SUSAN'S DISCOVERY
Although Jennings appeared to acquiesce in Mallow's suggestion that the
case should be abandoned, he had not the slightest intention of leaving
the matter alone. His professional pride was irritated by the
difficulties, and he swore that he would in some way learn the truth.
Moreover, the matter did not only deal with the death of Miss Loach,
but with the discovery of a coining gang. From various obvious facts
connected with the Crooked Lane crime, Jennings made sure that such a
gang was in existence, and that the factory had been in the unfinished
house. Now that the house was burnt down, it would seem that the
coiners had lost their city of refuge, and would probably give up their
nefarious trade. As the gang--judging from the number of false coins
circulated during the past five years--had been in existence for a long
time, it was probable that the members had made sufficient money to
retire from so dangerous a business.
"I wonder if the house was set on fire by this arrested man, out of
revenge," thought Jennings, as he dressed to go out, "or whether the
gang, finding things were growing dangerous since the death of Miss
Loach, ordered him to destroy the factory? I can hardly think that, as
to preserve the secret, Miss Loach was assassinated. It is not likely
that after paying so terrible a price, such destruction would be agreed
upon. Certainly the factory may be removed to another place. Humph! I
wonder if I can trace it. The best thing for me to do will be to go to
Rexton and look at the ruins."
So to Rexton the detective went, and found a large crowd round the wall
of the park. This had been broken down in several places so as to
admit the fire engines, and Jennings found a policeman on duty who had
been one of the first to see the fire, and who had indeed summoned the
brigade. On telling his name and position, the man was willing to
state all he knew.
"I was on duty about eight o'clock," he said officially. "There was a
high wind blowing, but the night was fine and dry. While walking down
Crooked Lane, intending to take the path to the station, I saw a light
behind the wall of the park. Then a tongue of flame shot up, and it
didn't need much cleverness to see that the old house was on fire.
Almost before I could collect my wits, sir, the place was in a blaze.
You see the dry weather, the heat and the high wind, made everything
blaze finely. I signalled for the brigade, and it came up as soon as
possible. But as there is no gate in the wall, we had to break it down
to get the engines in. There was a large crowd by this time, and we
had all the help we needed. By this time the whole house was flaming
like a bonfire. When we got the wall down the most part of the house
was gone, and the fire had caught the surrounding shrubs, so all we
could do was to halt on the edge of the mass and squirt water, in the
hope of putting out the flames. But, Lord bless you!" said the officer
with good-humored contempt, "you might as well have tried with a
child's squirt. As you see, sir, everything is gone within the wall.
Leastways, all but that big oak near the wall."
It was as the man said. House, trees, shrubs, even the grass had been
swept away by the fierce flames. Within the walls which had secluded
the place from the world was a blackened space covered with debris.
Where the house had stood was a mound of twisted iron girders, charred
beams and broken slates. And everywhere the wind was lifting the fine
gray ashes and scattering them abroad, as though in sorrow for the
destruction of the previous night. Jennings took all this in at a
glance. Policemen were on guard at the various gaps in the wall, as no
one was allowed to enter. But the detective, by virtue of his office,
walked across the bare expanse with the inspector, and trod under foot
the black ashes. There was nothing to be gained, however, by this
inspection. All that could be seen were the destroyed park and the
mound where the house had been. "What of the cellars?" asked Jennings.
"Well," said Inspector Twining genially, "I suppose there are cellars,
but there's nothing in them. The house was shut up for years by a
queer nobleman."
"By Lord Caranby," replied the detective. "I know. I suppose the
cellars are under that heap. I must get Lord Caranby to allow me to
clear it away."
"I expect that will be done, whether or no. Lord Caranby came down and
told one of our men that he intended to throw down the wall and let the
place as a building site. So when the building begins the heap will
soon be cleared away and the cellars laid bare. But there's nothing
there," said the inspector again.
"I am not so sure of that."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing. I have an idea," answered the detective, who did not wish to
tell the man how he now began to fancy that the factory for safety had
been placed in the cellars. "By the way, did this man who was arrested
give his name?"
"No. He refuses to answer any questions. He was, as you know, Mr.
Jennings, arrested for trying to pass a bad shilling, but there is no
doubt he fired the place. The bottle of petroleum he had in his
possession was empty, and--"
"Yes! I heard all that. Where is he now?"
The inspector named a place near Rexton where the man had been
incarcerated, pending being brought before the magistrate. "I am going
that way," said the inspector. "If you like to come--"
"I'll come," said Jennings. "I intended to see this man. There has
been a lot of talk about false coins being passed lately."
Mr. Twining nodded, and began to tell of various cases which had taken
place in the district. The two took the train to the place where the
police station to which the inspector belonged was situated. It was
now after twelve o'clock, and Jennings thought he would have some
luncheon before going to the station. But, unexpectedly, a constable
seeing the inspector, came hurriedly towards him, saluting as he spoke.
"Please, sir, you're wanted at the station," he said. "A message was
sent to Rexton."
"I have just come from Rexton. What is it?"
"That man who was arrested for coining, sir?"
"What about him?" asked the inspector, while Jennings listened with all
his ears. He was far from expecting to hear the reply.
"He is dead, sir," said the policeman.
"Dead! What do you mean? He was well enough this morning."
"Well, sir, he's dead now--poisoned!"
"Poisoned!" echoed Jennings, and thought--"Ha! here's an undesirable
witness got out of the way." Then he followed in the wake of the
inspector, who on hearing the news, hurriedly walked towards the police
station. Here they found that the news was true. The constable left
in charge of the office was greatly agitated, as it seemed he had been
lax in doing his duty. But he made a faithful report.
"It was this way, sir," he said, trying to speak calmly. "A boy of
fifteen, very poorly dressed--in rags almost--came crying and asking
for the prisoner. He said the prisoner was his father."
"How did he know that, when the prisoner gave no name and was arrested
only last night?"
"The boy--Billy Tyke his name is, so I suppose the father is called
Tyke also--says his father went out last night. He was always a
drunkard, and left the boy to starve. The boy followed him later, and
knowing he would be on the burst, went to the public-house, where the
man was arrested for passing the bad shilling. There, he was told that
his father was in jail, and came here to ask us to let him see him."
"You should have refused and have detained the boy. Well?"
"I was moved by the little chap's tears," said the constable, abashed,
"so I let him go into the cell."
"Were you with him?" asked the inspector sharply.
"No, sir. We left them alone for a few minutes. As the boy was so sad
and cut up, I thought there would be no harm in doing that. Well, sir,
the boy came out again in ten minutes, still crying, and said he would
get a lawyer to defend his father. He did not believe his father had
passed the money. Then he went away. Later--about half an hour later,
we went into the cell and found the man lying groaning, with an empty
bottle of whisky beside him. The doctor came and said he thought the
man had been poisoned. The man groaned and said the young shaver had
done for him. Then he became unconscious and died."
Jennings listened to this statement calmly. He saw again the hand of
the coiners. The person who controlled the members evidently thought
that the man would blab, and accordingly took precautionary measures to
silence him. Without doubt, the man had been poisoned, and the boy had
been sent to do it. "What is the boy like?" he asked.
"Billy Tyke, sir?" said the constable, replying on a nod from his
chief, to whom he looked for instructions, "a thin boy, fair and with
red rims round his eyes--looks half starved, sir, and has a scarred
mouth, as though he had been cut on the upper lip with a knife."
Jennings started, but suppressed his emotion under the keen eyes of the
observant Twining. He had an idea that he knew who the boy was, but as
yet could not be sure. "I'll cut along to the public-house where this
man was arrested," said Jennings, "I suppose you'll hold an inquest."
"Certainly, seeing the man has been poisoned." Then the inspector
proceeded to rebuke the constable who had performed his duty so ill,
and threatened him with dismissal. Jennings left in the midst of the
trouble, after getting the inspector to promise that he would report
the result of the inquest.
At the public-house--it was the "White Horse," Keighley, an adjoining
suburb--Jennings learned that the man who called himself--or rather who
was called by his presumed son--Tyke, was not an habitue of the place.
Therefore, the boy could not have known that his supposed father was
there. Apparently some information had reached the lad, whereby he was
able to trace Tyke to the prison, and had carried to him there the
bottle of poisoned whisky. Jennings returned to town quite satisfied
that he had another clue to the existence of the coiners. Also, he
determined to satisfy himself on a point concerning Maraquito, about
which he had long been in doubt.
For the next few days Jennings did nothing. He kept away from Mallow,
as he did not wish that young man to know that he was still going on
with the case. Sometimes he went to Maraquito's place, and learned
incidentally that, as there was a chance of her being cured, she was
about to give up the gambling salon. Jennings quite expected this
information, and assured Hale, who gave it to him, that it was the best
thing Maraquito could do. "Sooner or later the police will pounce down
on this place," he said.
"As you are a detective, I wonder you haven't stopped it before," said
Hale, with an unpleasant smile.
"I had my reasons," said Jennings calmly, "besides, Maraquito has
conducted the place quite respectably. I suppose," he added idly, "you
will go abroad also?"
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Hale in silky tones.
"Mrs. Herne has gone to the Continent," said Jennings quietly, "and if
Senora Gredos gives up this very dangerous business, she may go also.
As you will be deprived of two of your friends, Mr. Hale, doubtless you
will go also."
"I might. One never knows," replied Hale coolly.
"By the way?" asked Jennings, looking round, "I was admitted by a
parlor-maid this evening. Where is Gibber?"
"I believe Senora Gredos has dismissed him for dishonesty."
"Ah, really," replied the detective, who had his own opinion. "So it
seems Senora Gredos is getting rid of her household already."
Hale winced under the eye of Jennings and turned away with a shrug. He
was apparently glad to get away. Jennings looked after him with a
smile. "I'll catch the whole gang," he murmured, and took his
departure, having learned what he wished to know--to wit, that Gibber
had disappeared.
"Without doubt he was the boy who poisoned Tyke," said Jennings, as he
walked home with a cigar for company. "I believe Maraquito is the head
of the gang, and the fatal woman that Caranby talks about. She heard
that Tyke had been arrested, and sent the boy to poison him lest he
should blab. I wonder if it was by her direction that the house was
fired. Well, I'll wait. As yet I cannot get a warrant, having nothing
but theory to go on. But the nets are being spread, and unless
Maraquito and her friends clear out with Mrs. Herne, they will be
caught. When they are all in jail there may be some chance of learning
who murdered that unfortunate woman in Rose Cottage."
Later on, Jennings received the report of the inquest, which appeared
also that evening in the newspapers. It seemed that Tyke had been
poisoned with arsenic, administered in the whisky bottle. From his
appearance he was a hard drinker, and doubtless the boy had no
difficulty in inducing him to drink. Tyke had drank freely--indeed the
doctor said he had taken enough to kill three men,--and therefore he
had died almost immediately the boy left, and before he had time to
speak. The inspector, who wrote to Jennings, stated that the constable
who had admitted the boy had been dismissed the force, but the boy
himself could not be traced. "I shouldn't be surprised if he had taken
refuge in the cellars of the house," said Jennings, "that is, if the
factory is there. I must see Caranby and get his permission to remove
the rubbish. Only when I have searched the foundation of that house,
will my suspicions be set at rest."
Unexpected aid came to help him in this quarter, as Caranby sent a
note, stating that the rubbish and debris of the fire would be removed
next week, and inviting Jennings to be present. Caranby added that
Mallow had resumed his visits to the "Shrine of the Muses," but that
Mrs. Octagon still continued hostile. Basil, however, was more
friendly. "I daresay," commented Jennings, on reading this last
sentence, "he has his own axe to grind over that money."
It was about this time that the detective received a visit from Susan
Grant. She looked as neat and timid as usual, and appeared at his
rooms one morning with a request for an interview. "I said I would
help Mr. Mallow if I could," she said when seated.
"Oh, and have you anything likely to help him,-"
"Not exactly," said Susan, "but I found some old papers of father's."
"I don't quite understand," said the detective, who did not see what
the girl's father had to do in the matter.
"Well, it's this way, sir. Father was poisoned five years ago."
"Who poisoned him?"
"That we never knew," explained Susan. "Father's name was Maxwell, but
when mother married Mr. Grant she made me take that name. It was
supposed that father committed suicide, and mother felt the disgrace
dreadful. That was why she married and changed the name. But I don't
believe father, when on the point of making us rich, would swallow so
much arsenic as he did."
"What's that--arsenic?" said Jennings, recalling the death of Tyke.
"Yes, sir. It was this way. Father was working at Rexton--"
"At Rexton?" said Jennings impatiently, "yes, yes, go on."
"At a house near the railway station which I can point out, mother
having seen it when she went to inquire."
"Inquire about what?"
"About father's secret job. He had one he used to go to for three
hours every day by agreement with the foreman. Father was very clever
and could do all sorts of things. Mother never knew what the job was,
but father said it would make us all rich."
"Yes, go on." Jennings looked at her, nursing his chin.
"The other day I came across some papers," said Susan, taking a roll
out of her pocket. "And it proved to be plans of father's secret job.
And you might have knocked me down with a feather, Mr. Jennings, when I
saw on the plans the name of Rose Cottage."
The detective jumped up, greatly excited. "Rose Cottage!" he cried,
holding out his hands. "The plans--the plans!"
"I brought them, as I know Miss Saxon who now has Rose Cottage, is
engaged to Mr. Mallow--"
"Haven't you got over that nonsense yet?" said Jennings, who was
looking eagerly at the plans.
"Yes, I have," replied Miss Grant, confidentially. "I am engaged to a
rising young baker who is just a foreman just now, but we hope to save
and start a shop. Still, I promised to help Mr. Mallow, and I thought
he would like to see those plans. You see, sir, they have to do with
Rose Cottage."
"Yes, I do see," almost shouted Jennings, "and I'll bag the whole lot."
"What are you talking about, sir?"
"Ah, I forgot you don't know," said the detective subsiding, "I'll tell
you later. But you have made a discovery, Susan. This plan shows a
secret entrance into Rose Cottage."
"I know it does, sir, and I thought Miss Saxon would like to see it. I
don't know what Miss Loach wanted with a secret entrance, though."
"I fancy I do," said Jennings, rolling up the plans. "Your father was
a very clever man, Susan. Too clever for some people. He made this
secret entrance when the new wing of the cottage was built five years
ago, and those who employed him gave him arsenic by way of a reward.
Tyke died of arsenic also, so they are carrying on the same game."
"Oh dear, oh dear!" wept Susan, not hearing the latter part of the
sentence. "So father was poisoned after all. Who did it, sir?"
"I can't tell you that," said Jennings, becoming cautious. "You had
better say nothing about this, Susan, till I give you leave. You have
done Mr. Mallow a great service. These plans may lead to a discovery
of the murderer."
"And then Miss Saxon will marry Mr. Mallow."
"Yes. Will you be sorry?"
"No, Mr. Jennings. I am quite satisfied with my baker."
"Then I tell you what, Susan. Lord Caranby has offered a reward for
the detection of the murderer. If these plans lead to his detection,
you will receive a sufficient sum to set up in business."