowly lifted his six feet of muscle and sinew out of his +chair, picked up a briar pipe which lay on his desk, puffed a great +cloud of smoke out of it, and lounged weightily across the room to his +visitor.</p> + +<p>“Something alive?” he asked laconically. “Likely to bite?”</p> + +<p>“Er—no!” replied Mr. Tertius. “No—they won’t bite. The fact is,” he +went on, gingerly opening the bag, “this—er—this, or these are they.”</p> + +<p>Professor Cox-Raythwaite bent his massive head and shoulders over the +little bag and peered narrowly into its obscurity. Then he started.</p> + +<p>“Good Lord!” he exclaimed. “A glass tumbler! And—is it a sandwich? Why, +what on earth——”</p> + +<p>He made as if to pull the glass out of the bag, and Mr. Tertius hastily +seized the great hand in an agony of apprehension.</p> + +<p>“My dear Cox-Raythwaite!” he said. “Pray don’t! Allow me—presently. +When either of these objects is touched it must be in the most, quite +the most, delicate fashion. Of course, I know you have a fairy-like +gentleness of touch—but don’t touch these things yet. Let me explain. +Shall we—suppose we sit down. Give me—yes—give me one of your +cigars.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Professor, plainly mystified, silently pointed to a cigar box which +stood on a corner of his desk, and took another look into the bag.</p> + +<p>“A sandwich—and a glass!” he murmured reflectively. “Um! Well?” he +continued, going back to his chair and dropping heavily into it. “And +what’s it all about, Tertius? Some mystery, eh?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius drew a whiff or two of fragrant Havana before he replied. +Then he too dropped into a chair and pulled it close to his friend’s +desk.</p> + +<p>“My dear Professor!” he said, in a low, thrilling voice, suggestive of +vast importance, “I don’t know whether the secret of one of the most +astounding crimes of our day may not lie in that innocent-looking +bag—or, rather, in its present contents. Fact! But I’ll tell you—you +must listen with your usual meticulous care for small details. The truth +is—Jacob Herapath has, I am sure, been murdered!”</p> + +<p>“Murdered!” exclaimed the Professor. “Herapath? Murder—eh? Now then, +slow and steady, Tertius—leave out nothing!”</p> + +<p>“Nothing!” repeated Mr. Tertius solemnly. “Nothing! You shall hear all. +And this it is—point by point, from last night until—until the present +moment. That is—so far as I know. There may have been +developments—somewhere else. But this is what I know.”</p> + +<p>When Mr. Tertius had finished a detailed and thorough-going account of +the recent startling discovery and subsequent proceedings, to all of +which Professor Cox-Raythwaite listened in profound silence, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>he rose, +and tip-toeing towards the bag, motioned his friend to follow him.</p> + +<p>“Now, my dear sir,” he said, whispering in his excitement as if he +feared lest the very retorts and crucibles and pneumatic troughs should +hear him, “Now, my dear sir, I wish you to see for yourself. First of +all, the glass. I will take it out myself—I know exactly how I put it +in. I take it out—thus! I place it on this vacant space—thus. Look for +yourself, my dear fellow. What do you see?”</p> + +<p>The Professor, watching Mr. Tertius’s movements with undisguised +interest, took off his spectacles, picked up a reading-glass, bent down +and carefully examined the tumbler.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, after a while, “yes, Tertius, I certainly see distinct +thumb and finger-marks round the upper part of this glass. Oh, yes—no +doubt of that!”</p> + +<p>“Allow me to take one of your clean specimen slides,” observed Mr. +Tertius, picking up a square of highly polished glass. “There! I place +this slide here and upon it I deposit this sandwich. Now, my dear +Cox-Raythwaite, favour me by examining the sandwich even more closely +than you did the glass—if necessary.”</p> + +<p>But the Professor shook his head. He clapped Mr. Tertius on the +shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Excellent!” he exclaimed. “Good! Pooh!—no need for care there. The +thing’s as plain as—as I am. Good, Tertius, good!”</p> + +<p>“You see it?” said Mr. Tertius, delightedly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>“See it! Good Lord, why, who could help see it?” answered the +Professor. “Needs no great amount of care or perception to see that, as +I said. Of course, I see it. Glad you did, too!”</p> + +<p>“But we must take the greatest care of it,” urged Mr. Tertius. “The most +particular care. That’s why I came to you. Now, what can we do? How +preserve this sandwich—just as it is?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing easier,” replied the Professor. “We’ll soon fix that. We’ll put +it in such safety that it will still be a fresh thing if it remains +untouched until London Bridge falls down from sheer decay.”</p> + +<p>He moved off to another part of the laboratory, and presently returned +with two objects, one oblong and shallow, the other deep and square, +which on being set down before Mr. Tertius proved to be glass boxes, +wonderfully and delicately made, with removable lids that fitted into +perfectly adjusted grooves.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> + +<p>“There, my dear fellow,” he said. “Presently I will deposit the glass in +that, and the sandwich in this. Then I shall adjust and seal the lids in +such a fashion that no air can enter these little chambers. Then through +those tiny orifices I shall extract whatever air is in them—to the most +infinitesimal remnant of it. Then I shall seal those orifices—and there +you are. Whoever wants to see that sandwich or that glass will find both +a year hence—ten years hence—a century hence!—in precisely the same +condition in which we now see them. And that reminds me,” he continued, +as he turned away to his desk and picked up his pipe, “that reminds me, +Tertius—what are you going to do about these things being seen? +They’ll have to be seen, you know. Have you thought of the police—the +detectives?”</p> + +<p>“I have certainly thought of both,” replied Mr. Tertius. “But—I think +not yet, in either case. I think one had better await the result of the +inquest. Something may come out, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Coroners and juries,” observed the Professor oracularly, “are good at +finding the obvious. Whether they get at the mysteries and the +secrets——”</p> + +<p>“Just so—just so!” said Mr. Tertius. “I quite apprehend you. All the +same, I think we will see what is put before the coroner. Now, what +point suggests itself to you, Cox-Raythwaite?”</p> + +<p>“One in particular,” answered the Professor. “Whatever medical evidence +is called ought to show without reasonable doubt what time Herapath +actually met his death.”</p> + +<p>“Quite so,” said Mr. Tertius gravely. “If that’s once established——”</p> + +<p>“Then, of course, your own investigation, or suggestion, or theory about +that sandwich will be vastly simplified,” replied the Professor. +“Meanwhile, you will no doubt take some means of observing—eh?”</p> + +<p>“I shall use every means to observe,” said Mr. Tertius with a +significant smile, which was almost a wink. “Of that you may be—dead +certain!”</p> + +<p>Then he left Professor Cox-Raythwaite to hermetically seal up the glass +and the sandwich, and quitting the house, walked slowly back to Portman +Square. As he turned out of Oxford Street into Orchard Street the +newsboys suddenly came rushing along with the <i>Argus</i> special.</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the taxi-cab driver</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius bought a copy of the newspaper, and standing aside on the +pavement, read with much interest and surprise the story which +Triffitt’s keen appetite for news and ready craftsmanship in writing had +so quickly put together. Happening to glance up from the paper in the +course of his reading, he observed that several other people were +similarly employed. The truth was that Triffitt had headed his column: +“<span class="smcap">Mysterious Death of Mr. Herapath, M.P. Is It Suicide or Murder?</span>”—and +as this also appeared in great staring letters on the contents bills +which the newsboys were carrying about with them, and as Herapath had +been well known in that district, there was a vast amount of interest +aroused thereabouts by the news. Indeed, people were beginning to +chatter on the sidewalks, and at the doors of the shops. And as Mr. +Tertius turned away in the direction of Portman Square, he heard one +excited bystander express a candid opinion.</p> + +<p>“Suicide?” exclaimed this man, thrusting his paper into the hands of a +companion. “Not much! Catch old Jacob Herapath at that game—he was a +deuced deal too fond of life and money! Murder, sir—murder!—that’s the +ticket—murder!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius went slowly homeward, head bent and eyes moody. He let +himself into the house; at the sound of his step in the hall Peggie +Wynne looked out of the study. She retreated into it at sight of Mr. +Tertius, and he followed her and closed the door. Looking narrowly at +her, he saw that the girl had been shedding tears, and he laid his hand +shyly yet sympathetically on her arm. “Yes,” he said quietly, “I’ve been +feeling like that ever since—since I heard about things. But I don’t +know—I suppose we shall feel it more when—when we realize it more, eh? +Just now there’s the other thing to think about, isn’t there?”</p> + +<p>Peggie mopped her eyes and looked at him. He was such a quiet, +unobtrusive, inoffensive old gentleman that she wondered more than ever +why Barthorpe had refused to admit him to the informal conference.</p> + +<p>“What other thing?” she asked.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius looked round the room—strangely empty now that Jacob +Herapath’s bustling and strenuous presence was no longer in it—and +shook his head.</p> + +<p>“There’s one thought you mustn’t permit yourself to harbour for a +moment, my dear,” he answered. “Don’t even for a fraction of time allow +yourself to think that my old friend took his own life! +That’s—impossible.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t,” said Peggie. “I never did think so. It is, as you say, +impossible. I knew him too well to believe that. So, of course, +it’s——”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Murder,” assented Mr. Tertius. “Murder! I heard a man in the street +voice the same opinion just now. Of course! It’s the only opinion. Yet +in the newspaper they’re asking which it was. But I suppose the +newspapers must be—sensational.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to say it’s in the newspapers already?” exclaimed +Peggie.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius handed to her the <i>Argus</i> special, which he had carried +crumpled up in his hand.</p> + +<p>“Everybody’s reading it out there in the streets,” he said. “It’s +extraordinary, now, how these affairs seem to fascinate people. +Yes—it’s all there. That is, of course, as far as it’s gone.”</p> + +<p>“How did the paper people come to know all this?” asked Peggie, glancing +rapidly over Triffitt’s leaded lines.</p> + +<p>“I suppose they got it from the police,” replied Mr. Tertius. “I don’t +know much about such matters, but I believe the police and the Press are +in constant touch. Of course, it’s well they should be—it attracts +public notice. And in cases like this, public notice is an excellent +thing. We shall have to hear—and find out—a good deal before we get at +the truth in this case, my dear.”</p> + +<p>Peggie suddenly flung down the newspaper and looked inquiringly at the +old man.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Tertius,” she said abruptly, “why wouldn’t Barthorpe let you come +into that room down there at the office this morning?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius did not answer this direct question at once. He walked away +to the window and stood looking <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>out into the square for a while. When +at last he spoke his voice was singularly even and colourless. He might +have been discussing a question on which it was impossible to feel any +emotion.</p> + +<p>“I really cannot positively say, my dear,” he replied. “I have known, of +course, for some time that Mr. Barthorpe Herapath is not well disposed +towards me. I have observed a certain coldness, a contempt, on his part. +I have been aware that he has resented my presence in this house. And I +suppose he felt that as I am not a member of the family, I had no right +to sit in council with him and with you.”</p> + +<p>“Not a member of the family!” exclaimed Peggie. “Why, you came here soon +after I came—all those years ago!”</p> + +<p>“I have dwelt under Jacob Herapath’s roof, in this house, fifteen +years,” said Mr. Tertius, reflectively. “Fifteen years!—yes. Yes—Jacob +and I were—good friends.”</p> + +<p>As he spoke the last word a tear trickled from beneath Mr. Tertius’s +spectacles and ran down into his beard, and Peggie, catching sight of +it, impulsively jumped from her seat and kissed him affectionately.</p> + +<p>“Never mind, Mr. Tertius!” she said, patting his shoulders. “You and I +are friends, too, anyway. I don’t like Barthorpe when he’s like that—I +hate that side of him. And anyhow, Barthorpe doesn’t matter—to me. I +don’t suppose he matters to anything—except himself.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius gravely shook his head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Mr. Barthorpe Herapath may matter a great deal, my dear,” he remarked. +“He is a very forceful person. I do not know what provision my poor +friend may have made, but Barthorpe, you will remember, is his nephew, +and, I believe, his only male relative. And in that case——”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius was just then interrupted by the entrance of a footman who +came in and looked inquiringly at Peggie.</p> + +<p>“There’s a taxi-cab driver at the door, miss,” he announced. “He says he +would like to speak to some one about the news in the paper about—about +the master, miss.”</p> + +<p>Peggie looked at Mr. Tertius. And Mr. Tertius quickly made a sign to the +footman.</p> + +<p>“Bring the man in at once,” he commanded. And, as if to lose no time, he +followed the footman into the hall, and at once returned, conducting a +young man who carried a copy of the <i>Argus</i> in his hand. “Yes?” he said, +closing the door behind them and motioning the man to a seat. “You wish +to tell us something! This lady is Miss Wynne—Mr. Herapath’s niece. You +can tell us anything you think of importance. Do you know anything, +then?”</p> + +<p>The taxi-cab driver lifted the <i>Argus</i>.</p> + +<p>“This here newspaper, sir,” he answered. “I’ve just been reading of +it—about Mr. Herapath, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Tertius gently. “Yes?”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir—strikes me as how I drove him, sir, this morning,” answered +the driver. “Gentleman of his appearance, anyway, sir—that’s a fact!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius glanced at Peggie, who was intently watching the caller.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he said, turning again to the driver, “you think you drove either +Mr. Herapath or a gentleman of his appearance this morning. You did not +know Mr. Herapath by sight, then?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir. I’ve only just come into this part—came for the first time +yesterday. But I’m as certain——”</p> + +<p>“Just tell us all about it,” said Mr. Tertius, interrupting him. “Tell +us in your own way. Everything, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Ain’t so much to tell, sir,” responded the driver. “All the same, +soon’s I’d seen this piece in the paper just now I said to myself, ‘I’d +best go round to Portman Square and tell what I do know,’ I says. And +it’s like this, sir—I come on this part yesterday—last night it was. +My taxi belongs to a man as keeps half a dozen, and he put me on to +night work, this end of Oxford Street. Well, it ’ud be just about a +quarter to two this morning when a tall, well-built gentleman comes out +of Orchard Street and made for my cab. I jumps down and opens the door +for him. ‘You know St. Mary Abbot’s Church, Kensington?’ he says as he +got in. ‘Drive me down there and pull up at the gate.’ So, of course, I +ran him down, and there he got out, give me five bob, and off he went. +That’s it, sir.”</p> + +<p>“And when he got out, which way did he go?” asked Mr. Tertius.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<p>“West, sir—along the High Street, past the Town Hall,” promptly +answered the driver. “And there he crossed the road. I see him cross, +because I stopped there a minute or two after he’d got out, tinkering at +my engine.”</p> + +<p>“Can you tell us what this gentleman was like in appearance?” asked Mr. +Tertius.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, not so much as regards his face,” answered the driver. “I +didn’t look at him, not particular, in that way—besides, he was wearing +one of them overcoats with a big fur collar to it, and he’d the collar +turned high up about his neck and cheeks, and his hat—one of them +slouched, soft hats, like so many gentlemen wears nowadays sir—was well +pulled down. But from what bit I see of him, sir, I should say he was a +fresh-coloured gentleman.”</p> + +<p>“Tall and well built, you say?” observed Mr. Tertius.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir—fine-made gentleman—pretty near six feet, I should have +called him,” replied the driver. “Little bit inclined to stoutness, +like.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius turned to Peggie.</p> + +<p>“I believe you have some recent photographs of Mr. Herapath,” he said. +“You might fetch them and let me see if our friend here can recognize +them. You didn’t notice anything else about your fare?” he went on, +after Peggie had left the room. “Anything that excited your attention, +eh?”</p> + +<p>The driver, after examining the pattern of the carpet for one minute and +studying the ceiling for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>another, slowly shook his head. But he then +suddenly started into something like activity.</p> + +<p>“Yes, there was, sir, now I come to think of it!” he exclaimed. “I +hadn’t thought of it until now, but now you mention it, there was. I +noticed he’d a particularly handsome diamond ring on his left hand—an +extra fine one, too, it was.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” said Mr. Tertius. “A very fine diamond ring on his left hand? Now, +how did you come to see that?”</p> + +<p>“He rested that hand on the side of the door as he was getting in, sir, +and I noticed how it flashed,” answered the driver. “There was a lamp +right against us, you see, sir.”</p> + +<p>“I see,” said Mr. Tertius. “He wasn’t wearing gloves, then?”</p> + +<p>“He hadn’t a glove on that hand, sir. He was carrying some papers in +it—a sort of little roll of papers.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” murmured Mr. Tertius. “A diamond ring—and a little roll of +papers.” He got up from his chair and put a hand in his pocket. “Now, my +friend,” he went on, chinking some coins as he withdrew it, “you haven’t +told this to any one else, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” answered the driver. “Came straight here, sir.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<p>“There’s a couple of sovereigns for your trouble,” said Mr. Tertius, +“and there’ll be more for you if you do what I tell you to do. At +present—that is, until I give you leave—don’t say a word of this to a +soul. Not even to the police—yet. In fact, not a word to them until I +say you may. Keep your mouth shut until I tell you to open it—I shall +know where to find you. If you want me, keep an eye open for me in the +square outside, or in the street. When the young lady comes back with +the photographs, don’t mention the ring to her. This is a very queer +business, and I don’t want too much said just yet. Do as I tell you, and +I’ll see you’re all right. Understand?”</p> + +<p>The driver pocketed his sovereigns, and touched his forehead with a +knowing look.</p> + +<p>“All right, sir,” he said. “I understand. Depend on me, sir—I shan’t +say a word without your leave.”</p> + +<p>Peggie came in just then with a half a dozen cabinet photographs in her +hand. One by one she exhibited them to the driver.</p> + +<p>“Do you recognize any of these?” she asked.</p> + +<p>The driver shook his head doubtingly until Peggie showed him a +half-length of her uncle in outdoor costume. Then his eyes lighted up.</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t swear as to the features, miss,” he exclaimed. “But I’d take +my ’davy about the coat and the hat! That’s what the gentleman was +wearing as I drove this morning—take my Gospel oath on it.”</p> + +<p>“He recognizes the furred overcoat and the soft hat,” murmured Mr. +Tertius. “Very good—very good! All right, my man—we are much obliged +to you.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<p>He went out into the hall with the driver, and had another word in +secret with him before the footman opened the door. As the door closed +Mr. Tertius turned slowly back to the study. And as he turned he +muttered a word or two and smiled cynically.</p> + +<p>“A diamond ring!” he said. “Jacob Herapath never wore a diamond ring in +his life!”</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">is there a will?</p> + +<p>When Triffitt hurried off with his precious budget of news Selwood +lingered on the step of the office watching his retreating figure, and +wondering about the new idea which the reporter had put into his mind. +It was one of those ideas which instantly arouse all sorts of vague, +sinister possibilities, but Selwood found himself unable to formulate +anything definite out of any of them. Certainly, if Mr. Herapath died +at, or before, twelve o’clock midnight, he could not have been in +Portman Square at one o’clock in the morning! Yet, according to all the +evidence, he had been there, in his own house, in his own study. His +coachman had seen him in the act of entering the house; there was proof +that he had eaten food and drunk liquor in the house. The doctor must +have made a mistake—and yet, Selwood remembered, he had spoken very +positively. But if he had not made a mistake?—what then? How could +Jacob Herapath be lying dead in his office at Kensington and nibbling at +a sandwich in Portman Square at one and the same hour? Clearly there was +something wrong, something deeply mysterious, something——</p> + +<p>At that point of his surmisings and questionings <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>Selwood heard himself +called by Barthorpe Herapath, and he turned to see that gentleman +standing in the hall dangling a bunch of keys, which Selwood instantly +recognized.</p> + +<p>“We have just found these keys,” said Barthorpe. “You remember the +inspector said he found no keys in my uncle’s pockets? We found these +pushed away under some loose papers on the desk. It looks as if he’d put +them on the desk when he sat down, and had displaced them when he fell +out of his chair. Of course, they’re his—perhaps you recognize them?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Selwood, abruptly. “They’re his.”</p> + +<p>“I want you to come with me while I open his private safe,” continued +Barthorpe. “At junctures like these there are always things that have +got to be done. Now, did you ever hear my uncle speak of his +will—whether he’d made one, and, if so, where he’d put it? Hear +anything?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” replied Selwood. “I never heard him mention such a thing.”</p> + +<p>“Well, between ourselves,” said Barthorpe, “neither did I. I’ve done all +his legal work for him for a great many years—ever since I began to +practice, in fact—and so far as I know, he never made a will. More than +once I’ve suggested that he should make one, but like most men who are +in good health and spirits, he always put it off. However, we must look +over his papers both here and at Portman Square.”</p> + +<p>Selwood made no comment. He silently followed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>Barthorpe into the +private room in which his late employer had so strangely met his death. +The body had been removed by that time, and everything bore its usual +aspect, save for the presence of the police inspector and the detective, +who were peering about them in the mysterious fashion associated with +their calling. The inspector was looking narrowly at the fastenings of +the two windows and apparently debating the chances of entrance and exit +from them; the detective, armed with a magnifying glass, was examining +the edges of the door, the smooth backs of chairs, even the surface of +the desk, presumably for finger-marks.</p> + +<p>“I shan’t disturb you,” said Barthorpe, genially. “Mr. Selwood and I +merely wish to investigate the contents of this safe. There’s no +likelihood of finding what I’m particularly looking for in any of his +drawers in that desk,” he continued, turning to Selwood. “I knew enough +of his habits to know that anything that’s in there will be of a purely +business nature—referring to the estate. If he did keep anything that’s +personal here, it’ll be in that safe. Now, which is the key? Do you +know?”</p> + +<p>He handed the bunch of keys to Selwood. And Selwood, who was feeling +strangely apathetic about the present proceedings, took them +mechanically and glanced carelessly at them. Then he started.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>“There’s a key missing!” he exclaimed, suddenly waking into interest. “I +know these keys well enough—Mr. Herapath was constantly handing them to +me. There ought to be six keys here—the key of this safe, the key of +the safe at Portman Square, the latch-key for this office, the key of +this room, the latch-key of the house, and a key of a safe at the Alpha +Safe Deposit place. That one—the Safe Deposit key—is missing.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe knitted his forehead, and the two police officials paused in +their tasks and drew near the desk at which Selwood was standing.</p> + +<p>“Are you certain of that?” asked Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>“Sure!” answered Selwood. “As I say, I’ve been handling these keys every +day since I came to Mr. Herapath.”</p> + +<p>“When did you handle them last?”</p> + +<p>“Yesterday afternoon: not so very long before Mr. Herapath went down to +the House. That was in Portman Square. He gave them to me to get some +papers out of the safe there.”</p> + +<p>“Was that Safe Deposit key there at that time?”</p> + +<p>“They were all there—all six. I’m certain of it,” asserted Selwood. +“This is the key of this safe,” he went on, selecting one.</p> + +<p>“Open the safe, then,” said Barthorpe. “Another safe at the Alpha, eh?” +he continued, musingly. “I never knew he had a safe there. Did you ever +know him to use it?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I’ve been to it myself,” answered Selwood. “I took some documents there +and deposited them, two days ago. There’s not very much in this safe,” +he went on, throwing open the door. “It’s not long since I tidied it +out—at his request. So far as I know, there are no private papers of +any note there. He never made much use of this safe—in my presence, at +any rate.”</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ll see what there is, anyhow,” remarked Barthorpe. He began to +examine the contents of the safe methodically, taking the various papers +and documents out one by one and laying them in order on a small table +which Selwood wheeled up to his side. Within twenty minutes he had gone +through everything, and he began to put the papers back.</p> + +<p>“No will there,” he murmured. “We’ll go on to Portman Square now, Mr. +Selwood. After all, it’s much more likely that he’d keep his will in the +safe at his own house—if he made one. But I don’t believe he ever made +a will.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius and Peggie Wynne were still in the study when Barthorpe and +Selwood drove up to the house. The driver of the taxi-cab had just gone +away, and Mr. Tertius was discussing his information with Peggie. +Hearing Barthorpe’s voice in the hall he gave her a warning glance.</p> + +<p>“Quick!” he said hurriedly. “Attend to what I say! Not a word to your +cousin about the man who has just left us. At present I don’t want Mr. +Barthorpe Herapath to know what he told us. Be careful, my dear—not a +word! I’ll tell you why later on—but at present, silence—strict +silence!”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe Herapath came bustling into the room, followed by Selwood, +who, as it seemed to Peggie, looked utterly unwilling for whatever task +might lay before him. At sight of Mr. Tertius, Barthorpe came to a +sudden halt and frowned.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I don’t want to discuss matters further, Mr. Tertius,” he said coldly. +“I thought I had given you a hint already. My cousin and I have private +matters to attend to, and I shall be obliged if you’ll withdraw. You’ve +got private rooms of your own in this house, I believe—at any rate, +until things are settled—and it will be best if you keep to them.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius, who had listened to this unmoved, turned to Peggie.</p> + +<p>“Do you wish me to go away?” he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>Barthorpe turned on him with an angry scowl.</p> + +<p>“It’s not a question of what Miss Wynne wishes, but of what I order,” he +burst out. “If you’ve any sense of fitness, you’ll know that until my +uncle’s will is found and his wishes ascertained I’m master here, Mr. +Tertius, and——”</p> + +<p>“You’re not my master, Barthorpe,” exclaimed Peggie, with a sudden flash +of spirit. “I know what my uncle’s wishes were as regards Mr. Tertius, +and I intend to respect them. I’ve always been mistress of this house +since my uncle brought me to it, and I intend to be until I find I’ve no +right to be. Mr. Tertius, you’ll please to stop where you are!”</p> + +<p>“I intend to,” said Mr. Tertius, calmly. “I never had any other +intention. Mr. Barthorpe Herapath, I believe, will hardly use force to +compel me to leave the room.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe bit his lips as he glanced from one to the other.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh!” he said. “So that’s how things are? Very good, Mr. Tertius. No, I +shan’t use physical force. But mind I don’t use a little moral force—a +slight modicum of that would be enough for you, I’m thinking!”</p> + +<p>“Do I understand that you are using threatening language to me?” asked +Mr. Tertius, mildly.</p> + +<p>Barthorpe sneered, and turned to Selwood.</p> + +<p>“We’ll open this safe now,” he said. “You know which is the key, I +suppose,” he went on, glaring at Peggie, who had retreated to the +hearthrug and was evidently considerably put out by her cousin’s +behaviour. “I suppose you never heard my uncle mention a will? We’ve +searched his private safe at the office and there’s nothing there. +Personally, I don’t believe he ever made a will—I never heard of it. +And I think he’d have told me if—”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius broke in upon Barthorpe’s opinions with a dry cough.</p> + +<p>“It may save some unnecessary trouble if I speak at this juncture,” he +said. “There is a will.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe’s ruddy cheeks paled in spite of his determined effort to +appear unconcerned. He twisted round on Mr. Tertius with a startled eye +and twitching lips.</p> + +<p>“You—you say there is a will!” he exclaimed. “You say—what do you know +about it?”</p> + +<p>“When it was made, where it was made, where it now is,” answered Mr. +Tertius.</p> + +<p>“Where it now is!” repeated Barthorpe. “Where it now—is! And where is +it, I should like to know?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius, who had gone up to Peggie, laid his hand reassuringly on +her arm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Don’t be afraid, my dear,” he whispered. “Perhaps,” he continued, +glancing at Barthorpe, “I had better tell you when and where it was +made. About six months ago—in this room. One day Mr. Herapath called me +in here. He had his then secretary, Mr. Burchill, with him. He took a +document out of a drawer, told us that it was his will, signed it in our +joint presence, and we witnessed his signature in each other’s presence. +He then placed the will in an envelope, which he sealed. I do not know +the terms of the will—but I know where the will is.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe’s voice sounded strangely husky as he got out one word:</p> + +<p>“Where?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius took Peggie by the elbow and led her across the room to a +recess in which stood an ancient oak bureau.</p> + +<p>“This old desk,” he said, “belonged, so he always told me, to Jacob’s +great-grandfather. There is a secret drawer in it. Here it is—concealed +behind another drawer. You put this drawer out—so—and here is the +secret one. And here—where I saw Jacob Herapath put it—is the will.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe, who had followed these proceedings with almost irrepressible +eagerness, thrust forward a shaking hand. But Mr. Tertius quietly handed +the sealed envelope to Peggie.</p> + +<p>“This envelope,” he remarked, “is addressed to Miss Wynne.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe made an effort and controlled himself.</p> + +<p>“Open it!” he said hoarsely. “Open it!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peggie fumbled with the seal of the envelope and then, with a sudden +impulse, passed it to Selwood.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Selwood!” she exclaimed imploringly. “You—I can’t. You open it, +and—”</p> + +<p>“And let him read it,” added Mr. Tertius.</p> + +<p>Selwood, whose nerves had been strung to a high pitch of excitement by +this scene, hastily slit open the envelope, and drew out a folded sheet +of foolscap paper. He saw at a glance that there was very little to +read. His voice trembled slightly as he began a recital of the contents.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“‘This is the last will of me, Jacob Herapath, of 500, Portman +Square, London, in the County of Middlesex. I give, devise, and +bequeath everything of which I die possessed, whether in real +or personal estate, absolutely to my niece, Margaret Wynne, now +resident with me at the above address, and I appoint the said +Margaret Wynne the sole executor of this my will. And I revoke +all former wills and codicils. Dated this eighteenth day of +April, 1912.</p> + +<p>“‘<span class="smcap">Jacob Herapath.</span>’”</p></div> + +<p>Selwood paused there, and a sudden silence fell—to be as suddenly +broken by a sharp question from Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>“The Witnesses?” he said. “The witnesses!”</p> + +<p>Selwood glanced at the further paragraph which he had not thought it +necessary to read.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes!” he said. “It’s witnessed all right.” And he went on reading.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p><div class="blockquot"><p>“‘Signed by the testator in the presence of us both present at +the same time who in his presence and in the presence of each +other have hereunto set our names as witnesses.</p> + +<p>“‘<span class="smcap">John Christopher Tertius</span>, of 500, Portman Square, London: +Gentleman.</p> + +<p>“‘<span class="smcap">Frank Burchill</span>, of 331, Upper Seymour Street, London: +Secretary.’”</p></div> + +<p>As Selwood finished, he handed the will to Peggie, who in her turn +hastily gave it to Mr. Tertius. For a moment nobody spoke. Then +Barthorpe made a step forward.</p> + +<p>“Let me see that!” he said, in a strangely quiet voice. “I don’t want to +handle it—hold it up!”</p> + +<p>For another moment he stood gazing steadily, intently, at the signatures +at the foot of the document. Then, without a word or look, he twisted +sharply on his heel, and walked swiftly out of the room and the house.</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the second witness</p> + +<p>If any close observer had walked away with Barthorpe Herapath from the +house in Portman Square and had watched his face and noted his manner, +that observer would have said that his companion looked like a man who +was either lost in a profound day-dream or had just received a shock +that had temporarily deprived him of all but the mechanical faculties. +And in point of strict fact, Barthorpe was both stunned by the news he +had just received and plunged into deep speculation by a certain feature +of it. He hurried along, scarcely knowing where he was going—but he was +thinking all the same. And suddenly he pulled himself up and found that +he had turned down Portman Street and was already in the thick of Oxford +Street’s busy crowds. A passer-by into whom he jostled in his +absent-mindedness snarled angrily, bidding him look where he was +going—that pulled Barthorpe together and he collected his wits, asking +himself what he wanted. The first thing that met his gaze on this +recovery was a little Italian restaurant and he straightway made for the +door.</p> + +<p>“This is what I want,” he muttered. “Some place in which to sit down and +think calmly.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>He slipped into a quiet corner as soon as he had entered the +restaurant, summoned a waiter with a glance, and for a moment +concentrated his attention on the bill of fare which the man put before +him. That slight mental exercise restored him; when the waiter had taken +his simple order and gone away, Barthorpe was fully himself again. And +finding himself in as satisfactory a state of privacy as he could +desire, with none to overlook or spy on him, he drew from an inner +pocket a letter-case which he had taken from Jacob Herapath’s private +safe at the estate office and into which he had cast a hurried glance +before leaving Kensington for Portman Square.</p> + +<p>From this letter-case he now drew a letter, and as he unfolded it he +muttered a word or two.</p> + +<p>“Frank Burchill, 331, Upper Seymour Street,” he said. “Um—but not Upper +Seymour Street any longer, I think. Now let’s see what it all is—what +it all means I’ve got to find out.”</p> + +<p>The sheet of paper which he was handling was of the sort used by +typists, but the letter itself was written by hand, and Barthorpe +recognized the penmanship as that of his uncle’s ex-secretary, Burchill, +second witness to the will which had just been exhibited to him. Then he +read, slowly and carefully, what Burchill had written to Jacob +Herapath—written, evidently, only a few days previously. For there was +the date, plain enough.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“35c, Calengrove Mansions,</p> + +<p>“Maida Vale, W.</p> + +<p>“<i>November 11th</i>, 19—.</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>,</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that I am particularly surprised that you have up +to now entirely ignored my letters of the 1st and the 5th +instant. You probably think that I am not a person about whom +any one need take much trouble; a mean cur, perhaps, who can do +no more than snap at a mastiff’s heels. I am very well aware +(having had the benefit of a year’s experience of your +character and temperament) that you have very little respect +for unmoneyed people and are contemptuous of their ability to +interfere with the moneyed. But in that matter you are +mistaken. And to put matters plainly, it will pay you far +better to keep me a friend than to transform me into an enemy. +Therefore I ask you to consider well and deeply the next +sentence of this letter—which I will underline.</p> + +<p>“I am in full possession of the secret which you have taken +such vast pains to keep for fifteen years.</p> + +<p>“I think you are quite competent to read my meaning, and I now +confidently expect to hear that you will take pleasure in +obliging me in the way which I indicated to you in my previous +letters.</p> + +<p>“Yours faithfully,</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Frank Burchill</span>.”</p></div> + +<p>Barthorpe read this communication three times, pausing over every +sentence, seeking to read the meanings, the implications, the subtly +veiled threat. When <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>he folded the square sheet and replaced it in the +letter-case he half spoke one word:</p> + +<p>“Blackmail!”</p> + +<p>Then, staring in apparent idleness about the little restaurant, with its +gilt-framed mirrors, its red, plush-covered seats, its suggestion of +foreign atmosphere and custom, he idly drummed the tips of his fingers +on the table, and thought. Naturally, he thought of the writer of the +letter. Of course, he said to himself, of course he knew Burchill. +Burchill had been Jacob Herapath’s private secretary for rather more +than a year, and it was now about six months since Jacob had got rid of +him. He, Barthorpe, remembered very well why Jacob had quietly dismissed +Burchill. One day Jacob had said to him, with a dry chuckle:</p> + +<p>“I’m getting rid of that secretary of mine—it won’t do.”</p> + +<p>“What won’t do?” Barthorpe had asked.</p> + +<p>“He’s beginning to make eyes at Peggie,” Jacob had answered with another +chuckle, “and though Peggie’s a girl of sense, that fellow’s too good +looking to have about a house. I never ought to have had him. +However—he goes.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<p>Barthorpe, as he ate the cutlets and sipped the half-bottle of claret +which the waiter presently brought him, speculated on these facts and +memories. He was not very sure about Burchill’s antecedents: he believed +he was a young man of good credentials and high +respectability—personally, he had always wondered why old Jacob +Herapath, a practical business man, should have taken as a private +secretary a fellow who looked, dressed, spoke, and behaved like a +play-actor. As it all came within the scope of things he mused on +Burchill and his personal appearance, calling up the ex-secretary’s +graceful and slender figure, his oval, olive-tinted face, his large, +dark, lustrous eyes, his dark, curling hair, his somewhat affected +dress, his tall, wide-brimmed hats, his taper fingers, his big, +wide-ended cravats. It had once amused Barthorpe—and many other +people—to see Jacob Herapath and his secretary together; nevertheless, +Jacob had always spoken of Burchill as being thoroughly capable, +painstaking, thorough and diligent. His airs and graces Jacob put down +as a young man’s affectations—yet there came the time when they suited +Jacob no longer.</p> + +<p>“I catch him talking too much to Peggie,” he had added, in that +conversation of which Barthorpe was thinking. “Better get rid of him +before they pass the too-much stage.”</p> + +<p>So Burchill had gone, and Barthorpe had heard no more of him until now. +But what he had heard now was a revelation. Burchill had witnessed a +will of Jacob Herapath’s, which, if good and valid and the only will in +existence, would leave him, Barthorpe, a ruined man. Burchill had +written a letter to Jacob Herapath asking for some favour, reward, +compensation, as the price of his silence about a secret. What secret? +Barthorpe could not even guess at it—but Burchill had said, evidently +knowing what he was talking about, that Jacob Herapath had taken vast +pains to keep it for fifteen years.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + +<p>By the time Barthorpe had finished his lunch he had come to the +conclusion that there was only one thing for him to do. He must go +straight to Calengrove Mansions and interview Mr. Frank Burchill. In one +way or another he must make sure of him, or, rather—though it was +really the same thing—sure of what he could tell. And on the way there +he would make sure of something else—in order to do which he presently +commissioned a taxi-cab and bade its driver go first to 331, Upper +Seymour Street.</p> + +<p>The domestic who answered Barthorpe’s double knock at that house shook +her head when he designedly asked for Mr. Frank Burchill. Nobody of that +name, she said. But on being assured that there once had been a lodger +of that name in residence there, she observed that she would fetch her +mistress, and disappeared to return with an elderly lady who also shook +her head at sight of the caller.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Burchill left here some time ago,” she said. “Nearly six months. I +don’t know where he is.”</p> + +<p>“Did he leave no address to which his letters were to be sent?” asked +Barthorpe, affecting surprise.</p> + +<p>“He said there’d be no letters coming—and there haven’t been,” answered +the landlady. “And I’ve neither seen nor heard of him since he went.”</p> + +<p>Something in her manner suggested to Barthorpe that she had no desire to +renew acquaintance with her former lodger. This sent Barthorpe away well +satisfied. It was precisely what he wanted. The three people whom he had +left in Portman Square in all probability knew no other address than +this at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>which to seek for Burchill when he was wanted; they would seek +him there eventually and get no news. Luckily for himself, Barthorpe +knew where he was to be found, and he went straight off up Edgware Road +to find him.</p> + +<p>Calengrove Mansions proved to be a new block of flats in the dip of +Maida Vale; 35c was a top flat in a wing which up to that stage of its +existence did not appear to be much sought after by would-be tenants. It +was some time before Barthorpe succeeded in getting an answer to his +ring and knock; when at last the door was opened Burchill himself looked +out upon him, yawning, and in a dressing-gown. And narrowly and +searchingly as Barthorpe glanced at Burchill he could not see a trace of +unusual surprise or embarrassment in his face. He looked just as any man +might look who receives an unexpected caller.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” he said. “Mr. Barthorpe Herapath! Come in—do. I’m a bit late—a +good bit late, in fact. You see, I’m doing dramatic criticism now, and +there was an important <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><i>première</i></span> +last night at the Hyperion, and I had to do a full column, and so—but +that doesn’t interest you. Come in, pray.”</p> + +<p>He led the way into a small sitting-room, drew forward an easy-chair, +and reaching down a box of cigarettes from the mantelpiece offered its +contents to his visitor. Barthorpe, secretly wondering if all this +unconcerned behaviour was natural or merely a bit of acting, took a +cigarette and dropped into the chair.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I don’t suppose you thought of seeing me when you opened your door, +Burchill?” he remarked good-humouredly, as he took the match which his +host had struck for him. “Last man in the world you thought of seeing, +eh?”</p> + +<p>Burchill calmly lighted a cigarette for himself before he answered.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said at last, “I don’t know—you never know who’s going to +turn up. But to be candid, I didn’t expect to see you, and I don’t know +why you’ve come.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe slowly produced the letter-case from his pocket, took +Burchill’s letter from it, and held it before him.</p> + +<p>“That’s what brought me here,” he said significantly. “That! Of course, +you recognize it.”</p> + +<p>Burchill glanced at the letter without turning a hair. If he was merely +acting, thought Barthorpe, he was doing it splendidly, and instead of +writing dramatic criticism he ought to put on the sock and buskins +himself. But somehow he began to believe that Burchill was not acting. +And he was presently sure of it when Burchill laughed—contemptuously.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said Burchill. “Ah! So Mr. Jacob Herapath employs legal +assistance—your assistance—in answering me? Foolish—foolish! Or, +since that is, perhaps, too strong a word—indiscreet. Indiscreet—and +unnecessary. Say so, pray, to Mr. Jacob Herapath.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe remained silent a moment; then he put the letter back in the +case and gave Burchill a sharp steady look.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Good gracious, man!” he said quietly. “Are you pretending? Or—haven’t +you heard? Say—that—to Jacob Herapath? Jacob Herapath is dead!”</p> + +<p>Burchill certainly started at that. What was more he dropped his +cigarette, and when he straightened himself from picking it up his face +was flushed a little.</p> + +<p>“Upon my honour!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know. Dead! When? It must have +been sudden.”</p> + +<p>“Sudden!” said Barthorpe. “Sudden? He was murdered!”</p> + +<p>There was no doubt that this surprised Burchill. At any rate, he showed +all the genuine signs of surprise. He stood staring at Barthorpe for a +full minute of silence, and when he spoke his voice had lost something +of its usual affectation.</p> + +<p>“Murdered?” he said. “Murdered! Are you sure of that? You are? Good +heavens!—no, I’ve heard nothing. But I’ve not been out since two +o’clock this morning, so how could I hear? Murdered——” he broke off +sharply and stared at his visitor. “And you came to me—why?”</p> + +<p>“I came to ask you if you remember witnessing my uncle’s will,” replied +Barthorpe promptly. “Give me a plain answer. Do you remember?”</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">greek against greek</p> + +<p>At this direct question, Burchill, who had been standing on the +hearthrug since Barthorpe entered the room, turned away and took a seat +in the corner of a lounge opposite his visitor. He gave Barthorpe a +peculiarly searching look before he spoke, and as soon as he replied +Barthorpe knew that here was a man who was not readily to be drawn.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said Burchill, “so I am supposed to have witnessed a will made by +Mr. Jacob Herapath, am I?”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe made a gesture of impatience.</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk rot!” he said testily. “A man either knows that he witnessed +a will or knows that he didn’t witness a will.”</p> + +<p>“Excuse me,” returned Burchill, “I don’t agree with that proposition. I +can imagine it quite possible that a man may think he has witnessed a +will when he has done nothing of the sort. I can also imagine it just as +possible that a man may have really witnessed a will when he thought he +was signing some much less important document. Of course, you’re a +lawyer, and I’m not. But I believe that what I have just said is much +more in accordance with what we may call the truth of life than what +you’ve said.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> + +<p>“If a man sees another man sign a document and witnesses the signature +together with a third man who had been present throughout, what would +you say was being done?” asked Barthorpe, sneeringly. “Come, now?”</p> + +<p>“I quite apprehend your meaning,” replied Burchill. “You put it very +cleverly.”</p> + +<p>“Then why don’t you answer my question?” demanded Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>Burchill laughed softly.</p> + +<p>“Why not answer mine?” he said. “However, I’ll ask it in another and +more direct form. Have you seen my signature as witness to a will made +by Jacob Herapath?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>“Are you sure it was my signature?” asked Burchill.</p> + +<p>Barthorpe lifted his eyes and looked searchingly at his questioner. But +Burchill’s face told him nothing. What was more, he was beginning to +feel that he was not going to get anything out of Burchill that Burchill +did not want to tell. He remained silent, and again Burchill laughed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You see,” he said, “I can suppose all sorts of things. I can suppose, +for example, that there’s such a thing as forging a signature—two +signatures—three signatures to a will—or, indeed, to any other +document. Don’t you think that instead of asking me a direct question +like this that you’d better wait until this will comes before the—is it +the Probate Court?—and then let some of the legal gentlemen ask me if +that—that!—is my signature? I’m only putting it to you, you know. But +perhaps you’d like to tell me—all about it?” He paused, looking +carefully at Barthorpe, and as Barthorpe made no immediate answer, he +went on speaking in a lower, softer tone. “All about it,” he repeated +insinuatingly. “Ah!”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe suddenly flung his cigarette in the hearth with a gesture that +implied decision.</p> + +<p>“I will!” he exclaimed. “It may be the shortest way out. Very +well—listen, then. I tell you my uncle was murdered at his office +about—well, somewhere between twelve and three o’clock this morning. +Naturally, after the preliminaries were over, I wanted to find out if +he’d made a will—naturally, I say.”</p> + +<p>“Naturally, you would,” murmured Burchill.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t believe he had,” continued Barthorpe. “But I examined his safe +at the office, and I was going to examine that in his study at Portman +Square when Tertius said in the presence of my cousin, myself, and +Selwood, your successor, that there was a will, and produced one from a +secret drawer in an old bureau——”</p> + +<p>“A secret drawer in an old bureau!” murmured Burchill. “How deeply +interesting for all of you!—quite dramatic. Yes?”</p> + +<p>“Which, on being inspected,” continued Barthorpe, “proved to be a +holograph——”</p> + +<p>“Pardon,” interrupted Burchill, “a holograph? Now, I am very ignorant. +What is a holograph?”</p> + +<p>“A holograph will is a will entirely written in the handwriting of the +person who makes it,” replied Barthorpe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I see. So this was written out by Mr. Jacob Herapath, and witnessed +by—whom?” asked Burchill.</p> + +<p>“Tertius as first witness, and you as second,” answered Barthorpe. “Now +then, I’ve told you all about it. What are you going to tell me? +Come—did you witness this will or not? Good gracious, man!—don’t you +see what a serious thing it is?”</p> + +<p>“How can I when I don’t know the contents of the will?” asked Burchill. +“You haven’t told me that—yet.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe swallowed an exclamation of rage.</p> + +<p>“Contents!” he exclaimed. “He left everything—everything!—to my +cousin! Everything to her.”</p> + +<p>“And nothing to you,” said Burchill, accentuating his habitual drawl. +“Really, how infernally inconsiderate! Yes—now I see that it is +serious. But—only for you.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe glared angrily at him and began to growl, almost +threateningly. And Burchill spoke, soothingly and quietly.</p> + +<p>“Don’t,” he said. “It does no good, you know. Serious—yes. Most +serious—for you, as I said. But remember—only serious for you if the +will is—good. Eh?”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe jumped to his feet and thrust his hands in his pockets. He +began to pace the room.</p> + +<p>“Hang me if I know what you mean, Burchill!” he said. “Is that your +signature on that will or not?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<p>“How can I say until I see it?” asked Burchill, with seeming innocence. +“Let’s postpone matters until then. By the by, did Mr. Tertius say that +it was my signature?”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean!” exclaimed Barthorpe. “Why, of course, he said that +he and you witnessed the will!”</p> + +<p>“Ah, to be sure, he would say so,” assented Burchill. “Of course. +Foolish of me to ask. It’s quite evident that we must postpone matters +until this will is—what do you call it?—presented, propounded—what is +it?—for probate. Let’s turn to something else. My letter to your uncle, +for instance. Of course, as you’ve got it, you’ve read it.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe sat down again and stared.</p> + +<p>“You’re a cool customer, Master Burchill!” he said. “By Jove, you are! +You’re playing some game. What is it?”</p> + +<p>Burchill smiled deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>“What’s your own?” he asked. “Or, if that’s too pointed a question at +present, suppose we go back to—my letter? Want to ask me anything about +it?”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe again drew the letter from the case. He affected to re-read +it, while Burchill narrowly watched him.</p> + +<p>“What,” asked Barthorpe at last, “what was it that you wanted my uncle +to oblige you with? A loan?”</p> + +<p>“If it’s necessary to call it anything,” replied Burchill suavely, “you +can call it a—well, say a donation. That sounds better—it’s more +dignified.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t suppose it matters much what it’s called,” said Barthorpe +drily. “I should say, from the tone of your letter, that most people +would call it——”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes, but not polite people,” interrupted Burchill, “and you and I +are—or must be—polite. So we’ll say donation. The fact is, I want to +start a newspaper—weekly—devoted to the arts. I thought your +uncle—now, unfortunately, deceased—would finance it. I didn’t want +much, you know.”</p> + +<p>“How much?” asked Barthorpe. “The amount isn’t stated in this letter.”</p> + +<p>“It was stated in the two previous letters,” replied Burchill. “Oh, not +much. Ten thousand.”</p> + +<p>“The price of your silence, eh?” suggested Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>“Dirt cheap!” answered Burchill.</p> + +<p>Barthorpe folded up the letter once more and put it away. He helped +himself to another cigarette and lighted it before he spoke again. Then +he leaned forward confidentially.</p> + +<p>“What is the secret?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Burchill stated and assumed an air of virtuous surprise.</p> + +<p>“My dear fellow!” he said. “That’s against all the rules—all the rules +of——”</p> + +<p>“Of shady society,” sneered Barthorpe. “Confound it, man, what do you +beat about the bush so much for? Hang it, I’ve a pretty good notion of +you, and I daresay you’ve your own of me. Why can’t you tell me?”</p> + +<p>“You forget that I offered not to tell for—ten thousand pounds,” said +Burchill. “Therefore I should want quite as much for telling. If you +carry ten thousand in cash on you——”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Is there a secret?” asked Barthorpe. “Sober earnest, now?”</p> + +<p>“I have no objection to answering that question,” replied Burchill. +“There is!”</p> + +<p>“And you want ten thousand pounds for it?” suggested Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>“Pardon me—I want a good deal more for it, under the present much +altered circumstances,” said Burchill quietly. “There is an old saying +that circumstances alter cases. It’s true—they do. I would have taken +ten thousand pounds from your uncle to hold my tongue—true. But—the +case is altered by his death.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe pondered over this definite declaration for a minute or two. +Then, lowering his voice, he said:</p> + +<p>“Looks uncommonly like—blackmail! And that——”</p> + +<p>“Pardon me again,” interrupted Burchill. “No blackmail at all—in my +view. I happen to possess information of a certain nature, and——”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe interrupted in his turn.</p> + +<p>“The thing is,” he said, “the only thing is—how long are you and I +going to beat about the bush? Are you going to tell me if you signed +that will I told you of?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not before I’ve seen it,” answered Burchill promptly.</p> + +<p>“Will you tell me then?”</p> + +<p>“That entirely depends.”</p> + +<p>“On—what?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Circumstances!”</p> + +<p>“Have the circumstances got anything to do with this secret?”</p> + +<p>“Everything! More than anything—now.”</p> + +<p>“Now—what?”</p> + +<p>“Now that Jacob Herapath is dead. Look here!” continued Burchill, +leaning forward and speaking impressively. “Take my counsel. Leave this +for the moment and come to see me—now, when? Tonight. Come tonight. +I’ve nothing to do. Come at ten o’clock. Then—I’ll be in a position to +say a good deal more. How will that do?”</p> + +<p>“That’ll do,” answered Barthorpe after a moment’s consideration. +“Tonight, here, at ten o ’clock.”</p> + +<p>He got up and made for the door. Burchill got up too, and for a moment +both men glanced at each other. Then Burchill spoke.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you’ve no idea who murdered your uncle?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Not the slightest!” exclaimed Barthorpe. “Have you?”</p> + +<p>“None! Of course—the police are on the go?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course!”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Burchill. “Tonight, then.”</p> + +<p>He opened the door for his visitor, nodded to him, as he passed out, and +when he had gone sat down in the easy chair which Barthorpe had vacated +and for half an hour sat immobile, thinking. At the end of that +half-hour he rose, went into his bedroom, made an elaborate toilet, went +out, found a taxi-cab, and drove off to Portman Square.</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">mr. benjamin halfpenny</p> + +<p>When Barthorpe Herapath left his cousin, Mr. Tertius, and Selwood in +company with the newly discovered will, and walked swiftly out of the +house and away from Portman Square, he passed without seeing it a quiet, +yet smartly appointed <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coupé</span> brougham which came round the corner from +Portman Street and pulled up at the door which Barthorpe had just +quitted. From it at once descended an elderly gentleman, short, stout, +and rosy, who bustled up the steps of the Herapath mansion and appeared +to fume and fret until his summons was responded to. When the door was +opened to him he bustled inside at the same rate, rapped out the +inquiry, “Miss Wynne at home?—Miss Wynne at home?” several times +without waiting for a reply, and never ceased in his advance to the door +of the study, into which he precipitated himself panting and blowing, as +if he had run hard all the way from his original starting-point. The +three people standing on the hearthrug turned sharply and two of them +uttered cries which betokened pleasure mixed with relief.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Halfpenny!” exclaimed Peggie, almost joyfully. “How good of you to +come!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>“We had only just spoken—were only just speaking of you,” remarked Mr. +Tertius. “In fact—yes, Mr. Selwood and I were thinking of going round +to your offices to see if you were in town.”</p> + +<p>The short, stout, and rosy gentleman who, as soon as he had got well +within the room, began to unswathe his neck from a voluminous white silk +muffler, now completed his task and advancing upon Peggie solemnly +kissed her on both cheeks, held her away from him, looked at her, kissed +her again, and then patted her on the shoulder. This done, he shook +hands solemnly with Mr. Tertius, bowed to Selwood, took off his +spectacles and proceeded to polish them with a highly-coloured bandana +handkerchief which he produced from the tail of his overcoat. This +operation concluded, he restored the spectacles to his nose, sat down, +placed his hands, palm downwards, on his plump knees and solemnly +inspected everybody.</p> + +<p>“My dear friends!” he said in a hushed, deep voice. “My dear, good +friends! This dreadful, awful, most afflicting news! I heard it but +three-quarters of an hour ago—at the office, to which I happened by +mere chance, to have come up for the day. I immediately ordered out our +brougham and drove here—to see if I could be of any use. You will +command me, my dear friends, in anything that I can do. Not +professionally, of course. No—in that respect you have Mr. Barthorpe +Herapath. But—otherwise.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius looked at Peggie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I don’t know whether we shan’t be glad of Mr. Halfpenny’s professional +services?” he said. “The truth is, Halfpenny, we were talking of seeing +you professionally when you came in. That’s one truth—another is that a +will has been found—our poor friend’s will, of course.”</p> + +<p>“God bless me!” exclaimed Mr. Halfpenny. “A will—our poor friend’s +will—has been found! But surely, Barthorpe, as nephew, and +solicitor—eh?”</p> + +<p>Again Mr. Tertius looked at Peggie.</p> + +<p>“I suppose we’d better tell Mr. Halfpenny everything,” he remarked. “Of +course, Halfpenny, you’ll understand that as soon as this dreadful +affair was discovered and the first arrangements had been made, +Barthorpe, as only male relative, began to search for a will. He +resented any interference from me and was very rude to me, but when he +came here and proposed to examine that safe, I told him at once that I +knew of a will and where it was, though I didn’t know its terms. And I +immediately directed him to it, and we found it and read it a few +minutes ago with the result that Barthorpe at once quitted the +house—you must have passed him in the square.”</p> + +<p>“God bless us!” repeated Mr. Halfpenny. “I judge from that, then—but +you had better show me this document.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius at once produced the will, and Mr. Halfpenny, rising from +his chair, marched across the room to one of the windows where he +solemnly half-chanted every word from start to finish. This performance +over, he carefully and punctiliously folded the document into its +original lines, replaced it in its envelope, and grasping this firmly in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>his hand, resumed his seat and motioned everybody to attention.</p> + +<p>“My dear Tertius!” he said. “Oblige me by narrating, carefully, briefly, +your recollection of the circumstances under which your signature to +this highly important document was obtained and made.”</p> + +<p>“Easily done,” responded Mr. Tertius. “One night, some months ago, when +our poor friend was at work here with his secretary, a Mr. Frank +Burchill, he called me into the room, just as Burchill was about to +leave. He said: ‘I want you two to witness my signature to a paper.’ +He——”</p> + +<p>“A moment,” interrupted Mr. Halfpenny. “He said—‘a paper.’ Did he not +say ‘my will’?”</p> + +<p>“Not before the two of us. He merely said a paper. He produced the +paper—that paper, which you now hold. He let us see that it was covered +with writing, but we did not see what the writing was. He folded it +over, laid it, so folded, on that desk, and signed his name. Then we +both signed it in the blank spaces which he indicated: I first, then +Burchill. He then put it into an envelope—that envelope—and fastened +it up. As regards that part of the proceedings,” said Mr. Tertius, “that +is all.”</p> + +<p>“There was, then, another part?” suggested Mr. Halfpenny.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Mr. Tertius. “There was. Burchill then left—at once. I, +too, was leaving the room when Jacob called me back. When we were alone, +he said: ‘That was my will that you’ve just witnessed. Never mind what’s +in it—I may alter it, or some of it, some day, but I don’t think I +shall. Now look here, I’m going to seal this envelope, and I’ll show you +where I put it when it’s sealed.’ He then sealed the envelope in two +places, as you see, and afterwards, in my presence, placed it in a +secret drawer, which I’ll show to you now. And that done, he said: +‘There, Tertius, you needn’t mention that to anybody, unless I happen to +be taken off suddenly.’ And,” concluded Mr. Tertius, as he motioned Mr. +Halfpenny to accompany him to the old bureau, “I never, of course, did +mention it until half an hour ago.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny solemnly inspected the secret drawer, made no remark upon +it, and reseated himself.</p> + +<p>“Now,” he said, “this Mr. Frank Burchill—the other witness? He left our +old friend?”</p> + +<p>“Some little time ago,” replied Mr. Tertius.</p> + +<p>“Still, we have his address on the will,” said Mr. Halfpenny. “I shall +call on Mr. Burchill at once—as soon as I leave here. There is, of +course, no doubt as to the validity of this will. You said just now that +Barthorpe left you as soon as he had seen it. Now, what did Barthorpe +say about it?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing!” answered Mr. Tertius. “He went away without a word—rushed +away, in fact.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny shook his head with profound solemnity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I am not in the least surprised to hear that,” he observed. “Barthorpe +naturally received a great shock. What I am surprised at is—the terms +of the will. Nothing whatever to Barthorpe—his only male relative—his +only brother’s only son. Extraordinary! My dear,” he continued, turning +to Peggie, “can you account for this? Do you know of anything, any +difference between them, anything at all which would make your uncle +leave his nephew out of his will?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing!” answered Peggie. “And I’m very troubled about it. Does it +really mean that I get everything, and Barthorpe nothing?”</p> + +<p>“That is the precise state of affairs,” answered Mr. Halfpenny. “And it +is all the more surprising when we bear in mind that you two are the +only relations Jacob Herapath had, and that he was a rich man—a very +rich man indeed. However, he doubtless had his reasons. And now, as I +conclude you desire me to act for you, I shall take charge of this will +and lock it up in my safe as soon as I return to the office. On my way, +I shall call at Mr. Burchill’s address and just have a word with him. +Tertius, you had better come with me. And—yes, there is another thing +that I should like to have done. Mr. Selwood—are you engaged on any +business?”</p> + +<p>“No,” replied Selwood, who was secretly speculating on the meaning of +the morning’s strange events. “I have nothing to attend to.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Then will you go to Mr. Barthorpe Herapath’s office—in Craven Street, +I think?—and see him personally and tell him that Mr. Benjamin +Halfpenny is in town, has been acquainted with these matters by Mr. +Tertius and Miss Wynne, and would esteem it a favour if he would call +upon him before five o’clock. Thank you, Mr. Selwood. Now, Tertius, you +and I will attend to our business.”</p> + +<p>Left alone, Peggie Wynne suddenly realized that the world had become a +vastly different world to what it had seemed a few short hours before. +This room, into which Jacob Herapath, bustling and busy, would never +come again, was already a place of dread; nay, the whole house in which +she had spent so many years of comfort and luxury suddenly assumed a +strange atmosphere of distastefulness. It was true that her uncle had +never spent much time in the house. An hour or two in the morning—yes, +but by noon he had hurried off to some Committee at the House of +Commons, and in session time she had never seen him again that day. But +he had a trick of running in for a few minutes at intervals during the +day; he would come for a cup of tea; sometimes he would contrive to dine +at home; whether he was at home or not, his presence, always alert, +masterful, active, seemed to be everywhere in the place. She could +scarcely realize that she would never see him again. And as she stood +looking at his vacant chair she made an effort to realize what it all +really meant to her, and suddenly, for the first time in her life, she +felt the meaning of the usually vague term—loneliness. In all practical +essentials she was absolutely alone. So far as she knew she had no +relations in the world but Barthorpe Herapath—and there was +something—something shadowy and undefinable—about Barthorpe which she +neither liked nor trusted. Moreover, she had caught a glimpse of +Barthorpe’s face as he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>turned from looking at the will and hurried +away, and what she had seen had given her a strange feeling of fear and +discomfort. Barthorpe, she knew, was not the sort of man to be crossed +or thwarted or balked of his will, and now——</p> + +<p>“Supposing Barthorpe should begin to hate me because all the money is +mine?” she thought. “Then—why, then I should have no one! No one of my +own flesh and blood, anyway. Of course, there’s Mr. Tertius. But—I must +see Barthorpe. I must tell him that I shall insist on sharing—if it’s +all mine, I can do that. And yet—why didn’t Uncle Jacob divide it? Why +did he leave Barthorpe—nothing?”</p> + +<p>Still pondering sadly over these and kindred subjects Peggie went +upstairs to a parlour of her own, a room in which she did as she liked +and made into a den after her own taste. There, while the November +afternoon deepened in shadow, she sat and thought still more deeply. And +she was still plunged in thought when Kitteridge came softly into the +room and presented a card. Peggie took it from the butler’s salver and +glanced half carelessly at it. Then she looked at Kitteridge with some +concern.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Burchill?” she said. “Here?”</p> + +<p>“No, miss,” answered Kitteridge. “Mr. Burchill desired me to present his +most respectful sympathy, and to say that if he could be of any service +to you or to the family, he begged that you would command him. His +address is on this card, miss.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Very kind of him,” murmured Peggie, and laid the card aside on her +writing-table. When Kitteridge had gone she picked it up and looked at +it again. Burchill?—she had been thinking of him only a few minutes +before the butler’s entrance; thinking a good deal. And her thoughts had +been disquieted and unhappy. Burchill was the last man in the world that +she wished to have anything to do with, and the fact that his name +appeared on Jacob Herapath’s will had disturbed her more than she would +have cared to admit.</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the shadow</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny, conducting Mr. Tertius to the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coupé</span> +brougham, installed him in its further corner, got in himself and bade his +coachman drive slowly to 331, Upper Seymour Street.</p> + +<p>“I said slowly,” he remarked as they moved gently away, “because I +wanted a word with you before we see this young man. Tertius—what’s the +meaning of all this?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius groaned dolefully and shook his head.</p> + +<p>“There is so much, Halfpenny,” he answered, “that I don’t quite know +what you specifically mean by this. Do you mean——”</p> + +<p>“I mean, first of all, Herapath’s murder,” said Mr. Halfpenny. “You +think it is a case of murder?”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure it’s a case of murder—cold, calculated murder,” replied Mr. +Tertius, with energy. “Vile murder, Halfpenny.”</p> + +<p>“And, as far as you know, is there no clue?” asked the old lawyer. +“There’s nothing said or suggested in the newspapers. Haven’t you any +notion—hasn’t Barthorpe any notion?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius remained silent for a while. The <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coupé</span> +brougham turned into Upper Seymour Street.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I think,” he said at last, “yes, I think that when we’ve made this +call, I shall ask you to accompany me to my friend Cox-Raythwaite’s, in +Endsleigh Gardens—you know him, I believe. I’ve already seen him this +morning and told him—something. When we get there, I’ll tell it to you, +and he shall show you—something. After that, we’ll hear what your legal +instinct suggests. It is my opinion, Halfpenny—I offer it with all +deference, as a layman—that great, excessive caution is necessary. This +case is extraordinary—very extraordinary. That is—in my opinion.”</p> + +<p>“It’s an extraordinary thing that Jacob Herapath should have made that +will,” murmured Mr. Halfpenny reflectively. “Why Barthorpe should be +entirely ignored is—to me—marvellous. And—it may be—significant. You +never heard of any difference, quarrel, anything of that sort, between +him and his uncle?”</p> + +<p>“I have not the remotest notion as to what the relations were that +existed between the uncle and the nephew,” replied Mr. Tertius. “And +though, as I have said, I knew that the will was in existence, I hadn’t +the remotest idea, the faintest notion, of its contents until we took it +out of the sealed envelope an hour or so ago. But——” he paused and +shook his head meaningly.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Mr. Halfpenny.</p> + +<p>“I’m very sure, knowing Jacob as I did, that he had a purpose in making +that will,” answered Mr. Tertius. “He was not the man to do anything +without good reasons. I think we are here.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>The landlady of No. 331 opened its door herself to these two visitors. +Her look of speculative interest on seeing two highly respectable +elderly gentlemen changed to one of inquisitiveness when she heard what +they wanted.</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” she answered. “Mr. Frank Burchill doesn’t live here now. And +it’s a queer thing that during the time he did live here and gave me +more trouble than any lodger I ever had, him keeping such strange hours +of a night and early morning, he never had nobody to call on him, as I +recollect of! And now here’s been three gentlemen asking for him within +this last hour—you two and another gentleman. And I don’t know where +Mr. Burchill lives, and don’t want, neither!”</p> + +<p>“My dear lady!” said Mr. Halfpenny, mildly and suavely. “I am sure we +are deeply sorry to disturb you—no doubt we have called you away from +your dinner. Perhaps, er, this”—here there was a slight chink of silver +in Mr. Halfpenny’s hand, presently repeated in one of the +landlady’s—“will, er, compensate you a little? But we are really +anxious to see Mr. Burchill—haven’t you any idea where he’s gone to +live? Didn’t he leave an address for any letters that might come here?”</p> + +<p>“He didn’t, sir—not that he ever had many letters,” answered the +landlady. “And I haven’t the remotest notion. Of course, if I had I’d +give the address. But, as I said to the gentleman what was here not so +long ago, I’ve neither seen nor heard of Mr. Burchill since he left—and +that’s six months since.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny contrived to give his companion a nudge of the elbow.</p> + +<p>“Is it, indeed, ma’am?” he said. “Ah! That gentleman who called, now?—I +think he must be a friend of ours, who didn’t know we were coming. What +was he like, now, ma’am?”</p> + +<p>“He was a tallish, fine-built gentleman,” answered the landlady. +“Fresh-coloured, clean-shaved gentleman. And for that matter, he can’t +be so far away—it isn’t more than a quarter of an hour since he was +here. I’ll ask my girl if she saw which way he went.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t trouble, pray, ma’am, on my account,” entreated Mr. Halfpenny. +“It’s of no consequence. We’re deeply obliged to you.” He swept off his +hat in an old-fashioned obeisance and drew Mr. Tertius away to the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coupé</span> +brougham. “That was Barthorpe, of course,” he said. “He lost no time, +you see, Tertius, in trying to see Burchill.”</p> + +<p>“Why should he want to see Burchill?” asked Mr. Tertius.</p> + +<p>“Wanted to know what Burchill had to say about signing the will, of +course,” replied Mr. Halfpenny. “Well—what next? Do you want me to see +Cox-Raythwaite with you?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius, who had seemed to be relapsing into a brown study on the +edge of the pavement, woke up into some show of eagerness. “Yes, yes!” +he said. “Yes, by all means let us go to Cox-Raythwaite. I’m sure that’s +the thing to do. And there’s another man—the chauffeur. But—yes, we’ll +go to Cox-Raythwaite first. Tell your man to drive to the corner of +Endsleigh Gardens—the corner by St. Pancras Church.”</p> + +<p>Professor Cox-Raythwaite was exactly where Mr. Tertius had left him in +the morning, when the two visitors were ushered into his laboratory. And +for the second time that day he listened in silence to Mr. Tertius’s +story. When it was finished, he looked at Mr. Halfpenny, whose solemn +countenance had grown more solemn than ever.</p> + +<p>“Queer story, isn’t it, Halfpenny?” he said laconically. “How does it +strike you?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny slowly opened his pursed-up lips.</p> + +<p>“Queer?” he exclaimed. “God bless me!—I’m astounded! I—but let me see +these—these things.”</p> + +<p>“Sealed ’em up not so long ago—just after lunch,” remarked the +Professor, lifting his heavy bulk out of his chair. “But you can see ’em +all right through the glass. There you are!” He led the way to a +side-table and pointed to the hermetically-sealed receptacles in which +he had safely bestowed the tumbler and the sandwich brought so gingerly +from Portman Square by Mr. Tertius. “The tumbler,” he continued, jerking +a big thumb at it, “will have, of course, to be carefully examined by an +expert in finger-prints; the sandwich, so to speak, affords primary +evidence. You see—what there is to see, Halfpenny?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny adjusted his spectacles, bent down, and examined the +exhibits with scrupulous, absorbed interest. Again he pursed up his +lips, firmly, tightly, as if he would never open them again; when he did +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>open them it was to emit a veritable whistle which indicated almost as +much delight as astonishment. Then he clapped Mr. Tertius on the back.</p> + +<p>“A veritable stroke of genius!” he exclaimed. “Tertius, my boy, you +should have been a Vidocq or a Hawkshaw! How did you come to think of +it? For I confess that with all my forty years’ experience of Law, +I—well, I don’t think I should ever have thought of it!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” said Mr. Tertius, modestly. “I—well, I looked—and +then, of course, I saw. That’s all!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny sat down and put his hands on his knees.</p> + +<p>“It’s a good job you did see, anyway,” he said, ruminatively; “an +uncommonly good job. Well—you’re certain of what we may call the +co-relative factor to what is most obvious in that sandwich?”</p> + +<p>“Absolutely certain,” replied Mr. Tertius.</p> + +<p>“And you’re equally certain about the diamond ring?”</p> + +<p>“Equally and positively certain!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Then,” said Mr. Halfpenny, rising with great decision, “there is only +one thing to be done. You and I, Tertius, must go at once—at once!—to +New Scotland Yard. In fact, we will drive straight there. I happen to +know a man who is highly placed in the Criminal Investigation +Department—we will put our information before him. He will know what +ought to be done. In my opinion, it is one of those cases which will +require infinite care, precaution, and, for the time being, +secrecy—mole’s work. Let us go, my dear friend.”</p> + +<p>“Want me—and these things?” asked the Professor.</p> + +<p>“For the time being, no,” answered Mr. Halfpenny. “Nor, at present, the +taxi-cab driver that Tertius has told us of. We’ll merely tell what we +know. But take care of these—these exhibits, as if they were the apples +of your eyes, Cox-Raythwaite. They—yes, they may hang somebody!”</p> + +<p>Half an hour later saw Mr. Halfpenny and Mr. Tertius closeted with a +gentleman who, in appearance, resembled the popular conception of a +country squire and was in reality as keen a tracker-down of wrong-doers +as ever trod the pavement of Parliament Street. And before Mr. Halfpenny +had said many words he stopped him.</p> + +<p>“Wait a moment,” he said, touching a bell at his side, “we’re already +acquainted, of course, with the primary facts of this case, and I’ve +told off one of our sharpest men to give special attention to it. We’ll +have him in.”</p> + +<p>The individual who presently entered and who was introduced to the two +callers as Detective-Inspector Davidge looked neither preternaturally +wise nor abnormally acute. What he really did remind Mr. Tertius of was +a gentleman of the better-class commercial traveller persuasion—he was +comfortable, solid, genial, and smartly if quietly dressed. And he and +the highly placed gentleman listened to all that the two <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>visitors had +to tell with quiet and concentrated attention and did not even exchange +looks with each other. In the end the superior nodded as if something +satisfied him.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” he said. “Now the first thing is—silence. You two +gentlemen will not breathe a word of all this to any one. As you said +just now, Mr. Halfpenny, the present policy is—secrecy. There will be a +great deal of publicity during the next few days—the inquest, and so +on. We shall not be much concerned with it—the public will say that as +usual we are doing nothing. You may think so, too. But you may count on +this—we shall be doing a great deal, and within a very short time from +now we shall never let Mr. Barthorpe Herapath out of our sight until—we +want him.”</p> + +<p>“Just so,” assented Mr. Halfpenny. He took Mr. Tertius away, and when he +had once more bestowed him in the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coupé</span> +brougham, dug him in the ribs. “Tertius!” he said, with +something like a dry chuckle. “What an extraordinary thing it is that +people can go about the world unconscious that other folks are taking a +very close and warm interest in them! Now, I’ll lay a pound to a +penny that Barthorpe hasn’t a ghost of a notion that he’s +already under suspicion. My idea of the affair, sir, is that he has not the +mere phantasm of such a thing. And yet, from now, as our friend there +observed, Master Barthorpe, sir, will be watched. Shadowed, Tertius, +shadowed!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>Barthorpe Herapath certainly had none of the notions of which Mr. +Halfpenny spoke. He spent his afternoon, once having quitted Burchill’s +flat, in a businesslike fashion. He visited the estate office in +Kensington; he went to see the undertaker who had been charged with the +funeral arrangements; he called in at the local police-office and saw +the inspector and the detective who had first been brought into +connection with the case; he made some arrangements with the Coroner’s +officer about the necessary inevitable inquest. He did all these things +in the fashion of a man who has nothing to fear, who is unconscious that +other men are already eyeing him with suspicion. And he was quite +unaware that when he left his office in Craven Street that evening he +was followed by a man who quietly attended him to his bachelor rooms in +the Adelphi, who waited patiently until he emerged from them to dine at +a neighbouring restaurant, who himself dined at the same place, and who +eventually tracked him to Maida Vale and watched him enter Calengrove +Mansions.</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">for ten per cent</p> + +<p>Mr. Frank Burchill welcomed his visitor with easy familiarity—this +might have been a mere dropping-in of one friend to another, for the +very ordinary purpose of spending a quiet social hour before retiring +for the night. There was a bright fire on the hearth, a small +smoking-jacket on Burchill’s graceful shoulders and fancy slippers on +his feet; decanters and glasses were set out on the table in company +with cigars and cigarettes. And by the side of Burchill’s easy chair was +a pile of newspapers, to which he pointed one of his slim white hands as +the two men settled themselves to talk.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been reading all the newspapers I could get hold of,” he observed. +“Brought all the latest editions in with me after dinner. There’s little +more known, I think, than when you were here this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing more known,” replied Barthorpe. “That is—as far as I’m +aware.”</p> + +<p>Burchill took a sip at his glass and regarded Barthorpe thoughtfully +over its rim.</p> + +<p>“In strict confidence,” he said, “have you got any idea whatever on the +subject?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<p>“None!” answered Barthorpe. “None whatever! I’ve no more idea of who it +was that killed my uncle than I have of the name of the horse that’ll +win the Derby of year after next! That’s a fact. There isn’t a clue.”</p> + +<p>“The police are at work, of course,” suggested Burchill.</p> + +<p>“Of course!” replied Barthorpe, with an unconcealed sneer. “And a lot of +good they are. Whoever knew the police to find out anything, except by a +lucky accident?”</p> + +<p>“Just so,” agreed Burchill. “But then—accidents, lucky or otherwise, +will happen. You can’t think of anybody whose interest it was to get +your esteemed relative out of the way?”</p> + +<p>“Nobody!” said Barthorpe. “There may have been somebody. We want to know +who the man was who came out of the House with him last night—so far we +don’t know. It’ll all take a lot of finding out. In the meantime——”</p> + +<p>“In the meantime, you’re much more concerned and interested in the will, +eh?” said Burchill.</p> + +<p>“I’m much more concerned—being a believer in present necessities—in +hearing what you’ve got to say to me now that you’ve brought me here,” +answered Barthorpe, coolly. “What is it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ve a lot to say,” replied Burchill. “Quite a lot. But you’ll have +to let me say it in my own fashion. And to start with, I want to ask you +a few questions. About your family history, for instance.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I know next to nothing about my family history,” said Barthorpe; “but +if my knowledge is helpful to what we—or I—want to talk about, fire +ahead!”</p> + +<p>“Good!” responded Burchill. “Now, just tell me what you know about Mr. +Jacob Herapath, about his brother, your father, and about his sister, +who was, of course, Miss Wynne’s mother. Briefly—concisely.”</p> + +<p>“Not so much,” answered Barthorpe. “My grandfather was a medical +man—pretty well known, I fancy—at Granchester, in Yorkshire; I, of +course, never knew or saw him. He had three children. The eldest was +Jacob, who came to his end last night. Jacob left Granchester for +London, eventually began speculating in real estate, and became—what he +was. The second was Richard, my father. He went out to Canada as a lad, +and did there pretty much what Jacob did here in London——”</p> + +<p>“With the same results?” interjected Burchill.</p> + +<p>Barthorpe made a wry face.</p> + +<p>“Unfortunately, no!” he replied. “He did remarkably well to a certain +point—then he made some most foolish and risky speculations in American +railroads, lost pretty nearly everything he’d made, and died a poorish +man.”</p> + +<p>“Oh—he’s dead, then?” remarked Burchill.</p> + +<p>“He’s dead—years ago,” replied Barthorpe. “He died before I came to +England. I, of course, was born out there. I——.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind you just now,” interrupted Burchill. “Keep to the earlier +branches of the family. Your grandfather had one other child?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> + +<p>“A daughter,” assented Barthorpe. “I never saw her, either. However, I +know that her name was Susan. I also know that she married a man named +Wynne—my cousin’s father, of course. I don’t know who he was or +anything about him.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing—nothing at all: My Uncle Jacob never spoke of him to +me—except to mention that such a person had once existed. My cousin +doesn’t know anything about him, either. All she knows is that her +father and mother died when she was about—I think—two years old, and +that Jacob then took charge of her. When she was six years old, he +brought her to live with him. That was about the time I myself came to +England.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Burchill. “Now, we’ll come to you. Tell about +yourself. It all matters.”</p> + +<p>“Well, of course, I don’t know what you’re getting at,” replied +Barthorpe. “But I’m sure you do. Myself, eh? Well, I was put to the Law +out there in Canada. When my father died—not over well off—I wrote to +Uncle Jacob, telling him all about how things were. He suggested that I +should come over to this country, finish my legal training here, and +qualify. He also promised—if I suited him—to give me his legal work. +And, of course, I came.”</p> + +<p>“Naturally,” said Burchill. “And that’s—how long ago?”</p> + +<p>“Between fifteen and sixteen years,” answered Barthorpe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Did Jacob Herapath take you into his house?” asked Burchill, +continuing the examination which Barthorpe was beginning to find irksome +as well as puzzling. “I’m asking all this for good reasons—it’s +necessary, if you’re to understand what I’m going to tell you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, as long as you’re going to tell me something I don’t mind telling +you anything you like to ask,” replied Barthorpe. “That’s what I want to +be getting at. No—he didn’t take me into the house. But he gave me a +very good allowance, paid all my expenses until I got through my +remaining examinations and stages, and was very decent all around. No—I +fixed up in the rooms which I’ve still got—a flat in the Adelphi.”</p> + +<p>“But you went a good deal to Portman Square?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes, a good deal—once or twice a week, as a rule.”</p> + +<p>“Had your cousin—Miss Wynne—come there then?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, she’d just about come. I remember she had a governess. Of course, +Peggie was a mere child then—about five or six. Must have been six, +because she’s quite twenty-one now.”</p> + +<p>“And—Mr. Tertius?”</p> + +<p>Burchill spoke the name with a good deal of subtle meaning, and +Barthorpe suddenly looked at him with a rising comprehension.</p> + +<p>“Tertius?” he answered. “No—Tertius hadn’t arrived on the scene then. +He came—soon after.”</p> + +<p>“How soon after?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I should say,” replied Barthorpe, after a moment’s consideration, “I +should say—from my best recollection—a few months after I came to +London. It was certainly within a year of my coming.”</p> + +<p>“You remember his coming?”</p> + +<p>“Not particularly. I remember that he came—at first, I took it, as a +visitor. Then I found he’d had rooms of his own given him, and that he +was there as a permanency.”</p> + +<p>“Settled down—just as he has been ever since?”</p> + +<p>“Just! Never any difference that I’ve known of, all these years.”</p> + +<p>“Did Jacob ever tell you who he was?”</p> + +<p>“Never! I never remember my uncle speaking of him in any particular +fashion—to me. He was simply—there. Sometimes, you saw him; sometimes, +you didn’t see him. At times, I mean, you’d meet him at dinner—other +times, you didn’t.”</p> + +<p>Burchill paused for a while; when he asked his next question he seemed +to adopt a more particular and pressing tone.</p> + +<p>“Now—have you the least idea who Tertius is?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Not the slightest!” affirmed Barthorpe. “I never have known who he is. +I never liked him—I didn’t like his sneaky way of going about the +house—I didn’t like anything of him—and he never liked me. I always +had a feeling—a sort of intuition—that he resented my presence—in +fact, my existence.”</p> + +<p>“Very likely,” said Burchill, with a dry laugh. “Well—has it ever +struck you that there was a secret between Tertius and Jacob Herapath?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>Barthorpe started. At last they were coming to something definite.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he exclaimed. “So—that’s the secret you mentioned in that +letter?”</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” replied Burchill. “Answer my question.”</p> + +<p>“No, then—it never did strike me.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Burchill. “There is a secret.”</p> + +<p>“There is?”</p> + +<p>“There is! And,” whispered Burchill, rising and coming nearer to his +visitor, “it’s a secret that will put you in possession of the whole of +the Herapath property! And—I know it.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe had by this time realized the situation. And he was thinking +things over at a rapid rate. Burchill had asked Jacob Herapath for ten +thousand pounds as the price of his silence; therefore——</p> + +<p>“And, of course, you want to make something out of your knowledge?” he +said presently.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” laughed Burchill. He opened a box of cigars, selected one +and carefully trimmed the end before lighting it. “Of course!” he +repeated. “Who wouldn’t? Besides, you’ll be in a position to afford me +something when you come into all that.”</p> + +<p>“The will?” suggested Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>Burchill threw the burnt-out match into the fire.</p> + +<p>“The will,” he said slowly, “will be about as valuable as that—when +I’ve fixed things up with you. Valueless!”</p> + +<p>“You mean it?” exclaimed Barthorpe incredulously. “Then—your +signature?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Look here!” said Burchill. “The only thing between us is—terms! Fix +up terms with me, and I’ll tell you the whole truth. And then—you’ll +see!”</p> + +<p>“Well—what terms?” demanded Barthorpe, a little suspiciously. “If you +want money down——”</p> + +<p>“You couldn’t pay in cash down what I want, nor anything like it,” said +Burchill. “I may want an advance that you can pay—but it will only be +an advance. What I want is ten per cent. on the total value of Jacob +Herapath’s property.”</p> + +<p>“Good heavens!” exclaimed Barthorpe. “Why I believe he’ll cut up for a +good million and a half!”</p> + +<p>“That’s about the figure—as I’ve reckoned it,” assented Burchill. “But +you’ll have a lot left when you’ve paid me ten per cent.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe fidgeted in his chair.</p> + +<p>“When did you find out this secret?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Got an idea of it just before I left Jacob, and worked it all out, to +the last detail, after I left,” replied Burchill. “I tell you this for a +certainty—when I’ve told you all I know, you’ll know for an absolute +fact, that the Herapath property is—yours!”</p> + +<p>“Well!” said Barthorpe. “What do you want me to do?”</p> + +<p>Burchill moved across to a desk and produced some papers.</p> + +<p>“I want you to sign certain documents,” he said, “and then I’ll tell you +the whole story. If the story’s no good, the documents are no good. +How’s that?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That’ll do!” answered Barthorpe. “Let’s get to business.”</p> + +<p>It was one o’clock in the morning when Barthorpe left Calengrove +Mansions. But the eyes that had seen him enter saw him leave, and the +shadow followed him through the sleeping town until he, too, sought his +own place of slumber.</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">adjourned<span class='pagenum'><a name="page_119" id="page_119">[pg 119]</a></span></p> + +<p>Ever since Triffitt had made his lucky scoop in connection with the +Herapath Mystery he had lived in a state of temporary glory, with strong +hopes of making it a permanent one. Up to the morning of the event, +which gave him a whole column of the <i>Argus</i> (big type, extra leaded), +Triffitt, as a junior reporter, had never accomplished anything notable. +As he was fond of remarking, he never got a chance. Police-court +cases—county-court cases—fires—coroners’ inquests—street +accidents—they were all exciting enough, no doubt, to the people +actively concerned in them, but you never got more than twenty or thirty +lines out of their details. However, the chance did come that morning, +and Triffitt made the most of it, and the news editor (a highly exacting +and particular person) blessed him moderately, and told him, moreover, +that he could call the Herapath case his own. Thenceforth Triffitt ate, +drank, smoked, and slept with the case; it was the only thing he ever +thought of. But at half-past one on the afternoon of the third day after +what one may call the actual start of the affair, Triffitt sat in a dark +corner of a tea-shop in Kensington High Street, munching ham sandwiches, +sipping coffee, and thinking lugubriously, if not despairingly. He had +spent two and a half hours in the adjacent Coroner’s Court, listening to +all that was said in evidence about the death of Jacob Herapath, and he +had heard absolutely nothing that was not quite well known to him when +the Coroner took his seat, inspected his jurymen, and opened the +inquiry. Two and a half hours, at the end of which the court adjourned +for lunch—and the affair was just as mysterious as ever, and not a +single witness had said a new thing, not a single fresh fact had been +brought forward out of which a fellow could make good, rousing copy!</p> + +<p>“Rotten!” mumbled Triffitt into his cup. “Extra rotten! Somebody’s +keeping something back—that’s about it!”</p> + +<p>Just then another young gentleman came into the alcove in which Triffitt +sat disconsolate—a pink-cheeked young gentleman, who affected a tweed +suit of loud checks and a sporting coat, and wore a bit of feather in +the band of his rakish billycock. Triffitt recognized him as a +fellow-scribe, one of the youthful bloods of an opposition journal, whom +he sometimes met on the cricket-field; he also remembered that he had +caught a glimpse of him in the Coroner’s Court, and he hastened to make +room for him.</p> + +<p>“Hullo!” said Triffitt.</p> + +<p>“What-ho!” responded the pink young gentleman. He beckoned knowingly to +a waitress, and looked at her narrowly when she came. “Got such a thing +as a muffin?” he asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Muffins, sir—yes, sir,” replied the waitress, “Fresh muffins.”</p> + +<p>“Pick me out a nice, plump, newly killed muffin” commanded Triffitt’s +companion. “Leave it in its natural state—that is to say, cold—split +it in half put between the halves a thick, generous slice of that cold +ham I see on your counter, and produce it with a pot of fresh—and very +hot—China tea. That’s all.”</p> + +<p>“Plenty too, I should think!” muttered Triffitt. “Fond of indigestion, +Carver?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think you’ve ever been in Yorkshire, have you, Triffitt?” asked +Mr. Carver, settling himself comfortably. “You haven’t had that +pleasure?—well, if you’d ever gone to a football match on a Saturday +afternoon in a Yorkshire factory district, you’d have seen men selling +muffin-and-ham sandwiches—fact! And I give you my word that if you want +something to fill you up during the day, something to tide over the +weary wait between breakfast and dinner, a fat muffin with a thick slice +of ham is the best thing I know.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want anything to fill me up,” grunted Triffitt. “I want +something cheering—at present. I’ve been listening with all my ears for +something new in that blessed Herapath case all the morning, and, as you +know, there’s been nothing!”</p> + +<p>“Think so?” said Carver. “Um—I should have said there was a good deal, +now.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing that I didn’t know, anyway,” remarked Triffitt. “I got all that +first thing; I was on the spot first.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, it was you, was it?” said Carver, with professional indifference. +“Lucky man! So you’ve only been hearing——”</p> + +<p>“A repetition of what I’d heard before,” answered Triffitt. “I knew all +that evidence before I went into court. Caretaker—police—folks from +Portman Square—doctor—all the lot! And I guess there’ll be nothing +this afternoon—the thing’ll be adjourned.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s of course,” assented Carver, attacking his muffin sandwich. +“There’ll be more than one adjournment of this particular inquest, +Triffitt. But aren’t you struck by one or two points?”</p> + +<p>“I’m struck by this,” replied Triffitt. “If what the police-surgeon +says—and you noticed how positive he was about it—if what he says is +true, that old Herapath was shot, and died, at, or just before +(certainly not after, he positively asserted), twelve o’clock midnight, +it was not he who went to Portman Square!”</p> + +<p>“That, of course, is obvious,” said Carver. “And it’s just as obvious +that whoever went to Portman Square returned from Portman Square to that +office. Eh?”</p> + +<p>“That hasn’t quite struck me,” replied Triffitt. “How is it just as +obvious?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Because whoever went to Portman Square went in old Herapath’s +fur-trimmed coat and his slouch hat, and the fur trimmed coat and slouch +hat were found in the office,” answered Carver. “It’s absolutely plain, +that. I put it like this. The murderer, having settled his man, put on +his victim’s coat and hat, took his keys, went to Portman Square, did +something there, went back to the office, left the coat and hat, and +hooked it. That, my son, is a dead certainty. There’s been little—if +anything—made of all that before the Coroner, and it’s my impression, +Triffitt, that somebody—somebody official, mind you—is keeping +something back. Now,” continued Carver, dropping his voice to a +confidential whisper, “I’m only doing a plain report of this affair for +our organ of light and leading, but I’ve read it up pretty well, and +there are two things I want to know, and I’ll tell you what, Triffitt, +if you like to go in with me at finding them out—two can always work +better than one—I’m game!”</p> + +<p>“What are the two things?” asked Triffitt, cautiously. “Perhaps I’ve got +’em in mind also.”</p> + +<p>“The first’s this,” replied Carver. “Somebody—some taxi-cab driver or +somebody of that sort—must have brought the man who personated old +Jacob Herapath back to, or to the neighbourhood of, the office that +morning. How is it that somebody hasn’t been discovered? You made a +point of asking for him in the <i>Argus</i>. Do you know what I think? I +think he has been discovered, and he’s being kept out of the way. That’s +point one.”</p> + +<p>“Good!” muttered Triffitt. “And point two?”</p> + +<p>“Point two is—where is the man who came out of the House of Commons +with Jacob Herapath that night, the man that the coachman Mountain +described? In my opinion,” asserted Carver, “I believe that man’s been +found, too, and he’s being kept back.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Good again!” said Triffitt. “It’s likely. Well, I’ve a point. You +heard the evidence about old Herapath’s keys? Yes—well, where’s the key +of that safe that he rented at the Safe Deposit place. That young +secretary, Selwood, swore that it was on the little bunch the day of the +murder, that he saw it at three o’clock in the afternoon. What did Jacob +Herapath do with it between then and the time of the murder?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—that’s a great point,” asserted Carver. “We may hear something of +that this afternoon—perhaps of all these points.”</p> + +<p>But when they went back to the densely crowded court it was only to find +that they—and an expectant public—were going to hear nothing more for +that time. As soon as the court re-assembled, there was some putting +together of heads on the part of the legal gentlemen and the Coroner; +there were whisperings and consultations and noddings and veiled hints, +palpable enough to everybody with half an eye; then the Coroner +announced that no further evidence would be taken that day, and +adjourned the inquest for a fortnight. Such of the public as had +contrived to squeeze into the court went out murmuring, and Triffitt and +Carver went out too and exchanged meaning glances.</p> + +<p>“Just what I expected!” said Carver. “I reckon the police are at the +bottom of all that. A fortnight today we’ll be hearing something +good—something sensational.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to wait until a fortnight today,” growled Triffitt. “I +want some good, hot stuff—now!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Then you’ll have to find it for yourself, very soon,” remarked Carver. +“Take my tip—you’ll get nothing from the police.”</p> + +<p>Triffitt was well aware of that. He had talked to two or three police +officials and detectives that morning, and had found them singularly +elusive and uncommunicative. One of them was the police-inspector who +had been called to the Herapath Estate Office on the discovery of the +murder; another was the detective who had accompanied him. Since the +murder Triffitt had kept in touch with these two, and had found them +affable and ready to talk; now, however, they had suddenly curled up +into a dry taciturnity, and there was nothing to be got out of them.</p> + +<p>“Tell you what it is,” he said suddenly. “We’ll have to go for the +police!”</p> + +<p>“How go for the police?” asked Carver doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“Throw out some careful hints that the police know more than they’ll +tell at present,” answered Triffitt, importantly. “That’s what I shall +do, anyhow—I’ve got <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><i>carte blanche</i></span> on +our rag, and I’ll make the public ear itch and twitch by +breakfast-time tomorrow morning! And after that, my boy, you and I’ll +put our heads together, as you suggest, and see if we can’t do a bit +of detective work of our own. See you tomorrow at the usual in Fleet +Street.”</p> + +<p>Then Triffitt went along to the <i>Argus</i> office, and spent the rest of +the afternoon in writing up a breezy and brilliant column about the +scene at the inquest, intended to preface the ordinary detailed report. +He wound it up with an artfully concocted paragraph in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>which he threw +out many thinly veiled hints and innuendoes to the effect that the +police were in possession of strange and sensational information and +that ere long such a dramatic turn would be given to this Herapath +Mystery that the whole town would seethe with excitement. He preened his +feathers gaily over this accomplishment, and woke earlier than usual +next morning on purpose to go out before breakfast and buy the <i>Argus</i>. +But when he opened that enterprising journal he found that his column +had been woefully cut down, and that the paragraph over which he had so +exercised his brains was omitted altogether. Triffitt had small appetite +for breakfast that morning, and he went early to the office and made +haste to put himself in the way of the news editor, who grinned at sight +of him.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Master Triffitt,” said the news editor, “there’s such a +thing as being too smart—and too previous. I was a bit doubtful about +your prognostications last night, and I rang up the C.I.D. about ’em. +Don’t do it again, my son!—you mean well, but the police know their job +better than you do. If they want to keep quiet for a while in this +matter, they’ve good reasons for it. So—no more hints. See?”</p> + +<p>“So they do know something?” muttered Triffitt sourly. “Then I was +right, after all!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You’ll be wrong, after all, if you stick your nose where it isn’t +wanted,” said the news editor. “Just chuck the inspired prophet game for +a while, will you? Keep to mere facts; you’ll be alarming the wrong +people, if you don’t. Off you go now! and do old Herapath’s +funeral—it’s at noon, at Kensal Green. There’ll be some of his fellow +M.P.’s there, and so on. Get their names—make a nice, respectable thing +of it on conventional lines. And no fireworks! This thing’s to lie low +at present.”</p> + +<p>Triffitt went off to Kensal Green, scowling and cogitating. Of course +the police knew something! But—what? What they knew would doubtless +come out in time, but Triffitt had a strong desire to be beforehand with +them. In spite of the douche of cold water which the news editor had +just administered, Triffitt knew his <i>Argus</i>. If he could fathom the +Herapath Mystery in such a fashion as to make a real great, smashing, +all-absorbing feature of a sensational discovery, the <i>Argus</i> would +throw police precaution and official entreaties to the first wind that +swept down Fleet Street. No!—he, Triffitt, was not to be balked. He +would do his duty—he would go and see Jacob Herapath buried, but he +would also continue his attempt to find out how it was that that burial +came to be. And as he turned into the cemetery and stared at its weird +collection of Christian and pagan monuments he breathed a fervent prayer +to the Goddesses of Chance and Fortune to give him what he called +“another look-in.”</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the scottish verdict</p> + +<p>If Triffitt had only known it, the Goddesses of Chance and Fortune were +already close at hand, hovering lovingly and benignly above the crown of +his own Trilby hat. Triffitt, of course, did not see them, nor dream +that they were near; he was too busily occupied in taking stock of the +black-garmented men who paid the last tribute of respect (a conventional +phrase which he felt obliged to use) to Jacob Herapath. These men were +many in number; some of them were known to Triffitt, some were not. He +knew Mr. Fox-Crawford, an Under-Secretary of State, who represented the +Government; he knew Mr. Dayweather and Mr. Encilmore, and Mr. Camford +and Mr. Wallburn; they were all well-known members of Parliament. Also, +he knew Mr. Barthorpe Herapath, walking at the head of the procession of +mourners. Very soon he had quite a lengthy list of names; some others, +if necessary, he could get from Selwood, whom he recognized as the +<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">cortège</span> passed him by. +So for the time being he closed his note-book and +drew back beneath the shade of a cypress-tree, respectfully watching. In +the tail-end of the procession he knew nobody; it was made up, he +guessed, of Jacob Herapath’s + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> + +numerous clerks from the estate offices, and——</p> + +<p>But suddenly Triffitt saw a face in that procession. The owner of that +face was not looking at Triffitt; he was staring quietly ahead, with the +blank, grave demeanour which people affect when they go to funerals. And +it was as well that he was not looking at Triffitt, for Triffitt, seeing +that face, literally started and even jumped a little, feeling as if the +earth beneath him suddenly quaked.</p> + +<p>“Gad!” exclaimed Triffitt under his breath. “It is! It can’t be! Gad, +but I’m certain it is! Can’t be mistaken—not likely I should ever +forget him!”</p> + +<p>Then he took off the Trilby hat, which he had resumed after the coffin +had passed, and he rubbed his head as men do when they are exceedingly +bewildered or puzzled. After which he unobtrusively followed the +procession, hovered about its fringes around the grave until the last +rites were over, and eventually edged himself up to Selwood as the +gathering was dispersing. He quietly touched Selwood’s sleeve.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Selwood!” he whispered. “Just a word. I know a lot of these +gentlemen—the M.P.’s and so on—but there are some I don’t know. Will +you oblige me, now?—I want to get a full list. Who are the two elderly +gentlemen with Mr. Barthorpe Herapath—relatives, eh?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No—old personal friends,” answered Selwood, good-naturedly turning +aside with the little reporter. “One is Mr. Tertius—Mr. J. C. +Tertius—a very old friend of the late Mr. Herapath’s; the other is Mr. +Benjamin Halfpenny, the solicitor, also an old friend.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know of his firm,” said Triffitt, busily scribbling. “Halfpenny +and Farthing, of course—odd combination, isn’t it? And that burly +gentleman behind them, now—who’s he?”</p> + +<p>“That’s Professor Cox-Raythwaite, the famous scientist,” answered +Selwood. “He’s also an old friend. The gentleman he’s speaking to is Sir +Cornelius Debenham, chairman of the World Alliance Association, with +which Mr. Herapath was connected, you know.”</p> + +<p>“I know—I know,” answered Triffitt, still busy. “Those two behind him, +now—middle-aged parties?”</p> + +<p>“One’s Mr. Frankton, the manager, and the other’s Mr. Charlwood, the +cashier, at the estate office,” replied Selwood.</p> + +<p>“They’ll go down in staff and employees,” said Triffitt. “Um—I’ve got a +good list. By the by, who’s the gentleman across there—just going up to +the grave—the gentleman who looks like an actor? Is he an actor?”</p> + +<p>“That? Oh!” answered Selwood. “No—that’s Mr. Frank Burchill, who used +to be Mr. Herapath’s secretary—my predecessor.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh!” responded Triffitt. He had caught sight of Carver a few yards off, +and he hurried his notebook into his pocket, and bustled off. “Much +obliged to you, Mr. Selwood,” he said with a grin. “Even we with all our +experience, don’t know everybody, you know—many thanks.” He hastened +over to Carver who was also busy pencilling, and drew him away into the +shelter of a particularly large and ugly monument. “I say!” he +whispered. “Here’s something! Shove that book away now—I’ve got all the +names—and attend to me a minute. Don’t look too obtrusively—but do you +see that chap—looks like an actor—who is just coming away from the +graveside—tall, well-dressed chap?”</p> + +<p>Carver looked across. His face lighted up.</p> + +<p>“I know that man,” he said. “I’ve seen him at the club—he’s been in +once or twice, though he’s not a member. He does theatre stuff for the +<i>Magnet</i>. His name’s Burchill.”</p> + +<p>Triffitt dropped his friend’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” he said. “So you know him—by sight, anyhow? And his name’s +Burchill, eh? Very good. Let’s get.”</p> + +<p>He walked Carver out of the cemetery, down the Harrow Road, and turned +into the saloon bar of the first tavern that presented itself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I’m going to have some ale and some bread and cheese,” he observed, +“and if you’ll follow suit, Carver, we’ll sit in that corner, and I’ll +tell you something that’ll make your hair curl. Two nice plates of bread +and cheese, and two large tankards of your best bitter ale, if you +please,” he continued, approaching the bar and ringing a half-crown on +it. “Yes, Carver, my son—that will curl your hair for you. And,” he +went on, when they had carried their simple provender over to a quiet +corner, “about that chap now known as Burchill—Burchill. +Mr.—Frank—Burchill; late secretary to the respected gentleman whose +mortal remains have just been laid to rest. Ah!”</p> + +<p>“What’s the mystery?” asked Carver, setting down his tankard. “Seems to +be one, anyway. What about Burchill?”</p> + +<p>“Speak his name softly,” answered Triffitt. “Well, my son, I suddenly +saw—him—this morning, and I just as suddenly remembered that I’d seen +him before!”</p> + +<p>“You had, eh?” said Carver. “Where?”</p> + +<p>Triffitt sank his voice to a still lower whisper.</p> + +<p>“Where?” he said. “Where? In the dock!”</p> + +<p>Carver arrested the progress of a lump of bread and cheese and turned in +astonishment.</p> + +<p>“In the dock?” he exclaimed. “That chap? Good heavens! When—where?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<p>“It’s a longish story,” answered Triffitt. “But you’ve got to hear it if +we’re going into this thing—as we are. Know, then, that I have an +aunt—Eliza. My aunt—maternal aunt—Eliza is married to a highly +respectable Scotsman named Kierley, who runs a flour-mill in the ancient +town of Jedburgh, which is in the county of Roxburgh, just over the +Border. And it’s just about nine years (I can tell the exact date to a +day if I look at an old diary) that Mr. and Mrs. Kierley were good +enough to invite me to spend a few weeks in Bonnie Scotland. And the +first night of my arrival Kierley told me that I was in luck, for +within a day or two there was going to be a grand trial before the +Lords Justiciar—<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Anglicé</span>, judges. +A trial of a man for murder!”</p> + +<p>“Great Scott!” said Carver. “Murder, eh? And”—he nodded his head in the +direction of the adjacent cemetery. “Him?”</p> + +<p>“Let me explain a few legal matters,” said Triffitt, disregarding the +question. “Then you’ll get the proper hang of things. In Scotland, law’s +different in procedure to ours. The High Court of Justiciary is fixed +permanently at Edinburgh, but its judges go on circuit so many times a +year to some of the principal towns, where they hold something like our +own assizes. Usually, only one judge sits, but in cases of special +importance there are two, and two came to Jedburgh, this being a case of +very special importance, and one that was arousing a mighty amount of +interest. It was locally known as the Kelpies’ Glen Case, and by that +name it got into all the papers—we could find it, of course, in our own +files.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll turn it up,” observed Carver.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + +<p>“By all means,” agreed Triffitt; “but I’ll give you an outline of it +just now. Briefly, it was this. About eleven years ago, there was near +the town of Jedburgh a man named Ferguson, who kept an old-established +school for boys. He was an oldish chap, married to a woman a good deal +younger than himself, and she had a bit of a reputation for being +overfond of the wine of the country. According to what the Kierleys told +me, old Ferguson used to use the tawse on her sometimes, and they led a +sort of cat-and-dog life. Well, about the time I’m talking about, +Ferguson got a new undermaster; he only kept one. This chap was an +Englishman—name of Bentham—Francis Bentham, to give him his full +patronymic, but I don’t know where he came from—I don’t think anybody +did.”</p> + +<p>“F. B., eh?” muttered Carver. “Same initials as——”</p> + +<p>“Precisely,” said Triffitt, “and—to anticipate—same man. But to +proceed in due order. Old Ferguson died rather suddenly—but in quite an +above-board and natural fashion, about six months after this Bentham +came to him. The widow kept on the school, and retained Bentham’s +services. And within half a year of the demise of her first husband, she +took Bentham for her second.”</p> + +<p>“Quick work!” remarked Carver.</p> + +<p>“And productive of much wagging of tongues, you may bet!” said Triffitt. +“Many things were said—not all of them charitable. Well, this marriage +didn’t mend the lady’s manners. She still continued, now and then, to +take her drops in too generous measure. Rumour had it that the successor +to Ferguson followed his predecessor’s example and corrected his wife in +the good, old-fashioned way. It was said that the old cat-and-dog life +was started again by these two. However, before they’d been married a +year, the lady ended that episode by quitting life for good. She was +found one night lying at the foot of the cliff in the Kelpies’ +Glen—with a broken neck.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” said Carver. “I begin to see.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Now, that Kelpies’ Glen,” continued Triffitt, “was a sort of ravine +which lay between the town of Jedburgh and the school. It was traversed +by a rough path which lay along the top of one side of it, amongst trees +and crags. At one point, this path was on the very edge of a precipitous +cliff; from that edge there was a sheer drop of some seventy or eighty +feet to a bed of rocks down below, on the edge of a brawling stream. It +was on these rocks that Mrs. Bentham’s body was found. She was dead +enough when she was discovered, and the theory was that she had come +along the path above in a drunken condition, had fallen over the low +railings which fenced it in, and so had come to her death.”</p> + +<p>“Precisely,” assented Carver, nodding his head with wise appreciation. +“Her alcoholic tendencies were certainly useful factors in the case.”</p> + +<p>“Just so—you take my meaning,” agreed Triffitt. “Well, at first nobody +saw any reason to doubt this theory, for the lady had been seen +staggering along that path more than once. But she had a brother, a +canny Scot who was not over well pleased when he found that his +sister—who had come into everything that old Ferguson left, which was a +comfortable bit—had made a will not very long before her death in which +she left absolutely everything to her new husband, Francis Bentham. The +brother began to inquire and to investigate—and to cut the story short, +within a fortnight of his wife’s death, Bentham was arrested and charged +with her murder.”</p> + +<p>“On what evidence?” asked Carver.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Precious little!” answered Triffitt. “Indeed next to none. Still, +there was some. It was proved that he was absent from the house for half +an hour or so about the time that she would be coming along that path; +it was also proved that certain footprints in the clay of the path were +his. He contended that he had been to look for her; he proved that he +had often been to look for her in that way; moreover, as to the +footprints, he, like everybody in the house, constantly used that path +in going to the town.”</p> + +<p>“Aye, to be sure,” said Carver. “He’d a good case, I’m thinking.”</p> + +<p>“He had—and so I thought at the time,” continued Triffitt. “And so a +good many folks thought—and they, and I, also thought something else, I +can tell you. I know what the verdict of the crowded court would have +been!”</p> + +<p>“What?” asked Carver.</p> + +<p>“Guilty!” exclaimed Triffitt. “And so far as I’m concerned, I haven’t a +doubt that the fellow pushed her over the cliff. But opinion’s neither +here nor there. The only thing that mattered, my son, was the jury’s +verdict!”</p> + +<p>“And the jury’s verdict was—what?” demanded Carver.</p> + +<p>Triffitt winked into his empty tankard and set it down with a bang.</p> + +<p>“The jury’s verdict, my boy,” he answered, “was one that you can only +get across the Border. It was ‘<i>Not Proven</i>’!”</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">young brains</p> + +<p>Carver, who had been listening intently to the memory of a bygone event, +pushed away the remains of his frugal lunch, and shook his head as he +drew out a cigarette-case.</p> + +<p>“By gad, Triff, old man!” he said. “If I’d been that chap I’d rather +have been hanged, I think. Not proven, eh?—whew! That meant——”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Pretty much what the folk in court and the mob outside thought,” +asserted Triffitt. “That scene outside, after the trial, is one of my +liveliest recollections. There was a big crowd there—chiefly women. +When they heard the verdict there was such yelling and hooting as you +never heard in your life! You see, they were all certain about the +fellow’s guilt, and they wanted him to swing. If they could have got at +him, they’d have lynched him. And do you know, he actually had the cheek +to leave the court by the front entrance, and show himself to that +crowd! Then there was a lively scene—stones and brickbats and the mud +of the street began flying. Then the police waded in—and they gave Mr. +Francis Bentham pretty clearly to understand that there must be no going +home for him, or the folks would pull his roof over his head. And they +forced him back into the court, and got him away out of the town on the +quiet—and I reckon he’s never shown his face in that quarter of the +globe since.”</p> + +<p>“That will?” asked Carver. “Did it stand good—did he get the woman’s +money?”</p> + +<p>“He did. My aunt told me afterwards that he employed some local +solicitor chap—writers, as they call ’em there—to wind everything up, +convert everything into cash, for him. Oh, yes!” concluded Triffitt. “He +got the estate, right enough. Not an awful lot, you know—a thousand or +two—perhaps three—but enough to go adventuring with elsewhere.”</p> + +<p>“You’re sure this is the man?” asked Carver.</p> + +<p>“As certain as that I’m myself!” answered Triffitt. “Couldn’t mistake +him—even if it is nine years ago. It’s true I was only a nipper +then—sixteen or so—but I’d all my wits about me, and I was so taken +with him in the dock, and with his theatrical bearing there—he’s a fine +hand at posing—that I couldn’t forget or mistake him. Oh, he’s the man! +I’ve often wondered what had become of him.”</p> + +<p>“And now you find out that he’s up till recently been secretary to Jacob +Herapath, M.P., and is just now doing dramatic criticism for the +<i>Magnet</i>,” observed Carver. “Well, Triffitt, what do you make of it?”</p> + +<p>Triffitt, who had filled and lighted an old briarwood pipe, puffed +solemnly and thoughtfully for a while.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “nobody can deny that there’s a deep mystery about +Jacob Herapath’s death. And knowing what I do about this Bentham or +Burchill, and that he’s recently been secretary to Jacob Herapath, I’d +just like to know a lot more. And—I mean to!”</p> + +<p>“Got any plan of campaign?” asked Carver.</p> + +<p>“I have!” affirmed Triffitt with sublime confidence. “And it’s this—I’m +going to dog this thing out until I can go to our boss and tell him that +I can force the hands of the police! For the police are keeping +something dark, my son, and I mean to find out what it is. I got a +quencher this morning from our news editor, but it’ll be the last. When +I go back to the office to write out this stuff, I’m going to have that +extremely rare thing with any of our lot—an interview with the old +man.”</p> + +<p>“Gad!—I thought your old man was unapproachable!” exclaimed Carver.</p> + +<p>“To all intents and purposes, he is,” assented Triffitt. “But I’ll see +him—and today. And after that—but you’ll see. Now, as to you, old man. +You’re coming in with me at this, of course—not on behalf of your +paper, but on your own. Work up with me, and if we’re successful, I’ll +promise you a post on the <i>Argus</i> that’ll be worth three times what +you’re getting now. I know what I’m talking about—unapproachable as our +guv’nor is, I’ve sized him up, and if I make good in this affair, he’ll +do anything I want. Stick to Triffitt, my son, and Triffitt’ll see you +all serene!”</p> + +<p>“Right-oh!” said Carver. “I’m on. Well, and what am I to do, first?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Two things,” responded Triffitt. “One of ’em’s easy, and can be done +at once. Get me—diplomatically—this man Burchill’s, or Bentham’s, +present address. You know some <i>Magnet</i> chaps—get it out of them. Tell +’em you want to ask Burchill’s advice about some dramatic stuff—say +you’ve written a play and you’re so impressed by his criticisms that +you’d like to take his counsel.”</p> + +<p>“I can do that,” replied Carver. “As a matter of fact, I’ve got a real +good farce in my desk. And the next?”</p> + +<p>“The next is—try to find out if there’s any taxi-cab driver around the +Portman Square district who took a fare resembling old Herapath from +anywhere about there to Kensington on the night of the murder,” said +Triffitt. “There must be some chap who drove that man, and if we’ve got +any brains about us we can find him. If we find him, and can get him to +talk—well, we shall know something.”</p> + +<p>“It’ll mean money,” observed Carver.</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” said Triffitt, confident as ever. “If it comes off all +right with our boss, you needn’t bother about money, my son! Now let’s +be going Fleet Street way, and I’ll meet you tonight at the usual—say +six o’clock.”</p> + +<p>Arrived at the <i>Argus</i> office and duly seated at his own particular +table, Triffitt, instead of proceeding to write out his report of the +funeral ceremony of the late Jacob Herapath, M.P., wrote a note to his +proprietor, which note he carefully sealed and marked “Private.” He +carried this off to the great man’s <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>confidential secretary, who stared +at it and him.</p> + +<p>“I suppose this really is of a private nature?” he asked suspiciously. +“You know as well as I do that Mr. Markledew’ll make me suffer if it +isn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Soul and honour, it’s of the most private!” affirmed Triffitt, laying a +hand on his heart. “And of the highest importance, too, and I’ll be +eternally grateful if you’ll put it before him as soon as you can.”</p> + +<p>The confidential secretary took another look at Triffitt, and allowed +himself to be reluctantly convinced of his earnestness.</p> + +<p>“All right!” he said. “I’ll shove it under his nose when he comes in at +four o’clock.”</p> + +<p>Triffitt went back to his work, excited, yet elated. It was no easy job +to get speech of Markledew. Markledew, as everybody in Fleet Street +knew, was a man in ten thousand. He was not only sole proprietor of his +paper, but its editor and manager, and he ruled his office and his +employees with a rod of iron—chiefly by silence. It was usually said of +him that he never spoke to anybody unless he was absolutely obliged to +do so—certain it was that all his orders to the various heads were +given out pretty much after the fashion of a drill sergeant’s commands +to a squad of well-trained, five-month recruits, and that monosyllables +were much more in his mouth than even brief admonitions and +explanations. If anybody ever did manage to approach Markledew, it was +always with fear and trembling. A big, heavy, lumbering man, with a face +that might have been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>carved out of granite, eyes that bored through an +opposing brain, and a constant expression of absolute, yet watchful +immobility, he was a trying person to tackle, and most men, when they +did tackle him, felt as if they might be talking to the Sphinx and +wondered if the tightly-locked lips were ever going to open. But all men +who ever had anything to do with Markledew were well aware that, +difficult as he was of access, you had only got to approach him with +something good to be rewarded for your pains in full measure.</p> + +<p>At ten minutes past four Triffitt, who had just finished his work, +lifted his head to see a messenger-boy fling open the door of the +reporter’s room and cast his eyes round. A shiver shot through +Triffitt’s spine and went out of his toes with a final sting.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Markledew wants Mr. Triffitt!”</p> + +<p>Two or three other junior reporters who were scribbling in the room +glanced at Triffitt as he leapt to obey the summons. They hastened to +make kindly comments on this unheard-of episode in the day’s dull +routine.</p> + +<p>“Pale as a fair young bride!” sighed one. “Buck up, Triff!—he won’t eat +you.”</p> + +<p>“I hear your knees knocking together, Triff,” said another. “Brace +yourself!”</p> + +<p>“Markledew,” observed a third, “has decided to lay down the sceptre and +to instal Triff in the chair of rule. Ave, Triffitt, Imperator!—be +merciful to the rest of us.”</p> + +<p>Triffitt consigned them to the nether regions and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>hurried to the +presence. The presence was busied with its secretary and kept Triffitt +standing for two minutes, during which space he recovered his breath. +Then the presence waved away secretary and papers with one hand, turned +its awful eyes upon him, and rapped out one word:</p> + +<p>“Now!”</p> + +<p>Triffitt breathed a fervent prayer to all his gods, summoned his +resolution and his powers, and spoke. He endeavoured to use as few words +as possible, to be lucid, to make his points, to show what he was +after—and, driving fear away from him, he kept his own eyes steadily +fixed on those penetrating organs which confronted him. And once, twice, +he saw or thought he saw a light gleam of appreciation in those organs; +once, he believed, the big head nodded as if in agreement. Anyhow, at +the end of a quarter of an hour (unheard-of length for an interview with +Markledew!) Triffitt had neither been turned out nor summarily silenced; +instead, he had come to what he felt to be a good ending of his pleas +and his arguments, and the great man was showing signs of speech.</p> + +<p>“Now, attend!” said Markledew, impressively. “You’ll go on with this. +You’ll follow it up on the lines you suggest. But you’ll print nothing +except under my personal supervision. Make certain of your facts. +Facts!—understand! Wait.”</p> + +<p>He pulled a couple of slips of paper towards him, scribbled a line or +two on each, handed them to Triffitt, and nodded at the door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That’ll do,” he said. “When you want me, let me know. And mind—you’ve +got a fine chance, young man.”</p> + +<p>Triffitt could have fallen on the carpet and kissed Markledew’s large +boots. But knowing Markledew, he expressed his gratitude in two words +and a bow, and sped out of the room. Once outside, he hastened to send +the all-powerful notes. They were short and sharp, like Markledew’s +manner, but to Triffitt of an inexpressible sweetness, and he walked on +air as he went off to other regions to present them.</p> + +<p>The news editor, who was by nature irascible and whom much daily worry +had rendered more so, glared angrily as Triffitt marched up to his +table. He pointed to a slip of proof which lay, damp and sticky, close +by.</p> + +<p>“You’ve given too much space to that Herapath funeral,” he growled. +“Take it away and cut it down to three-quarters.”</p> + +<p>Triffitt made no verbal answer. He flung Markledew’s half-sheet of +notepaper before the news editor, and the news editor, seeing the great +man’s sprawling caligraphy, read, wonderingly:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Mr. Triffitt is released from ordinary duties to pursue others +under my personal supervision. J. M.”</p></div> + +<p>The news editor stared at Triffitt as if that young gentleman had +suddenly become an archangel.</p> + +<p>“What’s this mean?” he demanded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Obvious—and sufficient,” retorted Triffitt. And he turned, hands in +pockets, and strolled out, leaving the proof lying unheeded. That was +the first time he had scored off his news editor, and the experience was +honey-like and intoxicating. His head was higher than ever as he sought +the cashier and handed Markledew’s other note to him. The cashier read +it over mechanically.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Mr. Triffitt is to draw what money he needs for a special +purpose. He will account to me for it. J. M.”</p></div> + +<p>The cashier calmly laid the order aside and looked at its deliverer.</p> + +<p>“Want any now?” he asked apathetically. “How much?”</p> + +<p>“Not at present,” replied Triffitt. “I’ll let you know when I do.”</p> + +<p>Then he went away, got his overcoat, made a derisive and sphinx-like +grin at his fellow-reporters, and left the office to find Carver.</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">nameless fear</p> + +<p>If Triffitt had stayed in Kensal Green Cemetery a little longer, he +would have observed that Mr. Frank Burchill’s presence at the funeral +obsequies of the late Jacob Herapath was of an eminently modest, +unassuming, and retiring character. He might, as an ex-secretary of the +dead man, have claimed to walk abreast of Mr. Selwood, and ahead of the +manager and cashier from the estate office; instead, he had taken a +place in the rear ranks of the procession, and in it he remained until +the close of the ceremony. Like the rest of those present, he defiled +past the grave at which the chief mourners were standing, but he claimed +no recognition from and gave no apparent heed to any of them; certainly +none to Barthorpe Herapath. Also, like all the rest, he went away at +once from the cemetery, and after him, quietly and unobtrusively, went a +certain sharp-eyed person who had also been present, not as a mourner, +but in the character of a casual stroller about the tombs and monuments, +attracted for the moment by the imposing <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">cortège</span> +which had followed the dead man to his grave.</p> + +<p>Another sharp-eyed person made it his business to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>follow Barthorpe +Herapath when he, too, went away. Barthorpe had come to the ceremony +unattended. Selwood, Mr. Tertius, Professor Cox-Raythwaite, and Mr. +Halfpenny had come together. These four also went away together. +Barthorpe, still alone, re-entered his carriage when they had driven +off. The observant person of the sharp eyes, hanging around the gates, +heard him give his order:</p> + +<p>“Portman Square!”</p> + +<p>The four men who had preceded him were standing in the study when +Barthorpe drove up to the house—standing around Peggie, who was +obviously ill at ease and distressed. And when Barthorpe’s voice was +heard in the hall, Mr. Halfpenny spoke in decisive tones.</p> + +<p>“We must understand matters at once,” he said. “There is no use in +beating about the bush. He has refused to meet or receive me so far—now +I shall insist upon his saying plainly whatever he has to say. You, too, +my dear, painful as it may be, must also insist.”</p> + +<p>“On—what?” asked Peggie.</p> + +<p>“On his saying what he intends—if he intends—I don’t know what he +intends!” answered Mr. Halfpenny, testily. “It’s most annoying, and we +can’t——”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe came striding in, paused as he glanced around, and affected +surprise.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” he said. “I came to see you, Peggie—I did not know that there was +any meeting in progress.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Barthorpe!” said Peggie, looking earnestly at him. “You know that all +these gentlemen were Uncle Jacob’s friends—dear friends—and they are +mine. Don’t go away—Mr. Halfpenny wants to speak to you.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe had already half turned to the door. He turned back—then +turned again.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Halfpenny can only want to speak to me on business,” he said, +coldly. “If Mr. Halfpenny wants to speak to me on business, he knows +where to find me.”</p> + +<p>He had already laid a hand on the door when Mr. Halfpenny spoke sharply +and sternly.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Barthorpe Herapath!” he said. “I know very well where to find you, +and I have tried to find you and to get speech with you for two days—in +vain. I insist, sir, that you speak to us—or at any rate to your +cousin—you are bound to speak, sir, out of common decency!”</p> + +<p>“About what?” asked Barthorpe. “I came to speak to my cousin—in +private.”</p> + +<p>“There is a certain something, sir,” retorted Mr. Halfpenny, with +warmth, “about which we must speak in public—such a public, at any +rate, as is represented here and now. You know what it is—your uncle’s +will!”</p> + +<p>“What about my uncle’s will—or alleged will?” asked Barthorpe with a +sneer.</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny appeared to be about to make a very angry retort, but he +suddenly checked himself and looked at Peggie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You hear, my dear?” he said. “He says—alleged will!”</p> + +<p>Peggie turned to Barthorpe with an appealing glance.</p> + +<p>“Barthorpe!” she exclaimed. “Is that fair—is it generous? Is it +just—to our uncle’s memory? You know that is his will—what doubt can +there be about it?”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe made no answer. He still stood with one hand on the door, +looking at Mr. Halfpenny. And suddenly he spoke.</p> + +<p>“What do you wish to ask me?” he said.</p> + +<p>“I wish to ask you a plain question,” replied Mr. Halfpenny. “Do you +accept this will, and are you going to act on your cousin’s behalf? I +want your plain answer.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe hesitated a moment before replying. Then he made as if to open +the door.</p> + +<p>“I decline to discuss the matter of the alleged will,” he answered. “I +decline—especially,” he continued, lifting a finger and pointing at Mr. +Tertius, “especially in the presence of that man!”</p> + +<p>“Barthorpe!” exclaimed Peggie, flushing at the malevolence of the tone +and gesture. “How dare you! In my house——”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe suddenly laughed. Once again he turned to the door—and this +time he opened it.</p> + +<p>“Just so—just so!” he said. “Your house, my dear cousin—according to +the alleged will.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Which will be proved, sir,” snapped out Mr. Halfpenny. “As you refuse, +or seem to do so, I shall act for your cousin—at once.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe opened the door wide, and as he crossed the threshold, turned +and gave Mr. Halfpenny a swift glance.</p> + +<p>“Act!” he said. “Act!—if you can!”</p> + +<p>Then he walked out and shut the door behind him, and Mr. Halfpenny +turned to the others.</p> + +<p>“The will must be proved at once,” he said decisively. “Alleged—you all +heard him say alleged! That looks as if—um! My dear Tertius, you have +no doubt whatever about the proper and valid execution of this important +document—now in my safe. None?”</p> + +<p>“How can I have any doubt about what I actually saw?” replied Mr. +Tertius. “I can’t have any doubt, Halfpenny! I saw Jacob sign it; I +signed it myself; I saw young Burchill sign it; we all three saw each +other sign. What more can one want?”</p> + +<p>“I must see this Mr. Burchill,” remarked Mr. Halfpenny. “I must see him +at once. Unfortunately, he left no address at the place we called at. He +will have to be discovered.”</p> + +<p>Peggie coloured slightly as she turned to Mr. Halfpenny.</p> + +<p>“Is it really necessary to see Mr. Burchill personally?” she asked with +a palpable nervousness which struck Selwood strangely. “Must he be +found?”</p> + +<p>“Absolutely necessary, my dear,” replied Mr. Halfpenny. “He must be +found, and at once.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius uttered an exclamation of annoyance.</p> + +<p>“Dear, dear!” he said. “I noticed the young man at the cemetery just +now—I ought really to have pointed him out to you—most forgetful of +me!”</p> + +<p>“I have Mr. Burchill’s address,” said Peggie, with an effort. “He left +his card here on the day of my uncle’s death—the address is on it. And +I put it in this drawer.”</p> + +<p>Selwood watched Peggie curiously, and with a strange, vague sense of +uneasiness as she went over to a drawer in Jacob Herapath’s desk and +produced the card. He had noticed a slight tremor in her voice when she +spoke of Burchill, and her face, up till then very pale, had coloured at +the first mention of his name. And now he was asking himself why any +reference to this man seemed to disturb her, why——</p> + +<p>But Mr. Halfpenny cut in on his meditations. The old lawyer held up the +card to the light and slowly read out the address.</p> + +<p>“Ah! Calengrove Mansions, Maida Vale,” he said. “Um—quarter of an +hour’s drive. Tertius—you and I will go and see this young fellow at +once.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius turned to Professor Cox-Raythwaite.</p> + +<p>“What do you think of this, Cox-Raythwaite?” he asked, almost piteously. +“I mean—what do you think’s best to be done?”</p> + +<p>The Professor, who had stood apart with Selwood during the episode which +had just concluded, pulling his great beard and looking very big and +black and formidable, jerked his thumb in the direction of the old +lawyer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Do what Halfpenny says,” he growled. “See this other witness. And—but +here, I’ll have a word with you in the hall.”</p> + +<p>He said good-bye in a gruffly affectionate way to Peggie, patted her +shoulder and her head as if she were a child, and followed the two other +men out. Peggie, left alone with Selwood, turned to him. There was +something half-appealing in her face, and Selwood suddenly drove his +hands deep into his pockets, clenched them there, and put a tight hold +on himself.</p> + +<p>“It’s all different!” exclaimed Peggie, dropping into a chair and +clasping her hands on her knees. “All so different! And I feel so +utterly helpless.”</p> + +<p>“Scarcely that,” said Selwood, with an effort to speak calmly. “You’ve +got Mr. Tertius, and Mr. Halfpenny, and the Professor, and—and if +there’s anything—anything I can do, don’t you know, why, I——”</p> + +<p>Peggie impulsively stretched out a hand—and Selwood, not trusting +himself, affected not to see it. To take Peggie’s hand at that moment +would have been to let loose a flood of words which he was resolved not +to utter just then, if ever. He moved across to the desk and pretended +to sort and arrange some loose papers.</p> + +<p>“We’ll—all—all—do everything we can,” he said, trying to keep any +tremor out of his voice. “Everything you know, of course.”</p> + +<p>“I know—and I’m grateful,” said Peggie. “But I’m frightened.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p> + +<p>Selwood turned quickly and looked sharply at her.</p> + +<p>“Frightened?” he exclaimed. “Of what?”</p> + +<p>“Of something that I can’t account for or realize,” she replied. “I’ve a +feeling that everything’s all wrong—and strange. And—I’m frightened of +Mr. Burchill.”</p> + +<p>“What!” snapped Selwood. He dropped the papers and turned to face her +squarely. “Frightened of—Burchill? Why?”</p> + +<p>“I—don’t—know,” she answered, shaking her head. “It’s more an +idea—something vague. I was always afraid of him when he was here—I’ve +been afraid of him ever since. I was very much afraid when he came here +the other day.”</p> + +<p>“You saw him?” asked Selwood.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t see him. He merely sent up that card. But,” she added, “I was +afraid even then.”</p> + +<p>Selwood leaned back against the desk, regarding her attentively.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think you’re the sort to be afraid without reason,” he said. +“Of course, if you have reason, I’ve no right to ask what it is. All the +same, if this chap is likely to annoy you, you’ve only to speak +and—and——”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” she said, smiling a little. “You’d——”</p> + +<p>“I’ll punch his head and break his neck for him!” growled Selwood. +“And—and I wish you’d say if you have reasons why I should. Has—has he +annoyed you?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No,” answered Peggie. She regarded Selwood steadily for a minute; then +she spoke with sudden impulse. “When he was here,” she said, “I mean +before he left my uncle, he asked me to marry him.”</p> + +<p>Selwood, in spite of himself, could not keep a hot flush from mounting +to his cheek.</p> + +<p>“And—you?” he said.</p> + +<p>“I said no, of course, and he took my answer and went quietly away,” +replied Peggie. “And that—that’s why I’m frightened of him.”</p> + +<p>“Good heavens! Why?” demanded Selwood. “I don’t understand. Frightened +of him because he took his answer, went away quietly, and hasn’t annoyed +you since? That—I say, that licks me!”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” she said. “But, you see, you don’t know him. It’s just +because of that—that quiet—that—oh, I don’t quite know how to +explain!—that—well, silence—that I’m afraid—yes, literally afraid. +There’s something about him that makes me fear. I used to wish that my +uncle had never employed him—that he had never come here. And—I’d +rather be penniless than that my uncle had ever got him—him!—to +witness that will!”</p> + +<p>Selwood found no words wherewith to answer this. He did not understand +it. Nevertheless he presently found words of another sort.</p> + +<p>“All right!” he muttered doggedly. “I’ll watch him—or, I’ll watch that +he—that—well, that no harm comes to—you know what I mean, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” murmured Peggie, and once more held out an impulsive hand. But +Selwood again pretended to see nothing, and he began another energetic +assault upon the papers which Jacob Herapath would never handle again.</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the law</p> + +<p>Once within a taxi-cab and on their way to Maida Vale, Mr. Halfpenny +turned to his companion with a shake of the head which implied a much +mixed state of feeling.</p> + +<p>“Tertius!” he exclaimed. “There’s something wrong! Quite apart from what +we know, and from what we were able to communicate to the police, +there’s something wrong. I feel it—it’s in the air, the—the whole +atmosphere. That fellow Barthorpe is up to some game. What? Did you +notice his manner, his attitude—everything? Of course!—who could help +it? He—has some scheme in his head. Again I say—what?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius stirred uneasily in his seat and shook his head.</p> + +<p>“You haven’t heard anything from New Scotland Yard?” he asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Nothing—so far. But they are at work, of course. They’ll work in their +own way. And,” continued Mr. Halfpenny, with a grim chuckle, “you can be +certain of this much, Tertius—having heard what we were able to tell +them, having seen what we were able to put before them, with respect to +the doings of that eventful night, they won’t let Master Barthorpe out +of their ken—not they! It is best to let them pursue their own +investigations in their own manner—they’ll let us know what’s been +done, sure enough, at the right time.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” assented Mr. Tertius. “Yes—so I gather—I am not very conversant +with these things. I confess there’s one thing that puzzles me greatly +though, Halfpenny. That’s the matter of the man who came out of the +House of Commons with Jacob that night. You remember that the coachman, +Mountain, told us—and said at the inquest also—that he overheard what +Jacob said to that man—‘The thing must be done at once, and you must +have everything ready for me at noon tomorrow,’ or words to that effect. +Now that man must be somewhere at hand—he must have read the +newspapers, know all about the inquest—why doesn’t he come forward?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny chuckled again and patted his friend’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he said. “But you don’t know that he hasn’t come forward! The +probability is, Tertius, that he has come forward, and that the people +at New Scotland Yard are already in possession of whatever story he had +to tell. Oh, yes, I quite expect that—I also expect to hear, +eventually, another piece of news in relation to that man.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that?” asked Mr. Tertius.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Do you remember that, at the inquest, Mountain, the coachman, said that +there was another bit of evidence he had to give which he’d forgotten to +tell Mr. Barthorpe when he questioned him? Mountain”—continued Mr. +Halfpenny—“went on to say that while Jacob Herapath and the man stood +talking in Palace Yard, before Jacob got into his brougham, Jacob took +some object from his waistcoat pocket and handed it, with what looked +like a letter, to the man? Eh?”</p> + +<p>“I remember very well,” replied Mr. Tertius.</p> + +<p>“Very good,” said Mr. Halfpenny. “Now I believe that object to have been +the key of Jacob’s safe at the Safe Deposit, which, you remember, could +not be found, but which young Selwood affirmed had been in Jacob’s +possession only that afternoon. The letter I believe to have been a +formal authority to the Safe Deposit people to allow the bearer to open +that safe. I’ve thought all that out,” concluded Mr. Halfpenny, with a +smile of triumph, “thought it out carefully, and it’s my impression that +that’s what we shall find when the police move. I believe that man has +revealed himself to the police, has told them—whatever it is he has to +tell, and that his story probably throws a vast flood of light on the +mystery. So I say—let us not at present concern ourselves with the +actual murder of our poor friend: the police will ferret that out! What +we’re concerned with is—the will! That will, Tertius, must be proved, +and at once.”</p> + +<p>“I am as little conversant with legal matters as with police procedure,” +observed Mr. Tertius. “What is the exact course, now, in a case of this +sort?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<p>“The exact procedure, my dear sir,” replied Mr. Halfpenny, dropping into +his best legal manner, and putting the tips of his warmly-gloved +fingers together in front of his well-filled overcoat, “the exact +procedure is as follows. Barthorpe Herapath is without doubt the +heir-at-law of his deceased uncle, Jacob Herapath. If Jacob had died +intestate Barthorpe would have taken what we may call everything, for +his uncle’s property is practically all in the shape of real estate, in +comparison to which the personalty is a mere nothing. But there is a +will, leaving everything to Margaret Wynne. If Barthorpe Herapath +intends to contest the legality of that will——”</p> + +<p>“Good heavens, is that possible?” exclaimed Mr. Tertius. “He can’t!”</p> + +<p>“He can—if he wishes,” replied Mr. Halfpenny, “though at present I +don’t know on what possible grounds. But, if he does, he can at once +enter a caveat in the Probate Registry. The effect of that—supposing he +does it—will be that when I take the will to be proved, progress will +be stopped. Very well—I shall then, following the ordinary practice, +issue and serve upon Barthorpe Herapath a document technically known as +a ‘warning.’ On service of this warning, Barthorpe, if he insists upon +his opposition, must enter an appearance. There will then be an +opportunity for debate and attempt at agreement between him and +ourselves. If that fails, or does not take place, I shall then issue a +writ to establish the will. And that being done, why, then, my dear sir, +the proceedings—ah, the proceedings would +follow—substantially—the—er—usual course of litigation in this +country.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And that,” asked Mr. Tertius, deeply interested and wholly innocent, +“that would be——?”</p> + +<p>“Well, there are two parties in this case—supposed case,” continued Mr. +Halfpenny, “Barthorpe Herapath, Margaret Wynne. After the issue of the +writ I have just spoken of, each party would put in his or her pleas, +and the matter would ultimately go to trial in the Probate Division of +the High Court, most likely before a judge and a special jury.”</p> + +<p>“And how long would all this take?” asked Mr. Tertius.</p> + +<p>“Ah!—um!” replied Mr. Halfpenny, tapping the tips of his gloves +together. “That, my dear sir, is a somewhat difficult question to +answer. I believe that all readers of the newspapers are aware that our +Law Courts are somewhat congested—the cause lists are very full. The +time which must elapse before a case can actually come to trial varies, +my dear Tertius, varies enormously. But if—as in the matter we are +supposing would probably be the case—if all the parties concerned were +particularly anxious to have the case disposed of without delay, the +trial might be arrived at within three or four months—that is, my dear +sir, if the Long Vacation did not intervene. But—speaking generally—a +better, more usual, more probable estimate would be, say six, seven, +eight, or nine months.”</p> + +<p>“So long?” exclaimed Mr. Tertius. “I thought that justice was neither +denied, sold, nor delayed!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Justice is never denied, my good friend, nor is it sold,” replied Mr. +Halfpenny, oracularly. “As to delay, ah, well, you know, if people will +be litigants—and I assure you that nothing is so pleasing to a very +large number of extraordinary persons who simply love litigation—a +little delay cannot be avoided. However, we will hope that we shall have +no litigation. Our present job is to get that will proved, and so far I +see no difficulty. There is the will—we have the witnesses. At least, +there are you, and we’re hoping to see t’other in a few minutes. By the +by, Tertius, what sort of fellow is this Burchill?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius considered his answer to this question.</p> + +<p>“Well, I hardly know,” he said at last. “Of course, I have rarely seen +much of Jacob’s secretaries. This man—he’s not quite a youngster, +Halfpenny—struck me as being the sort of person who might be +dangerous.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” exclaimed Mr. Halfpenny. “Dangerous! God bless me! Now, in what +way, Tertius?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t quite know,” replied Mr. Tertius. “He, somehow, from what I saw +of him, suggested, I really don’t know how, a certain atmosphere of, +say—I’m trying to find the right words—cunning, subtlety, depth. +Yes—yes, I should say he was what we commonly call—or what is commonly +called in vulgar parlance—deep. Deep!”</p> + +<p>“You mean—designing?” suggested Mr. Halfpenny.</p> + +<p>“Exactly—designing,” assented Mr. Tertius. “It—it was the sort of idea +he conveyed, you know.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Don’t like the sound of him,” said Mr. Halfpenny, “However, he’s the +second witness and we must put up with the fact. And here we are at +these Calengrove Mansions, and let’s hope we haven’t a hundred infernal +steps to climb, and that we find the fellow in.”</p> + +<p>The fellow was in. And the fellow, who had now discarded his mourning +suit for the purple and fine linen which suggested Bond Street, was just +about to go out, and was in a great hurry, and said so. He listened with +obvious impatience while Mr. Tertius presented his companion.</p> + +<p>“I wished to see you about the will of the deceased Jacob Herapath, Mr. +Burchill,” said Mr. Halfpenny “The will which, of course, you +witnessed.”</p> + +<p>Burchill, who was gathering some books and papers together, and had +already apologized for not being able to ask his callers to sit down, +answered in an off-hand, bustling fashion.</p> + +<p>“Of course, of course!” he replied. “Mr. Jacob Herapath’s will, eh? Oh, +of course, yes. Anything I can do, Mr. Halfpenny, of course—perhaps +you’ll drop me a line and make an appointment at your office some +day—then I’ll call, d’you see?”</p> + +<p>“You remember the occasion, and the will, and your signature?” said Mr. +Halfpenny, contriving to give Mr. Tertius a nudge as he put this direct +question.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, I remember everything that ever happened in connection with my +secretaryship to Mr. Jacob Herapath!” replied Burchill, still bustling. +“I shall be ready for anything whenever I’m wanted, Mr. +Halfpenny—pleased to be of service to the family, I’m sure. Now, you +must really pardon me, gentlemen, if I hurry you and myself out—I’ve a +most important engagement and I’m late already. As I said—drop me a +line for an appointment, Mr. Halfpenny, and I’ll come to you. Now, +good-bye, good-bye!”</p> + +<p>He had got them out of his flat, shaken hands with them, and hurried off +before either elderly gentleman could get a word in, and as he flew +towards the stairs Mr. Halfpenny looked at Mr. Tertius and shook his +head.</p> + +<p>“That beggar didn’t want to talk,” he said. “I don’t like it.”</p> + +<p>“But he said that he remembered!” exclaimed Mr. Tertius. “Wasn’t that +satisfactory?”</p> + +<p>“Anything but satisfactory, the whole thing,” replied the old lawyer. +“Didn’t you notice that the man avoided any direct reply? He said ‘of +course’ about a hundred times, and was as ambiguous, and non-committal, +and vague, as he could be. My dear Tertius, the fellow was fencing!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius looked deeply distressed.</p> + +<p>“You don’t think——” he began.</p> + +<p>“I might think a lot when I begin to think,” said Mr. Halfpenny as they +slowly descended the stairs from the desert solitude of the top floor of +Calengrove Mansions. “But there’s one thought that strikes me just +now—do you remember what Burchill’s old landlady at Upper Seymour +Street told us?”</p> + +<p>“That Barthorpe Herapath had been to inquire for Burchill?—yes,” +replied Mr. Tertius. “You’re wondering——”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I’m wondering if, since then, Barthorpe has found him,” said Mr. +Halfpenny. “If he has—if there have been passages between them—if——”</p> + +<p>He paused half-way down the stairs, stood for a moment or two in deep +thought and then laid his hand on his friend’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Tertius!” he said gravely. “That will must be presented for probate at +once! I must lose no time. Come along—let me get back to my office and +get to work. And do you go back to Portman Square and give the little +woman your company.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius went back to Portman Square there and then, and did what he +could to make the gloomy house less gloomy. Instead of retreating to his +own solitude he remained with Peggie, and tried to cheer her up by +discussing various plans and matters of the future. And he was taking a +quiet cup of tea with her at five o’clock when Kitteridge came in with a +telegram for him. He opened it with trembling fingers and read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“<i>Barthorpe entered caveat in Probate Registry at half-past +three this afternoon.—Halfpenny.</i>”</p></div> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the rosewood box</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius dropped the telegram on the little table at which he and +Peggie were sitting, and betrayed his feelings with a deep groan. +Peggie, who was just about to give him his second cup of tea, set down +her teapot and jumped to his side.</p> + +<p>“Oh, what is it!” she exclaimed. “Some bad news? Please—”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius pulled himself together and tried to smile.</p> + +<p>“You must forgive me, my dear,” he said, with a feeble attempt to speak +cheerily. “I—the truth is, I think I have lived in such a state of ease +and—yes, luxury, for so many years that I am not capable of readily +bearing these trials and troubles. I’m ashamed of myself—I must be +braver—not so easily affected.”</p> + +<p>“But—the telegram?” said Peggie.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius handed it to her with a dismal shake of his head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I suppose it’s only what was to be expected, after all that Halfpenny +told me this afternoon,” he remarked. “But I scarcely thought it would +occur so soon. My dear, I am afraid you must prepare yourself for a +great deal of unpleasantness and worry. Your cousin seems to be +determined to give much trouble. Extraordinary!—most extraordinary! My +dear, I confess I do not understand it.”</p> + +<p>Peggie had picked up the telegram and was reading it with knitted brow.</p> + +<p>“‘Barthorpe entered caveat in Probate Registry at half-past three this +afternoon,’” she slowly repeated. “But what does that mean, Mr. Tertius? +Something to do with the will?”</p> + +<p>“A great deal to do with the will, I fear!” replied Mr. Tertius, +lugubriously. “A caveat, my dear, is some sort of process—I’m sure I +don’t know whether it’s given by word of mouth, or if it’s a +document—by which the admission to probate of a dead person’s last will +and testament can be stopped. In plain language,” continued Mr. Tertius, +“your cousin Barthorpe has been to the Probate Registry and done +something to prevent Mr. Halfpenny from proving the will. It is a wicked +action on his part—and, considering that he is a solicitor, and that he +saw the will with his own eyes, it is, as I have previously remarked, +most extraordinary!”</p> + +<p>“And all this means—what?” asked Peggie.</p> + +<p>“It means that there will be legal proceedings,” groaned Mr. Tertius. +“Long, tedious, most annoying and trying proceedings! Perhaps a +trial—we may have to go to court and give evidence. I dread it!—I am, +as I said, so used to a life of ease and freedom from anxiety that +anything of this sort distresses me unspeakably. I fear I am +degenerating into cowardice!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Nonsense!” said Peggie. “It is merely that this sort of thing is +disturbing. And we are not going to be afraid of Barthorpe. Barthorpe is +very foolish. I meant—always have meant, ever since I heard about the +will—to share with him, for there’s no law against that. But if +Barthorpe wants to upset the will altogether and claim everything, I +shall fight him. And if I win—as I suppose I shall—I shall make him do +penance pretty heavily before he’s forgiven. However, that’s all in the +future. What I don’t understand about the present is—how can that will +be upset? Mr. Halfpenny says it’s duly and properly executed, witnessed, +and so on—how can Barthorpe object to it?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius put down his cup and rose.</p> + +<p>“Your cousin, Barthorpe, my dear, is, I regret to say, a deep man,” he +replied. “He has some scheme in his head. This,” he went on, picking up +the telegram and placing it in his pocket, “this is the first step in +that scheme. Well, it is perhaps a relief to know that he has taken it: +we shall now know where we are and what has to be done.”</p> + +<p>“Quite so,” said Peggie. “But there is another matter, Mr. Tertius, +which seems to be forgotten in this of the will. Pray, what is Barthorpe +doing, what is anybody doing, about solving the mystery of my uncle’s +death? Everybody says he was murdered—who is doing anything to find the +murderer?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius, who had advanced as far as the door on his way out of the +room, came back to Peggie’s side in a fashion suggestive of deep +mystery, walking <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>on the tips of his toes and putting a finger to his +lips as he drew near his chair.</p> + +<p>“My dear!” he said, bending down to her and speaking in a tone fully as +indicative of mystery as his tip-toe movement, “a great deal is being +done—but in the strictest secrecy! Most important investigations, my +dear!—the police, the detective police, you know. The word at +present—to put it into one word, vulgar, but expressive—the word is +‘Mum’! Silence, my dear—the policy of the mole—underground working, +you know. From what I am aware of, and from what our good friend +Halfpenny tells me, and believes, I gather that a result will be +attained which will be surprising.”</p> + +<p>“So long as justice is done,” remarked Peggie. “That is all I want—all +we ought to aim at. I don’t care twopence about surprising or +sensational discoveries—I want to see my uncle’s murderer properly +punished.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>She shed a few more quiet tears over Jacob Herapath’s untoward fate when +Mr. Tertius had left her and fell to thinking about him. The thoughts +which came presently led her to go to the dead man’s room—a simple, +spartan-like chamber which she had not entered since his death. She had +a vague sense of wanting to be brought into touch with him through the +things which had been his, and for a while she wandered aimlessly about +the room, laying a hand now and then on the objects which she knew he +must have handled the last time he had occupied the room—his toilet +articles, the easy chair in which he always sat for a few minutes every +night, reading a little before going to bed, the garments which hung in +his wardrobe, anything on which his fingers had rested. And as she +wandered about she noted, not for the first nor the hundredth time, how +Jacob Herapath had gathered about him in this room a number of objects +connected with his youth. The very furniture, simple, homely stuff, had +once stood in his mother’s bedroom in a small cottage in a far-off +country. On the walls were portraits of his father and mother—crude +things painted by some local artist; there, too, were some samplers +worked by his mother in her girlhood, flanked by some faded groups of +flowers which she had painted about the same time. Jacob Herapath had +brought all these things to his grand house in Portman Square years +before, and had cleared a room of fine modern furniture and fittings to +make space for them. He had often said to Peggie, when she grew old +enough to understand, that he liked to wake in a morning and see the old +familiar things about him which he had known as a child. For one object +in that room he had a special veneration and affection—an old rosewood +workbox, which had belonged to his mother, and to her mother before her. +Once he had allowed Peggie to inspect it, to take from it the tray lined +with padded green silk, to examine the various nooks and corners +contrived by the eighteenth-century cabinetmaker—some disciple, maybe, +of Chippendale or Sheraton—to fit the tarnished silver thimbles on to +her own fingers, to wonder at the knick-knacks of a departed age, and to +laugh over <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>the scent of rose and lavender which hung about the skeins +and spools. And he had told her that when he died the rosewood box +should be hers—as long as he lived, he said, it must stand on his chest +of drawers, so that he could see it at least twice a day.</p> + +<p>Jacob Herapath was dead now, and buried, and the rosewood box and +everything else that had been his had passed to Peggie—as things were, +at any rate. She presently walked up to the queer old chest of drawers, +and drew the rosewood box towards her and lifted the lid. It was years +since Jacob had shown it to her, and she remembered the childish delight +with which she had lifted out the tray which lay on the top and looked +into the various compartments beneath it. Now she opened the box again, +and lifted the tray—and there, lying bold and uncovered before her +eyes, she saw a letter, inscribed with one word in Jacob Herapath’s +well-known handwriting—“Peggie.”</p> + +<p>If Jacob Herapath himself had suddenly appeared before her in that quiet +room, the girl could scarcely have felt more keenly the strange and +subtle fear which seized upon her as she realized that what she was +staring at was probably some message to herself. It was some time before +she dared to lay hands on this message—when at last she took the letter +out of the box her fingers trembled so much that she found a difficulty +in opening the heavily-sealed envelope. But she calmed herself with a +great effort, and carrying the half-sheet of note-paper, which she drew +from its cover, over to the window, lifted it in the fading light <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>and +read the few lines which Jacob Herapath had scrawled there.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“If anything ever happens suddenly to me, my will, duly +executed and witnessed by Mr. Tertius and Mr. Frank Burchill, +is in a secret drawer of my old bureau which lies behind the +third small drawer on the right-hand side.</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Jacob Herapath</span>.”</p></div> + +<p>That was all—beyond a date, and the date was a recent one. “If anything +ever happens suddenly”—had he then felt some fear, experienced any +premonition, of a sudden happening? Why had he never said anything to +her, why?</p> + +<p>But Peggie realized that such questions were useless at that time—that +time was pre-eminently one of action. She put the letter back in the +rosewood box, took the box in her arms, and carrying it off to her own +room, locked it up in a place of security. And that had scarcely been +done when Kitteridge came seeking her and bringing with him a card: Mr. +Frank Burchill’s card, and on it scribbled a single line: “Will you +kindly give me a few minutes?”</p> + +<p>Peggie considered this request in one flash of thought, and turned to +the butler.</p> + +<p>“Where is Mr. Burchill?” she asked. “In the study? Very well, I will +come down to him in a few minutes.”</p> + +<p>She made a mighty effort to show herself calm, collected, and +indifferent, when she presently went down to the study. But she neither +shook hands with the caller, nor asked him to sit; instead she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>marched +across to the hearthrug and regarded him from a distance.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mr. Burchill?” she said quietly. “You wish to see me?”</p> + +<p>She looked him over steadily as she spoke, and noted a certain air of +calm self-assurance about him which struck her with a vague uneasiness. +He was too easy, too quiet, too entirely businesslike to be free from +danger. And the bow which he gave her was, to her thinking, the height +of false artifice.</p> + +<p>“I wished to see you and to speak to you, with your permission,” he +answered. “I beg you to believe that what I have—what I desire to say +is to be said by me with the deepest respect, the most sincere +consideration. I have your permission to speak? Then I beg to ask you +if—I speak with deep courtesy!—if the answer which you made to a +certain question of mine some time ago is—was—is to be—final?”</p> + +<p>“So final that I am surprised that you should refer to the matter,” +replied Peggie. “I told you so at the time.”</p> + +<p>“Circumstances have changed,” he said. “I am at a parting of the ways in +life’s journey. I wish to know—definitely—which way I am to take. A +ray of guiding light from you——”</p> + +<p>“There will be none!” said Peggie sharply. “Not a gleam. This is waste +of time. If that is all you have to say——”</p> + +<p>The door of the study opened, and Selwood, who was still engaged about +the house, came in. He <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>paused on the threshold, staring from one to the +other, and made as if to withdraw. But Peggie openly smiled on him.</p> + +<p>“Come in, Mr. Selwood,” she said. “I was just going to ask Kitteridge to +find you. I want to see both you and Mr. Tertius.”</p> + +<p>Then she turned to Burchill, who stood, a well-posed figure in his fine +raiment, still watching her, and made him a frigid bow.</p> + +<p>“There is no more to say on that point—at any time,” she said quietly. +“Good day. Mr. Selwood, will you ring the bell?”</p> + +<p>Burchill executed another profound and self-possessed bow. He presently +followed the footman from the room, and Peggie, for the first time since +Jacob Herapath’s death, suddenly let her face relax and burst into a +hearty laugh.</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">weaving the net</p> + +<p>That evening Triffitt got Burchill’s address from Carver, and next day +he drew a hundred pounds from the cashier of the <i>Argus</i> and went off to +Calengrove Mansions. In his mind there was a clear and definite notion. +It might result in something; it might come to nothing, but he was going +to try it. Briefly, it was that if he wished—as he unfeignedly did +wish—to find out anything about Burchill, he must be near him; so near, +indeed, that he could keep an eye on him, acquaint himself with his +goings and comings, observe his visitors, watch for possible openings, +make himself familiar with Burchill’s daily life. It might be a +difficult task; it might be an easy task—in any case, it was a task +that must be attempted. With Markledew’s full consent and approval +behind him and Markledew’s money-bags to draw upon, Triffitt felt equal +to attempting anything.</p> + +<p>The first thing was to take a quiet look at Burchill’s immediate +environment. Calengrove Mansions turned out to be one of the smaller of +the many blocks of residential flats which have of late years arisen in +such numbers in the neighbourhood of Maida Vale and St. John’s Wood. It +was an affair of some five or six floors, and judging from what Triffitt +could see of it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>from two sides, it was not fully occupied at that time, +for many of its windows were uncurtained, and there was a certain air of +emptiness about the upper storeys. This fact was not unpleasing to +Triffitt; it argued that he would have small difficulty in finding a +lodgment within the walls which sheltered the man he wanted to watch. +And in pursuance of his scheme, which, as a beginning, was to find out +exactly where Burchill was located, he walked into the main entrance and +looked about him, hoping to find an address-board. Such a board +immediately caught his eye, affixed to the wall near the main staircase. +Then Triffitt saw that the building was divided into five floors, each +floor having some three or four flats. Those on the bottom floors +appeared to be pretty well taken; the names of their occupants were +neatly painted in small compartments on the board. Right at the top was +the name Mr. Frank Burchill—and on that floor, which evidently +possessed three flats, there were presumably no other occupants, for the +remaining two spaces relating to it were blank.</p> + +<p>Triffitt took all this in at a glance; another glance showed him a door +close by on which was painted the word “Office.” He pushed this open and +walked inside, to confront a clerk who was the sole occupant. To him, +Triffitt, plunging straight into business, gently intimated that he was +searching for a convenient flat. The clerk immediately began to pull out +some coloured plans, labelled first, second, third floors.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>“About what sized flat do you require?” he asked. He had already looked +Triffitt well over, and as Triffitt, in honour of the occasion, had put +on his smartest suit and a new overcoat, he decided that this was a +young man who was either just married or about to be married. “Do you +want a family flat, or one for a couple without family, or——”</p> + +<p>“What I want,” answered Triffitt readily, “is a bachelor flat—for +myself. And—if possible—furnished.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said the clerk. “Just so. I happen to have something that will +suit you exactly—that is, if you don’t want to take it for longer than +three or four months.” He pulled forward another plan, labelled “Fifth +Floor,” and pointed to certain portions, shaded off in light colours. +“One of our tenants, Mr. Stillwater,” he continued, “has gone abroad for +four months, and he’d be glad to let his flat, furnished, in his +absence. That’s it—it contains, you see, a nice sitting-room, a +bedroom, a bathroom, and a small kitchen—all contained within the flat, +of course. It is well and comfortably furnished, and available at once.”</p> + +<p>Triffitt bent over the plan. But he was not looking at the shaded +portion over which the clerk’s pencil was straying; instead he was +regarding the fact that across the corresponding portion of the plan was +written in red ink the words, “Mr. Frank Burchill.” The third portion +was blank; it, apparently, was unlet.</p> + +<p>“That is really about the size of flat I want,” said Triffitt, musingly. +“What’s the rent of that, now?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I can let that to you for fifty shillings a week,” answered the clerk. +“That includes everything—there’s plate, linen, glass, china, anything +you want. Slight attendance can be arranged for with our caretaker’s +wife—that is, she can cook breakfast, and make beds, and do more, if +necessary. Perhaps you would like to see this flat?”</p> + +<p>Triffitt followed the clerk to the top of the house. The absent Mr. +Stillwater’s rooms were comfortable and pleasant; one glance around them +decided Triffitt.</p> + +<p>“This place will suit me very well,” he said. “Now I’ll give you +satisfactory references about myself, and pay you a month’s rent in +advance, and if that’s all right to you, I’ll come in today. You can +ring up my references on your ’phone, and then, if you’re satisfied, +we’ll settle the rent, and I’ll see the caretaker’s wife about airing +that bed.”</p> + +<p>Within half an hour Triffitt was occupant of the flat, the cashier of +the <i>Argus</i> having duly telephoned that he was a thoroughly dependable +and much-respected member of its staff, and Triffitt himself having +handed over ten pounds as rent for the coming month, he interviewed the +caretaker’s wife, went to a neighbouring grocer’s shop and ordered a +stock of necessaries wherewith to fill his larder, repaired to his own +lodgings and brought away all that he wanted in the way of luggage, +books, and papers, and by the middle of the afternoon was fairly settled +in his new quarters. He spent an hour in putting himself and his +belongings straight—and then came the question what next?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<p>He was there for a special purpose—that special purpose was to +acquaint himself as thoroughly as possible with the doings of Frank +Burchill. Burchill was there—he was almost on the point of saying, in +the next cell!—there, in the flat across the corridor; figuratively, +within touch, if it were not for sundry divisions of brick, mortar, and +the like. Burchill’s door was precisely opposite his own; there was an +advantage in that fact. And in Triffitt’s outer door (all these flats, +he discovered—that is, if they were all like his own, possessed double +doors) there was a convenient letter slit, by manipulating which he +could, if he chose, keep a perpetual observation on the other opposite. +But Triffitt did not propose to sit with his eye glued to that letter +slit all day—it might be useful at times, and for some special purpose, +but he had wider views. And the first thing to do was to make an +examination, geographical and exhaustive, of his own surroundings: +Triffitt had learnt, during his journalistic training, that attention to +details is one of the most important things in life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> + +<p>The first thing that had struck Triffitt in this respect was that there +was no lift in this building. He had remarked on that to the clerk, and +the clerk had answered with a shrug of the shoulders that it was a +mistake and one for which the proprietor was already having to pay. +However, Triffitt, bearing in mind what job he was on, was not +displeased that the lift had been omitted—it is sometimes an advantage +to be able to hang over the top rail of a staircase and watch people +coming up from below. He stored that fact in his mental reservoirs. And +now that he had got into his rooms, he proceeded to seek for more +facts. First, as to the rooms themselves—he wanted to know all about +them, because he had carefully noticed, while looking at the plan of +that floor in the office downstairs, that Burchill’s flat was arranged +exactly like his own. And Triffitt’s flat was like this—you entered +through a double door into a good-sized sitting-room, out of which two +other rooms led—one went into a small kitchen and pantry; the other +into the bedroom, at the side of which was a little bathroom. The +windows of the bedroom opened on to a view of the street below; those of +the sitting-room on to a square of garden, on the lawn of which tenants +might disport themselves, more or less sadly, with tennis or croquet in +summer.</p> + +<p>Triffitt looked out of his sitting-room windows last of all. He then +perceived with great joy that in front of them was a balcony, and that +this balcony stretched across the entire front of the house. There were, +in fact, balconies to all five floors—the notion being, of course, that +occupants could whenever they pleased sit out there in such sunlight as +struggled between their own roof and the tall buildings opposite. It +immediately occurred to Triffitt that here was an easy way of making a +call upon your next door neighbour; instead of crossing the corridor and +knocking at his door, you had nothing to do but walk along the balcony +and tap at his window. Filled with this thought Triffitt immediately +stepped out on his balcony and inspected the windows of his own and the +next flat. He immediately saw something which filled <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>him with a great +idea. Both windows were fitted with patent ventilators, let into the top +panes. Now, supposing one of these ventilators was fully open, and two +people were talking within the room in even the ordinary tones of +conversation—would it not be possible for an eavesdropper outside to +hear a good deal, if not everything, of what was said? The idea was +worth thinking over, anyway, and Triffitt retired indoors to ruminate +over it and over much else.</p> + +<p>For two or three days nothing happened. Twice Triffitt met Burchill on +the stairs—Burchill, of course, did not know him from Adam, and gave +him no more than the mere glance he would have thrown at any other +ordinary young man. Triffitt, however, gave Burchill more than a passing +look—unobtrusively. Certainly he was the man whom he had seen in the +dock nine years before in that far-off Scottish town—there was little +appreciable alteration in his appearance, except that he was now very +smartly dressed. There were peculiarities about the fellow, said +Triffitt, which you couldn’t forget—certainly, Frank Burchill was +Francis Bentham.</p> + +<p>But on the third day, two things happened—one connected directly with +Triffitt’s new venture, the other not. The first was that as Triffitt +was going down the stairs that afternoon, on his way to the office, at +which he kept looking in now and then, although he was relieved from +regular attendance and duty, he met Barthorpe Herapath coming up. +Triffitt thanked his lucky stars that the staircase was badly lighted, +and that this was an unusually gloomy November <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>day. True, Barthorpe had +only once seen him, that he knew of—that morning at the estate office, +when he, Triffitt, had asked Selwood for information—but then, some men +have sharp memories for faces, and Barthorpe might recognize him and +wonder what an <i>Argus</i> man was doing there in Calengrove Mansions. So +Triffitt quickly pulled the flap of the Trilby hat about his nose, and +sank his chin lower into the turned-up collar of his overcoat, and +hurried past the tall figure. And Barthorpe on his part never looked at +the reporter—or if he did, took no more heed of him than of the +balustrade at his side.</p> + +<p>“That’s one thing established, anyway!” mused Triffitt as he went his +way. “Barthorpe Herapath is in touch with Burchill. The dead man’s +nephew and the dead man’s ex-secretary—um! Putting their heads +together—about what?”</p> + +<p>He was still pondering this question when he reached the office and +found a note from Carver who wanted to see him at once. Triffitt went +round to the <i>Magnet</i> and got speech with Carver in a quiet corner. +Carver went straight to his point.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got him,” he said, eyeing his fellow-conspirator triumphantly.</p> + +<p>“Got—who?” demanded Triffitt.</p> + +<p>“That taxi-cab chap—you know who I mean,” answered Carver. “Ran him +down at noon today.”</p> + +<p>“No!” exclaimed Triffitt. “Gad! Are you sure, though?—is it certain +he’s the man you were after?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + +<p>“He’s the chap who drove a gentleman from near Portman Square to just by +St. Mary Abbot church at two o’clock on the morning of the Herapath +murder,” replied Carver. “That’s a dead certainty! I risked five pounds +on it, anyway, for which I’ll trouble you. I went on the lines of +rounding up all the cabbies I could find who were as a rule on night +duty round about that quarter, and bit by bit I got on to this fellow, +and, as I say, I gave him a fiver for just telling me a mere bit. And +it’s here—he’s already given some information to that old Mr. +Tertius—you know—and Tertius commanded him to keep absolutely quiet +until the moment came for a move. Well, that moment has not come yet, +evidently—the chap hasn’t been called on since, anyhow—and when I +mentioned money he began to prick his ears. He’s willing to tell—for +money—if we keep dark what he tells us. The truth is, he’s out to get +what he can out of anybody. If you make it worth his while, he’ll tell.”</p> + +<p>“Aye!” said Triffitt. “But the question is, what has he got to tell? +What does he know?—actually know?”</p> + +<p>“He knows,” replied Carver, “he actually knows who the man was that he +drove that morning! He didn’t know who he was when he first gave +information to Tertius, but he knows now, and, as I say, he’s willing to +sell his knowledge—in private.”</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the diamond ring</p> + +<p>Triffitt considered Carver’s report during a moment of mutual silence. +If he had consulted his own personal inclination he would have demanded +to be led straight to the taxi-cab driver. But Triffitt knew himself to +be the expender of the Markledew money, and the knowledge made him +unduly cautious.</p> + +<p>“It comes to this,” he said at last, “this chap knows something which +he’s already told to this Mr. Tertius. Mr. Tertius has in all +probability already told it to the people at New Scotland Yard. They, of +course, will use the information at their own time and in their own way. +But what we want is something new—something startling—something good!”</p> + +<p>“I tell you the fellow’s got all that,” said Carver. “He knows the man +whom he drove that morning. Isn’t that good enough?”</p> + +<p>“Depend upon how I can bring it out,” answered Triffitt. “Well, when can +I see this chap?”</p> + +<p>“Tonight—seven o’clock,” replied Carver. “I fixed that, in +anticipation.”</p> + +<p>“And—where?” demanded Triffitt.</p> + +<p>“I’ll go with you—it’s to be at a pub near Orchard Street,” said +Carver. “Better bring money with you—he’ll want cash.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<p>“All right,” agreed Triffitt. “But I’m not going to throw coin about +recklessly. I shall want value.”</p> + +<p>Carver laughed. Triffitt’s sudden caution amused him.</p> + +<p>“I reckon people have to buy pigs in pokes in dealing with this sort of +thing, Triff,” he said. “But whether the chap’s information’s good for +much or not, I’m certain it’s genuine. Well, come round here again at +six-thirty.”</p> + +<p>Triffitt, banknotes in pocket, went round again at six-thirty, and was +duly conducted Oxford Street way by Carver, who eventually led him into +a network of small streets, in which the mews and the stable appeared to +be conspicuous features, and to the bar-parlour of a somewhat dingy +tavern, at that hour little frequented. And at precisely seven o’clock +the door of the parlour opened and a face showed itself, recognized +Carver, and grinned. Carver beckoned the face into a corner, and having +formally introduced his friend Triffitt, suggested liquid refreshment. +The face assented cordially, and having obscured itself for a moment +behind a pint pot, heaved a sigh of gratification, and seemed desirous +of entering upon business.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> + +<p>“But it ain’t, of course, to go no further—at present,” said the owner +of the face. “Not into no newspapers nor nothing, <i>at</i> present. I don’t +mind telling you young gents, if it’s made worth my while, of course, +but as things is, I don’t want the old gent in Portman Square to know as +how I’ve let on—d’ye see? Of course, I ain’t seen nothing of him never +since I called there, and he gave me a couple o’ quid, and told me to +expect more—only the more’s a long time o’ coming, and if I do see my +way to turning a honest penny by what I knows, why, then, d’ye see——”</p> + +<p>“I see, very well,” assented Triffitt. “And what might your idea of an +honest penny be, now?”</p> + +<p>The taxi-cab driver silently regarded his questioner. He had already had +a five-pound note out of Carver, who carried a small fund about him in +case of emergency; he was speculating on his chances of materially +increasing this, and his eyes grew greedy.</p> + +<p>“Well, now, guv’nor, what’s your own notion of that?” he asked at last. +“I’m a poor chap, you know, and I don’t often get a chance o’ making a +bit in this way. What’s it worth—what I can tell, you know—to you? +This here young gentleman was keen enough about it this afternoon, +guv’nor.”</p> + +<p>“Depends,” answered Triffitt. “You’d better answer a question or two. +First—you haven’t told the old gentleman in Portman Square—Mr. +Tertius—any more than what you told my friend here you’d told him?”</p> + +<p>“Not a word more, guv’nor! ’Cause why—I ain’t seen him since.”</p> + +<p>“And you’ve told nothing to the police?”</p> + +<p>“The police ain’t never come a-nigh me, and I ain’t been near them. What +the old chap said was—wait! And I’ve waited and ain’t heard nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Wherefore,” observed Triffitt sardonically, “you want to make a bit.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Ain’t no harm in a man doing his best for his-elf, guv’nor, I hope,” +said the would-be informant. “If I don’t look after myself, who’s +a-going to look after me—I asks you that, now?”</p> + +<p>“And I ask you—how much?” said Triffitt. “Out with it!”</p> + +<p>The taxi-cab driver considered, eyeing his prospective customer +furtively.</p> + +<p>“The other gent told you what it is I can tell, guv’nor?” he said at +last. “It’s information of what you might call partik’lar importance, is +that.”</p> + +<p>“I know—you can tell the name of the man whom you drove that morning +from the corner of Orchard Street to Kensington High Street,” replied +Triffitt. “It may be important—it mayn’t. You see, the police haven’t +been in any hurry to approach you, have they? Come now, give it a name?”</p> + +<p>The informant summoned up his resolution.</p> + +<p>“Cash down—on the spot, guv’nor?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Spot cash,” replied Triffitt. “On this table!”</p> + +<p>“Well—how would a couple o’ fivers be, now?” asked the anxious one. +“It’s good stuff, guv’nor.”</p> + +<p>“A couple of fivers will do,” answered Triffitt. “And here they are.” He +took two brand-new, crackling five-pound notes from his pocket, folded +them up, laid them on the table, and set a glass on them. “Now, then!” +he said. “Tell your tale—there’s your money when it’s told.”</p> + +<p>The taxi-cab driver eyed the notes, edged his chair further into the +half-lighted corner in which Triffitt and Carver sat, and dropped his +voice to a whisper.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + +<p>“All right, guv’nor,” he said. “Thanking you. Then it’s this here—the +man what I drove that morning was the nephew!”</p> + +<p>“You mean Mr. Barthorpe Herapath?” said Triffitt, also in a whisper.</p> + +<p>“That’s him—that’s the identical, sir! Of course,” continued the +informant, “I didn’t know nothing of that when I told the old gent in +Portman Square what I did tell him. Now, you see, I wasn’t called at +that inquest down there at Kensington—after what I’d told the old gent, +I expected to be, but I wasn’t. All the same, there’s been a deal of +talk around about the corner of Orchard Street, and, of course, there is +them in that quarter as knows all the parties concerned, and this man +Barthorpe, as you call him, was pointed out to me as the nephew—nephew +to him as was murdered that night. And then, of course, I knew it was +him as I took up at two o’clock that morning.”</p> + +<p>“How did you know?” asked Triffitt.</p> + +<p>The taxi-cab driver held up a hand and tapped a brass ring on its third +finger.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Where I wears that ring, gentlemen,” he said triumphantly, “he wears a +fine diamond—a reg’lar swell ’un. That morning, when he got into my +cab, he rested his hand a minute on the door, and the light from one o’ +the lamps across the street shone full on the stone. Now, then, when +this here Barthorpe was pointed out to me in Orchard Street, a few days +ago, as the nephew of Jacob Herapath, he was talking to another +gentleman, and as they stood there he lighted a cigar, and when he put +his hand up, I see that ring again—no mistaking it, guv’nor! He was +the man. And, from what I’ve read, it seems to me it was him as put on +his uncle’s coat and hat after the old chap was settled, and——”</p> + +<p>“If I were you, I’d keep those theories to myself—yet awhile, at any +rate,” said Triffitt. “In fact—I want you to. Here!” he went on, +removing the glass and pushing the folded banknotes towards the taxi-cab +driver, “put those in your pocket. And keep your mouth shut about having +seen and told me. I shan’t make any use—public use, anyway—of what +you’ve said, just yet. If the old gentleman, Tertius, comes to you, or +the police come along with or without him, you can tell ’em anything you +like—everything you’ve told me if you please—it doesn’t matter, now. +But you’re on no account to tell them that I’ve seen you and that you’ve +spilt to me—do you understand?”</p> + +<p>The informant understood readily enough, and promised with equal +readiness, even going so far as to say that that would suit him down to +the ground.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Triffitt, “keep a still tongue as regards me, and +there’ll be another fiver for you. Now, Carver, we’ll get.”</p> + +<p>Outside Triffitt gave his companion’s arm a confidential squeeze.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Things are going well!” he said. “I wasn’t a bit surprised at what that +fellow told me—I expected it. What charms me is that Barthorpe +Herapath, who is certainly to be strongly suspected, is in touch with +Burchill—I didn’t tell you that I met him on the stairs at Calengrove +Mansions this afternoon. Of course, he was going to see my next-door +neighbour! What about, friend Carver?”</p> + +<p>“If you could answer your own last question, we should know something,” +replied Carver.</p> + +<p>“We know something as it is,” said Triffitt. “Enough for me to tell +Markledew, anyway. I don’t see so far into all this, myself, but +Markledew’s the sort of chap who can look through three brick walls and +see a mole at work in whatever’s behind the third, and he’ll see +something in what I tell him, and I’ll do the telling as soon as he +comes down tomorrow morning.”</p> + +<p>Markledew listened to Triffitt’s story next day in his usual rapt +silence. The silence remained unbroken for some time after Triffitt had +finished. And eventually Markledew got up from his elbow-chair and +reached for his hat.</p> + +<p>“You can come with me,” he said. “We’ll just ride as far as New Scotland +Yard.”</p> + +<p>Triffitt felt himself turning pale. New Scotland Yard! Was he then to +share his discoveries with officials? In spite of his awful veneration +for the great man before him he could not prevent two words of +despairing ejaculation escaping from his lips.</p> + +<p>“The police!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Just so—the police,” answered Markledew, calmly. “I mean to work this +in connection with them. No need to alarm yourself, young man—I know +what you’re thinking. But you won’t lose any ‘kudos’—I’m quite +satisfied with you so far. But we can’t do without the police—and they +may be glad of even a hint from us. Now run down and get a taxi-cab and +I’ll meet you outside.”</p> + +<p>Triffitt had never been within the mazes of New Scotland Yard in his +life, and had often wished that business would take him there. It was +very soon plain to him, however, that his proprietor knew his way about +the Criminal Investigation Department as well as he knew the <i>Argus</i> +office. Markledew was quickly closeted with the high official who had +seen Mr. Halfpenny and Mr. Tertius a few days previously; while they +talked, Triffitt was left to kick his heels in a waiting-room. When he +was eventually called in, he found not only the high official and +Markledew, but another man whose name was presently given to him as +Davidge.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Davidge,” observed the high official, “is in charge of this case. +Will you just tell him your story?”</p> + +<p>It appeared to Triffitt that Mr. Davidge was the least impressionable, +most stolid man he had ever known. Davidge showed no sign of interest; +Triffitt began to wonder if anything could ever surprise him. He +listened in dead silence to all that the reporter had to say; when +Triffitt had finished he looked apathetically at his superior.</p> + +<p>“I think, sir, I will just step round to Mr. Halfpenny’s office,” he +remarked. “Perhaps Mr. Triffitt will accompany me?—then he and I can +have a bit of a talk.”</p> + +<p>Triffitt looked at Markledew: Markledew nodded his big head.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Go with him,” said Markledew. “Work with him! He knows what he’s +after.”</p> + +<p>Davidge took Triffitt away to Mr. Halfpenny’s office—on the way thither +he talked about London fogs, one of which had come down that morning. +But he never mentioned the business in hand until—having left Triffitt +outside while he went in—he emerged from Mr. Halfpenny’s room. Then he +took the reporter’s arm and led him away, and his manner changed to one +of interest and even enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“Well, young fellow!” he said, leading Triffitt down the street, “you’re +the chap I wanted to get hold of!—you’re a godsend. And so you really +have a flat next to that occupied by the person whom we’ll refer to as +F. B., eh?”</p> + +<p>“I have,” answered Triffitt, who was full of wonderment.</p> + +<p>“Good—good!—couldn’t be better!” murmured the detective. “Now then—I +dare say you’d be quite pleased if I called on you at your flat—quietly +and unobtrusively—at say seven o’clock tonight, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Delighted!” answered Triffitt. “Of course!”</p> + +<p>“Very good,” said Davidge. “Then at seven o’clock tonight I shall be +there. In the meantime—not a word. You’re curious to know why I’m +coming? All right—keep your curiosity warm till I come—I’ll satisfy +it. Tonight, mind, young man—seven, sharp!”</p> + +<p>Then he gave Triffitt’s arm a squeeze and winked an eye at him, and at +once set off in one direction, while the reporter, mystified and +inquisitive, turned in another.</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the deserted flat</p> + +<p>When Triffitt had fairly separated from the detective and had come to +reckon up the events of that morning he became definitely conscious of +one indisputable fact. The police knew more than he did. The police were +in possession of information which had not come his way. The police were +preparing some big <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><i>coup</i></span>. Therefore—the police would get all the +glory.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> + +<p>This was not what Triffitt had desired. He had wanted to find things out +for himself, to make a grand discovery, to be able to go to Markledew +and prove his case. Markledew could then have done what he pleased; it +had always been in Triffitt’s mind that Markledew would in all +probability present the result of his reporter’s labours to the people +at Scotland Yard. But Markledew had become somewhat previous—he had +insisted that Triffitt should talk to the Scotland Yard folk at this +early—in Triffitt’s view, much too early—stage of the proceedings. And +Triffitt had felt all the time he was talking that he was only telling +the high official and the apathetic Davidge something that they already +knew. He had told them about his memories of Bentham and the Scottish +murder trial—something convinced him that they were already well +acquainted with that story. He had narrated the incident of the taxi-cab +driver: he was sure that they were quite well aware that the man who had +been driven from Orchard Street to St. Mary Abbot church that morning +after the murder was Barthorpe Herapath. Their cold eyes and polite, yet +almost chillingly indifferent manner had convinced Triffitt that they +were just listening to something with which they were absolutely +familiar. Never a gleam of interest had betrayed itself in their stolid +official faces until he had referred to the fact that he himself was +living in a flat next door to Burchill’s. Then, indeed, the detective +had roused himself almost to eagerness, and now he was coming to see +him, Triffitt, quietly and unobtrusively. Why?</p> + +<p>“All the same,” mused Triffitt, “I shall maybe prove a small cog in the +bigger mechanism, and that’s something. And Markledew was satisfied, +anyway, so far. And if I don’t get something out of that chap Davidge +tonight, write me down an ass!”</p> + +<p>From half-past six that evening, Triffitt, who had previously made some +ingenious arrangements with the slit of his letter-box, by which he +could keep an eye on the corridor outside, kept watch on Burchill’s +door—he had an instinctive notion that Davidge, when he arrived, would +be glad to know whether the gentleman opposite was in or out. At a +quarter to seven Burchill went out in evening dress, cloak, and opera +hat, making a fine figure as he struck the light of the corridor lamp. +And ten minutes later Triffitt heard steps coming along the corridor and +he opened the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>door to confront Davidge and another man, a +quiet-looking, innocent-visaged person. Davidge waved a hand towards his +companion.</p> + +<p>“Evening, Mr. Triffitt,” said he. “Friend of mine—Mr. Milsey. You’ll +excuse the liberty, I’m sure.”</p> + +<p>“Glad to see both of you,” answered Triffitt, cordially. He led the way +into his sitting-room, drew chairs forward, and produced refreshments +which he had carefully laid in during the afternoon in preparation. +“Drop of whisky and soda, gentlemen?” he said, hospitably. “Let me help +you. Will you try a cigar?”</p> + +<p>“Very kind of you,” replied Davidge. “A slight amount of the liquid’ll +do us no harm, but no cigars, thank you, Mr. Triffitt. Cigars are apt to +leave a scent, an odour, about one’s clothes, however careful you may +be, and we don’t want to leave any traces of our presence where we’re +going, do we, Jim?”</p> + +<p>“Not much,” assented Mr. Milsey, laconically. “Wouldn’t do.”</p> + +<p>Triffitt handed round the glasses and took a share himself.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he said. “That’s interesting! And where are you going, now—if one +may ask?”</p> + +<p>Davidge nodded his desires for his host’s good health, and then gave him +a wink.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>“We propose to go in there,” he said with a jerk of his thumb towards +Burchill’s flat. “It’s what I’ve been wanting to do for three or four +days, but I didn’t see my way clear without resorting to a lot of +things—search-warrant, and what not—and it would have meant collusion +with the landlord here, and the clerk downstairs, and I don’t know what +all, so I put it off a bit. But when you told me that you’d got this +flat, why, then, I saw my way! Of course, I’ve been familiar with the +lie of these flats for a week—I saw the plans of ’em downstairs as soon +as I started on to this job.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve been on this job from the beginning, then—in connection with +him?” exclaimed Triffitt, nodding towards the door.</p> + +<p>“We’ve never had him out of our sight since I started,” replied Davidge, +coolly, “except when he’s been within his own four walls—where we’re +presently going. Oh, yes—we’ve watched him.”</p> + +<p>“He’s out now,” remarked Triffitt.</p> + +<p>“We know that,” said Davidge. “We know where he’s gone. There’s a first +night, a new play, at the Terpsichoreum—he’s gone there. He’s safe +enough till midnight, so we’ve plenty of time. We just want to have a +look around his little nest while he’s off it, d’you see?”</p> + +<p>“How are you going to get in?” asked Triffitt.</p> + +<p>Davidge nodded towards the window of the sitting-room.</p> + +<p>“By way of that balcony,” he answered. “I told you I knew all about how +these flats are arranged. That balcony’s mighty convenient, for the +window’ll not be any more difficult than ordinary.”</p> + +<p>“It’ll be locked, you know,” observed Triffitt, with a glance at his +own. “Mine is, anyway, and you can bet his will be, too.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh—that doesn’t matter,” said Davidge, carelessly. “We’re prepared. +Show Mr. Triffitt your kit, Jim—all pals here.”</p> + +<p>The innocent-looking Mr. Milsey, who, during this conversation, had +mechanically sipped at his whisky and soda and reflectively gazed at the +various pictures with which the absent Mr. Stillwater had decorated the +walls of his parlour, plunged a hand into some deep recess in his +overcoat and brought out an oblong case which reminded Triffitt of +nothing so much as those Morocco or Russian-leather affairs in which a +knife, a fork, and a spoon repose on padded blue satin and form an +elegant present to a newly-born infant. Mr. Milsey snapped open the lid +of his case, and revealed, instead of spoon or fork or knife a number of +shining keys, of all sorts and sizes and strange patterns, all of +delicate make and of evidently superior workmanship. He pushed the case +across the table to the corner at which Triffitt was sitting, and +Davidge regarded it fondly in transit.</p> + +<p>“Pretty things, ain’t they?” he said. “Good workmanship there! There’s +not very much that you could lock up—in the ordinary way of drawers, +boxes, desks, and so on—that Milsey there couldn’t get into with the +help of one or other of those little friends—what, Jim?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing!—always excepting a safe,” assented Mr. Milsey.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well, we don’t suppose our friend next door keeps an article of that +description on his premises,” said Davidge cheerfully. “But we expect +he’s got a desk, or a private drawer, or something of that nature in +which we may find a few little matters of interest and importance—it’s +curious, Mr. Triffitt—we’re constantly taking notice of it in the +course of our professional duties—it’s curious how men will keep by +them bits of paper that they ought to throw into the fire, and objects +that they’d do well to cast into the Thames! Ah!—I’ve known one case in +which a mere scrap of a letter hanged a man, and another in which a bit +of string got a chap fifteen years of the very best—fact, sir! You +never know what you may come across during a search.”</p> + +<p>“You’re going to search his rooms?” asked Triffitt.</p> + +<p>“Something of that sort,” replied Davidge. “Just a look round, you know, +and a bit of a peep into his private receptacles.”</p> + +<p>“Then—you’re suspecting him in connection with this——” began +Triffitt.</p> + +<p>Davidge stopped him with a look, and slowly drank off the contents of +his glass. Then he rose.</p> + +<p>“We’ll talk of those matters later,” he said significantly. “Now that my +gentleman’s safely away I think we’ll set to work. It’ll take a bit of +time. And first of all, Mr. Triffitt, we’ll examine your balcony door—I +know enough about these modern flats to know that everything’s pretty +much alike in them as regards fittings, and if your door’s easy to open, +so will the door of the next be. Now we’ll just let Jim there go outside +with his apparatus, and we’ll lock your balcony door on him, and then +see if he finds any difficulty in getting in. To it, Jim!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Milsey, thus adjured, went out on the balcony with his little case +and was duly locked out. Within two minutes he opened the door and +stepped in with a satisfied grin.</p> + +<p>“Easy as winking!” said Mr. Milsey. “It’s what you might call one of +your penny plain locks, this—and t’other’ll be like it. No difficulty +about this job, anyway.”</p> + +<p>“Then we’ll get to work,” said Davidge. “Mr. Triffitt, I can’t ask you +to come with us, because that wouldn’t be according to etiquette. Sit +you down and read your book and smoke your pipe and drink your drop—and +maybe we’ll have something to tell you when our job’s through.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve no fear of interruption?” asked Triffitt, who would vastly have +preferred action to inaction. “Supposing—you know how things do and +will turn out sometimes—supposing he came back?”</p> + +<p>Davidge shook his head and smiled grimly and knowingly.</p> + +<p>“No,” he said. “He’ll not come back—at least, if he did, we should be +well warned. I’ve more than one man at work on this job, Mr. Triffitt, +and if his lordship changed the course of his arrangements and returned +this way, one of my chaps would keep him in conversation while another +hurried up here to give us the office by a few taps on the outer door. +No!—we’re safe enough. Sit you down and don’t bother about us. Come on, +Jim—we’ll get to it.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>Triffitt tried to follow the detective’s advice—he was just then deep +in a French novel of the high-crime order, and he picked it up when the +two men had gone out on the balcony and endeavoured to get interested in +it. But he speedily discovered that the unravelling of crime on paper +was nothing like so fascinating as the actual participation in detection +of crime in real life, and he threw the book aside and gave himself up +to waiting. What were those two doing in Burchill’s rooms? What were +they finding? What would the result be?</p> + +<p>Certainly Davidge and his man took their time. Eight o’clock came and +went—nine o’clock, ten o’clock followed and sped into the past, and +they were still there. It was drawing near to eleven, and they had been +in those rooms well over three hours, when a slight sound came at +Triffitt’s window and Davidge put his head in, to be presently followed +by Milsey. Milsey looked as innocent as ever, but it seemed to Triffitt +that Davidge looked grave.</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Triffitt. “Any luck?”</p> + +<p>Davidge drew the curtains over the balcony window before he turned and +answered this question.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Mr. Triffitt,” he said, when at last he faced round, “you’ll have to +put us up for the night. After what I’ve found, I’m not going to lose +sight, or get out of touch with this man. Now listen, and I’ll tell you, +at any rate, something. Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock there’s to be a +sort of informal inquiry at Mr. Halfpenny’s office into the matter of a +will of the date of Jacob Herapath’s—all the parties concerned are +going to meet there, and I know that this man Burchill is to be present. +I don’t propose to lose sight of him after he returns here tonight +until he goes to that office—what happens after he’s once there, you +shall see. So Milsey and I’ll just have to trouble you to let me stop +here for the night. You can go to your bed, of course—we’ll sit up. +I’ll send Milsey out to buy a bit of supper for us—I dare say he’ll +find something open close by.”</p> + +<p>“No need,” Triffitt hastened to say. “I’ve a cold meat pie, uncut, and +plenty of bread, and cheese. And there’s bottled ale, and whisky, and +I’ll get you some supper ready at once. So”—he went on, as he began to +bustle about—“you did find—something?”</p> + +<p>Davidge rubbed his hands and winked first at Milsey and then at +Triffitt.</p> + +<p>“Wait till tomorrow!” he said. “There’ll be strange news for you +newspaper gentlemen before tomorrow night.”</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">yea and nay</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny, face to face with the fact that Barthorpe Herapath meant +mischief about the will, put on his thinking-cap and gave himself up to +a deep and serious consideration of the matter. He thought things over +as he journeyed home to his house in the country; he spent an evening in +further thought; he was still thinking when he went up to town next +morning. The result of his cogitations was that after giving certain +instructions in his office as to the next steps to be taken towards duly +establishing Jacob Herapath’s will, he went round to Barthorpe +Herapath’s office and asked to see him.</p> + +<p>Barthorpe himself came out of his private room and showed some +politeness in ushering his caller within. His manner seemed to be +genuinely frank and unaffected: Mr. Halfpenny was considerably puzzled +by it. Was Barthorpe playing a part, or was all this real? That, of +course, must be decided by events: Mr. Halfpenny was not going to lose +any time in moving towards them, whatever they might turn out to be. He +accordingly went straight to the point.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> + +<p>“My dear sir,” he began, bending confidentially towards Barthorpe, who +had taken a seat at his desk and was waiting for his visitor to speak, +“you have entered a caveat against the will in the Probate Registry.”</p> + +<p>“I have,” answered Barthorpe, with candid alacrity. “Of course!”</p> + +<p>“You intend to contest the matter?” inquired Mr. Halfpenny.</p> + +<p>“Certainly!” replied Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny gathered a good deal from the firm and decisive tone in +which this answer was made. Clearly there was something in the air of +which he was wholly ignorant.</p> + +<p>“You no doubt believe that you have good reason for your course of +action,” he observed.</p> + +<p>“The best reasons,” said Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny ruminated a little, silently.</p> + +<p>“After all,” he said at last, “there are only two persons really +concerned—your cousin, Miss Wynne, and yourself. I propose to make an +offer to you.”</p> + +<p>“Always willing to be reasonable, Mr. Halfpenny,” answered Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>“Very good,” said Mr. Halfpenny. “Of course, I see no possible reason +for doubting the validity of the will. From our side, litigation must go +on in the usual course. But I have a proposal to make to you. It is +this—will you meet your cousin at my office, with all the +persons—witnesses to the will, I mean—and state your objections to the +will? In short, let us have what we may call a family discussion about +it—it may prevent much litigation.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe considered this suggestion for a while.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What you really mean is that I should come to your offices and tell my +cousin and you why I am fighting this will,” he said eventually. “That +it?”</p> + +<p>“Practically—yes,” assented Mr. Halfpenny.</p> + +<p>“Whom do you propose to have present?” asked Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>“Yourself, your cousin, myself, the two witnesses, and, as a friend of +everybody concerned, Professor Cox-Raythwaite,” replied Mr. Halfpenny. +“No one else is necessary.”</p> + +<p>“And you wish me to tell, plainly, why I refuse to believe that the will +is genuine?” asked Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>“Certainly—yes,” assented Mr. Halfpenny.</p> + +<p>Barthorpe hesitated, eyeing the old lawyer doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“It will be a painful business—for my cousin,” he said.</p> + +<p>“If—I really haven’t the faintest notion of what you mean!” exclaimed +Mr. Halfpenny. “But if—if it will be painful for your cousin to hear +this—whatever it is—in private, it would be much more painful for her +to hear it in public. I gather, of course, that you have some strange +revelation to make. Surely, it would be most considerate to her to make +it in what we may call the privacy of the family circle, Cox-Raythwaite +and myself.”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t the least objection to Cox-Raythwaite’s presence, nor yours,” +said Barthorpe. “Very good—I’ll accept your proposal—it will, as you +say, save a lot of litigation. Now—when?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Today is Tuesday,” said Mr. Halfpenny. “What do you say to next Friday +morning, at ten o’clock?”</p> + +<p>“Friday will do,” answered Barthorpe. “I will be there at ten o’clock. I +shall leave it to you to summon all the parties concerned. By the by, +have you Burchill’s address?”</p> + +<p>“I have,” replied Mr. Halfpenny. “I will communicate with him at once.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe nodded, rose from his seat, and walked with his visitor +towards the door of his private room.</p> + +<p>“Understand, Mr. Halfpenny,” he said, “I’m agreeing to this to oblige +you. And if the truth is very painful to my cousin, well, as you say, +it’s better for her to hear it in private than in a court of justice. +All right, then—Friday at ten.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny went back to his own office, astonished and marvelling. +What on earth were these revelations which Barthorpe hinted at—these +unpleasant truths which would so wound and hurt Peggie Wynne? Could it +be possible that there really was some mystery about that will of which +only Barthorpe knew the secret? It was incomprehensible to Mr. Halfpenny +that any man could be so cool, so apparently cocksure about matters as +Barthorpe was unless he felt absolutely certain of his own case. What +that case could be, Mr. Halfpenny could not imagine—the only thing +really certain was that Barthorpe seemed resolved on laying it bare when +Friday came.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + +<p>“God bless me!—it’s a most extraordinary complication altogether!” +mused Mr. Halfpenny, once more alone in his own office. “It’s very +evident to me that Barthorpe Herapath is absolutely ignorant that he’s +suspected, and that the police are at work on him! What a surprise for +him if the thing comes to a definite head, and—but let us see what +Friday morning brings.”</p> + +<p>Friday morning brought Barthorpe to Mr. Halfpenny’s offices in good +time. He came alone; a few minutes after his arrival Peggie Wynne, +nervous and frightened, came, attended by Mr. Tertius and Professor +Cox-Raythwaite. All these people were at once ushered into Mr. +Halfpenny’s private room, where polite, if constrained, greetings +passed. At five minutes past ten o’clock Mr. Halfpenny looked at +Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>“We’re only waiting for Mr. Burchill,” he remarked. “I wrote to him +after seeing you, and I received a reply from him in which he promised +to be here at ten this morning. It’s now——”</p> + +<p>But at that moment the door opened to admit Mr. Frank Burchill, who, all +unconscious of the fact that more than one pair of sharp eyes had +followed him from his flat to Mr. Halfpenny’s office, and that their +owners were now in the immediate vicinity, came in full of polite +self-assurance, and executed formal bows while he gracefully apologised +to Mr. Halfpenny for being late.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> + +<p>“It’s all right, all right, Mr. Burchill,” said the old lawyer, a little +testy under the last-comer’s polite phrases, all of which he thought +unnecessary. “Five or ten minutes won’t make any great difference. Take +a seat, pray: I think if we all sit around this centre table of mine it +will be more convenient. We can begin at once now, Mr. Barthorpe +Herapath—I have already given strict instructions that we are not to be +disturbed, on any account. My dear—perhaps you will sit here by +me?—Mr. Tertius, you sit next to Miss Wynne—Professor——”</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny’s dispositions of his guests placed Peggie and her two +companions on one side of a round table; Barthorpe and Burchill at the +other—Mr. Halfpenny himself sat at the head. And as soon as he had +taken his own seat, he looked at Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>“This, of course,” he began, “is a quite informal meeting. We are here, +as I understand matters, to hear why you, Mr. Barthorpe Herapath, object +to your late uncle’s will, and why you intend to dispute it. So I +suppose the next thing to do will be to ask you to state your grounds.”</p> + +<p>But Barthorpe shook his head with a decisive motion.</p> + +<p>“No,” he answered. “Not at all! The first thing to do, Mr. Halfpenny, in +my opinion, is to hear what is to be said in favour of the will. The +will itself, I take it, is in your possession. I have seen it—I mean, I +have seen the document which purports to be a will of the late Jacob +Herapath—so I admit its existence. Two persons are named on that +document as witnesses: Mr. Tertius, Mr. Burchill. They are both present +now; at your request. I submit that the proper procedure is to question +them both as to the circumstances under which this alleged will was +made.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I have no objections to that,” answered Mr. Halfpenny. “I have no +objection—neither, I am sure, has Miss Wynne—to anything you propose. +Well, we take it for granted that this document exists—it is, of +course, in my safe keeping. Every person has seen it, one time or +another. We have here the two gentlemen who witnessed Jacob Herapath’s +signature and each other’s. So I will first ask the elder of the two to +tell us what he recollects of the matter. Now, Mr. Tertius?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius, who since his arrival had shown as much nervousness as +would probably have signalised his appearance in a witness-box, started +at this direct appeal.</p> + +<p>“You—er, wish me——” he began, with an almost blank stare at Mr. +Halfpenny. “You want me to——”</p> + +<p>“Come, come!” said Mr. Halfpenny. “This is as I have already said, an +informal gathering. We needn’t have any set forms or cut-and-dried +procedure. I want you—we all want you—to tell us what you remember +about the making of Jacob Herapath’s will. Tell us in your own way, in +whatever terms you like. Then we shall hear what your fellow-witness has +to say.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you’ll let me suggest something,” broke in Barthorpe, who had +obviously been thinking matters over. “Lay the alleged will on the table +before you, Mr. Halfpenny—question the two opposed witnesses on it. +That will simplify things.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny considered this proposition for a moment or two; then +having whispered to Peggie <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>and received her assent, he went across to a +safe and presently returned with the will, which he placed on a +writing-pad that lay in front of him.</p> + +<p>“Now, Mr. Tertius,” he said. “Look at this will, which purports to have +been made on the eighteenth day of April last. I understand that Jacob +Herapath called you into his study on the evening of that day and told +you that he wanted you and Mr. Burchill, his secretary, to witness his +signature to a will which he had made—had written out himself. I +understand also that you did witness his signature, attached your own, +in Mr. Herapath’s presence and Mr. Burchill’s presence, and that Mr. +Burchill’s signature was attached under the same conditions. Am I right +in all this?”</p> + +<p>“Quite right,” replied Mr. Tertius. “Quite!”</p> + +<p>“Is this the document which Jacob Herapath produced?”</p> + +<p>“It is—certainly.”</p> + +<p>“Was it all drawn out then?—I am putting these questions to you quite +informally.”</p> + +<p>“It was all written out, except the signatures. Jacob showed us that it +was so written, though he did not allow us to see the wording. But he +showed us plainly that there was nothing to do but to sign. Then he laid +it on the desk, covered most of the sheet of paper with a piece of +blotting paper and signed his name in our presence—I stood on one side +of him, Mr. Burchill on the other. Then Mr. Burchill signed in his +place—beneath mine.”</p> + +<p>“And this,” asked Mr. Halfpenny, pointing to the will, “this is your +signature?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Most certainly!” answered Mr. Tertius.</p> + +<p>“And this,” continued Mr. Halfpenny, “is Jacob Herapath’s?—and this Mr. +Burchill’s? You have no doubt about it?”</p> + +<p>“No more than that I see and hear you,” replied Mr. Tertius. “I have no +doubt.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny turned from Mr. Tertius to Barthorpe Herapath. But +Barthorpe’s face just then revealed nothing. Therefore the old lawyer +turned towards Burchill. And suddenly a sharp idea struck him. He would +settle one point to his own satisfaction at once, by one direct +question. And so he—as it were by impulse—thrust the will before and +beneath Burchill’s eyes, and placed his finger against the third +signature.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Burchill,” he said, “is that your writing?”</p> + +<p>Burchill, calm and self-possessed, glanced at the place which Mr. +Halfpenny indicated, and then lifted his eyes, half sadly, half +deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>“No!” he replied, with a little shake of the head;“No, Mr. Halfpenny, it +is not!”</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the accusation</p> + +<p>The old lawyer, who had bent forward across the table in speaking to +Burchill, pulled himself up sharply on receiving this answer, and for a +second or two stared with a keen, searching gaze at the man he had +questioned, who, on his part, returned the stare with calm assurance. A +deep silence had fallen on the room; nothing broke it until Professor +Cox-Raythwaite suddenly began to tap the table with the ends of his +fingers. The sound roused Mr. Halfpenny to speech and action. He bent +forward again towards Burchill, once more laying a hand on the will.</p> + +<p>“That is not your signature?” he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>Burchill shook his head—this time with a gesture of something very like +contempt.</p> + +<p>“It is not!” he answered.</p> + +<p>“Did you see the late Jacob Herapath write—that?”</p> + +<p>“I did not!”</p> + +<p>“Did you see Mr. Tertius write—that?”</p> + +<p>“I did not!”</p> + +<p>“Have you ever seen this will, this document, before?”</p> + +<p>“Never!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny drew the will towards himself with an impatient movement +and began to replace it in the large envelope from which it had been +taken.</p> + +<p>“In short, you never assisted at the execution of this document—never +saw Jacob Herapath make any will—never witnessed any signature of his +to this?” he said testily. “That’s what you really say—what you +affirm?”</p> + +<p>“Just so,” replied Burchill. “You apprehend me exactly.”</p> + +<p>“Yet you have just heard what Mr. Tertius says! What do you say to that, +Mr. Burchill?”</p> + +<p>“I say nothing to that, Mr. Halfpenny. I have nothing to do with what +Mr. Tertius says. I have answered your questions.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Tertius says that he and you saw Jacob Herapath sign that document, +saw each other sign it! What you say now gives Mr. Tertius the direct +lie, and——”</p> + +<p>“Pardon me, Mr. Halfpenny,” interrupted Burchill quietly. “Mr. Tertius +may be under some strange misapprehension; Mr. Tertius may be suffering +from some curious hallucination. What I say is—I did not see the late +Jacob Herapath sign that paper; I did not sign it myself; I did not see +Mr. Tertius sign it; I have never seen it before!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny made a little snorting sound, got up from his chair, +picked up the envelope which contained the will, walked over to his +safe, deposited the envelope in some inner receptacle, came back, +produced his snuff-box, took a hearty pinch of its <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>contents, snorted +again, and looked hard at Barthorpe.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see the least use in going on with this!” he said. “We have +heard what Mr. Tertius, as one witness, says; we have heard what Mr. +Frank Burchill, as the other witness, says. Mr. Tertius says that he saw +the will executed in Mr. Burchill’s presence; Mr. Burchill denies that +in the fullest and most unqualified fashion. Why waste more time? We had +better separate.”</p> + +<p>But Barthorpe laughed, maliciously.</p> + +<p>“Scarcely!” he said. “You brought us here. It was your own proposal. I +assented. And now that we are here, and you have heard—what you have +heard—I’m going to have my say. You have gone, all along, Mr. +Halfpenny, on the assumption that the piece of paper which you have just +replaced in your safe is a genuine will. That’s what you’ve said—I +believe it’s what you say now. I don’t say so!”</p> + +<p>“What do you say it is, then?” demanded Mr. Halfpenny.</p> + +<p>Barthorpe slightly lowered his voice.</p> + +<p>“I say it’s a forgery!” he answered. “That, I hope, is plain language. A +forgery—from the first word to its last.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” exclaimed Mr. Halfpenny, a little sneeringly. “And who’s the +forger, pray?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That man, there!” said Barthorpe, suddenly pointing to Mr. Tertius. +“He’s the forger! I accuse him to his face of forging every word, every +letter of it from the first stroke to the final one. And I’ll give you +enough evidence to prove it—enough evidence, at any rate, to prove it +to any reasonable man or before a judge and jury. Forgery, I tell you!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny sat down again and became very calm and judicial. And he +had at once to restrain Peggie Wynne, who during Barthorpe’s last speech +had manifested signs of a desire to speak, and had begun to produce a +sealed packet from her muff.</p> + +<p>“Wait, my dear,” said Mr. Halfpenny. “Do not speak just now—you shall +have an opportunity later—leave this to me at present. So you say you +can prove that this will is a forgery, Mr. Barthorpe Herapath?” he +continued, turning to the other side of the table. “Very well—since I +suggested that you should come here, you shall certainly have the +opportunity. But just allow me to ask Mr. Tertius a question—Tertius, +you have heard what Mr. Frank Burchill has just said?”</p> + +<p>“I have!” replied Mr. Tertius. “And—I am amazed!”</p> + +<p>“You stand by what you said yourself? You gave us a perfectly truthful +account of the execution of the will?”</p> + +<p>“I stand by every word I said. I gave you—will give it again, +anywhere!—a perfectly truthful account of the circumstances under which +the will was signed and witnessed. I have made no mistakes—I am under +no hallucination. I am—astonished!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny turned to Barthorpe with a wave of the hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<p>“We are at your disposal, Mr. Barthorpe Herapath,” he said. “I leave +the rest of these proceedings to you. You have openly and unqualifiedly +accused Mr. Tertius of forging the will which we have all seen, and have +said you can prove your accusations. Perhaps you’d better do it. Mind +you!” he added, with a sudden heightening of tone, “mind you, I’m not +asking you to prove anything. But if I know Tertius—and I think I +do—he won’t object to your saying anything you like—we shall, perhaps, +get at the truth by way of what you say. So—say on!”</p> + +<p>“You’re very kind,” retorted Barthorpe. “I shall say on! But—I warned +you—what I’ve got to say will give a good deal of pain to my cousin +there. It would have been far better if you’d kept her out of +this—still, she’d have had to hear it sooner or later in a court of +justice——”</p> + +<p>“It strikes me we shall have to hear a good deal in a court of +justice—as you say, sooner or later,” interrupted Mr. Halfpenny, dryly. +“So I don’t think you need spare Miss Wynne. I should advise you to go +on, and let us become acquainted with what you’ve got to tell us.”</p> + +<p>“Barthorpe!” said Peggie, “I do not mind what pain you give me—you +can’t give me much more than I’ve already been given this morning. But I +wish”—she turned appealingly to Mr. Halfpenny and again began to draw +the sealed packet from her muff—“I do wish, Mr. Halfpenny, you’d let me +say something before——”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Say nothing, my dear, at present,” commanded Mr. Halfpenny, firmly. +“Allow Mr. Barthorpe Herapath to have his say. Now, sir!” he went on, +with a motion of his hand towards the younger solicitor. “Pray let us +hear you.”</p> + +<p>“In my own fashion,” retorted Barthorpe. “You’re not a judge, you know. +Very good—if I give pain to you, Peggie, it’s not my fault. Now, Mr. +Halfpenny,” he continued, turning and pointing contemptuously to Mr. +Tertius, “as this is wholly informal, I’ll begin with an informal yet +pertinent question, to you. Do you know who that man really is?”</p> + +<p>“I believe that gentleman, sir, to be Mr. John Christopher Tertius, and +my very good and much-esteemed friend,” replied Mr. Halfpenny, with +asperity.</p> + +<p>“Pshaw!” sneered Barthorpe. He turned to Professor Cox-Raythwaite. “I’ll +put the same question to you?” he said. “Do you know who he is?”</p> + +<p>“And I give you the same answer, sir,” answered the professor.</p> + +<p>“No doubt!” said Barthorpe, still sneeringly. “The fact is, neither of +you know who he is. So I’ll tell you. He’s an ex-convict. He served a +term of penal servitude for forgery—forgery, do you hear? And his real +name is not Tertius. What it is, and who he really is, and all about +him, I’m going to tell you. Forger—ex-convict—get that into your +minds, all of you. For it’s true!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius, who had started visibly as Barthorpe rapped out the first +of his accusations, and had grown <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>paler as they went on, quietly rose +from his chair.</p> + +<p>“Before this goes further, Halfpenny,” he said, “I should like to have a +word in private with Miss Wynne. Afterwards—and I shan’t detain her +more than a moment—I shall have no objection to hearing anything that +Mr. Barthorpe Herapath has to say. My dear!—step this way with me a +moment, I beg.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny’s private room was an apartment of considerable size, +having in it two large recessed windows. Into one of these Mr. Tertius +led Peggie, and there he spoke a few quiet words to her. Barthorpe +Herapath affected to take no notice, but the other men, watching them +closely, saw the girl start at something which Mr. Tertius said. But she +instantly regained her self-possession and composure, and when she came +back to the table her face, though pale, was firm and resolute. And +Barthorpe looked at her then, and his voice, when he spoke again, was +less aggressive and more civil.</p> + +<p>“It’s not to my taste to bring unpleasant family scandals into public +notice,” he said, “and that’s why I rather welcomed your proposal that +we should discuss this affair in private, Mr. Halfpenny. And now for +what I’ve got to tell you. I shall have to go back a long way in our +family history. My late uncle, Jacob Herapath, was the eldest of the +three children of his father, Matthew Herapath, who was a medical +practitioner at Granchester in Yorkshire—a small town on the Yorkshire +and Lancashire border. The three children were Jacob, Richard, and +Susan. With the main outlines of Jacob Herapath’s career I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>believe we +are all fairly well acquainted. He came to London as a youth, and he +prospered, and became what we know him to have been. Richard, my father, +went out to Canada, when he was very young, settled there, and there he +died.</p> + +<p>“Now we come to Susan, the only daughter. Susan Herapath, at the age of +twenty, married a man named Wynne—Arthur John Wynne, who at that time +was about twenty-five years of age, was the secretary and treasurer of a +recently formed railway—a sort of branch railway on the coast, which +had its head office at Southampton, a coast town. In Southampton, this +Arthur John Wynne and his wife settled down. At the end of a year their +first child was born—my cousin Margaret, who is here with us. When +she—I am putting all this as briefly as I can—when she was about +eighteen months old a sad affair happened. Wynne, who had been living in +a style very much above his position, was suddenly arrested on a charge +of forgery. Investigations proved that he had executed a number of most +skilful and clever forgeries, by which he had defrauded his employers of +a large—a very large—amount of money. He was sent for trial to the +assizes at Lancaster, he was found guilty, and he was sentenced to seven +years’ penal servitude. And almost at once after the trial his wife +died.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Here my late uncle, Jacob Herapath, came forward. He went north, +assumed possession and guardianship of the child, and took her away from +Southampton. He took her into Buckinghamshire and there placed her in +the care of some people named Bristowe, who were farmers near Aylesbury +and whom he knew very well. In the care of Mrs. Bristowe, the child +remained until she was between six and seven years old. Then she was +removed to Jacob Herapath’s own house in Portman Square, where she has +remained ever since. My cousin, I believe, has a very accurate +recollection of her residence with the Bristowes, and she will remember +being brought from Buckinghamshire to London at the time I have spoken +of.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe paused for a moment and looked at Peggie. But Peggie, who was +listening intently with downcast head, made no remark, and he presently +continued.</p> + +<p>“Now, not so very long after that—I mean, after the child was brought +to Portman Square—another person came to the house as a permanent +resident. His name was given to the servants as Mr. Tertius. The +conditions of his residence were somewhat peculiar. He had rooms of his +own; he did as he liked. Sometimes he joined Jacob Herapath at meals; +sometimes he did not. There was an air of mystery about him. What was +it? I will tell you in a word—the mystery or its secret, was this—the +man Tertius, who sits there now, was in reality the girl’s father! He +was Arthur John Wynne, the ex-convict—the clever forger!”</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">cold steel</p> + +<p>The two men who formed what one may call the alien and impartial +audience at that table were mutually and similarly impressed by a +certain feature of Barthorpe Herapath’s speech—its exceeding +malevolence. As he went on from sentence to sentence, his eyes +continually turned to Mr. Tertius, who sat, composed and impassive, +listening, and in them was a gleam which could not be mistaken—the +gleam of bitter, personal dislike. Mr. Halfpenny and Professor +Cox-Raythwaite both saw that look and drew their own conclusions, and +when Barthorpe spat out his last words, the man of science turned to the +man of law and muttered a sharp sentence in Latin which no one else +caught. And Mr. Halfpenny nodded and muttered a word or two back before +he turned to Barthorpe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Even supposing—mind, I only say supposing—even supposing you are +correct in all you say—and I don’t know that you are,” he said, “what +you have put before us does nothing to prove that the will which we have +just inspected is not what we believe it to be—we, at any rate—the +valid will of Jacob Herapath. You know as well as I do that you’d have +to give stronger grounds than that before a judge and jury.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll give you my grounds,” answered Barthorpe eagerly. He bent over the +table in his eagerness, and the old lawyer suddenly realized that +Barthorpe genuinely believed himself to be in the right. “I’ll give you +my grounds without reserve. Consider them—I’ll check them off, point by +point—you can follow them:</p> + +<p>“First. It was well known—to me, at any rate, that my uncle Jacob +Herapath, had never made a will.</p> + +<p>“Second. Is it not probable that if he wanted to make a will he would +have employed me, who had acted as his solicitor for fifteen years?</p> + +<p>“Third. I had a conversation with him about making a will just under a +year ago, and he then said he’d have it done, and he mentioned that he +should divide his estate equally between me and my cousin there.</p> + +<p>“Fourth. Mr. Burchill here absolutely denies all knowledge of this +alleged will.</p> + +<p>“Fifth. My uncle’s handwriting, as you all know, was exceedingly plain +and very easy to imitate. Burchill’s handwriting is similarly plain—of +the copperplate sort—and just as easy to imitate.</p> + +<p>“Sixth. That man across there is an expert forger! I have the account of +his trial at Lancaster Assizes—the evidence shows that his work was +most expert. Is it likely that his hand should have lost its +cunning—even after several years?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Seventh. That man there had every opportunity of forging this will. +With his experience and knowledge it would be a simple matter to him. He +did it with the idea of getting everything into the hands of his own +daughter, of defrauding me of my just rights. Since my uncle’s death he +has made two attempts to see Burchill privately—why? To square him, of +course! And——”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius, who had been gazing at the table while Barthorpe went +through these points, suddenly lifted his head and looked at Mr. +Halfpenny. His usual nervousness seemed to have left him, and there was +something very like a smile of contempt about his lips when he spoke.</p> + +<p>“I think, Halfpenny,” he said quietly, “I really think it is time all +this extraordinary farce—for it is nothing less!—came to an end. May I +be permitted to ask Mr. Barthorpe Herapath a few questions?”</p> + +<p>“So far as I am concerned, as many as you please, Tertius,” replied Mr. +Halfpenny. “Whether he’ll answer them or not is another matter. He ought +to.”</p> + +<p>“I shall answer them if I please, and I shall not answer them if I don’t +want to,” said Barthorpe sullenly. “You can put them, anyway. But +they’ll make no difference—I know what I’m talking about.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> + +<p>“So do I,” said Mr. Tertius. “And really, as we come here to get at the +truth, it will be all the better for everybody concerned if you do +answer my questions. Now—you say I am in reality Arthur Wynne, the +father of your cousin, the brother-in-law of Jacob Herapath. What you +have said about Arthur John Wynne is unfortunately only too true. It is +true that he erred and was punished—severely. In due course he went to +Portland. I want to ask you what became of him afterwards?—you say you +have full knowledge.”</p> + +<p>“You mean, what became of you afterwards,” sneered Barthorpe. “I know +when you left Portland. You left it for London—and you came to London +to be sheltered, under your assumed name, by Jacob Herapath.”</p> + +<p>“No more than that?” asked Mr. Tertius.</p> + +<p>“That’s enough,” answered Barthorpe. “You left Portland in April, 1897; +you came to London when you were discharged; in June of that year you’d +taken up your residence under Jacob Herapath’s roof. And it’s no use +your trying to bluff me—I’ve traced your movements!”</p> + +<p>“With the aid, no doubt, of Mr. Burchill there,” observed Mr. Tertius, +dryly. “But——”</p> + +<p>Burchill drew himself up.</p> + +<p>“Sir!” he exclaimed. “That is an unwarrantable assumption, and——”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Unwarrantable assumptions, Mr. Burchill, appear to be present in great +quantity,” interrupted Mr. Tertius, with an air of defiance which +surprised everybody. “Don’t you interrupt me, sir!—I’ll deal with you +before long in a way that will astonish you. Now, Mr. Barthorpe +Herapath,” he went on, turning to that person with determination, “I +will astonish you somewhat, for I honestly believe you really have some +belief in what you say. I am not Arthur John Wynne. I am what I have +always been—John Christopher Tertius, as a considerable number of +people in this town can prove. But I knew Arthur John Wynne. When he +left Portland he came to me here in London—at the suggestion of Jacob +Herapath. I then lived in Bloomsbury—I had recently lost my wife. I +took Wynne to live with me. But he had not long to live. If you had +searched into matters more deeply, you would have found that he got his +discharge earlier than he would have done in the usual course, because +of his health. As a matter of fact, he was very ill when he came to me, +and he died six weeks after his arrival at my house. He is buried in the +churchyard of the village from which he originally came—in Wales—and +you can inspect all the documents relating to his death, and see his +grave if you care to. After his death, for reasons into which I need not +go, I went to live with Jacob Herapath. It was his great desire—and +mine—that Wynne’s daughter, your cousin, should never know her father’s +sad history. But for you she never would have known it! And—that is a +plain answer to what you have had to allege against me. Now, sir, let me +ask you a plain question. Who invented this cock-and-bull story? You +don’t reply—readily? Shall I assist you by a suggestion? Was it that +man who sits by you—Burchill? For Burchill knows that he has lied +vilely and shamelessly this morning—Burchill knows that he did see +Jacob Herapath sign that will—Burchill knows that that will was duly +witnessed by himself and by me in the presence of each other and of the +testator! God bless my soul!” exclaimed Mr. Tertius, thumping the table +vehemently. “Why, man alive, your cousin Margaret has a document here +which proves that that will is all right—a document written by Jacob +Herapath himself! Bring it out, my dear—confound these men with an +indisputable proof!”</p> + +<p>But before Peggie could draw the packet from her muff, Burchill had +risen and was showing signs of retreat. And Barthorpe, now pale with +anger and perplexity, had risen too—and he was looking at Burchill.</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny looked at both men. Then he pointed to their chairs. +“Hadn’t you better sit down again?” he said. “It seems to me that we’re +just arriving at the most interesting stage of these proceedings.”</p> + +<p>Burchill stepped towards the door.</p> + +<p>“I do not propose to stay in company in which I am ruthlessly insulted,” +he said. “It is, of course, a question of my word against Mr. Tertius’s. +We shall see. As for the present, I do.”</p> + +<p>“Stop!” said Barthorpe. He moved towards Burchill, motioning him towards +the window in which Peggie and Mr. Tertius had spoken together. “Here—a +word with you!”</p> + +<p>But Burchill made for the door, and Mr. Halfpenny nudged Professor +Cox-Raythwaite.</p> + +<p>“I say—stop!” exclaimed Barthorpe. “There’s some explanation——”</p> + +<p>He was about to lay a hand on the door when Mr. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>Halfpenny touched a +bell which stood in front of him on the table. And at its sharp sound +the door opened from without, and Burchill fell back at what he +saw—fell back upon Barthorpe, who looked past him, and started in his +turn.</p> + +<p>“Great Scot!” said Barthorpe. “Police!”</p> + +<p>Davidge came quickly and quietly in—three other men with him. And in +the room from which they emerged Barthorpe saw more men, many more men, +and with them an eager, excited face which he somehow recognized—the +face of the little <i>Argus</i> reporter who had asked him and Selwood for +news on the morning after Jacob Herapath’s murder.</p> + +<p>But Barthorpe had no time to waste thoughts on Triffitt. He suddenly +became alive to the fact that two exceedingly strong men had seized his +arms; that two others had similarly seized Burchill. The pallor died out +of his face and gave place to a dull glow of anger.</p> + +<p>“Now, then?” he growled. “What’s all this!”</p> + +<p>“The same for both of you, Mr. Herapath,” answered Davidge, cheerfully +and in business-like fashion. “I’ll charge both you and Mr. Burchill +formally when we’ve got you to the station. You’re both under arrest, +you know. And I may as well warn you——”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense!” exclaimed Barthorpe. “Arrest!—on what charge?”</p> + +<p>“Charge will be the same for both,” answered Davidge coolly. “The murder +of Jacob Herapath.”</p> + +<p>A dead silence fell on the room. Then Peggie <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>Wynne cried out, and +Barthorpe suddenly made a spring at Burchill.</p> + +<p>“You villain!” he said in a low concentrated voice. “You’ve done me, you +devil! Let me get my hands on——”</p> + +<p>The other men, Triffitt on their heels, came bustling into the room, +obedient to Davidge’s lifted finger.</p> + +<p>“Put the handcuffs on both of ’em,” commanded Davidge. “Can’t take any +chances, Mr. Herapath, if you lose your temper—the other gentleman——”</p> + +<p>It was at that moment that the other gentleman took his chance. While +Barthorpe Herapath had foolishly allowed himself to become warm and +excited, Burchill had remained cool and watchful and calculating. And +now in the slight diversion made by the entrance of the other +detectives, he suddenly and adroitly threw off the grasp of the men who +held him, darted through the open door on to the stairs, and had +vanished before Davidge could cry out. Davidge darted too, the other +police darted, Mr. Halfpenny smote his bell and shouted to his clerks. +But the clerks were downstairs, out of hearing, and the police were +fleshy men, slow of movement, while Burchill was slippery as an eel and +agile as an athlete. Moreover, Burchill, during his secretaryship to +Jacob Herapath, had constantly visited Mr. Halfpenny’s office, and was +as well acquainted with its ins and outs as its tenant; he knew where, +in those dark stairs there was a side stair which led to a private door +in a neighbouring alley. And while the pursuers blundered this way and +that, he calmly slipped out to + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> + +freedom, and, in a couple of minutes was mingling with the crowds in a busy +thoroughfare, safe for that time.</p> + +<p>Then Davidge, cursing his men and his luck, took Barthorpe Herapath +away, and Triffitt rushed headlong to Fleet Street, seething with +excitement and brimming with news.</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">professional analysis</p> + +<p>The <i>Argus</i> came out in great style next morning, and it and Triffitt +continued to give its vast circle of readers a similar feast of +excitement for a good ten days. Triffitt, in fact, went almost foodless +and sleepless; there was so much to do. To begin with, there was the +daily hue and cry after Burchill, who had disappeared as completely as +if his familiar evil spirits had carried him bodily away from the very +door of Halfpenny and Farthing’s office. Then there was the bringing up +of Barthorpe Herapath before the magistrate at Bow Street, and the +proceedings at the adjourned coroner’s inquest. It was not until the +tenth day that anything like a breathing space came. But the position of +affairs on that tenth day was a fairly clear one. The coroner’s jury had +returned a verdict of wilful murder against Barthorpe Herapath and Frank +Burchill; the magistrate had committed Barthorpe for trial; the police +were still hunting high and low for Burchill. And there was scarcely a +soul who had heard the evidence before the coroner and the magistrate +who did not believe that both the suspected men were guilty and that +both—when Burchill had been caught—would ere long stand in the Old +Bailey dock and eventually hear themselves sentenced to the scaffold.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> + +<p>One man, however, believed nothing of the sort, and that man was +Professor Cox-Raythwaite. His big, burly form had been very much in +evidence at all the proceedings before coroner and magistrate. He had +followed every scrap of testimony with the most scrupulous care; he had +made notes from time to time; he had given up his leisure moments, and +stolen some from his proper pursuits, to a deep consideration of the +case as presented by the police. And on the afternoon which saw +Barthorpe committed to take his trial, he went away from Bow Street, +alone, thinking more deeply than ever. He walked home to his house in +Endsleigh Gardens, head bent, hands clasped behind his big back, the +very incarnation of deep and ponderous musing. He shut himself in his +study; he threw himself into his easy chair before his hearth; he +remained smoking infinite tobacco, staring into vacancy, until his +dinner-bell rang. He roused himself to eat and drink; then he went out +into the street, bought all the evening newspapers he could lay hands +on, and, hailing a taxi-cab, drove to Portman Square.</p> + +<p>Peggie, Mr. Tertius, and Selwood had just dined; they were sitting in a +quiet little parlour, silent and melancholy. The disgrace of Barthorpe’s +arrest, of the revelations before coroner and magistrate, of his +committal on the capital charge, had reduced Peggie to a state of +intense misery; the two men felt hopelessly unable to give her any +comfort. To both, the entrance of Cox-Raythwaite came as a positive +relief.</p> + +<p>Cox-Raythwaite, shown into the presence of these <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>three, closed the door +in a fashion which showed that he did not wish to be disturbed, came +silently across the room, and drew a chair into the midst of the +disconsolate group. His glance round commanded attention.</p> + +<p>“Now, my friends,” he said, plunging straight into his subject, “if we +don’t wish to see Barthorpe hanged, we’ve just got to stir ourselves! +I’ve come here to begin the stirring.”</p> + +<p>Peggie looked up with a sudden heightening of colour. Mr. Tertius slowly +shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Pitiable!” he murmured. “Pitiable, most pitiable! But the evidence, my +dear Cox-Raythwaite, the evidence! I only wish——”</p> + +<p>“I’ve been listening to all the evidence that could be brought before +coroner’s jury and magistrate in police court,” broke in the Professor. +“Listening with all my ears until I know every scrap of it by heart. And +for four solid hours this afternoon I’ve been analysing it. I’m going to +analyse it to you—and then I’ll show you why it doesn’t satisfy me. +Give me your close attention, all of you.”</p> + +<p>He drew a little table to his elbow, laid his bundle of papers upon it, +and began to talk, checking off his points on the tips of his big, +chemical-stained fingers.</p> + +<p>“Now,” he said, “we’ll just go through the evidence which has been +brought against these two men, Barthorpe and Burchill, which evidence +has resulted in Barthorpe being committed for trial and in the police’s +increased anxiety to lay hold of Burchill. The police theory, after all, +is a very simple one—let’s take it and their evidence point by point.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“1. The police say that Jacob Herapath came to his death as +the result of a conspiracy between his nephew Barthorpe +Herapath and Frank Burchill.</p> + +<p>“2. They say that the proof that that conspiracy existed is +found in certain documents discovered by Davidge at Burchill’s +flat, in which documents Barthorpe covenants to pay Burchill +ten per cent. of the value of the Herapath property if and when +he, Barthorpe, comes into it.</p> + +<p>“3. The police argue that this conspiracy to murder Jacob +Herapath and upset the will was in existence before November +12th—in other words that the idea of upsetting the will came +first, and that the murder arose out of it.</p> + +<p>“4. In support of this they have proved that Barthorpe was in +close touch with Burchill as soon as the murder was +committed—afternoon of the same day, at any rate—and +therefore presumably had been in close touch with him +previously.</p> + +<p>“5. They have proved to the full a certain matter about which +there is no doubt—that Barthorpe was at the estate office +about the time at which, according to medical evidence, his +uncle was murdered, that he subsequently put on his uncle’s +coat and hat and visited this house, and afterwards returned to +the estate office. That, I say, is certain—and it is the most +damning thing against Barthorpe.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p> + +<p>“6. According to the police, then, Barthorpe was the actual +murderer, and Burchill was an accessory before the fact. There +is no evidence that Burchill was near the estate office that +night. But that, of course, doesn’t matter—if, as the police +suggest, there is evidence that the conspiracy to kill Jacob +Herapath existed before November 12th, then it doesn’t matter +at all whether Burchill took an active part in it or not—he’s +guilty as accessory.”</p></div> + +<p>The Professor here paused and smote his bundle of papers. Then he lifted +and wagged one of his great fingers.</p> + +<p>“But!” he exclaimed. “But—but—always a but! And the but in this case +is a mighty one. It’s this—did that conspiracy exist before November +12th? Did it—did it? It’s a great point—it’s a great point. Now, we +all know that this morning, before he was committed, Barthorpe, much +against the wishes of his legal advisers, insisted, forcibly insisted, +on making a statement. It’s in the evening papers here, verbatim. I’ll +read it to you carefully—you heard him, all of you, but I want you to +hear it again, read slowly. Consider it—think of it carefully—remember +the circumstances under which it’s made!”</p> + +<p>He turned to the table, selected a newspaper, and read:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“‘The accused, having insisted, in spite of evident strong +dissuasion from his counsel, upon making a statement, said: “I +wish to tell the plain and absolute truth about my concern with +this affair. I have heard the evidence given by various +witnesses as to my financial position. That evidence is more or +less true. I lost a lot of money last winter in betting and +gambling. I was not aware that my position was known to my +uncle until one of these witnesses revealed that my uncle had +been employing private inquiry agents to find it out. I was +meaning, when his death occurred, to make a clean breast to +him. I was on the best of terms with him—whatever he may have +known, it made no difference that I ever noticed in his +behaviour to me. I was not aware that my uncle had made a will. +He never mentioned it to me. About a year ago, there was some +joking conversation between us about making a will, and I said +to him that he ought to do it, and give me the job, and he +replied, laughingly, that he supposed he would have to, some +time. I solemnly declare that on November 12th I hadn’t the +ghost of a notion that he had made a will.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<p>“‘“On November 12th last, about five o’clock in the afternoon, +I received a note from my uncle, asking me to meet him at his +estate office, at midnight. I had often met him there at that +time—there was nothing unusual about such an appointment. I +went there, of course—I walked there from my flat in the +Adelphi. I noticed when I got there that my uncle’s brougham +was being slowly driven round the square across the road. The +outer door of the office was slightly open. I was surprised. +The usual thing when I made late calls was for me to ring a +bell which sounded in my uncle’s private room, and he then came +and admitted me. I went in, and down the hall, and I then saw +that the door of his room was also open. The electric light was +burning. I went in. I at once saw my uncle—he was lying +between the desk and the hearth, quite dead. There was a +revolver lying near. I touched his hand and found it was quite +warm.</p> + +<p>“‘“I looked round, and seeing no sign of any struggle, I +concluded that my uncle had shot himself. I noticed that his +keys were lying on the desk. His fur-collared overcoat and +slouch hat were thrown on a sofa. Of course, I was much upset. +I went outside, meaning, I believe, to call the caretaker. +Everything was very still in the house. I did not call. I began +to think. I knew I was in a strange position. I knew my uncle’s +death would make a vast difference to me. I was next of kin. I +wanted to know how things stood—how I was left. Something +suggested itself to me. I think the overcoat and hat suggested +it. I put on the hat and coat, took the keys from the table, +and the latch-key of the Portman Square house from my uncle’s +waistcoat pocket, turned out the light, went out, closed both +doors, went to the brougham, and was driven away. I saw very +well that the coachman didn’t know me at all—he thought I was +his master.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> + +<p>“‘“I have heard the evidence about my visit to Portman Square. +I stopped there some time. I made a fairly complete search for +a will and didn’t find anything. It is quite true that I used +one of the glasses, and ate a sandwich, and very likely I did +bite into another. It’s true, too, that I have lost two front +teeth, and that the evidence of that could be in the sandwich. +All that’s true—I admit it. It’s also quite true that I got +the taxi-cab at two o’clock at the corner of Orchard Street and +drove back to Kensington. I re-entered the office; everything +was as I’d left it. I took off the coat and hat, put the keys +under some loose papers on the table, turned out the light and +went home to my flat.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<p>“‘“Now I wish to tell the absolute, honest truth about Burchill +and the will. When I heard of and saw the will, after Mr. +Tertius produced it, I went to see Burchill at his flat. I had +never seen him, never communicated with him in any way whatever +since he had left my uncle’s service until that afternoon. I +had got his address from a letter which I found in a +pocket-book of my uncle’s, which I took possession of when the +police and I searched his effects. I went to see Burchill about +the will, of course. When I said that a will had been found he +fenced with me. He would only reply ambiguously. Eventually he +asked me, point-blank, if I would make it worth his while if he +aided me in upsetting the will. I replied that if he +could—which I doubted—I would. He told me to call at ten +o’clock that night. I did so. He then told me what I had never +suspected—that Mr. Tertius was, in reality, Arthur John +Wynne, a convicted forger. He gave me his proofs, and I was +fool enough to believe them. He then suggested that it would be +the easiest thing in the world, considering Wynne’s record, to +prove that he had forged the will for his daughter’s benefit. +He offered to aid in this if I would sign documents giving him +ten per cent. of the total value of my uncle’s estate, and I +was foolish enough to consent, and to sign. I solemnly declare +that the entire suggestion about upsetting the will came from +Burchill, and that there was no conspiracy between us of any +sort whatever previous to that night. Whatever may happen, I’ve +told this court the absolute, definite truth!”’”</p></div> + +<p>Professor Cox-Raythwaite folded up the newspaper, laid it on the little +table, and brought his big hand down on his knee with an emphatic smack.</p> + +<p>“Now, then!” he said. “In my deliberate, coldly reasoned opinion, that +statement is true! If they hang Barthorpe, they’ll hang an innocent man. +But——”</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the remand prison</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius broke the significant silence which followed. He shook his +head sadly, and sighed deeply.</p> + +<p>“Ah, those buts!” he said. “As you remarked just now, Cox-Raythwaite, +there is always a but. Now, this particular one—what is it?”</p> + +<p>“Let me finish my sentence,” responded the Professor. “I say, I do not +believe Barthorpe to be guilty of murder, though guilty enough of a +particularly mean, dirty, and sneaking conspiracy to defraud his cousin. +Yes, innocent of murder—but it will be a stiff job to prove his +innocence. As things stand, he’ll be hanged safe enough! You know what +our juries are, Tertius—evidence such as that which has been put before +the coroner and the magistrate will be quite sufficient to damn him at +the Old Bailey. Ample!”</p> + +<p>“What do you suggest, then?” asked Mr. Tertius.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Suggestion,” answered the Professor, “is a difficult matter. But there +are two things—perhaps more, but certainly two—on which I want light. +The first is—nobody has succeeded in unearthing the man who went to the +House of Commons to see Jacob on the night of the murder. In spite of +everything, advertisements and all the rest of it, he’s never come +forward. If you remember, Halfpenny had a theory that the letter and +the object which Mountain saw Jacob hand to that man were a note to the +Safe Deposit people and the key of the safe. Now we know that’s not so, +because no one ever brought any letter to the Safe Deposit people and +nobody’s ever opened the safe. Halfpenny, too, believed, during the +period of the police officials’ masterly silence, that that man had put +himself in communication with them. Now we know that the police have +never heard anything whatever of him, have never traced him. I’m +convinced that if we could unearth that man we should learn something. +But how to do it, I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“And the other point?” asked Selwood, after a pause during which +everybody seemed to be ruminating deeply. “You mentioned two.”</p> + +<p>“The other point,” replied the Professor, “is one on which I am going to +make a practical suggestion. It’s this—I believe that Barthorpe told +the truth in that statement of his which I’ve just read to you, but I +should like to know if he told all the truth—all! He may have omitted +some slight thing, some infinitesimal circumstance——”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean about himself or—what?” asked Selwood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I mean some very—or seemingly very—slight thing, during his two +visits to the estate office that night, which, however slight it may +seem, would form a clue to the real murderer,” answered the Professor. +“He may have seen something, noticed something, and forgotten it, or not +attached great importance to it. And, in short,” he continued, with +added emphasis, “in short, my friends, Barthorpe must be visited, +interviewed, questioned—not merely by his legal advisers, but by some +friend, and the very person to do it”—here he turned and laid his great +hand on Peggie’s shoulder—“is—you, my dear!”</p> + +<p>“I!” exclaimed Peggie.</p> + +<p>“You, certainly! Nobody better. He will tell you what he would tell no +one else,” said the Professor. “You’re the person. Am I not right, +Tertius?”</p> + +<p>“I think you are right,” assented Mr. Tertius. “Yes, I think so.”</p> + +<p>“But—he’s in prison!” said Peggie. “Will they let me?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s all right,” answered the Professor. “Halfpenny will arrange +that like winking. You must go at once—and Selwood there will go with +you. Far better for you two young people to go than for either +Halfpenny, or Tertius, or myself. Youth invites confidence.”</p> + +<p>Peggie turned and looked at Selwood.</p> + +<p>“You’ll go?” she asked.</p> + +<p>Selwood felt his cheeks flush and rose to conceal his sudden show of +feeling. “I’ll go anywhere and do anything!” he answered quietly. “I +don’t know whether my opinion’s worth having, but I think exactly as +Professor Cox-Raythwaite does about this affair. But—who’s the guilty +man? Is it—can it be Burchill? If what Barthorpe Herapath says about +that will affair is true, Burchill is cunning and subtle enough for——”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Burchill, my dear lad, is at present out of our ken,” interrupted +Cox-Raythwaite. “Barthorpe, however, is very much within it, and +Halfpenny must arrange for you two to see him without delay. And once +closeted with him, you must talk to him for his soul’s good—get him to +search his memory, to think of every detail he can rake up—above +everything, if there’s anything he’s keeping back, beg him, on your +knees if necessary, to make a clean breast of it. Otherwise——”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> + +<p>Two days later Peggie, sick at heart, and Selwood, nervous and fidgety, +sat in a room which gave both of them a feeling as of partial +suffocation. It was not that it was not big enough for two people, or +for six people, or for a dozen people to sit in—there was space for +twenty. What oppressed them was the horrible sense of formality, the +absence of life, colour, of anything but sure and solid security, the +intrusive spick-and-spanness, the blatant cleanliness, the conscious +odour of some sort of soap, used presumably for washing floors and +walls, the whole crying atmosphere of incarceration. The barred window, +the pictureless walls, the official look of the utterly plain chairs and +tables, the grilles of iron bars which cut the place in half—these +things oppressed the girl so profoundly that she felt as if a sharp +scream was the only thing that would relieve her pent-up feelings. And +as she sat there with thumping heart, dreading the appearance of her +cousin behind those bars, yet wishing intensely that he would come, +Peggie had a sudden fearful realization of what it really meant to fall +into the hands of justice. There, somewhere close by, no doubt, +Barthorpe was able to move hands and feet, legs and arms, body and +head—but within limits. He could pace a cell, he could tramp round an +exercise yard, he could eat and drink, he could use his tongue when +allowed, he could do many things—but always within limits. He was +held—held by an unseen power which could materialize, could make itself +very much seen, at a second’s notice. There he would stop until he was +carried off to his trial; he would come and go during that trial, the +unseen power always holding him. And one day he would either go out of +the power’s clutches—free, or he would be carried off, not to this +remand prison but a certain cell in another place in which he would sit, +or lounge, or lie, with nothing to do, until a bustling, businesslike +man came in one morning with a little group of officials and in his hand +a bundle of leather straps. Held!—by the strong, never-relaxing clutch +of the law. That——</p> + +<p>“Buck up!” whispered Selwood, in the blunt language of irreverent, yet +good-natured, youth. “He’s coming!”</p> + +<p>Peggie looked up to see Barthorpe staring at her through the iron bars. +He was not over good to look at. He had a two days’ beard on his face; +his linen was not fresh; his clothes were put on untidily; he stood with +his hands in his pockets lumpishly—the change wrought by incarceration, +even of that comparative sort, was great. He looked both sulky and +sheepish; he gave Selwood no more than a curt nod; his first response to +his cousin was of the nature of a growl.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Hanged if I know what you’ve come for!” he said. “What’s the good of +it? You may mean well, but——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Barthorpe, how can you!” exclaimed Peggie. “Of course we’ve come! +Do you think it possible we shouldn’t come? You know very well we all +believe you innocent.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s all?” demanded Barthorpe, half-sneeringly. “Yourself, perhaps, +and the parlour-maid!”</p> + +<p>“All of us,” said Selwood, thinking it was time a man spoke. +“Cox-Raythwaite, Mr. Tertius, myself. That’s a fact, anyhow, so you’d +better grasp it.”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe straightened himself and looked keenly at Selwood. Then he +spoke naturally and simply.</p> + +<p>“I’m much obliged to you, Selwood,” he said. “I’d shake hands with you +if I could. I’m obliged to the others, too—especially to old +Tertius—I’ve wronged him, no doubt. But”—here his face grew dark and +savage—“if you only knew how I was tricked by that devil! Is he +caught?—that’s what I want to know.”</p> + +<p>“No!” answered Selwood. “But never mind him—we’ve come here to see what +we can do for you. That’s the important thing.”</p> + +<p>“What can anybody do?” said Barthorpe, with a mirthless laugh. “You know +all the evidence. It’s enough—they’ll hang me on it!”</p> + +<p>“Barthorpe, you mustn’t!” expostulated Peggie. “That’s not the way to +treat things. Tell him,” she went on, turning to Selwood, “tell him all +that Professor Cox-Raythwaite said the other night.”</p> + +<p>Selwood repeated the gist of the Professor’s arguments <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>and suggestions, +and Barthorpe began to show some interest. But at the end he shook his +head.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that there’s anything more that I can tell,” he said. +“Whatever anybody may think, I told the entire truth about myself and +this affair in that statement before the magistrate. Of course, you know +they didn’t want me to say a word—my legal advisers, I mean. They were +dead against it. But you see, I was resolved on it—I wanted it to get +in the papers. I told everything in that. I tried to put it as plainly +as I could. No—I’ve told the main facts.”</p> + +<p>“But aren’t there any little facts, Barthorpe?” asked Peggie. “Can’t you +think of any small thing—was there nothing that would give—I don’t +know how to put it.”</p> + +<p>“Anything that you can think of that would give a clue?” suggested +Selwood. “Was there nothing you noticed—was there anything——”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe appeared to be thinking; then to be hesitating—finally, he +looked at Selwood a little shamefacedly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well, there were one or two things that I didn’t tell,” he said. +“I—the fact is, I didn’t think they were of importance. One of them was +about that key to the Safe Deposit. You know you and I couldn’t find it +when we searched the office that morning. Well, I had found it. Or +rather, I took it off the bunch of keys. I wanted to search the safe at +the Safe Deposit myself. But I never did. I don’t know whether the +detectives have found it or not—I threw it into a drawer at my office +in which there are a lot of other keys. But, you know, there’s nothing +in that—nothing at all.”</p> + +<p>“You said one or two other things just now,” remarked Selwood. “That’s +one—what’s the other?”</p> + +<p>Barthorpe hesitated. The three were not the only occupants of that +gloomy room, and though the official ears might have been graven out of +stone, he felt their presence.</p> + +<p>“Don’t keep anything back, Barthorpe,” pleaded Peggie.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well!” responded Barthorpe. “I’ll tell you, though I don’t know +what good it will do. I didn’t tell this, because—well, of course, it’s +not exactly a thing a man likes to tell. When I looked over Uncle +Jacob’s desk, just after I found him dead, you know, I found a +hundred-pound note lying there. I put it in my pocket. Hundred-pound +notes weren’t plentiful, you know,” he went on with a grim smile. “Of +course, it was a shabby thing to do, sort of robbing the dead, you know, +but——”</p> + +<p>“Do you see any way in which that can help?” asked Selwood, whose mind +was not disposed to dwell on nice questions of morality or conduct. +“Does anything suggest itself?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Why, this,” answered Barthorpe, rubbing his chin. “It was a brand-new +note. That’s puzzled me—that it should be lying there amongst papers. +You might go to Uncle Jacob’s bank and find out when he drew it—or +rather, if he’d been drawing money that day. He used, as you and I know, +to draw considerable amounts in notes. And—it’s only a notion—if he’d +drawn anything big that day, and he had it on him that night, why, +there’s a motive there. Somebody may have known he’d a considerable +amount on him and have followed him in there. Don’t forget that I found +both doors open when I went there! That’s a point that mustn’t be +overlooked.”</p> + +<p>“There’s absolutely nothing else you can think of?” asked Selwood.</p> + +<p>Barthorpe shook his head. No—there was nothing—he was sure of that. +And then he turned eagerly to the question of finding Burchill. +Burchill, he was certain, knew more than he had given him credit for, +knew something, perhaps, about the actual murder. He was a deep, crafty +dog, Burchill—only let the police find him!——</p> + +<p>Time was up, then, and Peggie and Selwood had to go—their last +impression that of Barthorpe thrusting his hands in his pockets and +lounging away to his enforced idleness. It made the girl sick at heart, +and it showed Selwood what deprivation of liberty means to a man who has +hitherto been active and vigorous.</p> + +<p>“Have we done any good?” asked Peggie, drawing a deep breath of free air +as soon as they were outside the gates. “Any bit of good?”</p> + +<p>“There’s the affair of the bank-note,” answered Selwood. “That may be of +some moment. I’ll go and report progress on that, anyway.”</p> + +<p>He put Peggie into her car to go home, and himself hailed a taxi-cab and +drove straight to Mr. Halfpenny’s office, where Professor Cox-Raythwaite +and Mr. Tertius had arranged to meet him.</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the last cheque</p> + +<p>The three elderly gentlemen, seated in Mr. Halfpenny’s private room, +listened with intense, if silent, interest to Selwood’s account of the +interview with Barthorpe. It was a small bundle of news that he had +brought back and two of his hearers showed by their faces that they +attached little importance to it. But Professor Cox-Raythwaite caught +eagerly at the mere scrap of suggestion.</p> + +<p>“Tertius!—Halfpenny!” he exclaimed. “That must be followed up—we must +follow it up at once. That bank-note may be a most valuable and +effective clue.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Halfpenny showed a decided incredulity and dissent.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I don’t see it,” he answered. “Don’t see it at all, Cox-Raythwaite. +What is there in it? What clue can there be in the fact that Barthorpe +picked up a hundred pound bank-note from his uncle’s writing-desk? Lord +bless me!—why, every one of us four men knows very well that hundred +pound notes were as common to Jacob Herapath as half-crowns are to any +of us! He was a man who carried money in large amounts on him +always—I’ve expostulated with him about it. Don’t you know—no, I dare +say you don’t though, because you never had business dealings with him, +and perhaps Tertius doesn’t, either, because he, like you, only knew him +as a friend—you don’t know that Jacob had a peculiarity. Perhaps Mr. +Selwood knows of it, though, as he was his secretary.”</p> + +<p>“What peculiarity?” asked the Professor. “I know he had several fads, +which one might call peculiarities.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> + +<p>“He had a business peculiarity,” replied Mr. Halfpenny, “and it was well +known to people in his line of business. You know that Jacob Herapath +had extensive, unusually extensive, dealings in real property—land and +houses. Quite apart from the Herapath Flats, he dealt on wide lines with +real estate; he was always buying and selling. And his peculiarity was +that all his transactions in this way were done by cash—bank-notes or +gold—instead of by cheque. It didn’t matter if he was buying a hundred +thousand pounds’ worth of property, or selling two hundred thousand +pounds’ worth—the affairs had to be completed by payment in that +fashion. I’ve scolded him about it scores of times; he only laughed at +me; he said that had been the custom when he went into the business, and +he’d stuck to it, and wasn’t going to give it up. God bless me!” +concluded Mr. Halfpenny, with emphasis. “I ought to know, for Jacob +Herapath has concluded many an operation in this very room, and at this +very table—I’ve seen him handle many a hundred thousand pounds’ worth +of notes in my time, paying or receiving! And, as I said, the mere +picking up of a hundred pound note from his desk is—why, it’s no more +than if I picked up a few of those coppers that are lying there on my +chimney-piece!”</p> + +<p>“Just so, just so!” observed Mr. Tertius mildly. “Jacob was a very +wealthy man—the money evidence was everywhere.”</p> + +<p>But Professor Cox-Raythwaite only laughed and smote the table with his +big fist.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> + +<p>“My dear Halfpenny!” he exclaimed. “Why, you’ve just given us the very +best proof of what I’ve been saying! You’re not looking deeply enough +into things. The very fact to which you bear testimony proves to me that +a certain theory which is assuming shape in my mind may possibly have a +great deal in it. That theory, briefly, is this—on the day of his +death, Jacob Herapath may have had upon his person a large amount of +money in bank-notes. He may have had them paid to him. He may have drawn +them from his bank, to pay to somebody else. Some evil person may have +been aware of his possession of those notes and have tracked him to the +estate offices, or gained entrance, or—mark this!—have been +lurking—lurking!—there, in order to rob him. Don’t forget two points, +my friend—one, that Barthorpe (if he’s speaking the truth, and I, +personally, believe he is) tells us that the doors of the offices and +the private room were open when he called at twelve o’clock; and, too, +that, according to Mountain, the coachman, Jacob Herapath had been in +those offices since twenty-five minutes to twelve—plenty of time for +murder and robbery to take place. I repeat—Jacob may have had a +considerable sum of money on him that night, some one may have known it, +and the motive of his murder may have been—probably was—sheer robbery. +And we ought to go on that, if we want to save the family honour.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius nodded and murmured assent, and Mr. Halfpenny stirred +uneasily in his chair.</p> + +<p>“Family honour!” he said. “Yes, yes, that’s right, of course. It would +be a dreadful thing to see a nephew hanged for the murder of his +uncle—quite right!”</p> + +<p>“A much more dreadful thing to stand by and see an innocent man hanged, +without moving heaven and earth to clear him,” commented the Professor. +“Come now, I helped to establish the fact that Barthorpe visited Portman +Square that night—Tertius there helped too, by his quickness in seeing +that the half-eaten sandwich had been bitten into by a man who had lost +two front teeth, which, of course, was Barthorpe’s case—so the least we +can do is to bestir ourselves now that we believe him to have told the +truth in that statement.”</p> + +<p>“But how exactly are we to bestir ourselves?” asked Mr. Halfpenny.</p> + +<p>“I suggest a visit to Jacob Herapath’s bankers, first of all,” answered +the Professor. “I haven’t heard that any particular inquiry has been +made. Did you make any, Halfpenny?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Jacob’s bankers are Bittleston, Stocks and Bittleston,” replied the old +lawyer. “I did make it in my way to drop in there and to see Mr. +Playbourne, the manager of their West End branch, in Piccadilly. He +assured me that there was nothing whatever out of the common in Jacob +Herapath’s transactions with them just before his death, and nothing at +all in their particulars of his banking account which could throw any +possible light on his murder.”</p> + +<p>“In his opinion,” said the Professor, caustically, “in his opinion, +Halfpenny! But—you don’t know what our opinion might be. Now, I suggest +that we all go at once to see this Mr. Playbourne; there’s ample time +before the bank closes for the day.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” assented Mr. Halfpenny. “All the same, I’m afraid +Playbourne will only say just what he said before.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Playbourne, a good typical specimen of the somewhat old-fashioned +bank manager, receiving this formidable deputation of four gentlemen in +his private room, said precisely what he had said before, and seemed +astonished to think that any light upon such an unpleasant thing as a +murder could possibly be derived from so highly respectable a quarter as +that in which he moved during the greater part of the day.</p> + +<p>“I can’t think of anything in our transactions with the late Mr. +Herapath that gives any clue, any idea, anything at all,” he said, +somewhat querulously. “Mr. Herapath’s transactions with us, right up to +the day of his death, were just what they had been for years. Of course, +I’m willing to tell you anything, show you anything. You’re acting for +Miss Wynne, aren’t you, Mr. Halfpenny?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I have a power of attorney from Miss Wynne, for that matter,” answered +Mr. Halfpenny. “Everything of that sort’s in my hands.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you what, then,” said the bank manager, laying his hand on a +bell at his side. “You’d better see Jacob Herapath’s pass-book. I +recently had it posted up to the day of his death, and of course we’ve +retained it until you demanded it. You can’t have a better index to his +affairs with us than you’ll find in it. Sellars,” he went on, as a clerk +appeared, “bring me the late Mr. Herapath’s pass-book—Mr. Ravensdale +has it.”</p> + +<p>The visitors presently gathered round the desk on which Mr. Playbourne +laid the parchment-bound book—one of a corresponding thickness with the +dead man’s transactions. The manager turned to the pages last filled in.</p> + +<p>“You’re aware, of course, some of you at any rate,” he said, “you, Mr. +Halfpenny, and you, Mr. Selwood, that the late Jacob Herapath dealt in +big sums. He always had a very large balance at this branch of our bank; +he was continually paying in and drawing out amounts which, to men of +less means, must needs seem tremendous. Now, you can see for yourselves +what his transactions with us were during the last few days of his life; +I, as I have said, see nothing out of the way in them—you, of course,” +he continued, with a sniff, “may see a good deal!”</p> + +<p>Professor Cox-Raythwaite ran his eye over the neatly-written pages, +passing rapidly on to the important date—November 12th. And he suddenly +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>thrust out his arm and put the tip of a big yellow finger on one +particular entry.</p> + +<p>“There!” he exclaimed. “Look at that. ‘Self, £5,000.’ Paid out, you see, +on November 12th. Do you see?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Playbourne laughed cynically.</p> + +<p>“My dear sir!” he said. “Do you mean to say that you attach any +importance to an entry like that? Jacob Herapath constantly drew cheques +to self for five, ten, twenty, thirty—aye, fifty thousand pounds! He +dealt in tens of thousands—he was always buying or selling. Five +thousand pounds!—a fleabite!”</p> + +<p>“All the same, if you please,” said the Professor quietly, “I should +like to know if Jacob Herapath presented that self cheque himself, and +if so, how he took the money it represents.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, very well!” said the manager resignedly. He touched his bell again, +and looked wearily at the clerk who answered it. “Find out if the late +Mr. Herapath himself presented a cheque for five thousand on November +12th, and if so, how he took it,” he said. “Well,” he continued, turning +to his visitors. “Do you see anything with any further possible mystery +attached to it?”</p> + +<p>“There’s an entry there—the last,” observed Mr. Halfpenny. “That. +‘Dimambro: three thousand guineas.’ That’s the same date.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Playbourne suddenly showed some interest and animation. His eyes +brightened; he sat up erect.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Ah!” he said. “Well, now, that is somewhat remarkable, that +entry!—though of course there’s nothing out of the common in it. But +that cheque was most certainly the very last ever drawn by Jacob +Herapath, and according to strict law, it never ought to have been paid +out by us.”</p> + +<p>“Why?” asked Professor Cox-Raythwaite.</p> + +<p>“Because Jacob Herapath, the drawer, was dead before it was presented,” +replied the manager. “But of course we didn’t know that. The cheque, you +see, was drawn on November 12th, and it was presented here as soon as +ever the doors were opened next morning and before any of us knew of +what had happened during the night, and it was accordingly honoured in +the usual way.”</p> + +<p>“The payee, of course, was known?” observed Mr. Halfpenny.</p> + +<p>“No, he was not known, but he endorsed the cheque with name and address, +and there can be no reason whatever to doubt that it had come to him in +the ordinary way of business,” replied the manager. “Quite a usual +transaction, but, as I say, noteworthy, because, as you know, a cheque +is no good after its drawer’s demise.”</p> + +<p>Professor Cox-Raythwaite, who appeared to have fallen into a brown study +for a moment, suddenly looked up.</p> + +<p>“Now I wonder if we might be permitted to see that cheque—as a +curiosity?” he said. “Can we be favoured so far?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, certainly, certainly,” answered Mr. Playbourne. “No trouble. +I’ll—ah, here’s your information about the other cheque—the self +cheque for five thousand.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> + +<p>He took a slip of paper from the clerk who just then entered, and read +it aloud.</p> + +<p>“Here you are,” he said. “‘Mr. Herapath cashed cheque for £5,000 +himself, at three o’clock; the money in fifty notes of £100 each, +numbered as follows’—you can take this slip, if you like,” he +continued, handing the paper to Professor Cox-Raythwaite, as the +obviously most interested man of his party. “There are the numbers of +the notes. Of course, I can’t see how all this throws any light on the +mystery of Herapath’s murder, but perhaps you can. Sellers,” he +continued, turning to the clerk, and beckoning him to look at the +pass-book, “find me the cheque referred to there, and bring it here.”</p> + +<p>The clerk returned in a few minutes with the cheque, which Mr. +Playbourne at once exhibited to his visitors.</p> + +<p>“There you are, gentlemen,” he said. “Quite a curiosity!—certainly the +last cheque ever drawn by our poor friend. There, you see, is his +well-known signature with his secret little mark which you wouldn’t +detect—secret between him and us, eh!—big, bold handwriting, wasn’t +it? Sad to think that that was—very likely—the last time he used a +pen!”</p> + +<p>Professor Cox-Raythwaite in his turn handled the cheque. Its face gave +him small concern; what he was most interested in was the endorsement on +the back. Without saying anything to his companions, he memorized that +endorsement, and he was still murmuring it to himself when, a few +minutes later, he walked out of the bank.</p> + +<p>“Luigi Dimambro, Hotel Ravenna, Soho.”</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the hotel ravenna</p> + +<p>Once closeted together in the private room at Halfpenny and Farthing’s +office, Mr. Halfpenny, who had seemed somewhat mystified by the +happenings at the bank, looked inquiringly at Professor Cox-Raythwaite +and snapped out one suggestive monosyllable:</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>“Very well indeed,” answered Cox-Raythwaite. “I consider we have done +good work. We have found things out. That bank manager is a pompous ass; +he’s a man of asinine, or possible bovine, mind! Of course, he ought to +have revealed these things at both the inquest and the magisterial +proceedings!—they’ll certainly have to be put in evidence at Barthorpe +Herapath’s trial.”</p> + +<p>“What things?” demanded the old lawyer, a little testily.</p> + +<p>“Two things—facts,” replied the Professor, composedly. “First, that +Jacob Herapath drew five thousand pounds in hundred pound notes at three +o’clock on the day of his death. Second, that at some hour of that day +he drew a cheque in favour of one Luigi Dimambro, which cheque was +cashed as soon as the bank opened next morning.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Frankly,” observed Mr. Halfpenny, “frankly, candidly, Cox-Raythwaite, +I do not see what these things—facts—prove.”</p> + +<p>“Very likely,” said the Professor, imperturbable as ever, “but they’re +remarkably suggestive to me. They establish for one thing the fact that, +in all probability, Jacob Herapath had those notes on him when he was +murdered.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t see it,” retorted Mr. Halfpenny. “He got the fifty +one-hundred-pound notes from the bank at three o’clock in the afternoon. +He’s supposed to have been murdered at twelve—midnight. That’s nine +hours. Plenty of time in which to pay those notes away—as he most +likely did.”</p> + +<p>“If you’ll let your mind go back to what came out in evidence at the +inquest,” said the Professor, “you’ll remember that Jacob Herapath went +to the House of Commons at half-past three that day and never left it +until his coachman fetched him at a quarter-past eleven. It’s not very +likely that he’d transact business at the House.”</p> + +<p>“Plenty of time between three and half-past three,” objected Mr. +Halfpenny.</p> + +<p>“Quite so, but we haven’t heard of any transaction being carried out +during that time. Make inquiry, and see if he did engage in any such +transaction,” said the Professor. “If he didn’t, then my theory that he +had the notes on him is correct. Moreover, Barthorpe has told Selwood +that he picked up one note from the desk in his uncle’s private room.”</p> + +<p>“One note!” exclaimed Mr. Halfpenny.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> + +<p>“One note—quite so,” agreed the Professor. “May it not have been—it’s +all theory, of course—that Jacob had all the notes on the desk when he +was murdered, that the murderer grabbed them afterwards, and in his +haste, left one? Come, now!”</p> + +<p>“Theory—theory!” said Mr. Halfpenny. “Still, I’ll make inquiries all +around, to see if Jacob did pay five thousand away to anybody that +afternoon. Well, and your other point?”</p> + +<p>“I should like to know what the cheque for three thousand guineas was +for,” answered the Professor. “It was paid out to one Luigi Dimambro, +whose address was written down by himself in endorsing the cheque as +Hotel Ravenna, Soho. He, presumably, is a foreigner, an Italian, or a +Corsican, or a Sicilian, and the probability is that Jacob Herapath +bought something from him that day, and that the transaction took place +after banking hours.”</p> + +<p>“How do you deduce that?” asked Mr. Halfpenny.</p> + +<p>“Because Dimambro cashed his cheque as soon as the bank opened its doors +next morning,” answered the Professor. “If he’d been given the cheque +before four o’clock on November 12th, he’d have cashed it then.”</p> + +<p>“The cheque may have been posted to him,” said Mr. Halfpenny.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<p>“May be; the point is that it was drawn by Jacob on November 12th and +cashed at the earliest possible hour next day,” replied the Professor. +“Now, though it may have nothing to do with the case, I want to know +what that cheque referred to. More than this, I have an idea. May not +this man Dimambro be the man who called on Jacob Herapath at the House +of Commons that night—the man whom Mountain saw, but did not recognize +as one of his master’s usual friends or acquaintances? Do you see that +point?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Tertius and Selwood muttered expressions of acquiescence, but Mr. +Halfpenny shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Can’t see anything much in it,” he said. “If this foreign fellow, +Dimambro, was the man who called at the House, I don’t see what that’s +got to do with the murder. Jacob Herapath, of course, had business +affairs with all sorts of queer people—Italians, Spaniards, +Chinese—many a Tom, Dick, and Harry of ’em; he bought curios of all +descriptions, and often sold them again as soon as bought.”</p> + +<p>“Very good suggestion,” said Professor Cox-Raythwaite. “He may have +bought something extremely valuable from this Dimambro that day, or that +night, and—he may have had it on him when he was murdered. Clearly, we +must see this Luigi Dimambro!”</p> + +<p>“If he’s the man who called at the House, you forget that he’s been +advertised for no end,” said Selwood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No, I don’t,” responded the Professor. “But he may be out of the +country: may have come to it specially to see Jacob Herapath, and left +it again. I repeat, we must see this man, if he’s to be found. We must +make inquiries—cautious, guarded inquiries—at this hotel in Soho, +which is probably a foreigners’ house of call, a mere restaurant. And +the very person to make those inquiries,” he concluded, turning to +Selwood and favouring him with a smack of the shoulder, “is—you!”</p> + +<p>Selwood flinched, physically and mentally. He had no great love of the +proposed rôle—private detective work did not appeal to him. And he +suggested that Professor Cox-Raythwaite had far better apply to Scotland +Yard.</p> + +<p>“By no means,” answered the Professor calmly. “You are the man to do the +work. We don’t want any police interference. This Hotel Ravenna is +probably some café, restaurant, or saloon in Soho, frequented by +foreigners—a place where, perhaps, a man can get a room for a night or +two. You must go quietly, unobtrusively, there; if it’s a restaurant, as +it’s sure to be, or at any rate, a place to which a restaurant is +attached, go in and get some sort of a meal, keep your eyes open, find +out the proprietor, get into talk with him, see if he knows Luigi +Dimambro. All you need is tact, caution, and readiness to adapt yourself +to circumstances.”</p> + +<p>Then, when they left Mr. Halfpenny’s office he took Selwood aside and +gave him certain hints and instructions, and enlarged upon the +advantages of finding Dimambro if he was to be found. The Professor +himself was enthusiastic about these recent developments, and he +succeeded in communicating some of his enthusiasm to Selwood. After all, +thought Selwood, as he went to Portman Square to tell Peggie of the +afternoon’s doings, whatever he did was being done for Peggie; moreover, +he was by that time certain that however mean and base Barthorpe +Herapath’s <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>conduct had been about the will, he was certainly not the +murderer of his uncle. If that murderer was to be tracked—why, there +was a certain zest, an appealing excitement in the tracking of him that +presented a sure fascination to youthful spirits.</p> + +<p>That evening found Selwood, quietly and unassumingly attired, examining +the purlieus of Soho. It was a district of which he knew little, and for +half an hour he perambulated its streets, wondering at the distinctly +foreign atmosphere. And suddenly he came across the Hotel Ravenna—there +it was, confronting him, at the lower end of Dean Street. He drew back +and looked it well over from the opposite pavement.</p> + +<p>The Hotel Ravenna was rather more of a pretentious establishment than +Selwood had expected it to be. It was typically Italian in outward +aspect. There were the usual evergreen shrubs set in the usual green +wood tubs at the entrance; the usual abundance of plate-glass and garish +gilt; the usual glimpse, whenever the door opened, of the usual vista of +white linen, red plush, and many mirrors; the waiter who occasionally +showed himself at the door, napkin in hand, was of the type which +Selwood had seen a thousand times under similar circumstances. But all +this related to the restaurant—Selwood was more interested that the +word “Hotel” appeared in gilt letters over a door at the side of the +establishment and was repeated in the windows of the upper storeys. He +was half-minded to enter the door at once, and to make a guarded inquiry +for Mr. Luigi Dimambro; on reflection he walked across the street and +boldly entered the restaurant.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was half-past seven o’clock, and the place was full of customers. +Selwood took most of them to be foreigners. He also concluded after a +first glance around him that the majority had some connection, more or +less close, with either the dramatic, or the musical, or the artistic +professions. There was much laughter and long hair, marvellous neckties +and wondrous costumes; everybody seemed to be talking without regard to +question or answer; the artillery of the voices mingled with the +rattling of plates and popping of corks. Clearly this was no easy place +in which to seek for a man whom one had never seen!</p> + +<p>Selwood allowed a waiter to conduct him to a vacant seat—a plush throne +half-way along the restaurant. He ordered a modest dinner and a bottle +of light wine, and following what seemed to be the custom, lighted a +cigarette until his first course appeared. And while he waited he looked +about him, noting everything that presented itself. Out of all the folk +there, waiters and customers, the idle and the busy, he quickly decided +that there was only one man who possessed particular interest for him. +That man was the big, smiling, frock-coated, sleek-haired patron or +proprietor, who strode up and down, beaming and nodding, sharp-eyed and +courteous, and whom Selwood, from a glance at the emblazoned lettering +of the bill-of-fare, took to rejoice in the name of Mr. Alessandro +Bioni. This man, if he was landlord, or manager, of the Ravenna Hotel, +was clearly the person to approach if one wanted information about the +Luigi Dimambro who had given the place as his address as recently as +November 12th.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> + +<p>While he ate and drank, Selwood wondered how to go about his business. +It seemed to him that the best thing to do, now that he had seen the +place and assured himself that it was a hotel evidently doing a proper +and legitimate business, was to approach its management with a plain +question—was Mr. Luigi Dimambro staying there, or was he known there? +Since Dimambro, whoever he might be, had given that as his address, +something must be known of him. And when the smiling patron presently +came round, and, seeing a new customer, asked politely if he was being +served to his satisfaction, Selwood determined to settle matters at +once.</p> + +<p>“The proprietor, I presume?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Manager, sir,” answered the other. “The proprietor, he is an old +gentleman—practically retired.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I can ask you a question,” Selwood. “Have you got a Mr. Luigi +Dimambro staying at your hotel? He is, I believe”—here Selwood made a +bold shot at a possibility—“a seller of curios, or art objects. I know +he stops here sometimes.”</p> + +<p>The manager rubbed his hands together and reflected.</p> + +<p>“One moment, sir,” he said. “I get the register. The hotel guests, they +come in here for meals, but always I do not recollect their names, and +sometimes not know them. But the register——”</p> + +<p>He sped down the room, through a side door, vanished; to return in a +moment with a book which he carried to Selwood’s side.</p> + +<p>“Dimambro?” he said. “Recently, then? We shall see.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + +<p>“About the beginning or middle of November,” answered Selwood.</p> + +<p>The manager found the pages: suddenly he pointed to an entry.</p> + +<p>“See, then!” he exclaimed dramatically. “You are right, sir. +There—Luigi Dimambro—November 11th to—yes—13th. Two days only. Then +he go—leave us, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, then, he’s not here now,” said Selwood, affecting disappointment. +“That’s a pity. I wanted to see him. I wonder if he left any address?”</p> + +<p>The manager showed more politeness in returning to the hotel office and +making inquiry. He came back full of disappointment that he could not +oblige his customer. No—no address—merely there for two nights—then +gone—nobody knew where. Perhaps he would return—some day.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s of no great consequence, thank you,” remarked Selwood. “I’m +much obliged to you.”</p> + +<p>He had found out, at any rate, that a man named Dimambro had certainly +stayed at the Hotel Ravenna on the critical and important date. +Presumably he was the man who had presented Jacob Herapath’s cheque at +Bittleston’s Bank first thing on the morning after the murder. But +whether this man had any connection with that murder, whether to +discover his whereabouts would be to reveal something of use in +establishing Barthorpe Herapath’s innocence, were questions which he +must leave to Professor Cox-Raythwaite, to whom he was presently going +with his news.</p> + +<p>He had just finished his coffee, and was about to pay his bill when, +looking up to summon the waiter, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>he suddenly saw a face appear behind +the glass panel of the street door—the face of a man who had evidently +stolen quietly into the entry between the evergreen shrubs and wished to +take a surreptitious peep into the interior of the little restaurant. It +was there, clearly seen through the glass, but for one fraction of a +second—then it was withdrawn as swiftly as it had come and the panel of +glass was blank again. But in that flash of time Selwood had recognized +it.</p> + +<p>Burchill!</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the note in the prayer-book</p> + +<p>Selwood hurried out of that restaurant as soon as he had paid his bill, +but it was with small hopes of finding the man whose face had appeared +at the glass panel for the fraction of a second. As well look for one +snowflake in a drift as for one man in those crowded streets!—all the +same, he spent half an hour in wandering round the neighbourhood, +looking eagerly at every tall figure he met or passed. And at the end of +that time he went off to Endsleigh Gardens and reported progress to +Professor Cox-Raythwaite.</p> + +<p>The Professor heard both items of news without betraying any great +surprise.</p> + +<p>“You’re sure it was Burchill?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“As sure,” answered Selwood, “as that you’re you! His is not a face easy +to mistake.”</p> + +<p>“He’s a daring fellow,” observed the Professor, musingly. “A very bold +fellow! There’s a very good portrait of him on those bills that the +police have put out and posted so freely, and he must know that every +constable and detective in London is on the look-out for him, to say +nothing of folk who would be glad of the reward. If that was +Burchill—and I’ve no doubt of it, since you’re so certain—it suggests +a good deal to me.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What?” asked Selwood.</p> + +<p>“That he’s not afraid of being recaptured as you’d think he would be,” +replied the Professor. “It suggests that he’s got some card up his +sleeve—which is what I’ve always thought. He probably knows +something—you may be certain, in any case, that he’s playing a deep and +bold game, for his own purpose, of course. Now, I wonder if Burchill +went to that restaurant on the same errand as yourself?”</p> + +<p>“What!—to look for Dimambro?” exclaimed Selwood.</p> + +<p>“Why not? Remember that Burchill was Jacob Herapath’s secretary before +you were,” answered the Professor. “He was with Jacob some time, wasn’t +he? Well, he knew a good deal about Jacob’s doings. Jacob may have had +dealings with this Dimambro person in Burchill’s days. You don’t +remember that Jacob had any such dealings in your time?”</p> + +<p>“Never!” replied Selwood. “Never heard the man’s name until +yesterday—never saw any letters from him, never heard Mr. Herapath +mention him. But then, as Mr. Halfpenny said, yesterday, Mr. Herapath +had all sorts of queer dealings with queer people. It’s a fact that he +used to buy and sell all sorts of things—curios, pictures, precious +stones—he’d all sorts of irons in the fire. It’s a fact, too, that he +was accustomed to carrying not only considerable sums of money, but +valuables on him.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Ah!” exclaimed the Professor. He rose out of his chair, put his hands +behind his broad back, and began to march up and down his study. “I’ll +tell you what, young man!” he said earnestly. “I’m more than ever +convinced that Jacob Herapath was robbed as well as murdered, and that +robbery and murder—or, rather, murder and robbery, for the murder would +go first—took place just before Barthorpe entered the offices to keep +that appointment. Selwood!—we must find this Dimambro man!”</p> + +<p>“Who’s most likely left the country,” remarked Selwood.</p> + +<p>“That’s probable—it may be certain,” said the Professor. “Nevertheless, +he may be here. And Burchill may be looking for him, too. Now, if +Dimambro stopped two days at that Hotel Ravenna, from November 11th to +13th, there must be somebody who knows something of him. We must—you +must—make more inquiry—there at the hotel. Talk quietly to that +manager or the servants. Get a description of him. Do that at +once—first thing tomorrow morning.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t want to tell the police all this?” asked Selwood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No! Not at present, at any rate,” answered the Professor. “The police +have their own methods, and they don’t thank anybody for putting them +off their beaten tracks. And—for the present—we won’t tell them +anything about your seeing Burchill. If we did, they’d be incredulous. +Police-like, they’ll have watched the various seaports much more closely +than they’ll have watched London streets for Burchill. And Burchill’s a +clever devil—he’ll know that he’s much safer under the very nose of the +people who want him than he would be fifty miles away from their toes! +No, it’s my opinion that Master Burchill will reveal himself, when the +time comes.”</p> + +<p>“Give himself up, do you mean?” exclaimed Selwood.</p> + +<p>“Likely—but if he does, it’ll be done with a purpose,” answered the +Professor. “Well—keep all quiet at present, and tomorrow morning, go +and see if you can find out more about Dimambro at that hotel.”</p> + +<p>Selwood repaired to the polite manager again next day and found no +difficulty in getting whatever information the hotel staff—represented +by a manageress, a general man-servant, and a maid or two—could give. +It was meagre, and not too exact in particulars. Mr. Dimambro, who had +never been there before, had stopped two days. He had occupied Room +5—the gentleman could see it if he wished. Mr. Dimambro had been in and +out most of the time. On the 13th he had gone out early in the morning; +by ten o’clock he had returned, paid his bill, and gone away with his +luggage—one suit-case. No—he had had no callers at the hotel. But a +waiter in the restaurant was discovered who remembered him as Number 5, +and that on the 12th he had entertained a gentleman to dinner at seven +o’clock—a tall, thin, dark-faced gentleman, who looked like—yes, like +an actor: a nicely dressed gentleman. That was all the waiter could +remember of the guest; he remembered just about as much of Number 5, +which was that Dimambro was a shortish, stoutish gentleman, with a +slight <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>black beard and moustache. There was a good reason why the +waiter remembered this occurrence—the two gentlemen had a bottle of the +best champagne, a rare occurrence at the Hotel Ravenna—a whole bottle, +for which the surprising sum of twelve shillings and sixpence was +charged! In proof of that startling episode in the restaurant routine, +he produced the desk book for that day—behold it, the entry: Number +5—1 Moet & Chandon, 12<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>“It is of a rare thing our customers call for wine so expensive,” said +the polite manager. “Light wines, you understand, sir, we mostly sell. +Champagne at twelve and six—an event!”</p> + +<p>Selwood carried this further news to Professor Cox-Raythwaite, who +roused himself from his microscope to consider it.</p> + +<p>“Could that tall, dark, nicely-dressed gentleman have been Burchill?” he +muttered. “Sounds like him. But you’ve got a description of Dimambro, at +any rate. Now we know of one man who saw the caller at the House of +Commons—Mountain, the coachman. Come along—I’ll go with you to see +Mountain.”</p> + +<p>Mountain, discovered at the mews wherein the Herapath stable was kept, +said at once that he remembered the gentleman who had come out of the +House of Commons with his late master. But when he came to be taxed with +a requirement of details, Mountain’s memory proved to be of no real +value. The gentleman—well, he was a well-dressed gentleman, and he wore +a top hat. But whether the gentleman was dark <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>or fair, elderly or +middle-aged, short or medium-heighted, he did not know—exactly. +Nevertheless——</p> + +<p>“I should know him again, sir, if I was to set eyes on him!” said +Mountain, with such belief in his powers. “Pick him out of a thousand, I +could!”</p> + +<p>“Queer how deficient most of our people are in the faculty of +observation!” remarked the Professor as he and Selwood left the mews. +“It really is most extraordinary that a man like that, with plenty of +intelligence, and is no doubt a good man in his own line, can look at +another man for a full minute and yet be utterly unable to tell you +anything definite about him a month later! No help there, Selwood.”</p> + +<p>It seemed to Selwood that they were face to face with an impossible +situation, and he began to feel inclined to share Mr. Halfpenny’s +pessimistic opinions as to the usefulness of these researches. But +Professor Cox-Raythwaite was not to be easily daunted, and he was no +sooner baulked in one direction than he hastened to try another.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Now, let’s see where we are,” he said, as they went round to Portman +Square. “We do know for a certainty that Jacob Herapath had a +transaction of some sort with one Luigi Dimambro, on November 12th, and +that it resulted in his handing, or sending, the said Luigi a cheque for +three thousand guineas. Let’s see if we can’t find some trace of it, or +some mention of it, or of previous dealings with Dimambro, amongst +Jacob’s papers. I suppose we can get access to everything here at the +house, and down at the office, too, can’t we? The probability is that +the transaction with Dimambro was not the first. There must be +something, Selwood—memoranda, letters, receipts—must be!”</p> + +<p>But Selwood shook his head and uttered a dismal groan.</p> + +<p>“Another of my late employer’s peculiarities,” he answered, “was that he +never gave or took receipts in what one may call word-of-mouth +transactions! He had a rooted—almost savage—objection to anybody +asking him for a receipt for cash; he absolutely refused to take one if +he paid cash. I’ve seen him pay several thousand pounds for a purchase +and fling the proffered receipt in the fire in the purchaser’s presence. +He used to ask—vehemently!—if you wanted receipts for a loaf of bread +or a pound of beef-steak. I’m afraid we shan’t find much of that sort. +As to letters and memoranda, Mr. Herapath had a curious habit which gave +me considerable trouble of mind when I first went to him, though I admit +it was a simple one. He destroyed every letter he ever got as soon as +he’d answered it. And as he insisted on everything being answered there +and then, there’s no great accumulation of paper in that way!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> + +<p>“We’ll see what there is, anyhow,” said the Professor. “If we could find +something, anything—a mere business card, a letter-heading—that would +give us Dimambro’s permanent address, it would be of use. For I’m more +and more convinced that Dimambro was the man who called at the House of +Commons that night, and if it was Burchill who dined with him that same +evening, why, then—but come along, let’s have a look at Jacob’s desk +in the house here, and after that we’ll go down to the estate offices +and see if we can find anything there.”</p> + +<p>This was a Saturday morning—during the whole of that afternoon and +evening the Professor and Selwood examined every drawer and receptacle +in which Jacob Herapath’s papers lay, both at Portman Square and at +Kensington. And, exactly as Selwood had said, there was next to nothing +of a private nature. Papers relating to Parliamentary matters, to +building schemes, to business affairs, there were in plenty, duly filed, +docketed, and arranged, but there was nothing of the sort that +Cox-Raythwaite hoped to find, and when they parted, late at night, they +were no wiser than when they began their investigations.</p> + +<p>“Go home to bed,” counselled the Professor. “Put the whole thing out of +your head until Monday morning. Don’t even think about it. Come and see +me on Monday, first thing, and we’ll start again. For by the Lord Harry! +I’ll find out yet what the real nature of Jacob Herapath’s transaction +with Dimambro was, if I have to track Dimambro all through Italy!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> + +<p>Selwood was glad enough to put everything out of his mind; it seemed to +him a hopeless task to search for a man to whose identity they only had +the very faintest clue. But before noon of the next day—Sunday—he was +face to face with a new phase of the problem. Since her uncle’s death, +Peggie had begun to show a quiet reliance on Selwood. It had come to be +tacitly understood between them that he was to be in constant +attendance on her for the present, at any rate. He spent all his time at +the house in Portman Square; he saved its young mistress all the trouble +he could; he accompanied her in her goings and comings. And of late he +had taken to attending her to a certain neighbouring church, whereto +Peggie, like a well-regulated young lady, was constant in her Sunday +visits. There in the Herapath family pew, he and Peggie sat together on +this particular Sunday morning, neither with any thought that the +Herapath mystery had penetrated to their sacred surroundings. Selwood +had been glad to take Cox-Raythwaite’s advice and to put the thing out +of his mind for thirty-six hours: Peggie had nothing in her mind but +what was proper to the occasion.</p> + +<p>Jacob Herapath had been an old-fashioned man in many respects; one of +his fads was an insistence upon having a family pew in the church which +he attended, and in furnishing it with his own cushions, mats, and +books. Consequently Peggie left her own prayer-book in that pew from +Sunday to Sunday. She picked it up now, and opened it at the usual +familiar place. And from that place immediately dropped a folded note.</p> + +<p>Had this communication been a <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><i>billet-doux</i></span>, Peggie could hardly have +betrayed more alarm and confusion. For a moment she let the thing rest +in the palm of her hand, holding the hand out towards Selwood at her +side; then with trembling fingers she unfolded it in such a fashion that +she and Selwood read it together. With astonished eyes and beating +hearts <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>they found themselves looking at a half-sheet of thin, +foreign-looking notepaper, on which were two or three lines of +typewriting:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“If you wish to save your cousin Barthorpe’s life, leave the +church and speak to the lady whom you will find in a private +automobile at the entrance to the churchyard.”</p></div> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the white-haired lady</p> + +<p>The two young people who bent over this mysterious message in the +shelter of that old-fashioned pew were each conscious of a similar +feeling—they were thankful that they were together. Peggie Wynne had +never been so glad of anything in her life as for Selwood’s immediate +presence at that moment: Selwood felt a world of unspeakable gratitude +that he was there, just when help and protection were wanted. For each +recognized, with a sure instinct and intuition, that those +innocent-looking lines of type-script signified much, heralded some +event of dire importance. To save Barthorpe Herapath’s life!—that could +only mean that somebody—the sender of the note—knew that Barthorpe was +innocent and some other person guilty.</p> + +<p>For a moment the girl stared with startled eyes and flushed cheeks at +the scrap of paper; then she turned with a quick, questioning look at +her companion. And Selwood reached for his hat and his stick, and +murmured one word:</p> + +<p>“Come!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peggie saw nothing of the surprised and questioning looks which were +turned on Selwood and herself as they left the pew and passed down the +aisle of the crowded church. She had but one thought—whom was she +going to meet outside, what revelation was going to be made to her? +Unconsciously, she laid a hand on Selwood’s arm as they passed through +the porch, and Selwood, with a quick throb of pride, took it and held +it. Then, arm in arm, they walked out, and a verger who opened the outer +door for them, smiled as they passed him; he foresaw another +passing-out, whereat Peggie would wear orange blossoms.</p> + +<p>The yard of this particular church was not a place of green sward, +ancient trees, and tumble-down tombs; instead it was an expanse of bare +flagstones, shut in by high walls which terminated at a pair of iron +gates. Outside those gates an automobile was drawn up; its driver stood +attentively at its door. Selwood narrowly inspected both, as he and +Peggie approached. The car was evidently a private one: a quiet, yet +smart affair; its driver was equally smart in his dark green livery. And +that he had received his orders was evident from the fact that as the +two young people approached he touched his cap and laid a hand on the +door of the car.</p> + +<p>“Be watchful and careful,” whispered Selwood, as he and Peggie crossed +the pavement. “Leave all to me!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> + +<p>He himself was keenly alert to whatever might be going to happen. It +seemed to him, from the chauffeur’s action, that they were to be +invited, or Peggie was to be invited, to enter the car. Very good—but +he was going to know who was in that car before any communications of +any sort were entered upon. Also, Peggie was not going to exchange one +word with anybody, go one step with anybody, unless he remained in close +attendance upon her. The phraseology of the mysterious note; the +clandestine fashion in which it had been brought under Peggie’s notice; +the extraordinary method adopted of procuring an interview with her—all +these things had aroused Selwood’s suspicions, and his natural sense of +caution was at its full stretch as he walked across to the car, +wondering what he and Peggie were about to confront.</p> + +<p>What they did confront was a pleasant-faced, white-haired, elderly lady, +evidently a woman of fashion and of culture, who bent forward from her +seat with a kindly, half-apologetic smile.</p> + +<p>“Miss Wynne?” she said inquiringly. “How do you do? And this gentleman +is, no doubt, Mr. Selwood, of whom I have heard? You must forgive this +strange conduct, this extraordinary manner of getting speech with you—I +am not a free agent. Now, as I have something to say—will you both come +into the car and hear it?”</p> + +<p>Peggie, who was greatly surprised at this reception, turned diffidently +to her companion. And Selwood, who had been gazing earnestly at the +elderly lady’s face, and had seen nothing but good intention in it, felt +himself considerably embarrassed.</p> + +<p>“I—well, really, this is such a very strange affair altogether that I +don’t know what we ought to do,” he said. “May I suggest that if you +wish to talk to Miss Wynne, we should go to her house? It’s only just +round the corner, and——”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> + +<p>“But that’s just what I am not to do,” replied the lady, with an amused +laugh. “I repeat—I am not exactly a free agent. It’s all very strange, +and very unpleasant, and sounds, no doubt, very mysterious, but I am +acting—practically—under orders. Let me suggest something—will you +and Miss Wynne come into the car, and I will tell the man to drive +gently about until you have heard what I have to say? Come now!—I am +not going to kidnap you, and you can’t come to much harm by driving +round about Portman Square for a few minutes, in the company of an old +woman! Dickerson,” she went on, as Selwood motioned Peggie to enter the +car, “drive us very slowly round about here until I tell you to stop—go +round the square—anywhere.”</p> + +<p>The car moved gently up Baker Street, and Selwood glanced inquiringly at +their captor.</p> + +<p>“May we have the pleasure of——”</p> + +<p>The elderly lady brought out a card-case and some papers.</p> + +<p>“I am Mrs. Engledew,” she said. “I live in the Herapath Flats. I don’t +suppose you ever heard of me, Miss Wynne, but I knew your uncle very +well—we had been acquaintances, nay, friends, for years. I thought it +might be necessary to prove my <span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><i>bona fides</i></span>,” +she continued, with a laugh, “so I brought some letters of Jacob +Herapath’s with me—letters written to me—you recognize +his big, bold hand, of course.”</p> + +<p>There was no mistaking Jacob Herapath’s writing, and the two young +people, after one glance at it, exchanged glances with each other.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Now you want to know why I am here,” said Mrs. Engledew. “The answer +is plain—if astonishing. I have managed to get mixed up in this matter +of Jacob Herapath’s murder! That sounds odd, doesn’t it?—nevertheless, +it’s true. But we can’t go into that now. And I cannot do more than tell +you that I simply bring a message and want an answer. My dear!” she +continued, laying a hand on Peggie’s arm, “you do not wish to see +Barthorpe Herapath hanged?”</p> + +<p>“We believe him innocent,” replied Peggie.</p> + +<p>“Quite so—he is innocent—of murder, anyway,” said Mrs. Engledew. +“Now—I speak in absolute confidence, remember!—there are two men who +know who the real murderer is. They are in touch with me—that is, one +of them is, on behalf of both. I am really here as their emissary. They +are prepared to give you and the police full particulars about the +murder—for a price.”</p> + +<p>Selwood felt himself grow more suspicious than ever. This lady was of +charming address, pleasant smile, and apparently candid manners, +but—price!—price for telling the truth in a case like this!</p> + +<p>“What price?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Their price is ten thousand pounds—cash,” answered Mrs. Engledew, with +a little shrug of her shoulders. “Seems a great deal, doesn’t it? But +that is their price. They will not be moved from it. If Miss Wynne will +agree to pay that sum, they will at once not only give their evidence as +to the real murderer of Jacob Herapath, but they will point him out.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> + +<p>“When?” demanded Selwood.</p> + +<p>“Tonight!” replied Mrs. Engledew. “Tonight—at an hour to be fixed after +your agreement to their terms.”</p> + +<p>Selwood felt himself in a difficult position. Mr. Tertius was out of +town for the day, gone to visit an antiquarian friend in Berkshire: Mr. +Halfpenny lived away down amongst the Surrey hills. Still, there was +Cox-Raythwaite to turn to. But it seemed as if the lady desired an +immediate answer.</p> + +<p>“You know these men?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“One only, who represents both,” answered Mrs. Engledew.</p> + +<p>“Why not point him out to the police, and let them deal with them?” +suggested Selwood. “They would get his evidence out of him without any +question of price!”</p> + +<p>“I have given my word,” said Mrs. Engledew. “I—the fact is, I am mixed +up in this, quite innocently, of course. And I am sure that no living +person knows the truth except these men, and just as sure that they will +not tell what they know unless they are paid. The police could not make +them speak if they didn’t want to speak. They know very well that they +have got the whip-hand of all of us in that respect!”</p> + +<p>“Of you, too?” asked Selwood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Of me, too!” she answered. “Nobody in the world, I’m sure, knows the +secret but these men. And it’s important to me personally that they +should reveal it. In fact, though I’m not rich, I’ll join Miss Wynne in +paying their price, so far as a thousand pounds is concerned. I would +pay more, but I really haven’t got the money—I daren’t go beyond a +thousand.”</p> + +<p>Selwood felt himself impressed by this candid offer.</p> + +<p>“Precisely what do they ask—what do they propose?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“This. If you agree to pay them ten thousand pounds, you and Professor +Cox-Raythwaite are to meet them tonight. They will then tell the true +story, and they will further take you and the police to the man, the +real murderer,” answered Mrs. Engledew. “It is important that all this +should be done tonight.”</p> + +<p>“Where is this meeting to take place?” demanded Selwood.</p> + +<p>“It can take place at my flat: in fact, it must, because, as I say, I am +unfortunately mixed up,” said Mrs. Engledew. “If you agree to the terms, +you are to telephone to me—I have written my number on the card—at two +o’clock this afternoon. Then I shall telephone the time of meeting +tonight, and you must bring the money with you.”</p> + +<p>“Ten thousand pounds in cash—on Sunday!” exclaimed Selwood. “That, of +course, is utterly impossible.”</p> + +<p>“Not cash in that sense,” replied Mrs. Engledew. “An open cheque will +do. And, don’t you see, that, I think, proves the +<span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><i>bona fides</i></span> of the +men. If they fail to do what they say they can and will do, you can stop +payment of that cheque first thing tomorrow morning.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s so,” agreed Selwood. He glanced at Peggie, who was +silently listening with deep interest. “I don’t know how things stand,” +he went on. “Mr. Halfpenny, Miss Wynne’s solicitor, lives a long way out +of town. Miss Wynne would doubtless cheerfully sacrifice ten thousand +pounds to save her cousin——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, twenty thousand—anything!” exclaimed Peggie. “Don’t let us +hesitate about money, please.”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t know whether she can draw a cheque,” continued Selwood. “At +least, for such an amount as that. Perhaps Professor Cox-Raythwaite can +tell us. Let me ask you a question or two, if you please, Mrs. +Engledew,” he went on. “You say you only know one of these men. Do you +know his name?”</p> + +<p>“No—I don’t,” confessed Mrs. Engledew. “Everything is secret and +mysterious.”</p> + +<p>“Are you convinced—has he done anything to convince you—of his good +faith?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—absolutely!”</p> + +<p>“You don’t doubt his—their—ability to clear all this up?”</p> + +<p>“I’m quite sure they can clear it up.”</p> + +<p>“Have you any idea as to the identity of the real murderer?”</p> + +<p>“Not the least!”</p> + +<p>“One more question, then,” concluded Selwood. “Are the police to be +there when Cox-Raythwaite and I come tonight?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That I don’t know,” replied Mrs. Engledew. “All I know is—just what I +am ordered to say. Pay them the money—they will tell the truth and take +you and the police to the real criminal. One more thing—it is +understood that you will not approach the police between now and this +evening. That part—the police part—is to be left to them.”</p> + +<p>“I understand,” said Selwood. “Very well—we will get out, if you +please, and we will go straight to Professor Cox-Raythwaite. At two +o’clock I shall ring you up and give you our answer.”</p> + +<p>He hurried Peggie into a taxi-cab as soon as Mrs. Engledew’s car had +gone away, and they went hastily to Endsleigh Gardens, where Professor +Cox-Raythwaite listened to the strange story in dead silence.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Engledew—lady living in Herapath Flats—old friend of +Jacob’s—possessed letters of his—instrument for two men in possession +of secret—willing to fork out a thousand of her own,” he muttered. +“Gad!—I take that to be genuine, Selwood! The only question is for +Peggie here—does she wish to throw away nine thousand to save +Barthorpe’s neck?”</p> + +<p>“The only question, Professor,” said Peggie, reprovingly, “is—can I do +it? Can I draw a cheque for that amount?”</p> + +<p>“Why not?” replied the Professor. “Everything’s in order. Barthorpe +withdrew that wretched caveat—the will’s been proved—every penny that +Jacob possessed is yours. Draw a cheque for fifty thousand, if you +like!”</p> + +<p>“And you will go with Mr. Selwood?” asked Peggie, with a touch of +anxiety which was not lost on the Professor.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Go with him—and take care of him, too,” answered the Professor, +digging his big fingers into Selwood’s ribs. “Very good. Now stop here +and lunch with me, and at two o’clock we’ll telephone.”</p> + +<p>He and Peggie stood breathlessly waiting in the hall that afternoon +while Selwood was busy at the telephone in an adjacent lobby. Selwood +came back to them nodding his head.</p> + +<p>“All right!” he said. “You and I, Professor, at her flat—tonight, at +nine o’clock.”</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the interrupted dinner-party</p> + +<p>Triffitt’s recent inquiries in connection with the Herapath affair had +been all very well from a strictly professional point of view, but not +so well from another. For nearly twelve months he had been engaged to a +sweet girl, of whom he was very fond, and who thoroughly reciprocated +his affection; up to the time of the Herapath murder he had contrived to +spend a certain portion of each day with her, and to her he had +invariably devoted the whole of his Sundays. In this love affair he was +joined by his friend, to whom Triffitt’s young lady had introduced her +great friend, with whom Carver had promptly become infatuated. These +ladies, both very young and undeniably charming, spent the greater part +of the working week at the School of Needlework, in South Kensington, +where they fashioned various beautiful objects with busy needles; +Sundays they gave up to their swains, and every Sunday ended with a +little dinner of four at some cheap restaurant whereat you could get +quite a number of courses at the fixed price of half a crown or so and +drink light wine which was very little dearer than pale ale. All parties +concerned looked forward throughout the week to these joyful occasions; +the girls wore their best frocks, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>the young men came out bravely in +the matter of neckties; there was laughter and gaiety and a general +escape from the prosaic matters which obtained from Monday to +Saturday—consequently, Triffitt felt it a serious thing that attention +to this Herapath business had come to interfere with his love-making and +his Sunday feast of mirth and gladness. More than once he had been +obliged to let Carver go alone to the usual rendezvous; he himself had +been running hither and thither after chances of news which never +materialized, while his sweetheart played gooseberry to the more +favoured people. And as he was very much in love, Triffitt had often +been tempted to throw his clues and his theories to the winds, and to +vow himself to the service of Venus rather than to that of Mercury.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> + +<p>But on that Sunday which saw the white-haired lady interviewing Peggie +Wynne and Selwood, Triffitt, to his great delight, found that newspaper +requirements were not going to interfere with him. The hue-and-cry after +the missing Burchill was dying down—the police (so Davidge told +Triffitt in strict confidence) were of the firm opinion that Burchill +had escaped to the continent—probably within a few hours of the moment +wherein he made his unceremonious exit from Mr. Halfpenny’s office. Even +Markledew was not so keen about the Herapath affair as he had been. His +policy was—a new day, a new affair. The Herapath mystery was becoming a +little stale—it would get staler unless a fresh and startling +development took place. As it was, nothing was likely to arise which +would titillate the public until Barthorpe Herapath, now safely lodged +in the remand prison, was brought to trial, or unless Burchill was +arrested. Consequently, Triffitt was not expected to make up a half or a +whole column of recent and sensational Herapath news every morning. And +so he gladly took this Sunday for a return to the primrose paths. He and +Carver met their sweethearts; they took them to the Albert Hall Sunday +afternoon concert—nothing better offering in the middle of winter—they +went to tea at the sweethearts’ lodgings; later in the evening they +carried them off to the accustomed Sunday dinner.</p> + +<p>Triffitt and Carver had become thoroughly seasoned men of the world in +the matter of finding out good places whereat to dine well and cheaply. +They knew all the Soho restaurants. They had sampled several in Oxford +Street and in Tottenham Court Road. But by sheer luck they had found +one—an Italian restaurant—in South Kensington which was, in their +opinion, superior to all of their acquaintance. This establishment had +many advantages for lovers. To begin with, it bore a poetical name—the +Café Venezia—Triffitt, who frequently read Byron and Shelley to his +adored one, said it made one think of moonlight and gondolas, and +similar adjuncts to what he called <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><i>parfaite amour</i></span>. +Then it was divided off into little cabinets, just holding four +people—that was an advantage when you were sure of your company. And +for the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"><i>prix fixe</i></span> +of two shillings they gave you quite a good dinner; also their Chianti was +of exceptional + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> + +quality, and according to the proprietor, it came straight from Siena.</p> + +<p>On this Sunday evening, then, Triffitt on one side of a table with his +lady-love, Carver on the other with his, made merry, with no thought of +anything but the joys of the moment. They had arrived at the last stages +of the feast; the heroes puffed cigarettes and sipped Benedictine; the +heroines daintily drank their sweetened coffee. They all chattered +gaily, out of the fulness of their youthful hearts; not one of them had +any idea that anything was going to happen. And in the midst of their +lightsomeness, Triffitt, who faced a mirror, started, dropped his +cigarette, upset his liqueur glass and turned pale. For an instant he +clutched the tablecloth, staring straight in front of him; then with a +great effort he controlled his emotion and with a cautious hissing of +his breath, gazed warningly at Carver.</p> + +<p>“‘Sh!” whispered Triffitt. “Not a word! And don’t move—don’t show a +sign, any of you. Carver—turn your head very slowly and look behind +you. At the bar!”</p> + +<p>At the entrance to that restaurant there was a bar, whereat it was +possible to get a drink. There were two or three men, so occupied, +standing at this bar at that moment—Carver, leisurely turning to +inspect them, suddenly started as violently as Triffitt had started a +moment before.</p> + +<p>“Good heavens!” he muttered. “Burchill!”</p> + +<p>“Quiet!” commanded Triffitt. “Quiet, all of you. By Gad!—this is——”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> + +<p>He ended in an eloquent silence and with a glare at his companions +which would have imposed silence on an unruly class-room. He was already +at work—the quick, sure journalistic instinct had come up on top and +was rapidly realizing the situation. That the man standing there, +openly, calmly, taking a drink of some sort, was Frank Burchill he had +no more doubt than of his own identity. The thing was—what was to be +done?</p> + +<p>Triffitt was as quick of action as of thought—in two seconds he had +made up his mind. With another warning glance at the startled girls, he +bent across the table to Carver.</p> + +<p>“Carver!” he whispered. “Do exactly what I tell you. When Burchill goes +out, Trixie and I’ll follow him. You pay the bill—then you and Lettie +jump into the first taxi you can get and go to Scotland Yard. Find +Davidge! If Davidge isn’t there, get somebody else. Wait there until I +ring you up! What I’ll do will be this—we’ll follow Burchill, and if I +see that he’s going to take to train or cab I’ll call help and stop him. +You follow me? As soon as I’ve taken action, or run him to earth, I’ll +ring up Scotland Yard, and then——”</p> + +<p>“He’s going,” announced Carver, who had taken advantage of the many +mirrors to keep his eye on Burchill. “He’s off! I understand——”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p> + +<p>Triffitt was already leading his sweetheart quietly out. In the gloom of +the street he saw Burchill’s tall figure striding away towards Cromwell +Road. Triffitt’s companion was an athletically inclined young +woman—long walks in the country on summer Sundays had toughened her +powers of locomotion and she strode out manfully in response to +Triffitt’s command to hurry up.</p> + +<p>“Lucky that you were with me, Trixie!” exclaimed Triffitt. “You make a +splendid blind. Supposing he does look round and sees that he’s being +followed? Why, he’d never think that we were after him. Slip your hand +in my arm—he’ll think we’re just a couple of sweethearts, going his +way. Gad!—what a surprise! And what a cheek he has—with all those +bills out against him!”</p> + +<p>“You don’t think he’ll shoot you if he catches sight of you?” asked +Trixie, anxiously. “He’d be sure to recognize you, wouldn’t he?”</p> + +<p>“We’ll not come within shooting distance,” replied Triffitt grimly. “All +I want to do is to track him. Of course, if he gets into any vehicle, +I’ll have to act. Let’s draw a bit nearer.”</p> + +<p>Burchill showed no sign of hailing any vehicle; indeed, he showed no +sign of anything but cool confidence. It was certainly nearly nine +o’clock of a dark winter evening, but there was plenty of artificial +light in the streets, and Burchill made no attempt to escape its glare. +He walked on, smoking a cigar, jauntily swinging an umbrella, he passed +and was passed by innumerable people; more than one policeman glanced at +his tall figure and took no notice. And Triffitt chuckled cynically.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p> + +<p>“There you are, Trixie!” he said. “There’s a fellow who’s wanted about +as badly as can be, whose picture’s posted up outside every +police-station in London, and at every port in England, and he walks +about, and stares at people, and passes policemen as unconcernedly as I +do. The fact of the case is that if I went to that bobby and pointed +Burchill out, and told the bobby who he is, all that bobby would say +would be, ‘Who are you a-kiddin’ of?’—or words to that equivalent. And +so—still ahead he goes, and we after him! And—where?”</p> + +<p>Burchill evidently knew very well where he was going. He crossed +Cromwell Road, went up Queen’s Road, turned into Queen’s Gate Terrace, +and leisurely pursuing his way, proceeded to cut through various streets +and thoroughfares towards Kensington High Street. Always he looked +forward; never once did he turn nor seem to have any suspicion that he +was being followed. There was nothing here of the furtive slink, the +frightened slouch of the criminal escaped from justice; the man’s entire +bearing was that of fearlessness; he strode across Kensington High +Street in the full glare of light before the Town Hall and under the +noses of several policemen.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later Triffitt pulled himself and Trixie up with a gasp. +The chase had come to an end—for that moment, at any rate. Boldly, +openly, with absolute nonchalance, Burchill walked into a +brilliantly-lighted entrance of the Herapath Flats!</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the yorkshire proverb</p> + +<p>In the course of Triffitt’s brief and fairly glorious journalistic +career, he had enjoyed and suffered a few startling experiences. He had +been fastened up in the darker regions of a London sewer in flood, +wondering if he would ever breathe the fine air of Fleet Street again or +go down with the rats that scurried by him. He had been down a coal-mine +in the bad hour which follows an explosion. He had several times risked +his neck; his limbs had often been in danger; he had known what it was +to feel thumpings of the heart and catchings of the breath from sheer +fright. He had come face to face with surprise, with astonishment, with +audacious turnings of Fortune’s glass. But never in all his life had he +been so surprised as he now was, and after one long, low whistle he +relieved his feelings by quoting verse:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Is things what they seem?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or is visions about?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“Trixie!” he went on in a low, concentrated voice. “This licks all! This +bangs Banagher! This—but words fail me, Trixie!”</p> + +<p>“What is it, Herbert?” demanded Trixie anxiously. “What does it all +mean?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Ah!” responded Triffitt, wildly smiting the crown of his deerstalker. +“That’s just it! What does it all mean, my dear! Gad!—this is—to use +the common language of the common man, a fair licker! That that chap +Burchill should march as bold as brass into those Herapath Flats, +is—well, I couldn’t be more surprised, Trixie, than if you were to tell +me that you are the Queen of Sheba’s grand-daughter! Not so much so, in +fact. You see——”</p> + +<p>But at that moment a taxi-cab came speeding round the corner, and from +it presently emerged Carver and Davidge. The detective, phlegmatic, +quiet as ever, nodded familiarly to Triffitt and lifted his hat to +Trixie.</p> + +<p>“Evening, Mr. Triffitt,” he said quietly.</p> + +<p>“He’s in there!” exclaimed Triffitt, grabbing Davidge’s arm and pointing +wildly to the brilliantly lighted entrance, wherein two or three +uniformed servants lounged about to open doors and attend to elevators. +“Walked in as if the whole place belonged to him! You know—Burchill!”</p> + +<p>“Ah, just so!” responded Davidge unconcernedly. “Quite so—I wouldn’t +name no names in the street if I were you, Mr. Triffitt. Ah!—to be +sure, now. Well, of course, he would have to go in somewhere, wouldn’t +he?—as well here as anywhere, perhaps. Yes. Now, if this young lady +would join the other young lady in the cab, Mr. Carver’ll escort ’em +home, and then he can come back here if he likes—we might have a bit of +a job for him. And when the ladies retire, you and me can do our bit of +business, d’ye see, Mr. Triffitt. What?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> + +<p>Trixie, urged towards the cab, showed signs of uneasiness.</p> + +<p>“Promise me you won’t get shot, or poisoned, or anything, Herbert!” she +entreated. “If you do——”</p> + +<p>“We aren’t going in for any shooting tonight, miss,” said Davidge +gravely. “Some other night, perhaps. All quiet and serene tonight—just +a little family gathering, as it were—all pleasant!”</p> + +<p>“But that dreadful man!” exclaimed Trixie, pointing to the door of the +flats. “Supposing——”</p> + +<p>“Ah, but we won’t suppose,” answered Davidge. “He’s all right, he is. +Mild as milk we shall find him—my word on it, miss. Now,” he continued, +when he had gently but firmly assisted Trixie into the cab, said a word +or two to Carver, taken Triffitt’s arm, and led him across the street, +“now we’ll talk a bit, quietly. So he’s gone in there, has he, Mr. +Triffitt? Just so. Alone, now?”</p> + +<p>“Quite alone,” replied Triffitt. “What’s it all about—what does it +mean? You seem remarkably cool about it!”</p> + +<p>“I shouldn’t be much use in my trade if I didn’t keep cool, Mr. +Triffitt,” answered Davidge. “You see, I know a bit—perhaps a good +deal—of what’s going on—or what’s going to go on, presently. So will +you. I’ll take you in there.”</p> + +<p>“There? Where?” demanded Triffitt.</p> + +<p>“Where he’s gone,” said Davidge. “Where—if I’m not mistaken—that +chap’s going.”</p> + +<p>He pointed to a man who had come quickly round the corner from the +direction of the High Street, a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>middle-sized, apparently well-dressed +man, who hurried up the broad steps and disappeared within the +glass-panelled doors.</p> + +<p>“That’s another of ’em,” observed Davidge. “And I’m a Dutchman if this +taxi-cab doesn’t hold t’other two. You’ll recognize them, easy.”</p> + +<p>Triffitt gaped with astonishment as he saw Professor Cox-Raythwaite and +Selwood descend from the taxi-cab, pass up the steps, and disappear.</p> + +<p>“Talk of mysteries!” he said. “This——”</p> + +<p>Davidge pulled out an old-fashioned watch.</p> + +<p>“Nine o’clock,” he remarked. “Come on—we’ll go in. Now, then, Mr. +Triffitt,” he continued, pressing his companion’s arm, “let me give you +a tip. You mayn’t know that I’m a Yorkshireman—I am! We’ve a good old +proverb—it’s often cast up against us: ‘Hear all—say naught!’ You’ll +see me act on it tonight—act on it yourself. And—a word in your +ear!—you’re going to have the biggest surprise you ever had in your +life—and so’s a certain somebody else that we shall see in five +minutes! Come on!”</p> + +<p>He took Triffitt’s arm firmly in his, led him up the stairs, in at the +doors. The hall-porter came forward.</p> + +<p>“Take me up,” said Davidge, “to Mrs. Engledew’s flat.”</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">burchill fills the stage</p> + +<p>It seemed to Triffitt, who possessed, and sedulously cultivated, a sense +of the dramatic, that the scene to which he and Davidge were presently +conducted by a trim and somewhat surprised-looking parlour-maid, was one +which might have been bodily lifted from the stage of any theatre +devoted to work of the melodramatic order. The detective and the +reporter found themselves on the threshold of a handsomely furnished +dining-room, vividly lighted by lamps which threw a warm pink glow over +the old oak furniture and luxurious fittings. On one side of the big +table sat Professor Cox-Raythwaite and Selwood both looking a little +mystified; at the further end sat a shortish, rather fat man, obviously +a foreigner, who betrayed anxiety in every line of his rather oily +countenance. And posed in an elegant attitude on the hearthrug, one +elbow resting on the black marble of the mantelpiece, one hand toying +with a cigarette, stood Burchill, scrupulously attired as usual, and +conveying, or endeavouring to convey to whoever looked upon him, that +he, of all people present, was master of himself and all of the scene.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p> + +<p>Triffitt took all this in at a glance; his next glance was at the +elegant, white-haired lady who came forward to meet him and his +companion. Davidge gave him a nudge as he executed a duck-like bow.</p> + +<p>“Servant, ma’am,” said Davidge in his quietest and coolest manner. “I +took the liberty of bringing a friend with me. You see, ma’am, as these +proceedings are in what we may call the public way, Mrs. Engledew, no +objection I’m sure to having a press gentleman at them. Mr. Triffitt, +ma’am, of the <i>Argus</i> newspaper. Known to these gentlemen—all of +’em—unless it’s the gentleman at the far end, there. Known, at any +rate, to Mr. Selwood and the Professor,” continued Davidge, nodding with +much familiarity to the person he named. “And likewise to Mr. Burchill +there. How do you do, sir, this evening? You and me, I think, has met +before, and shall no doubt meet again. Well, ma’am, and now that I’ve +come, perhaps I might ask a question. What have I come for?”</p> + +<p>Davidge had kept up this flow of talk while he took stock of his +surroundings, and now, with another nudge of his companion’s elbow, he +took a chair between the door and the table, planted himself firmly in +it, put his hands on top of his stout stick, and propped his chin on his +hands. He looked at Mrs. Engledew once more, and then let his eyes make +another inspection of her guests.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What have I come for, ma’am?” he repeated. “To hear those revelations +you spoke of when you called on me this afternoon? Just so. Well, ma’am, +the only question now is—who’s going to make ’em? For,” he added, +sitting up again after his further inspection, and bestowing a general +smile all round, “revelations, ma’am, is what I chiefly hanker after, +and I shall be glad—delighted!—to hear any specimens from—anybody as +chooses to make ’em!”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Engledew looked at Burchill as she resumed her seat.</p> + +<p>“I think Mr. Burchill is the most likely person to tell you what there +is to tell,” she said. “His friend——”</p> + +<p>“Ah!—the gentleman at the other end of the table, no doubt,” observed +Davidge. “How do you do, sir? And what might that gentleman’s name be, +now?”</p> + +<p>Burchill, who had been watching the detective carefully, threw away his +cigarette and showed an inclination to speak.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Davidge!” he said. “You know very well why you’re +here—you’re here to hear the real truth about the Herapath murder! Mrs. +Engledew told you that this afternoon, when she called on you at +Scotland Yard. Now the only two people who know the real truth are +myself and my friend there—Mr. Dimambro.”</p> + +<p>Selwood and Cox-Raythwaite, who until then had remained in ignorance of +the little foreigner’s identity, started and looked at him with +interest. So this was the missing witness! But Davidge remained cool and +unimpressed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Ah, just so!” he said. “Foreign gentleman, no doubt. And you and Mr. +Dimambro are the only persons who know the real truth about that little +affair, eh, Mr. Burchill. Very good, so as——”</p> + +<p>“As Mr. Dimambro doesn’t speak English very well——” began Burchill.</p> + +<p>“I speak it—you understand—enough to say a good many words—but not so +good as him,” observed Mr. Dimambro, waving a fat hand. “He say it for +me—for both of us, eh?”</p> + +<p>“To be sure, sir, to be sure,” said Davidge. “Mr. Burchill is gifted +that way, of course. Well, Mr. Burchill, and what might this story be, +now? Deeply interesting, I’ll be bound.”</p> + +<p>Burchill pulled a chair to the table, opposite Selwood and the +Professor. He put the tips of his fingers together and assumed an +explanatory manner.</p> + +<p>“I shall have to begin at the beginning,” he said. “You’ll all please to +follow me closely. Now, to commence—Mrs. Engledew permits me to speak +for her as well as for Mr. Dimambro. The fact is, I can put the +circumstances of the whole affair into a consecutive manner. And I will +preface what I have to say by making a statement respecting a fact in +the life of the late Mr. Herapath which will, I believe, be +substantiated by Mr. Selwood, my successor as secretary to the deceased +gentleman. Mr. Herapath, in addition to being an authority on the +building of up-to-date flats, was also more or less of an expert in +precious stones. He not only bought and sold in these things, but he +gave advice to his friends in matters relating to them. Mr. Selwood has, +I am sure, had experience of that fact?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p> + +<p>“To a certain extent—yes,” agreed Selwood. “But I had not been long +enough in Mr. Herapath’s employ to know how much he went in for that +sort of thing.”</p> + +<p>“That is immaterial,” continued Burchill. “We establish the fact that he +did. Now we come to the first chapter of our story. This lady, Mrs. +Engledew, a tenant of this flat since the Herapath Estate was built, is +an old acquaintance—I am permitted to say, friend—of the late Jacob +Herapath. She occasionally consulted him on matters of business. On +November 12th last she consulted him on another affair—though it had, +of course, a business complexion. Mrs. Engledew, by the death of a +relative, had just come into possession of some old family +jewels—chiefly diamonds. These diamonds, which, Mrs. Engledew tells me, +had been valued by Spinks at about seven thousand pounds, were in very +old, considerably worn settings. Mrs. Engledew wished to have them +reset. Knowing that Jacob Herapath had great taste and knowledge in that +direction, she saw him at his office on the noon of November 12th, +showed him the diamonds, and asked his advice. Jacob Herapath—I am +giving you Mrs. Engledew’s account—told her to leave the diamonds with +him, as he was going to see, that very day, an expert in that line, to +whom he would show the stones with the idea of his giving him his +opinion on what ought to be done with them. Mrs. Engledew handed him the +diamonds in a small case, which he put in his pocket. I hope,” added +Burchill, turning to Mrs. Engledew, “that I have given all this quite +correctly?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Quite,” assented Mrs. Engledew. “It is perfectly correct.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Then,” continued Burchill, “we pass on to Mr. Dimambro. Mr. Luigi +Dimambro is a dealer in precious stones, who resides in Genoa, but +travels widely about Europe in pursuance of his business. Mr. Dimambro +had had several dealings with Jacob Herapath during past years, but +previous to November 12th last they had not met for something like +twelve months. On their last previous meeting Jacob Herapath told Mr. +Dimambro that he was collecting pearls of a certain sort and +size—specimens of which he showed him—with a view to presenting his +niece, Miss Wynne, with a necklace which was to be formed of them. He +gave Dimambro a commission to collect such pearls for him. On November +11th last Dimambro arrived in London from the Continent, and wrote to +Mr. Herapath to tell him of his arrival, and to notify him that he had +brought with him some pearls of the sort he wanted. Mr. Herapath +thereupon made an appointment with Dimambro at the House of Commons on +the evening of November 12th at half-past ten o’clock. Dimambro kept +that appointment, showed Mr. Herapath the pearls which he had brought, +sold them to him, and received from him, in payment for them, a cheque +for three thousand guineas. This transaction being conducted, Mr. +Herapath drew from his pocket (the same pocket in which he had already +placed the pearls, which I understand, were wrapped up in a small bag or +case of wash-leather) the diamonds which Mrs. Engledew had entrusted to +him, showed them to Dimambro, and asked his opinion as to how they +could best be reset. It is not material to this explanation to repeat +what Dimambro said on that matter—suffice it to say that Dimambro gave +an expert opinion, that Mr. Herapath once more pocketed the diamonds, +and soon afterwards left the House of Commons for his estate offices +with both lots of valuable stones in his possession—some ten thousand +pounds’ worth in all. As for Dimambro, he went home to the hotel at +which he was stopping—a little place called the Ravenna, in Soho, an +Italian house—next morning, first thing, he cashed his cheque, and +before noon he left for the Continent. He had not heard of the murder of +Jacob Herapath when he left London, and he did not hear of it until next +day. I think I have given Mr. Dimambro’s account accurately—his account +so far,” concluded Burchill, turning to the Italian. “If not, he will +correct me.”</p> + +<p>“Quite right, quite right!” said Dimambro, who had listened eagerly. “I +do not hear of the murder, eh, until I am in Berlin—it is, yes, next +day—day after I leave London—that I hear of it, you understand? I then +see it in the newspaper—English news, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Why did you not come back at once?” asked Cox-Raythwaite.</p> + +<p>Dimambro spread out his hands.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, I have my business—very particular,” he said. “Besides, it has +nothing to do with me, eh? I don’t see no—no connection between me and +that—no! But in time, I do come back, and then—he tell you,” he broke +off, pointing to Burchill. “He tell you better, see?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I am taking everything in order,” said Burchill. “And for the present I +have done with Mr. Dimambro. Now I come to myself. I shall have to go +into details about myself which I should not give if it were not for +these exceptional circumstances. Mr. Davidge, I am sure, will understand +me. Well, about myself—you will all remember that at both the coroner’s +inquest and at the proceedings before the magistrate at which Barthorpe +Herapath was present and I—for reasons well known!—was not, there was +mention made of a letter which I had written to Jacob Herapath and was +subsequently found in Barthorpe’s possession, on his arrest. That letter +was taken to be a blackmailing letter—I don’t know whether any of you +will believe me, and I don’t care whether you do or not, but I declare +that it was not meant to be a letter of that sort, though its wording +might set up that opinion. However, Jacob Herapath resented that letter, +and on its receipt he wrote to me showing that it had greatly displeased +him. Now, I did not want to displease Jacob Herapath, and on receipt of +his letter, I determined to see him personally at once. Being, of +course, thoroughly familiar with his habits, I knew that he generally +left the House of Commons about a quarter past eleven, every night when +the House was sitting. I accordingly walked down to Palace Yard, +intending to accost him. I arrived at the entrance to the Hall soon +after eleven. A few minutes later Mountain, the coachman, drove up with +the <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coupé</span> brougham. +I remained within the shadow of the porch—there were other people +about—several Members, and men who were with them. At a quarter past +eleven Jacob Herapath came down the Hall, accompanied by Dimambro. I knew +Dimambro, though I had not seen him for some time—I used to see him, +very occasionally, during my secretaryship to Mr. Herapath. When I saw +these two in conversation, I drew back, and neither of them saw me. I did +not want to accost Mr. Herapath in the presence of a second party. I +watched him part from Dimambro, and I heard him tell Mountain to drive to +the estate office. When both he and Dimambro had gone, I walked out into +Parliament Square, and after thinking things over, I hailed a passing +taxi-cab, and told the driver to go to Kensington High Street, and to pull +up by the Metropolitan Station.”</p> + +<p>Burchill here paused—to give Davidge a peculiarly knowing look.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Now I want you all—and particularly Mr. Davidge—to follow closely +what I’m going to tell you,” he continued. “I got out of the cab at the +station in the High Street, dismissed it, walked a little way along the +street, and then crossed over and made for the Herapath Flats—for the +estate office entrance. I think you are all very well acquainted with +that entrance. You know that it lies in a covered carriage way which +leads from the side-street into the big quadrangle round which the flats +are built. As I went up the side-street, on the opposite side, mind, to +the entrance, I saw a man come out of the covered carriage way. That +man I knew!”</p> + +<p>Burchill made a dramatic pause, looking impressively around him amidst a +dead silence.</p> + +<p>“Knew!” he repeated, shaking his finger at the expectant faces. “Knew +well! But—I am not going to tell you his name at this moment. For the +present we will call him Mr. X.”</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">davidge’s trump card</p> + +<p>Burchill paused for a moment, to give full effect to this dramatic +announcement, which, to tell truth, certainly impressed every member of +his audience but one. That one skilfully concealed his real feelings +under a show of feigned interest.</p> + +<p>“You never say!” exclaimed Davidge, dropping into a favourite +colloquialism of his native county. “Dear me, today! A man that you +knew, Mr. Burchill, and that for the present you’ll call Mr. X. You knew +him well, then?”</p> + +<p>“Better than I know you,” replied Burchill. He was beginning to be +suspicious of Davidge’s tone, and his resentment of it showed in his +answer. “Well enough to know him and not to mistake him, anyhow! And +mind you, there was nothing surprising in his being there at that time +of night—that’s a point that you should bear in mind, Davidge—it’s in +your line, that. I knew so much of Jacob Herapath’s methods and doings +that it was quite a reasonable thing for this man to be coming out of +the estate offices just before midnight.”</p> + +<p>“Exactly, sir—I follow you,” said Davidge. “Ah!—and what might this +Mr. X. do then, Mr. Burchill?”</p> + +<p>Burchill, who had addressed his remarks chiefly to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>the listeners on the +other side of the table, and notably to Cox-Raythwaite, turned away from +the detective and went on.</p> + +<p>“This man—Mr. X,” he said, “came quickly out of the door, turned down +the side-street a little, then turned back, passed the +carriage-entrance, and went away up the street in the opposite +direction. He turned on his own tracks so quickly that I was certain he +had seen somebody coming whom he did not wish to meet. He——”</p> + +<p>“Excuse me a moment,” broke in Cox-Raythwaite. “How was it X. didn’t see +you?”</p> + +<p>“Because I was on the opposite side of the street, in deep shadow,” +replied Burchill. “Besides that, the instant I caught sight of him I +quietly slipped back into a doorway. I remained there while he turned +and hurried up the street, for I was sure he had seen somebody coming, +and I wanted to find out who it was. And in another minute Barthorpe +Herapath came along, walking quickly. Then I understood—X. had seen him +in the distance, and didn’t want to meet him.”</p> + +<p>“Just so, just so,” murmured Davidge. “To be sure.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Barthorpe Herapath turned into the carriageway and went into the +office,” continued Burchill. “Now, as I’ve already said, I knew Jacob +Herapath’s methods; I hadn’t served him for nothing. He was the sort of +man who makes no distinction between day and night—it was quite a +common thing for him to fix up business appointments with people at +midnight. I’ve been present at such appointments many a time. So, I +dare say, has Mr. Selwood; any one who acted as secretary to Jacob +Herapath knows well that he’d think nothing of transacting business at +three o’clock in the morning. So I knew, of course, that Barthorpe had +gone there to keep some such appointment. I also knew that it would +probably last some time. Now I wanted to see Jacob Herapath alone. And +as there didn’t seem to be any chance of it just then, I went home to my +flat in Maida Vale.”</p> + +<p>“Walked in?” asked Davidge.</p> + +<p>“If you’re particular as to the means, I took a taxi-cab at the Gardens +end of the High Street,” replied Burchill, half-contemptuously. He +turned his attention to Selwood and the Professor again. “Now, I’m going +to tell you the plain truth about what happened afterwards,” he +continued. “This part of the story is for the particular benefit of you +two gentlemen, though it has its proper connection with all the rest of +the narrative. I sat up rather late when I got home that night, and I +lay in bed next day until afternoon—in fact, I’d only just risen when +Barthorpe Herapath called on me at three o’clock. Now, as I don’t have +papers delivered, but go out to buy what I want, it’s the fact that I +never heard of Jacob Herapath’s murder until Barthorpe told me of it, +then! That’s the truth. And I’ll at once anticipate the question that +you’ll naturally want to ask. Why didn’t I at once tell Barthorpe of +what I’d seen the night before?—of the presence of the man whom we’re +calling Mr. X.?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Just so!” murmured Davidge. “Ah, yes, why not?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you,” continued Burchill. “Because Barthorpe immediately +sprang upon me the matter of the will. And I just as immediately +recognized—I think I may count myself as a quick thinker—that the +really important matter just then was not the murder of Jacob Herapath, +but the ultimate disposal of Jacob Herapath’s immense wealth.”</p> + +<p>“Clever!” sighed Davidge. “Uncommonly clever!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Now, Professor Cox-Raythwaite, and you, Mr. Selwood,” Burchill went on, +adding new earnestness to his tone. “I want you to fully understand that +I’m giving you the exact truth. I firmly believed at that moment, and I +continued to believe until the eventful conference at Mr. Halfpenny’s +office, that the gentleman whom I had known as Mr. Tertius was in +reality Arthur John Wynne, forger and ex-convict. I say I firmly +believed it, and I’ll tell you why. During my secretaryship to Jacob +Herapath, he one day asked me to clear out a box full of old papers and +documents. In doing so I came across an old North-country newspaper +which contained a full account of the trial at Lancaster Assizes of +Arthur John Wynne on various charges of forgery. Jacob Herapath’s name, +of course, cropped up in it, as a relative. The similarity of the names +of Jacob Herapath’s ward, Miss Wynne, and that of the forger, roused my +suspicions, and I not only put two and two together, but I made some +inquiries privately, and I formed the definite conclusion that Tertius +and Wynne were identical, and that the semi-mystery of Tertius’s +residence in Jacob Herapath’s house was then fully accounted for. So +when Barthorpe told me what he did, and explained his anxiety about the +will, I saw my way to upsetting that will, for his benefit and for my +own. If I swore that I’d never signed that will, and could prove that +Tertius was Wynne, the forger, why then, of course, the will would be +upset, for it seemed to me that any jury would believe that Tertius, or +Wynne, had forged the will for his daughter’s benefit. And so Barthorpe +and I fixed that up. Reprehensible, no doubt, gentlemen, but we all have +to live, and besides, Barthorpe promised me that he’d treat Miss Wynne +most handsomely. Well, that procedure was settled—with the result that +we’re all aware of. And now I’d like to ask Mr. Davidge there a +question—as I’m about to tell him who the real murderer of Jacob +Herapath was, perhaps he’ll answer it. I take it, Davidge, that the only +evidence you had against me in regard to the murder was the document +which you found at my flat, by which Barthorpe Herapath promised to pay +me ten per cent. on the value of the Herapath estate? That and the fact +that Barthorpe and I were in league about the will? Come now—as all’s +being cleared up, isn’t that so?”</p> + +<p>Davidge rubbed his chin with affected indifference.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, well, you can put it down at something like that, if you like, Mr. +Burchill,” he answered. “You’re a very clever young fellow, and I dare +say you’re as well aware of what the law about accessories is as I am. +’Tisn’t necessary for a party to a murder to be actually present at the +execution of the crime, sir—no! And there’s such a thing as being +accessory after the crime—of course. Leave it at that, Mr. Burchill, +leave it at that!”</p> + +<p>Cox-Raythwaite, who had been eyeing Burchill with ill-concealed disgust, +spoke sharply.</p> + +<p>“And—the rest?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I’m going along in order,” answered Burchill coolly. “Well, I come to +the time when Davidge there arrested Barthorpe and myself at Halfpenny +and Farthing’s, and when I escaped. There’s no need to tell you what I +did with myself,” he went on, with an obvious sneer in the detective’s +direction. “But I can tell you that I didn’t particularly restrict my +movements. And eventually—a few days ago—I come into touch with +Dimambro, who had returned to England. As I said before, we had met +during the time I was secretary to Jacob Herapath. Dimambro, when I met +him—accidentally—was on his way to the police, to tell them what he +knew. I stopped him—he told his story to me instead. I told him mine. +And the result of our deliberations was that we got an interview—at +least I did—with Mrs. Engledew here, with respect to the diamonds which +she had entrusted to Jacob Herapath. And——”</p> + +<p>“I should like to ask you a question, Mrs. Engledew,” said +Cox-Raythwaite, interrupting Burchill without ceremony. “Why did you not +inform the police about your diamonds as soon as you heard of the +murder?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Engledew betrayed slight signs of confusion, and Davidge gave the +questioner a look.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I think if I were you, I shouldn’t go into that matter just now, +Professor,” he said apologetically. “Ladies, you know, have their +reasons for these little—what shall we call ’em?—peculiarities. No, I +wouldn’t press that point, sir. We’re having a nice, straight +story—quite like a printed one!—from Mr. Burchill there, and I think +we’d better let him come to what we may term the last chapter in his own +way—what?”</p> + +<p>“I’m at the last chapter,” said Burchill. “And it’s a short one. I saw +Mrs. Engledew and made certain arrangements with her. And just after +they were made—yesterday in fact—Dimambro and I got a new piece of +evidence. When Dimambro was collecting those pearls for Jacob Herapath +he bought some from a well-known dealer in Amsterdam, a specialist in +pearls. Yesterday, Dimambro got a letter from this man telling him that +a small parcel of those very pearls had been sent to him from London, +for sale. He gave Dimambro the name and address of the sender, who, of +course, was the Mr. X. of whom I have spoken. So then Dimambro and I +resolved to act, through Mrs. Engledew——”</p> + +<p>“For a slight consideration, I think,” suggested Davidge dryly. “A +matter of a little cheque, I believe, Mr. Burchill.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p> + +<p>“We’ve quite as much right to be paid for our detective services, +amateur though they are, as you have for yours, Davidge,” retorted +Burchill. “However, I’ve come to an end, and it only remains for me to +tell you who Mr. X. really is. He hasn’t the slightest notion that he’s +suspected, and if you and your men, Davidge, go round to his house, +which isn’t half a mile away, you’ll probably find him eating his Sunday +evening supper in peace and quietness. The man is——”</p> + +<p>Davidge suddenly rose from his chair, nudging Triffitt as he moved. He +laughed—and the laugh made Burchill start to his feet.</p> + +<p>“You needn’t trouble yourself, Mr. Burchill!” said Davidge. “Much +obliged to you for your talk, there’s nothing like letting some folks +wag their tongues till they’re tired. I know who murdered Jacob Herapath +as well as you do, and who your Mr. X. is. Jacob Herapath, gentlemen,” +he added, turning to his astonished listeners, “was shot dead and robbed +by his office manager, James Frankton, and if James Frankton’s eating +his Sunday supper in peace and quietness, it’s in one of our cells, for +I arrested him at seven o’clock this very evening—and with no help from +you, Mr. Burchill! I’m not quite such a fool as I may look, my lad, and +if I made one mistake when I let you slip I didn’t make another when I +got on the track of the real man. And now, ma’am,” he concluded, with an +old-fashioned bow to Mrs. Engledew, “there’s no more to be said—by me, +at all events, and I’ve the honour to wish you a good night. Mr. +Triffitt—we’ll depart.”</p> + +<p>Outside, Davidge took the reporter’s arm in a firm grip, and chuckled as +he led him towards the elevator.</p> + +<p>“That’s surprise one!” he whispered. “Wait till we get downstairs and +into the street, and you’ll have another, and it’ll be of a bit livelier +nature!”</p> + +<p class="toclink"><a href="#CONTENTS">Table of Contents</a></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + +<p class="subtitle">the second warrant</p> + +<p>Davidge preserved a strict silence as he and Triffitt went down in the +elevator, but when they had reached the ground floor he took the +reporter’s arm again, and as they crossed the entrance hall gave it a +significant squeeze.</p> + +<p>“You’ll see two or three rather heavy swells, some of ’em in evening +dress, hanging about the door,” he murmured. “Look like residents, +coming in or going out, puffing their cigars and their cigarettes, eh? +They’re my men—all of ’em! Take no notice—there’ll be your friend +Carver outside—I gave him a hint. Join him, and hang about—you’ll have +something to do a bit of newspaper copy about presently.”</p> + +<p>Triffitt, greatly mystified, joined Carver at the edge of the pavement +outside the wide entrance door. Glancing around him he saw several men +lounging about—two, of eminently military appearance, with evening +dress under their overcoats, stood chatting on the lower steps; two or +three others, all very prosperous looking, were talking close by. There +was nothing in their outward show to arouse suspicion—at any other +time, and under any other circumstances Triffitt would certainly have +taken them for residents of the Herapath Flats. Carver, however, winked +at him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Detectives,” he said. “They’ve gathered here while you were upstairs. +What’s up now, Triffitt? Heard anything?”</p> + +<p>“Piles!” answered Triffitt. “Heaps! But I don’t know what this is all +about. Some new departure. Hullo!—here’s the secretary and the +Professor.”</p> + +<p>Cox-Raythwaite and Selwood just then appeared at the entrance door and +began to descend the steps. Davidge, who had stopped on the steps to +speak to a man, hailed and drew them aside.</p> + +<p>“What has gone on up there?” asked Carver. “Anything really——”</p> + +<p>Triffitt suddenly grasped his companion’s shoulder, twisting him round +towards the door. His lips emitted a warning to silence; his eyes +signalled Carver to look.</p> + +<p>Burchill came out of the doors, closely followed by Dimambro. Jauntily +swinging his walking-cane he began to descend, affecting utter +unconsciousness of the presence of Cox-Raythwaite, Selwood, and Davidge. +He passed close by the men in evening dress, brushing the sleeve of one. +And the man thus brushed turned quickly, and his companion turned +too—and then something happened that made the two reporters exclaim +joyfully and run up the steps.</p> + +<p>“Gad!—that was quick—quick!” exclaimed Triffitt, with the delight of a +schoolboy. “Never saw the bracelets put on more neatly. Bully for you, +Davidge, old man!—got him this time, anyhow!”</p> + +<p>Burchill, taken aback by the sudden onslaught of Davidge’s satellites, +drew himself up indignantly and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>looked down at his bands, around the +wrists of which his captors had snapped a pair of handcuffs. He lifted a +face white with rage and passion and glanced at Cox-Raythwaite and +Selwood.</p> + +<p>“Liars!” he hissed between his teeth. “You gave me safe conduct! It was +understood that I was to come and go without interference, you hounds!”</p> + +<p>“Not with me, nor I should think with anybody, my lad,” exclaimed +Davidge, bustling forward. “Not likely! You forget that you’re under +arrest for the old charge yet, and though you’ll get off for that, you +won’t go scot-free, my friend! I’ve got a second warrant for you, and +the charge’ll be read to you when you get to the station. You’ll clear +yourself of the charge of murder, but not of t’other charge, I’m +thinking!”</p> + +<p>“Second warrant! Another charge!” growled Burchill. “What charge?”</p> + +<p>“I should think you know as well as I do,” replied Davidge quietly. +“You’re a bigger fool than I take you for if you don’t. Conspiracy, of +course! It’s a good thing to have two strings to one’s bow, Mr. Frank +Burchill, in dealing with birds like you. This is my second string. Take +him off,” he added, motioning to his men, “and get him searched, and put +everything carefully aside for me—especially a cheque for ten thousand +pounds which you’ll find in one of his pockets.”</p> + +<p>When the detectives had hurried Burchill into a taxi-cab which suddenly +sprang into useful proximity to the excited group, Davidge spat on the +ground and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>made a face. He motioned Cox-Raythwaite, Selwood, and the +two reporters to go down the street; he himself turned to Dimambro. What +he said to that highly-excited gentleman they did not hear, but the +Italian presently walked off looking very crestfallen, while Davidge, +joining them, looked highly pleased with himself.</p> + +<p>“Of course, you’ll stop payment of that cheque at the bank first thing +tomorrow, gentlemen,” he said. “Though that’ll only be for form’s sake, +because I shall take charge of it when I go round to the police-station +presently—they’ll have got Burchill searched when I get there. Of +course, I wasn’t going to say anything up there, but Mrs. Engledew has +been in with us at this, and she took Burchill and Dimambro in as +beautifully as ever I saw it done in my life! Clever woman, that! We +knew about her diamonds, gentlemen, within a few hours of the discovery +of the murder, and of course, I thought Barthorpe had got them; I did, +mistaken though I was! I didn’t want anybody to know about those +diamonds, though, and I kept it all dark until these fellows came on the +scene. And, anyway, we didn’t get the real culprit through the diamonds, +either!”</p> + +<p>“That’s what we want to know,” said Selwood. “Have you got the real +culprit? Are you certain? And how on earth did you get him—a man that +none of us ever suspected!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Just so!” answered Davidge with a grim laugh. “As nice and +quiet-mannered a man as ever I entered as a candidate for the gallows! +It’s very often the case, gentlemen. Oh, yes—it’s true enough! He’s +confessed—crumpled up like a bit of tissue paper when we took +him—confessed everything to me just before I came along here. Of course +we didn’t get him through anything we’ve heard tonight; quite different +line altogether, and a simple one.”</p> + +<p>“We should like to know about it,” said Cox-Raythwaite. “Can’t you give +us a mere outline?”</p> + +<p>“I was going to,” answered Davidge. “No secret about it. I may as well +tell you that after hearing what Barthorpe Herapath insisted on saying +before the magistrate, I began to feel that he was very likely telling +the truth, and that somebody’d murdered and robbed his uncle just before +he got to the offices. But, of course, there was nothing to connect the +murder and robbery with any person that I knew of. Well, now then, this +is how we got on the track. Only two or three days ago a little, quiet +man, who turned out to be a bit of a property-owner down at Fulham, came +to me and said that ever since Mr. Jacob Herapath’s murder he’d been +what he called studying over it, and he thought he ought to tell me +something. He said he was a very slow thinker, and it had taken him a +long time to think all this out. Then he told me his tale. He said that +for some time Jacob Herapath had been waiting to buy a certain bit of +land which he had to sell. On November 12th last he called to see Jacob +at these offices, and they agreed on the matter, price to be £5,000. +Jacob told him to come in at ten o’clock next morning, and in accordance +with his usual way of doing business, he’d hand him <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>the money in +cash—notes, of course. Well, the chap called next morning, only to hear +of what had happened, and so his business had fallen through. And it +wasn’t until some time later—he’s a bit of a slow-witted fellow, +dullish of brain, you understand,” continued Davidge indulgently, “that +he remembered a certain conversation, or rather a remark which Jacob +Herapath made during that deal. This man, James Frankton, the manager, +was present when the deal was being effected, and when they’d concluded +terms, Jacob said, turning to Frankton. ‘I’ll get the money in notes +from the bank this afternoon, Frankton, and if I don’t give it to you in +the meantime, you’ll find the notes in the top left-hand drawer of my +desk tomorrow morning.’ Well, that was what the man told me; said he’d +been bothering his brains in wondering if Jacob did draw that money, and +so on—Frankton, of course, had told him that he knew nothing about it, +and that as Jacob was dead, no more could be done in the matter. Now on +that, I at once began some inquiries. I found out a thing or two—never +mind what—one was to trace a hundred pound note which Frankton had +cashed recently. I found, only yesterday morning, that that note was one +of fifty similar notes paid to Jacob Herapath by his bankers in exchange +for his own cheque on the afternoon of November 12th. And, on that, I +had Frankton watched all yesterday, last night, and today, and as I +said, I arrested him tonight—and, in all my experience I never saw a +man more surprised, and never knew one who so lost his nerve.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And his confession?” asked Selwood.</p> + +<p>“Oh! ordinary,” answered Davidge. “Jacob had made an appointment with +him for half-past eleven or so. Got there a bit late, found his master +sitting at his desk with a wad of bank notes on the blotting-pad, a +paper of pearls on one side of him, a lot of diamond ornaments at the +other—big temptation to a chap, who, as it turns out, was hard up, and +had got into the hands of money-lenders. And, oh, just the ordinary +thing in such cases, happened to have on him a revolver that he’d bought +abroad, yielded to temptation, shot his man, took money and valuables, +went home, and turned up at the office next day to lift his hands in +horror at the dreadful news. You see what truth is, gentlemen, when you +get at it—just a common, vulgar murder, for the sake of robbery. And +he’ll swing!”</p> + +<p>“‘Just a common, vulgar murder, and he’ll swing!’” softly repeated +Cox-Raythwaite, as he and Selwood walked up the steps of the house in +Portman Square half an hour later. “Well, that’s solved, anyway. As for +the other two——”</p> + +<p>“I suppose there’s no doubt of their guilt with respect to their +conspiring to upset the will?” said Selwood. “And that’s a serious +offence, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“In this eminently commercial country, very,” answered Cox-Raythwaite, +sententiously. “Barthorpe and Burchill will inevitably retire to the +shelter of a convict establishment for awhile. Um! Well, my boy, good +night!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Not coming in?” asked Selwood, as he put a key in the latch.</p> + +<p>The Professor gave his companion’s shoulder a pressure of his big hand.</p> + +<p>“I think,” he said, turning down the steps with a shy laugh, “I think +Peggie will prefer to receive you—alone.”</p> + +<p class="smcap pad4top center b">the end</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="s6"><i>THE MYSTERY STORIES OF</i></p> + +<p class="s5 g"><i>J. S. FLETCHER</i></p> + +<p><span class="fl">“<i>We always feel as though we were really spreading happiness when we +can announce a genuinely satisfactory mystery story, such as J. S. +Fletcher’s new one.</i>”</span> + +<span class="fr">—N. P. D. in the New York Globe.</span></p> + +<p class="ad">THE MIDDLE TEMPLE MURDER [1918]</p> + +<p class="adt">“Unquestionably, <i>the</i> detective story of the season and, therefore, one +which no lover of detective fiction should miss.”—<i>The Broadside.</i></p> + +<p class="ad">THE TALLEYRAND MAXIM [1920]</p> + +<p class="adt">“A crackerjack mystery tale; the story of Linford Pratt, who earnestly +desired to get on in life, by hook or by crook—with no objection +whatever to crookedness, so long at it could be performed in safety and +secrecy.”—<i>Knickerbocker Press.</i></p> + +<p class="ad">THE PARADISE MYSTERY [1920]</p> + +<p class="adt">“As a weaver of detective tales Mr. Fletcher is entitled to a seat among +the elect. His numerous followers will find his latest book fully as +absorbing as anything from his pen that has previously appeared.”—<i>New +York Times.</i></p> + +<p class="ad">DEAD MEN’S MONEY [1920]</p> + +<p class="adt">“The story is one that holds the reader with more than the mere interest +of sensational events; Mr. Fletcher writes in a notable style.”—<i>Newark +Evening News.</i></p> + +<p class="ad">THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND [1921]</p> + +<p class="adt">“... A rattling good yarn. ... An uncommonly well written tale.”—<i>New +York Times.</i></p> + +<p class="ad">THE CHESTERMARKE INSTINCT [1921]</p> + +<p class="adt">“Mr. Fletcher is a master of plot. ... To tell a story as well as this +is a literary achievement.”—<i>Boston Transcript.</i></p> + +<p class="ad">THE BOROUGH TREASURER [1921]</p> + +<p class="adt">“As mystifying a tale as even Mr. Fletcher himself has written.”—<i>New +York Times.</i></p> + +<p class="ad">THE HERAPATH PROPERTY [1921]</p> + +<p class="adt">Numerous complications lead from the murder of Jacob Herapath and the +search for his will.</p> + +<p class="ad">SCARHAVEN KEEP [1922]</p> + +<p class="adt">The mystery of the disappearance of Bassett Oliver, famous actor.</p> + +<p class="ad">RAVENSDENE COURT [1922]</p> + +<p class="adt">Two men are struck down by an unseen hand, at the same time in widely +separated places—who killed them?</p> + +<p class="center"><i>$2.00 net each at all booksellers or from the Publisher</i></p> + +<p class="s6">ALFRED A. KNOPF, New York.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="tn" id="tn"> + +<p class="s4 center">Transcriber’s Notes</p> + +<p>The advertisement “The Mystery Stories of J. S. Fletcher” has been moved +from the front of the book to the back.</p> + +<p>Spacing around ellipses and em-dashes is as in the original.</p> + +<p>The following corrections have been applied:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Advertisement: “As mystifying{original had mystifyng} a tale as +even Mr. Fletcher himself has written.”</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_vi">Page vi</a>: XXIV{original had XIV} <span class="smcap">Cold Steel</span></p> + +<p><a href="#Page_18">Page 18</a>: but when she had left the room to make ready for the +drive Mr.{original omitted period} Tertius turned to Selwood.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_66">Page 66</a>: the detective, armed with a magnifying glass, was +examining the edges of the door, the smooth backs of chairs, +even the surface of the desk, presumably for +finger-marks{original had fingermarks}.</p> + +<div class="figleft w200px"><a href="images/p72.png"> +<img src="images/p72tn.png" alt="Orginal text from page 72" title="Orginal text from page 72" /></a> +</div> + +<p><a href="#Page_72">Page 72</a>: “Mr. Selwood!” she exclaimed imploringly. “You—I +can’t.{The original text has no em-dash, and it’s not clear +what the author’s intention was. Click on the thumbnail image +on the left to show the original text.} You open it, and—”</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_85">Page 85</a>: “Pardon,” interrupted Burchill, “a{original had A} +holograph?</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_128">Page 128</a>: And it was as well that he was not looking{original +had look-} at Triffitt</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_160">Page 160</a>: perhaps you’ll{original had you’l} drop me a line and +make an appointment at your office some day—then I’ll call, +d’you see?”{original omitted closing quotation mark}</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_166">Page 166</a>: “So long as justice is done,” remarked +Peggie.{original omitted period}</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_178">Page 178</a>: There were peculiarities about the fellow, said +Triffitt{original had Triffit}, which you couldn’t forget</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_186">Page 186</a>: “All right,” said Triffitt, “keep{original had Keep} +a still tongue as regards me</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_186">Page 186</a>: {original had a quotation mark here}Outside Triffitt +gave his companion’s arm a confidential squeeze.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_187">Page 187</a>: Markledew{original had Markledek} listened to +Triffitt’s story next day in his usual rapt silence.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_196">Page 196</a>: “Then we’ll get to work,” said Davidge. “{original +omitted quotation mark}Mr. Triffitt, I can’t ask you to come +with us</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_201">Page 201</a>: “I haven’t{original had haven’} the least objection +to Cox-Raythwaite’s presence, nor yours,” said Barthorpe.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_211">Page 211</a>: Peggie Wynne, who during Barthorpe’s last speech had +manifested signs of a desire to speak, and had begun to produce +a sealed packet from her muff.{original had a superfluous +quotation mark here}</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_214">Page 214</a>: as they{original had ast hey} went on, quietly rose +from his chair.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_218">Page 218</a>: Is it not probable that if he wanted to make a will +he{original had be} would have employed me</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_273">Page 273</a>: Peggie{original had Peggy} Wynne had never been so +glad of anything in her life as for Selwood’s immediate +presence at that moment</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_287">Page 287</a>: You follow me? As soon as I’ve taken action, or run +him to earth, I’ll ring up Scotland Yard, and{original had an} +then——”</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_293">Page 293</a>: “Nine o’clock,” he remarked. “{original omitted this +quotation mark}Come on—we’ll go in. Now, then, Mr. Triffitt,” +he continued,</p></div> + +<p>The following unusual spellings are as printed:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><a href="#Page_143">Page 143</a>: He flung Markledew’s half-sheet of notepaper before +the news editor, and the news editor, seeing the great man’s +sprawling caligraphy{sic}, read, wonderingly:—</p></div> + +<p>The following words appear with and without a hyphen. They have been +left as in the original.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>bank-notes/banknotes</p> + +<p>business-like/businesslike</p> + +<p>hearth-rug/hearthrug</p> + +<p>note-book/notebook</p> + +<p>note-paper/notepaper</p> + +<p>parlour-maid/parlourmaid</p></div> + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Herapath Property, by J. S. Fletcher + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERAPATH PROPERTY *** + +***** This file should be named 25388-h.htm or 25388-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/3/8/25388/ + +Produced by Andrew Wainwright, Suzanne Shell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/25388-h/images/cover01.jpg b/25388-h/images/cover01.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5af2702 --- /dev/null +++ b/25388-h/images/cover01.jpg diff --git a/25388-h/images/p72.png b/25388-h/images/p72.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..be9a8d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/25388-h/images/p72.png diff --git a/25388-h/images/p72tn.png b/25388-h/images/p72tn.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8d6cf6c --- /dev/null +++ b/25388-h/images/p72tn.png diff --git a/25388-h/images/publogo.jpg b/25388-h/images/publogo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d0da357 --- /dev/null +++ b/25388-h/images/publogo.jpg |
