To and Fro
It was by a fortunate accident that Ellery had been able so soon to
establish his _alibi_. After drawing blank at the Chelsea Arts Club,
he had had very little of an idea where he should try next. He was
almost certain that it was there he had been introduced to the man,
and the only course seemed to be that of waiting until he turned up
again, or his name somehow came back to mind. Still, it was just
possible that Ellery had met the man at his other Club in the Adelphi,
and he got on a bus and went there to pursue his inquiries. His
success was no better, although he remained there to lunch and made
persistent inquiries of his fellow-members for an actor whose name
began with an F. The afternoon found him walking rather disconsolately
down the Strand not at all certain where to go next. Just outside the
Golden Cross Hotel, fortune did him a good turn; for he ran straight
into the very man he was looking for. Ellery turned back with him, and
explained the difficulty he was in, and his acquaintance promised to
go at once to Scotland Yard, and try to set matters right with
Inspector Gibbs. He was so friendly that Ellery had some difficulty in
admitting that he had forgotten his name; but he got round it by
asking for his address, in case of need. The other’s answer was to
hand him a card, on which was written:—
William Gloucester,
11 Denzil Street, S. W. 3.
“Of course,” said Ellery to himself. “But it didn’t begin with an F
after all.”
This meeting put Ellery at his ease; and he felt that he could now go
and see Joan with a clear conscience. Leaving Gloucester to go to
Scotland Yard, and asking him to tell the inspector that he would come
round later, he set off for Liskeard House, and found himself charged
with the task of clearing, not himself, but Walter Brooklyn. He also
found himself engaged to be married.
These events made it all the more essential to make quite sure that
the police were no longer inclined to look on him with suspicion; and,
on leaving Joan, he went straight to Scotland Yard, and was soon
received, not by Inspector Gibbs, but by Superintendent Wilson, who,
having received the inspector’s report on Gloucester’s visit, had made
up his mind to have a look at Ellery himself. The superintendent at
once put him at his ease by telling him that his explanation, and his
friend’s corroboration of it, appeared to be quite satisfactory.
Ellery’s reply was to say that, in that case, perhaps he might be
relieved of the presence of the heavy-footed individual who had been
following him about all day. The superintendent laughed. “Yes, I think
we can find something more useful for him to do,” he said. “I hope you
have not resented our—shall I say?—attentions. We were bound to keep
an eye on you until we were certain.” And the superintendent at once
gave instructions on the house-phone that the man who had been
watching Ellery need do so no longer, but should report to him in a
few minutes in his room.
Ellery assured him that it was quite all right; but that he was glad
to be relieved of the man, because he wanted to do a little private
detecting on his own. “I know you people have got your knife into
Walter Brooklyn; but I’m sure he had nothing to do with it, and I mean
to do my best to find out who had.” Ellery said this deliberately, in
the hope of getting the superintendent to show something of his hand;
but that wary official merely wished him luck—for “we policemen,” he
said, “are always glad to have a man’s character cleared, though you
may not think it”—and politely bowed him out. So far as he could see,
no one followed him as he left the building, and he went back to
Liskeard House. He had said that he would ’phone; but he found it
quite beyond his power to keep away.
Joan was busy with Sir Vernon when he arrived; but she came to him
before long. No message had come from Walter Brooklyn, and she was
getting anxious. Was it possible that he had been arrested already?
Ellery promised to make inquiries, and to use every possible effort to
find her stepfather; but, though he tried that evening every place he
could think of in which Walter Brooklyn might be, no trace of him
could be found, and there was no sign that he had been arrested.
Resumed inquiries early the next morning were equally fruitless.
Brooklyn had not been back to either of his Clubs, and no message had
been received from him. It was under these circumstances that Joan
failed to see her stepfather before the inquest opened. She was
greatly relieved to see that he was present, and promising herself
that she would talk to him as soon as it was over, she did nothing
while the inquest was actually in progress. She passed a note to him
asking him to come round and see her at Liskeard House immediately the
court rose, and he nodded to her in reply across the room. She
therefore felt no anxiety when he rose and left his seat before the
proceedings came to an end. Thus it came about that he was arrested
without her having a chance to ask him to tell his story of the events
of Tuesday night.
The explanation of Walter Brooklyn’s absence was simple enough. By
Thursday, life at his Clubs had been made unendurable for him by the
manner, and evident suspicions, of the Club servants. He became
conscious that his fellow-members were also talking about him, and he
decided to go away. He had been summoned to appear at the inquest on
the following morning; but he could at least have a quiet night before
returning to his troubles. While Joan and Ellery were hunting London
for him, Walter Brooklyn was doing himself well at a hotel in
Maidenhead. He had intended to return there after seeing Joan; but the
inspector’s hand on his shoulder warned him that he would sleep the
coming night in jail.
At Vine Street, Brooklyn asked to be allowed to see a solicitor. The
request was at once granted; and, in response to an urgent message,
Mr. Fred Thomas, of New Court, arrived within half an hour. Thomas was
not Brooklyn’s regular solicitor; for Carter Woodman had managed most
of his business affairs. But Thomas was a Club acquaintance and a man
about town himself—professionally a lawyer with few illusions and a
large, if rather disreputable, practice, mainly among racing men.
Walter Brooklyn’s first idea was that Thomas should make an effort to
get him admitted to bail when he was brought up before the magistrate
next morning, and he mentioned the names of several persons who might
be prepared to stand surety for him. But Thomas at once destroyed his
hopes. There was no chance, he said, of securing bail on a charge of
murder: he was afraid his client would have to make up his mind to
stay where he was for the present. At any rate, Thomas would see to it
that he was made as comfortable as could be. There were ways of doing
these things, and Thomas was an expert hand at dealing with the
police. What he could do would be done; but the main thing was for his
client to give him every fact that could possibly be helpful in
preparing the defence. They began to discuss the case.
Meanwhile, Ellery, who had guessed at once the reason why the
inspector had followed Walter Brooklyn out of the coroner’s court, had
not been idle. He had left his place a minute or two later, merely
whispering to Joan that there was something he must do at once. He had
come out of the court just in time to see the inspector and Walter
Brooklyn get into a taxi and drive off. Hailing another taxi, he had
told the driver to follow, and his car had drawn up at Vine Street
Police Station a moment after the other. He had seen Brooklyn and the
inspector pass into the building, and had then paid his driver, and
stood disconsolately outside wondering what he should do. Finally, he
went into the station and asked for Inspector Blaikie, sending in his
card. He was kept waiting for some minutes, and then the inspector
came to him, and asked what he wanted.
“You have arrested Mr. Walter Brooklyn, have you not?” Ellery asked.
The inspector replied that he had.
“Is it possible for some one to come and see him? I suppose he will be
here overnight.”
The inspector shook his head. “He will be here for the night,” he
said, “but you can’t see him. He has already sent for his lawyer.”
“I don’t want to see him myself. But his stepdaughter, Miss Cowper, is
very anxious to have a talk with him.”
“Oh, that’s another matter. It might be arranged. I don’t say it
could, but it might. The right course would be for her to see his
lawyer, and for him to apply on her behalf. I couldn’t do anything on
my own responsibility.”
“Then, if I brought her here, you couldn’t allow her to see him.”
“No, I’m afraid I couldn’t. The regulations are very strict.”
Ellery tried to move the inspector. He failed, but he was not inclined
to give up hope. He went straight to Scotland Yard and asked for
Superintendent Wilson. Reminding that official that, earlier in the
day, he had wished him luck in his effort to clear Walter Brooklyn,
Ellery obtained without difficulty permission for Joan to see him in
his cell. Armed with a signed permit, he drove straight to Liskeard
House.
He found Joan with his guardian, Harry Lucas, who had brought her back
in his car from the court. Lucas, too, had seen the inspector leave
the court, and had guessed his purpose. He had also guessed Ellery’s
object in leaving a moment later. In the car, he had already told Joan
what he feared; and they had agreed that the best thing was to go back
to Liskeard House and wait for news. Walter Brooklyn would come there
if he was still a free man; and if not, Ellery would either come, or
telephone to tell Joan what had happened.
Joan therefore received Ellery’s bad news without surprise; and she
gave him a grateful kiss—she had told Lucas of their engagement while
they were waiting—when he showed her the permit to visit her
stepfather Lucas’s car was at the door, and he offered to take Joan
round at once. He took the driver’s seat himself, telling his
chauffeur to await his return, and Joan and Ellery got in behind.