Next morning Inspector French was early occupied in making the
necessary preparations for his great _coup_. The first of these
involved a visit to Messrs. Dashwood and Munce, and the business day
had scarcely begun when he presented himself once more at their
office.
“I am sorry, Mr. Dashwood, for troubling you so soon again,” he
apologised, “but I want to ask you one other question. Can you tell me
whether Mr. Whitman saw your partner during his call? In other words,
if Mr. Whitman were to meet Mr. Munce, would he recognise him?”
Mr. Dashwood raised his eyebrows, but he answered without hesitation.
“Mr. Whitman was shown in to me, and so far as I know, he did not meet
my partner. But Mr. Munce is in his room. We can ask him.”
The junior partner was a more good-natured looking man than Mr.
Dashwood, and French was sorry he had not had to deal with him
throughout.
“No, I didn’t see him,” he said with a pleasant smile. “As a matter of
fact I was out at the time you mention. I went over——” he looked at
Dashwood—“to see Troughton about eleven and I did not get back till
after lunch.”
French nodded.
“Now, gentlemen,” he went on, “I am obliged for what you have told me
and I am going to ask for your further help in this matter. What I
want is very simple. If any letter or wire or telephone call comes to
you from Whitman will you please advise me before replying? That is
all.” He repeated to Mr. Munce what he had already told Mr. Dashwood
as to his suspicion of Whitman’s criminality, stating that under the
circumstances he felt sure he could count on the assistance of both
gentlemen.
Mr. Dashwood hemmed and hawed and was inclined to demur. He was, he
pointed out, a stockbroker, not a detective, and he didn’t see why he
should be involved in Inspector French’s machinations. If the
Inspector wished to make an arrest it was up to him to do it himself.
But fortunately for French, Mr. Munce took the opposite view.
“Oh, come now, Dashwood, hang it all,” he protested, “we’ll have to do
what the Inspector wants. If this Whitman is a murderer we’re pretty
well bound to. Besides, Mr. French doesn’t want us to make any move,
only to sit tight and not spoil his plans. What do you say, now?”
Mr. Dashwood made a gesture as if washing his hands of the whole
affair, and announced stiffly that if his partner considered such
action in accordance with the traditional relations between
stockbroker and client he would not press his own views. Mr. Munce
thereupon smiled genially at French and assured him that he could
count on his wishes being carried out.
This was all right so far as it went, and it paved the way for
French’s next proceeding. Going to the nearest telegraph office, he
saw the postmaster, showed him his credentials, and explained that he
wished to send a reply prepaid telegram, the answer to which was not
to be delivered at its address, but was to be sent to him at Scotland
Yard. Then drawing a form towards him he wrote:—
“To Whitman, care of Macdonald, 18 Moray Street, Pentland Avenue,
Edinburgh.
“Serious fall in Brazilian stocks impending. Advise modification of
plans. Would like an interview. Munce travels to Aberdeen by 10.0
a.m. from King’s Cross, Tuesday. Could you see him at Waverley where
train waits from 6.15 to 6.33?
“Dashwood & Munce.”
This, French thought, should draw Roper. Unless the man was
extraordinarily well up in Brazilian politics, of which the chances
were negligible, he would suspect nothing amiss. And if he did not
suspect a trap he would almost certainly turn up. Not only would he
really be anxious about his money, but he would see that it would be
suspicious not to show such anxiety.
All the same French believed that the telegram should be confirmed by
a letter. In the ordinary course of business such a letter would
necessarily follow, and Roper might notice the omission.
To ascertain the form of Messrs. Dashwood and Munce’s correspondence
French adopted a simple expedient. He wrote confidentially to the firm
saying he had just learnt that the man in whom he was interested had
particularly small ears, and asking whether Mr. Dashwood had noticed
Whitman’s. This letter he sent by hand and in an hour back came an
answer. It took a comparatively short time to print a similar letter
form, and on this French typed the following with the same coloured
ribbon and spacing:—
“Dear Sir,—Confirming wire sent you to-day. We beg to state that we
have just had confidential advices from our agents in Brazil,
warning us that unsettled conditions are imminent which are likely
to depress Government securities considerably. Under these
circumstances we feel that we would like to discuss the question of
your investments, as we think you would be wiser to modify your
original proposals. In such matters a personal interview is more
satisfactory than correspondence, and as Mr. Munce happens to be
passing through Edinburgh next Tuesday, we thought perhaps it might
be convenient to you to see him at the station. The train waits long
enough to enable him to explain the situation fully.
Yours faithfully,”
French copied the “Dashwood and Munce” signature and despatched the
letter by the evening mail. He was in hopes that it would allay any
suspicion the telegram might have raised in Roper’s mind, while at the
same time involving no reply to the stockbrokers other than that of
the prepaid wire which would be delivered at the Yard.
The next point to be considered was the matter of Roper’s
identification. French did not believe he could manage this himself.
He had never seen the man. He had, of course, a copy of the photograph
on the passport, but he did not consider this sufficient. In a matter
of such importance he dared not leave a loop-hole for mistake. He felt
he must have some one who knew Roper there to assist him.
He thought at once of Ruth Averill. Of all the persons he had come
across she probably knew Roper’s appearance best. But he felt the job
was not one for a young girl and he cast round for some one else.
No one at Thirsby seemed suitable. Several people there had been
acquainted with Roper, but he did not think any had known him
sufficiently intimately to penetrate a disguise, should the man still
be wearing one. Nor did he believe any one at Kintilloch would be much
better, though for a while he considered getting Sergeant McGregor.
Finally, he decided that he would ask Philpot. Philpot had known Roper
intimately at the Ransome and had seen him at intervals up till the
tragedy. He was now in Glasgow: nearer than any one else that French
could get. Moreover, Philpot hated Roper and would no doubt be glad to
put the final spoke in his wheel. French was sure he would come for
the asking.