THE SUBSTITUTE.
It was nearly eleven o'clock before Bates reached Seymour's rooms. He
listened patiently to all that the latter had to say, and he chuckled
grimly when Seymour's plot was laid before him.
"Upon my word, sir, you ought to have been in the force yourself," he
exclaimed. "I never heard a neater scheme. I have been puzzling my
brains the last day or two for some way of getting hold of Anstruther.
I can nobble Carrington at any moment; in fact, I have a warrant for
his arrest in my pocket now. You see, I can easily prove that he has
been disposing of his clients' securities, but that hardly affects
Anstruther. I suppose you want me to go round to the Great
Metropolitan Hotel, and compel 'Simple Charlie' to act as bonnet for
us. I have not the slightest doubt that he will be able to find a good
substitute if he likes. But there is one little difficulty in the way
which you have not thought of."
"Oh, yes, I have," Seymour replied. "I know perfectly well what you
mean. You mean that even a burglar has some code of honor, and that he
would hesitate to betray a pal into such a trap as this. But if the
substitute that I have in my mind is acceptable to you, there is no
reason for further anxiety."
Seymour scribbled a name on a sheet of paper, and handed it across to
Bates. The latter laughed as he read it.
"Oh, most assuredly you ought to have been in the force," he said.
"The thing is so clever, and yet so delightfully simple."
Meanwhile, Masefield was carrying out his side of the programme.
He saw Rigby once or twice during the day, and the latter informed him
that everything was going splendidly. "I was at the Great Metropolitan
Hotel this morning," he explained; "in fact, I was present at the
interview between Bates and a man known as 'Simple Charlie.' We had
not the slightest difficulty in getting that rascal to do everything
that we wish. He seemed ready to do anything to save his own skin. As
I told you just now, the old address mentioned in Anstruther's letter
was Panton Square. By ten o'clock this morning Anstruther had received
a letter, in 'Simple Charlie's' handwriting, saying that it was quite
impossible for him to come himself, but that he would send an
efficient substitute, who would meet Anstruther at the Mansion House
Station at the appointed time. All you have to do now is to invite
yourself to dinner at Panton Square, and in the course of the evening
you will be pretty sure to hear the music going on in the study as
usual. Of course, Anstruther will not be there, but that will make no
difference to the harmonic programme. And mind you listen carefully
for the original piece of music you heard last night."
"How are you going to manage that?" Jack asked.
"Well, you see, we have divided ourselves up into three companies,"
Rigby explained. "You are going to look after Panton Square, Bates and
Seymour will engineer the campaign as far as the City and Provincial
Bank is concerned, and I am going to have supper with Padini. He
elected that the supper should take place in his own room at the
hotel. You can guess why."
Jack began to see matters more clearly now. The task allotted to
himself was plain and simple. He would have preferred something more
in the way of adventure; but, after all, somebody must do the ordinary
work. He managed to see Anstruther in the afternoon, and intimated to
him that he was dining in Panton Square that night. Anstruther replied
that he was glad to hear it; possibly, Jack thought, because there
would be an ear-witness to prove the music in the study.
It was nearly eight o'clock when Jack strolled into the drawing-room
of Panton Square, and found Claire alone there. He deemed it prudent
not to tell her too much of what had taken place the last few hours;
indeed, he was more concerned to hear the latest information about
Serena.
"I have not seen much of her to-day," Claire said. "I do not know what
to make of her at all. Last night late she came into my bedroom, and
we had a long talk about her boy. It is a very strange thing, Jack,
that only this morning a man arrived to see my guardian--a man who
seemed to be annoyed at Mr. Anstruther's refusal to pay him a sum of
money. I happened to overhear a few words as they parted. The stranger
declared that if he did not have something definite by Saturday, 'he
would send the kid back.' I should have thought nothing of this unless
I had heard Serena's story last night, but, taken in conjunction with
what she said, I shouldn't wonder if the man in question had not the
custody of the poor woman's child."
"This is interesting," Jack said. "Did you take any particular note of
the man's appearance?"
Claire replied that she had not failed to do so. But she had not
followed him, though her suspicions were aroused. Jack debated the
thing in his mind for a moment before he spoke again.
"We know perfectly well," he said, "that Anstruther is terribly
pressed for ready money. He is certain not to send that check, and it
is equally certain that the man will call again for the cash on
Saturday morning. It will be an easy matter to get Bates to lend me a
plain clothes man and follow the fellow wherever he goes. But you must
understand----"
What more Jack would have said was prevented by the entrance of
Anstruther, closely followed by the announcement of dinner. It was not
a gay meal, for the host was moody and depressed. He talked
brilliantly at times, then lapsed into a reverie, and appeared not to
hear when spoken to. Claire rose presently with a sigh of relief, glad
to get away from the gloom of the dining-room and its depressing
atmosphere. Anstruther smoked half a cigarette, and then threw the end
down impatiently.
"I must really get you to excuse me," he said. "But my head is so bad
that I can hardly hold it up. I am afraid that even my music will fail
to soothe me to-night."
Jack murmured something in the way of polite sympathy. He was glad of
the opportunity to be able to escape to the drawing-room, where he sat
for a long time discussing the situation with Claire. It was pleasant
and soothing to sit there with his arm about her and her head lovingly
upon his shoulder; but, happy as they were, they could not altogether
shake off the feeling of impending evil. All this time the music of
the violin floated mournfully from the study. Eleven o'clock struck,
and still the melody went on. Claire roused herself a little
presently, and a look of pleased interest crossed her pretty face.
"What a delightful little composition." she said. "I have never heard
that before. I am quite sure that is original."
"Listen very carefully," Jack said. "I want you to impress that piece
of music on your mind."
The piece was finished at length, and then repeated once more. As the
last strains died away, Claire rose from her comfortable seat and
crossed over to the piano. Very quietly, yet quite correctly, she went
through the whole composition.
"I am glad it has so impressed you," Jack said. "You will, perhaps, be
surprised to hear that Anstruther has never heard that piece of music
in his life, and that it was composed by Padini, who has never played
it to anybody till last night, when he performed it for Rigby's
benefit. Not only this, but he gave Dick Rigby the original manuscript
to get published for him. I know this is only a small matter, but
these small matters will make a mountain of evidence against
Anstruther when the time comes."
"It is very extraordinary," Claire murmured, "to think that that music
should sound so charming and natural, when we know that all the time
the player is a mile or two away. You are sure that my guardian is not
in his study, Jack?"
Jack was sure enough on that point. It was a few moments later that
Serena came quietly into the room with a request that Mr. Masefield
would go to the telephone, as some one desired to speak to him on
pressing business. Jack rose with alacrity.
"I shall soon be able to prove to you that Anstruther is a long way
off, or I am very much mistaken," he said. "Very well, Serena, I will
come down at once."
The voice at the other end of the telephone inquired cautiously if
that were Mr. Masefield. Jack replied that it was, but even then the
questioner did not appear to be satisfied.
"I think I recognize your voice," he said, "but one has to be very
careful in sending messages to Panton Square. How goes the music?
Anything original to-night?"
"One piece," Jack smiled. "I know what you mean, and I don't mind
making you a small bet that you are Inspector Bates."
The voice at the other end of the telephone chuckled.
"You have got it quite right, Mr. Masefield," he said. "I am Bates
sure enough. And you needn't worry about going down-stairs to see
whether or not Anstruther is playing at Paganini, because he isn't on
the premises at all."
"Where are you speaking from?" Jack asked.
Bates replied that he was speaking from a public call office in the
neighborhood of Mansion House Station. All he wanted to do was to make
sure that Jack was still in Panton Square, and now that his mind was
easy on this score, he could devote himself to the serious business of
the evening. Anstruther had just been shadowed outside the Mansion
House Station, where he was apparently waiting for the substitute so
kindly provided for him by "Simple Charlie."
The message ceased here, and the connection was cut off. Jack would
have been just a little surprised if he had seen the transmogrified
Bates who had been speaking to him over the line. The inspector
crossed the road and disappeared into the shadow. Anstruther stood
there, glancing impatiently up and down the road as if waiting for
somebody that was late. A figure slouched up to him, and a hoarse
voice whispered in his ear:
"Party of the name of Maggs," he said in his gin and fog voice. "Pal
of 'Simple Charlie.' Old Charlie couldn't get away to-night, so he
sent me instead. Don't you be disappointed, guv' nor; you will find me
just as clever with them bits of steel as Charles himself. Bit of
burglary, ain't it?"
Anstruther nodded curtly.
"We had better walk along," he said. "I suppose your friend explained
to you that this little job will put twenty pounds in your pocket? It
is a mere matter of opening a safe. The getting into the premises is
perfectly simple, because I have come provided with the keys. You know
the City and Provincial Bank?"
The other man grinned, and remarked that banks generally were a bit
above his form. Anstruther smiled as he reflected that he had the keys
of the bank premises proper in his pocket, so that there would be no
great difficulty in getting into the counting house, and from there to
Carrington's private office. As to the night watchmen--that was
another matter altogether. In the face of recent happenings, they
would be more alert than they had been in the past; but, at the same
time, their attention would be bestowed more upon the cellars than the
office.
The road was entirely deserted now, as Anstruther crossed the street
and gently turned the key in the outer door. A moment later, and the
pair were in Carrington's private office. They could afford to turn
the lights up, for the iron shutters outside made a perfect screen. In
one corner of the room stood the safe upon which the man who called
himself Maggs was intended to operate. Anstruther pointed at it
impatiently.
"Get to work at once," he said. "There is something inside that I must
take away to-night."
"A fine set of Cellini plate, I presume?" Maggs said, in an entirely
different voice. "No, you don't, Mr. Anstruther. If you put your hand
in your hip pocket, I'll blow your brains out. I have the advantage of
you here, and I am going to keep it."
"Who the deuce are you?" Anstruther stammered. His hands had fallen to
his side, and his face was pale and ghastly. "Who are you?"
The so-called burglar snatched away his wig and ragged beard, and with
a handkerchief changed the aspect of his face.
"I am Inspector Bates," he said. "Very much at your service."