BURCHILL FILLS THE STAGE
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.
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.
"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 _Argus_ 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?"
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.
"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!"
Mrs. Engledew looked at Burchill as she resumed her seat.
"I think Mr. Burchill is the most likely person to tell you what there
is to tell," she said. "His friend----"
"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?"
Burchill, who had been watching the detective carefully, threw away his
cigarette and showed an inclination to speak.
"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."
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.
"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----"
"As Mr. Dimambro doesn't speak English very well----" began Burchill.
"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?"
"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."
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.
"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?"
"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."
"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?"
"Quite," assented Mrs. Engledew. "It is perfectly correct."
"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."
"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?"
"Why did you not come back at once?" asked Cox-Raythwaite.
Dimambro spread out his hands.
"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?"
"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 coupe 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."
Burchill here paused--to give Davidge a peculiarly knowing look.
"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!"
Burchill made a dramatic pause, looking impressively around him amidst a
dead silence.
"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."