Valuable Information
Collins was punctual to the minute at Paddington. He had dressed
himself up for the occasion, though he felt contempt for so doing. The
express from Wilton-on-Sea was up to time.
From a first-class compartment Mabel Watson descended. Her face was
white and calm, but she wore no veil. Collins walked towards the door
and stopped. After the girl, a man descended from the carriage. He was
tall and dressed in good taste, but had a weak looking face, with a
wandering light moustache and straw-coloured hair.
His eyes were a cold blue. He was the sort of man that women ‘rave
about.’ Collins took careful stock of the man, and then advanced with
raised hat. The girl gave a smile of recognition, and shook hands.
“It is very good of you to come and meet me,” she said. “This is Mr.
Eric Sanders, Mr. Collins.” The men shook hands and exchanged a look
not too friendly. They were antipathetical.
“I have brought my old nurse with me, and John. I shall go to an
hotel, of course. I suppose our house is in the hands of the police,”
and she shuddered. “We stayed at Ackroyd’s when we had let our house
one year,” she said.
“A very good hotel, and quite convenient,” said Collins.
“John, tell the porter to get a taxi, please,” she said.
“I have brought my car,” Collins interposed, “and if you care to come
with me, the servants can come on with the luggage.”
“That is very kind of you, but I will bring Nurse, if you don’t mind.”
Sanders had been standing by, gloomy and resentful.
Collins led the way to the car.
“Will you come with me, then?” said he.
“I should like to,” she replied. “Eric, will you take care of Nurse?”
She got into her seat, and Sanders, with not too good a grace, helped
the old nurse into the back seat.
The drive was all too short. In spite of the terrible cloud hanging
over her, her youth was strong, and she felt the relief of getting
away from Devon and her thoughts there.
They had tea in a private sitting room, and Collins laid himself out
to keep her mind off the tragedy.
“You must come to a theatre to-night,” he said.
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly,” she answered.
“If I may say so, I don’t agree with you. I know what is in your mind.
You don’t think it would be right after what has happened, but if you
stay in, you will only brood over things and make yourself miserable,
and,” he added earnestly, “I am sure your father would not have wished
you to do that. I am not asking you to forget him, but you have had a
bad ordeal to go through, and must keep yourself going.”
“What do you think, Eric?” she said, addressing Sanders, who had been
silent during the meal.
“Of course, you must please yourself, but I should hardly have thought
it was quite the thing,” he said.
There was something in his tone which annoyed her.
“Why not?” she said.
“Well,” he said, floundering. “I suppose it’s a matter of taste, but
in the circumstances——”
She gave a toss of her head, and turned to Collins.
“Thank you; yes, I will accept your kind invitation.”
“I hope you will join us, too,” said he politely to Sanders.
For a moment he was about to refuse, then he said, “Thank you, very
much.”
“Then I will get a box for four. Of course, Nurse will come as well.”
“That is very kind of you. It would be a great treat for her. Only in
that case you must both dine here first. You know I feel very guilty
in doing this, but it will only be a very quiet dinner.”
“I quite understand,” said Collins, “and I will get a box for Gilbert
and Sullivan’s. I know the management there, and it is just what you
want, something soothing and not too gay. Now, I know you will want to
go to Leveson Square. I will go and see that everything is all right
for you there. Come on, in about half an hour’s time.”
He saw with a thrill of pleasure the look of gratitude come to her
expressive eyes.
After he had taken his leave, she turned to Sanders.
“I think you might be a little more gracious to Mr. Collins, he is
most kind.”
“You seem to have made great friends with him at short notice,” he
said, churlishly.
She bridled up. “And if I have, I suppose I can choose my friends.”
“And forget the old one for the new.”
“What nonsense. You are behaving like a spoilt child. I have watched
you all the time.”
“What do you know of this fellow, anyway? He is only a sort of
policeman. I suppose he didn’t tell you that?”
“If it is any satisfaction to you, he did, and perhaps we had better
stop discussing Mr. Collins any more.”
He got up and wandered round the room.
“I suppose I had better go,” he said.
Her lip curled with contempt. “You can please yourself, but I should
hardly have thought that my oldest male friend would have deserted me
at such a time.”
“Forgive me. I will say no more. Of course I will stay with you.”
“All right. It is time we started for Leveson Square.”
“What a brute I have been,” he said. “I ought to have thought of you.”
“Would you fetch a taxi?” she said.
Collins was at the door when they drove up.
He bowed slightly to Mabel, in the deferential but not subservient
manner of a courtier.
“Everything is ready for you,” he whispered. “I brought your old nurse
with me. I knew you would like to have her here. She is waiting in the
bedroom.” She felt a sense of pleasure at the thoughtfulness.
“I will go up,” she said.
The two men were left alone in the hall.
“I suppose you know this place well,” said Collins, carelessly.
“Of course. I was private secretary to Sir James,” said the other,
stiffly.
Collins lit a cigarette, and offered his case. The other could not
well refuse. “Thanks,” said he.
“This is a wretched business,” said Collins.
“It is very terrible, but of course you are used to these crimes in
your profession.”
“Yes,” he said solemnly, “and we get used to all kinds of criminals,”
and he looked into the empty library.
“Have you any theory as to who did the murder?” said Sanders.
“I never allow myself the luxury of theories,” said Collins.
“Prig,” said the other under his breath.
“It is strange how the murderer escaped, isn’t it?” said Collins. “I
wonder if you ever heard tell of any secret doors, or trap doors, or
anything of that sort?”
“Oh, really, are we back in the Middle Ages? This is a modern, London
house. Besides, by the look of things your men have had a pretty
thorough hunt.”
“When did you see Sir James last?” said Collins, lighting another
cigarette from his old one.
“Oh, I was with him at the Home Office in the morning of the day.”
“Fancy, and you little thought then that you would never see him again
alive,” said Collins musingly.
The other was silent.
“Do you know,” continued Collins, “you mentioned the Middle Ages. How
much easier detection was then. All you did was to parade suspects in
front of the departed, and when the right man arrived blood gushed out
from his mouth, and you spotted a winner every time.”
“What a horribly morbid mind you must have,” said Sanders with a
shudder.
“I am glad I am not mixed up with crime.”
“I have not any great sense of horror of crime, murder least of all.
There are so many reasons for that,” and he looked straight at the
other man.
“Miss Watson will be down soon. I hope it has not upset her too much.
You are an old friend. Wouldn’t you like to go up and see.”
“No, thanks. I would rather not. But I will knock at the door.”
He went up the stairs, and Collins followed him with his eyes.
“I wonder if that blood would gush out,” he said to himself.
Miss Watson stayed in London until the inquest was over. This was
hurried forward out of deference to the position of the deceased. She
had to give evidence of identification.
There was nothing fresh in spite of the efforts of those engaged on
the case. Tremendous excitement was aroused, not only because of the
fact that the murdered man was a Cabinet Minister, but on account of
the bizarre events which had surrounded the mystery.
All efforts to trace the ownership of the revolver had failed. Lewis’s
landlady could only state that she thought it was his, as it looked
like it. But a Webley is so common a type that this did not count for
much. The number was an old one, and the weapon had probably passed
through many hands.
The police did not press their case against any particular individual,
and the jury returned the usual verdict against some person or persons
unknown.
Collins had been most assiduous in his attempts to make Miss Watson’s
part as small a one as possible, and had endeavoured to keep her
spirits up, without intruding himself. Sanders, in spite of all his
efforts, was still sulky, and plunged into the work of going over Sir
James’ papers, which fell to his lot.
The ordeal was over, and all those women of Society who had crammed
themselves into the court were trying to sort themselves out again.
Opinion was about equally divided between Lewis and a lunatic as the
villain of the piece.
Collins sought the back room where the witnesses had gone.
His face was stern. He walked directly to Mrs. Simmons, who was
sniffing in a corner.
“I would like to have a word with you, if I may,” he said.
“Certainly, sir,” she replied.
“Would you kindly come into the next room, there are too many people
here?” She rose and followed him without a word.
In the little side room he faced her.
“Mrs. Simmons, you gave evidence on oath. You know the nature of an
oath?”
“Oh, yes, sir,” she replied, without hesitation.
“You swore to tell the truth, didn’t you?”
“Why, yes, sir, of course.”
“Very good. In your evidence you said that you did not know who the
man was who called on Sir James?”
With all her control, a look of relief passed rapidly over her face.
“Quite right, sir, I had no idea. I could not see him. It might have
been you, sir, for all I know.”
“It won’t do, Mrs. Simmons. You were asked whether anyone else had
come to see Sir James after that, and you said ‘No.’ That was a lie.”
If one has seen a child’s balloon touched with a lighted cigarette,
the collapse of this woman was not more complete.
She seemed to shrivel up. She tried to speak, but all she could do was
to lick her lips and open her mouth.
Collins waited.
“You had better tell me,” he said. “If I had wanted to have this known
publicly, couldn’t I have had this out in court? Shall I tell you who
called?”
“Oh, no, no, sir,” she moaned, raising her hand as though she were
threatened with a blow.
“You know perfectly well that Mr. Eric Sanders came, and you let him
in?”
“Oh, sir, how do you know?” she said, with a look of blank
astonishment.
“The best thing for you is to tell me exactly what did happen. Perhaps
I know more than you think.”
She looked at him in a frightened way.
“Oh, sir, he had nothing to do with the murder, sir, I am sure he
didn’t.”
“Tell me exactly what did occur, or must I call the police?” he said.
“What happened was this, sir,” she said, gazing round her, as if for
help. “After the visitor had gone, and I am sure I wish I knew who he
was, I was in the dining-room, as I told in court.
“Mr. Eric came in without so much as a knock, he being free of the
house. He seemed to be very excited, and he says ‘I must see Sir
James.’ I says, ‘He does not want to be disturbed.’ Then he says ‘I’ll
just knock at his door and ask him.’ ”
“One moment, Mrs. Simmons. Was this after Sir James had sent the
letter?”
“Oh, yes, sir, after he had come in.”
“You are quite sure of that?”
“Quite sure.”
“Go on.”
“Mr. Eric knocked at the door, but there was no answer. Then he knocks
again, but there wasn’t a sound. So he writes something on a card, and
slips it under the door, and says, ‘Sir James, do you mind reading the
card,’ and he waits.
“There was a noise inside, as though someone was a moving very slowly,
and a voice said, ‘go away.’ ”
Collins drew in a quick breath. “You are quite certain about that?”
“Oh, yes, sir, I was standing by the door. I was afraid he would come
out, and there would be blows.”
“Why?”
“Because, sir, Mr. Eric and Sir James had had a terrible set-to the
night before.”
“Do you mean they came to blows?”
“Oh, no, sir, I meant a figure of speech. Only words.”
“What about?”
“Well, sir, it isn’t my business, but I think it was over Miss Mabel.”
“Go on,” said Collins.
“Then Mr. Eric says, ‘Won’t you see me for a minute?’ ”
“Was there any answer?”
“Only a horrible sort of groan, so I says to him, ‘you’d better get
out of this, quick. The master’s got a loaded revolver in there.’ I
don’t know what made me say that, but I wanted to get rid of him.”
“What did he say?”
“He says, ‘so have I, if it comes to that.’ But he turned and went out
without another word. Oh, sir, I hope I haven’t done wrong in telling
you.”
“Don’t get excited, you have done quite right, but you must not tell
anyone else, mind that.”
“I will, sir, and I am sure that he had nothing to do with it, sir.
That’s why I said nothing about it.”
“Now, one more question, and I have done. Think carefully before you
answer. Was it Sir James who answered from the room?”
All the colour fled from her face, and she seemed on the verge of a
collapse.
“Oh, sir, I don’t know. I have thought of nothing else since this
terrible affair. I don’t believe it was. It was like him, but muffled
and sort of mumbling.” She was shivering now, and on the verge of
breaking down. Collins drew a flask from his pocket and took out the
stopper.
“Drink this. It will do you good. I have finished now.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, taking a deep drink.
“And you won’t tell anyone. You must keep absolutely silent. I shall
not tell unless I find it necessary. Now, mind, not a word. You will
do infinite harm if you do.”
The effect of the strong drink had made her maudlin, and she sank
weeping on a chair.
“Oh, what would Miss Mabel say?” she said between her sobs.
Collins gave one look at her, and then left the room. He had got the
information he wanted.