ON THE TRACK
Mr. Jasher was a man who in his time had played many parts on the stage
of the world. He loved money, and the ease and comfort which a
judicious expenditure of money would procure. But he was not
sufficiently successful in making an income. Several ventures had
turned out badly before he opened his private inquiry-office, and
hitherto that had not seemed likely to be a triumph. The work was hard
and the pay not very good, and for some months Mr. Jasher had been
contemplating the wisdom of giving up the business and starting as a
theatrical manager. He was fond of the stage, and in the United States
he had produced several dramas at a dead loss. But the English people
being less clever than the Yankees, Jasher thought he would again
venture on a theatrical agency.
It was about this time that Professor Bocaros called to see him. A
chance of making a great deal of money out of the simple scholar
presented itself to Jasher, and he took up the matter himself. It was
so difficult that the detective--for so he was in fact--did not think
it wise to trust the elucidation of the mystery to meaner hands. He
resolved to attend to it personally, and charge accordingly. The
discovery that the money had passed to Calvert was not pleasing to
Jasher, as he had now to deal with a man more shrewd and less inclined
to pay largely. However, supported by Bocaros, Jasher called at the
Bloomsbury lodgings of the actor, and ended, as has been seen, in
getting the business of hunting down the assassin of Flora Brand. It
was not an easy mystery to unravel.
"But the first thing to be done," said Mr. Jasher to himself in the
solitude of his office, "is to find out what sort of a cove Calvert
is. If he's what I call a stinger, I'll have to go straight. If he
ain't, I'll buckle to and do my best. But in any way I'll get all the
money I can out of him."
In pursuance of this amiable resolve, Jasher sought out several
theatrical folk whom he knew well. The report of Calvert was that he
had a strong will, but was very good-natured. It was considered that
he would never be an actor, and old-fashioned stagers believed that it
was merely through his good looks and his fashionable clothes he
obtained engagements. But Jasher knew the jealousy of those connected
with the green-room, and determined to see Calvert act with his own
eyes. According to the force and talent displayed by the young man, he
might be able to estimate the depth of his character.
Having thus made up his mind, Jasher treated himself to a seat in the
pit of the Frivolity Theatre. The audience was small as the play was
not a great success. "It's a good thing he's got this fortune," was
the agent's reflection, "as this piece won't run long; and being out
of an engagement, he wouldn't have much chance of marrying that girl
he's sweet on, according to old Bocaros."
The play was not a good one; the best scene being in the middle act,
wherein a masked ball took place. Calvert was dressed as a Venetian,
and looked remarkably handsome in black velvet and gold. During the
scene he had to draw his dagger, and this drew Jasher's attention to
the fact that he wore such a weapon. But he did not give the matter
much thought. It was only when Arnold came on in the last act in a
tweed suit with a reddish pointed beard that he started. It occurred
to him that he had heard from a friend in the police of how the young
man met by Mulligan had been thus attired. A description of the young
man, save in a vague way, had not been put into the papers. And
probably Jasher, but that his mind was full of the murder, would not
have noticed the dress and general appearance. As it was, the
remembrance of the dagger and the fact of the tweed suit and pointed
beard made him reflect. Also the fact that Arnold was engaged to the
sister-in-law of the man to whom the villa belonged made him lay
unusual stress on the matter.
"Blest if I don't think he's got something to do with the matter,
professor," he said to Bocaros that same evening.
The Greek, anxious to know how matters were proceeding, had made an
appointment with Jasher at a Soho restaurant after the theatre, and
was now at the supper-table looking more haggard and lean than ever
with his blazing eyes and funereal looks. Disappointed at being
deprived of Mrs. Brand's fortune, Bocaros--as Laura surmised
rightly--was angry with Arnold for having obtained it. The remarks he
had made in the young man's presence were mere fault-finding words, as
he had no reason, on the face of it, to suspect him of being connected
with the crime. Moreover, Arnold's ready acceptance of Jasher as an
agent to search out the matter must have done away with all idea that
he was guilty. No man would be such a fool as to put a bloodhound of
the law on his own track, and when he had succeeded in gaining his end
without danger. But when Jasher made the above remark Bocaros looked
at him eagerly.
"That is my idea," he declared quickly. "I have no grounds to go upon.
But Calvert is engaged to Miss Mason. In her brother-in-law's house
Flora was killed, so he must know something."
"Oh, I don't see that," mused Jasher; "you go too fast, professor. Of
course those facts, and the fact that he gets a large income, may seem
suspicious, but being engaged at the theatre every night puts his
guilt out of the question. But to learn all I can about Calvert, I
have asked his understudy to come to supper." Jasher glanced at his
watch. "He'll be here soon, and then we can talk."
"From your description," said Bocaros, who stuck to his point,
"Calvert is the young man who spoke to Mulligan."
"I think that. He has the clothes and the beard described by the
officer. But if he was the man, he would hardly be such a fool as to
retain such a make-up."
"Yes, he would," persisted Bocaros; "safety often lies in danger. If
Calvert had changed his make-up and a description had appeared in the
papers, suspicion would have been excited."
"True; but no description appeared, or only a vague one."
"Calvert did not know that. He thought it best to keep to his make-up,
trusting that people--who are generally stupid--would never connect
his stage appearance with that of the man in real life. He is the man,
I am sure, and he came out of the house."
"But it doesn't say he killed Mrs. Brand."
"He had ten thousand a year to gain by doing so."
"Quite right. But the woman was killed before nine, and during that
hour Calvert was engaged at the theatre."
"That's true enough," said the professor gloomily, "all the same it
seems queer. I believe he is guilty."
"Hush!" said Jasher, looking round uneasily; "don't talk so loud. You
never know who may hear. Keep to generalities. Ah, here is Hart."
"The young man who came to the supper-table was a languid and
fashionable youth, who, having run through his money, had gone on the
stage to delight the public. As yet he had not made a success, and,
judging from his looks, never would. Having got into trouble over some
gambling debt, he had enlisted the services of Jasher. That astute
gentleman had managed to settle the affair, and Hart was consequently
willing to be friendly. He sat down with a bored air, and declared
that he was almost dead. He acknowledged his introduction to Bocaros
with a slight and supercilious nod.
"You work too hard," said Jasher, when Mr. Hart was engaged in eating.
"It's hard work hanging round the theatre waiting for a chance," said
the other.
"You have got one," said the detective; "ain't you engaged at the
Frivolity Theatre?"
"Only as Calvert's understudy," said the discontented youth. "I have to
be at the theatre waiting for my chance should he fall ill. He's too
clever to let me go on, and he can't act a bit. I could make a
magnificent part of the one he spoils." And Hart began to explain the
lines upon which he would--as he put it--create the part.
"Have you never had an opportunity of playing?" asked the professor,
piling up little bits of bread in a listless manner.
"I had once," said Hart frankly, "but just my bad luck. I messed up
the chance."
"Ah," said Jasher quickly, "how was that?"
"Well, don't you say anything," said Hart, glancing round, "as it
would do me harm with the profession. Nobody will take much notice so
long as it ain't talked about. It's only known in the theatre, and
Calvert, who is a good-natured sort of chap, promised to hold his
tongue."
"Oh," said Bocaros, meaningly, and looking up with eagerness, "he
promised to hold his tongue, did he? About what?"
"My messing up my chance. You see Calvert didn't feel well one night,
and I went on. I did act A1, and was scoring all round, when I got so
excited that I fell ill. My heart ain't very strong," added the youth,
"and that's why I can't take Turkish baths."
"Well, well," said Jasher, looking a very benevolent stout gentleman,
and sipping his wine with relish, "what happened when you fell ill?"
"Why, they had to send for Calvert. Luckily he was at his lodgings."
"Also ill?" put in the professor.
"No. He said he was ill, but he wasn't. He came and took my place for
the last act, and they said he never acted better in his life."
"About what time does the third act commence?"
"About ten."
"And Calvert came to the theatre at that time?"
"A few minutes before," said Hart, attacking some cheese.
"So he was disengaged on that evening up to that time. Ill at home?"
"He was away from the theatre, if that is what you mean," said the
young man, "but he wasn't ill, so far as I know, in spite of what he
said. It was a fake of some sort. I guess there was a girl in it."
"What do you mean?" asked Bocaros excitedly.
Hart started. "Why, nothing. Only some of our chaps were ragging him
about getting away that evening to meet a girl."
"Did he deny that he was going to do so?"
"No. He laughed and coloured. A shy chap is Calvert."
Bocaros intervened. "Can you tell me what night this was?"
"What do you want to know for?" asked Hart suspiciously.
"It's merely curiosity," said Jasher smoothly; "you needn't trouble
about the matter, if you don't like."
"I don't care two straws," said Hart, with a good-natured laugh, "but
I can't understand what you fellows are driving at. Catch me
forgetting the night I got my chance. It was the 24th of July."
"Jasher and Bocaros looked significantly at one another, but the
interchange was lost on Hart, who was attending to his wine. The
conversation then drifted into subjects connected with Mr. Hart's
career, and he finally departed quite unaware that he had been made
use of.
"What do you think now?" asked Bocaros triumphantly.
"Well, Calvert was absent on that night, and he resembles the young
man who lured Mulligan away. Also he wears a dagger in the second act
of the play which he might have used."
"He did use it," said the professor positively; "the wound was made by
a stiletto, according to the medical evidence. It is a stiletto he
wears. And he was absent between six and half-past nine, the very time
the doctor said the woman was killed. Besides," went on Bocaros
excitedly, "Calvert knows Fane very well. He might have thus obtained
possession of the key."
"Fane swore it was never out of his possession.
"He may have done that to shield Calvert, seeing the man is going to
marry Miss Mason."
"True enough," said Jasher, rising. "Well, Calvert himself has given
me the funds to prosecute the search. It will be queer if I run him
down. I guess he'll be willing to let sleeping dogs lie if I do run
him to earth."
"No," said the professor determinedly; "if Calvert is guilty he must
be punished."
"You leave matters in my hands," retorted Jasher, his good-natured
face growing black. "I'm going to make money out of this."
Bocaros changed the subject, for no apparent reason. "How did you get
money to prosecute your inquiries?"
"Calvert told his solicitors to give me what I wanted. I saw Merry,
and obtained a cheque for fifty. That's enough to go on with."
"What do you intend to do now?"
"Go to his lodgings and see what his landlady knows."
Bocaros thought. "There's another thing you might do," said he. "I
know that Emily Doon is the sister of Calvert's landlady. You might
question her. She will be with her sister to-morrow, and, as you know,
she is Mrs. Fane's maid."
Jasher looked keenly at the professor. "That's the girl you are sweet
on," he said smiling.
"What if I am?" returned Bocaros sharply; "she is a nice, good girl,
and handsome. She adores me," cried Bocaros, on whose head the
unaccustomed champagne had taken effect, "and I will marry her when I
am rich."
"Will you ever be rich?"
"If Calvert is the man who killed Flora Brand, yes," said Bocaros, and
with a grim smile he departed. Jasher looked after him and shrugged
his shoulders.
"I must keep you in order," said he to himself, "or you will spoil the
whole thing."
But however little the detective may have trusted Bocaros, he made
use of the information he had received. At three o'clock the next day
he went to ask if Calvert was at home. But he did not make the inquiry
until he saw Calvert drive away in a cab. Mrs. Varney appeared with
her ingratiating smile, and assured him that the young man was out.
"He has gone to Troy," said Mrs. Varney, "but of course we know what
that means. A handsome young lady, Mr. Jasher."
"Hullo!" said the detective, starting; "and how do you come to know my
name, ma'am?"
"Oh,"--Mrs. Varney tossed her head in a light-comedy way--"my sister
knows the professor, and the professor knows you. The fact is----"
"Oh, that's all right. The professor (and a nice gentleman he is,
though but a foreigner) told me of his weakness."
"Weakness, indeed!" This time Mrs. Varney frowned as a tragedy-queen.
"Professor Bocaros ought to be proud of having a handsome young lady
like my sister admiring him."
"Well," said Jasher, who wished to get an interview with Miss Doon,
and guessed the right way to go about the matter, "he is a man who
will be able to give her a good position."
"Do you know everything about him?" asked the landlady eagerly.
"Everything. I am his man of business," lied Mr. Jasher.
"Oh!" She looked longingly at the detective, not suspecting his real
profession. "Won't you come inside for a few minutes. My sister is
with me, and I am sure she would be pleased to meet Mr. Bocaros's man
of business. When she marries him she will naturally be brought much
into contact with you."
"I fear I am too busy, ma'am," said the man, playing his fish.
"Oh, but do come in," pleaded Mrs. Varney.
"Well, then, for five minutes," said Jasher, and this was how he came
in a short time to be seated in a cosy parlour opposite to a tall,
bold-looking young woman, with a hard mouth and big eyes almost as
large and black as the professor's own. She resembled her sister in
looks, and was scarcely less theatrical. After expressing her pleasure
at seeing Jasher, and being determined--as he soon saw--not to let him
go until she knew everything about Bocaros, she invited him to a cup
of tea. Mrs. Varney went out to get the tea, and Jasher found himself
being pumped by Miss Doon.
"I met the professor quite casually," she said, "having been insulted
by a man one evening in the Nightingales' Walk. I cried for help, and
the professor smote the ruffian to the earth. Then he asked me into
his rustic home, and was quite the gentleman. We have been quite the
best of friends for over a year," sighed Miss Doon sentimentally, "and
lately he has given me to understand that he desires a nearer and
dearer tie."
"Why don't you marry him, then?"
Miss Doon smiled and looked significantly at the detective. "I do not
care about living in so damp a house as 'The Refuge,'" she said. "I
will marry the professor when he can give me a better home. I suppose
he is not well off?"
"At present he isn't," said the professor's man of business, "but some
day he may come in for a few thousands a year."
"Oh!" Miss Doon gasped, "how delicious. I would certainly marry him
then and leave my present place. Not that I have anything to complain
of," she added graciously, "but I have always felt that it was my high
lot to be a lady of rank."
"Quite so. And if the professor gets this money he can resume his
rank, which is that of a Greek baron."
"Oh, good gracious!" Miss Doon gasped again; "then I would be the
Baroness Bocaros."
"Certainly. But you had better stop in your place for a time till the
professor gets his money. I suppose you get on well with Mrs. Fane?"
"We are like sisters," said the fair Emily; "she entrusts me with all
her secrets."
"Has she secrets?" asked Jasher quickly.
Miss Doon coloured, tossed her head, and bit her lip. She saw that she
had said too much. "I am true to my mistress, sir," said she loftily,
"and what she asked me to do, I did, without betraying her."
Jasher was puzzled. He thought the girl was a fool to talk thus, and
wondered what Mrs. Fane could have asked her to do. However, it was
not a propitious moment to get the truth out of the maid as she was
now more or less on her guard, so he deftly changed the conversation.
"I suppose you find Ajax Villa unpleasant after the murder?" he
suggested.
Miss Doon closed her eyes. "Don't speak of it. My nerves are
shattered. It's awful. And to think no one ever knew who killed the
poor soul."
"I suppose you don't?"
"Certainly not," replied Miss Doon violently, "I was at the seaside
with the other servants. I know nothing."
"Are the other servants pleasant?" asked Jasher, baffled again.
Emily shrugged her ample shoulders. "Oh yes," she said; "Gander, the
cook, is the most amusing." Here she began to laugh. "We had such a
joke the other day," she added. "I intended to tell the professor."
"What was that?" asked the detective carelessly. Miss Doon recounted
the episode of the dagger. "It was in the dustbin, and Gander thought
the jewels were real. She gave notice, only to find that the dagger
was a stage jewel that had been worn by Mrs. Fane at a fancy ball."
"You knew that, I suppose?" said Jasher, much interested.
"No. She has not been to a fancy ball since I was with her, and that
is three years. But she said the dagger was hers, and Gander was in a
great state."
Jasher asked for a description of the dagger, which she gave. Then
Mrs. Varney returned with the tea, and the conversation became more
general. But the detective left with a firm conviction that Calvert
had left the dagger in the dust-hole after killing the woman.