and had never come back to it," remarked Ayscough. "Him outside, no
doubt. Let's see the other rooms."
There was nothing to see beyond what they would have expected to
see--except that in one of the bedrooms, in a drawer pulled out from a
dressing-table and left open, lay a quantity of silver and copper, with
here and there a gold coin shining amongst it. Ayscough made a
significant motion of his head at the sight.
"Another proof of--hurry!" he said. "Somebody's cleared out of this
place about as quick as he could! Money left lying about--unfinished
meal--door open--all sure indications. Well, we've seen enough for the
present. Our people'll make a thorough search later. Come downstairs
again."
Neither Ayscough nor Melky were greatly inclined for conversation or
speculation, and they waited in silence near the gate, both thinking of
the still figure lying behind the laurel bushes until the police came.
Then followed whispered consultations between Ayscough and the
inspector, and arrangements for the removal of the dead man to the
mortuary and the guardianship and thorough search of the house--and
that done, Ayscough beckoned Melky out into the road.
"Glad to be out of that--for this time, anyway!" he said, with an air
of relief. "There's too much atmosphere of murder and mystery--what
they call Oriental mystery--for me in there, Mr. Rubinstein! Now then,
there's something we can do, at once. Did I understand you to say these
two were medical students at University College?"
"So Mr. Penniket said," replied Melky. "S'elp me! I never heard of 'em
till this afternoon!"
"You're going to hear a fine lot about 'em before long, anyway!"
remarked Ayscough.
"Well--we'll just drive on to Gower Street--somebody'll know something
about 'em there, I reckon."
He walked forward until he came to the cab-rank at the foot of St.
John's Wood Road, where he bundled Melky into a taxi-cab, and bade the
driver get away to University College Hospital at his best pace. There
was little delay in carrying out that order, but it was not such an
easy task on arrival at their destination to find any one who could
give Ayscough the information he wanted. At last, after they had waited
some time in a reception room a young member of the house-staff came in
and looked an enquiry.
"What is it you want to know about these two Chinese students?" he
asked a little impatiently, with a glance at Ayscough's card. "Is
anything wrong?"
"I want to know a good deal!" answered Ayscough. "If not just now,
later. You know the two men I mean--Chang Li and Chen Li--brothers, I
take it?"
"I know them--they've been students here since about last Christmas,"
answered the young surgeon. "As a matter of fact they're not
brothers--though they're very much alike, and both have the same
surname--if Li is a surname. They're friends--not brothers, so they
told us."
"When did you see them last?" asked Ayscough.
"Not for some days, now you mention it," replied the surgeon. "Several
days. I was remarking on that today--I missed them from a class."
"You say they're very much alike," remarked the detective. "I suppose
you can tell one from the other?"
"Of course! But--what is this? I see you're a detective sergeant. Are
they in any bother--trouble?"
"The fact of the case," answered Ayscough, "is just this--one of them's
lying dead at our mortuary, and I shall be much obliged if you'll step
into my cab outside and come and identify him. Listen--it's a case of
murder!"
Twenty minutes later, Ayscough, leading the young house-surgeon into a
grim and silent room, turned aside the sheet from a yellow face.
"Which one of 'em is it?" he asked.
The house-surgeon started as he saw the wound in the dead man's throat.
"This is Chen!" he answered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE £500 BANK NOTE
Ayscough drew the sheet over the dead man's face and signed to his
companion to follow him outside, to a room where Melky Rubinstein,
still gravely meditating over the events of the evening, was awaiting
their reappearance.
"So that," said Ayscough, jerking his thumb in the direction of the
mortuary, "that's Chen Li! You're certain?"
"Chen Li! without a doubt!" answered the house-surgeon. "I know him
well!"
"The younger of the two?" suggested Ayscough.
The house-surgeon shook his head.
"I can't say as to that," he answered. "It would be difficult to tell
which of two Chinese, of about the same age, was the older. But that's
Chen. He and the other, Chang Li, are very much alike, but Chen was a
somewhat smaller and shorter man."
"What do you know of them?" inquired Ayscough. "Can you say what's
known at your hospital?"
"Very little," replied the house-surgeon. "They entered, as students
there--we have several foreigners--about last Christmas--perhaps at the
New Year. All that I know of them is that they were like most
Easterns--very quiet, unassuming, inoffensive fellows, very assiduous
in their studies and duties, never giving any trouble, and very
punctual in their attendance."
"And, you say, they haven't been seen at the hospital for some days?"
continued Ayscough. "Now, can you tell me--it's important--since what
precise date they've been absent?"
The house-surgeon reflected for a moment--then he suddenly drew out a
small memorandum book from an inner pocket.
"Perhaps I can," he answered, turning the pages over. "Yes--both these
men should have been in attendance on me--a class of my own, you
know--on the 20th, at 10.35. They didn't turn up. I've never seen them
since--in fact, I'm sure they've never been at the hospital since."
"The 20th?" observed Ayscough. He looked at Melky, who was paying great
attention to the conversation. "Now let's see--old Mr. Multenius met
his death on the afternoon of the 18th. Parslett was poisoned on the
night of the 19th. Um!"
"And Parslett was picked up about half-way between the Chink's house
and his own place, Mr. Ayscough--don't you forget that!" muttered
Melky. "I'm not forgetting--don't you make no error!"
"You don't know anything more that you could tell us about these two?"
asked the detective, nodding reassuringly at Melky and then turning to
the house-surgeon. "Any little thing?--you never know what helps."
"I can't!" said the house-surgeon, who was obviously greatly surprised
by what he had seen and heard. "These Easterns keep very much to
themselves, you know. I can't think of anything."
"Don't know anything of their associates--friends--acquaintances?"
suggested Ayscough. "I suppose they had some--amongst your students?"
"I never saw them in company with anybody--particularly--except a young
Japanese who was in some of their classes," replied the house-surgeon.
"I have seen them talking with him--in Gower Street."
"What's his name?" asked Ayscough, pulling out a note-book.
"Mr. Mori Yada," answered the house-surgeon promptly. "He lives in
Gower Street--I don't know the precise number of the house. Yes, that's
the way to spell his name. He's the only man I know who seemed to know
these two."
"Have you seen him lately?" asked Ayscough.
"Oh, yes--regularly--today, in fact," said the house-surgeon.
He waited a moment in evident expectation of other questions; as the
detective asked none--"I gather," he remarked, "that Chang Li has
disappeared?"
"The house these two occupied is empty," replied Ayscough.
"I am going to suggest something," said the house-surgeon. "I
know--from personal observation--that there is a tea-shop in Tottenham
Court Road--a sort of quiet, privately-owned place--Pilmansey's--which
these two used to frequent. I don't know if that's of any use to you?"
"Any detail is of use, sir," answered Ayscough, making another note.
"Now, I'll tell this taxi-man to drive you back to the hospital. I
shall call there tomorrow morning, and I shall want to see this young
Japanese gentleman, too. I daresay you see that this is a case of
murder--and there's more behind it!"
"You suspect Chang Li?" suggested the house-surgeon as they went out to
the cab.
"Couldn't say that--yet," replied Ayscough, grimly. "For anything I
know, Chang Li may have been murdered, too. But I've a pretty good
notion what Chen Li was knifed for!"
When the house-surgeon had gone away, Ayscough turned to Melky.
"Come back to Molteno Lodge," he said. "They're searching it. Let's see
if they've found anything of importance."
The house which had been as lifeless and deserted when Melky and the
detective visited it earlier in the evening was full enough of energy
and animation when they went back. One policeman kept guard at the
front gate; another at the door of the yard; within the house itself,
behind closed doors and drawn shutters and curtains, every room was
lighted and the lynx-eyed men were turning the place upside down. One
feature of the search struck the newcomers immediately--the patch of
ground whereon Melky had found the dead man had been carefully roped
off. Ayscough made a significant motion of his hand towards it.
"Good!" he said, "that shows they've found footprints. That may be
useful. Let's hear what else they've found."
The man in charge of these operations was standing within the
dining-room when Ayscough and Melky walked in, and he at once beckoned
them into the room and closed the door.
"We've made two or three discoveries," he said, glancing at Ayscough.
"To start with, there were footprints of a rather unusual sort round
these bushes where the man was lying--so I've had it carefully fenced
in around there--we'll have a better look at 'em, in daylight. Very
small prints, you understand--more like a woman's than a man's."
Ayscough's sharp eyes turned to the hearth--there were two or three
pairs of slippers lying near the fender and he pointed to them.
"These Chinamen have very small feet, I believe," he said. "The
footprints are probably theirs. Well--what else?"
"This," answered the man in charge, producing a small parcel from the
side-pocket of his coat, and proceeding to divest it of a temporary
wrapping. "Perhaps Mr. Rubinstein will recognize it. We found it thrown
away in a fire-grate in one of the bedrooms upstairs--you see, it's
half burnt."
He produced a small, stoutly-made cardboard box, some three inches
square, the outer surface of which was covered with a thick,
glossy-surfaced dark-green paper, on which certain words were deeply
impressed in gilt letters. The box was considerably charred and only
fragments of the lettering on the lid remained intact--but it was not
difficult to make out what the full wording had been.
. . . . _enius_,
. . ._nd jeweller_,
. . _ed Street_.
"That's one of the late Mr. Multenius's boxes," affirmed Melky at once.
"Daniel Multenius, Pawnbroker and Jeweller, Praed Street--that's the
full wording. Found in a fireplace, d'ye say, mister? Ah--and what had
he taken out of it before he threw the box away, now, Mr.
Ayscough--whoever it was that did throw it away?"
"That blessed orange and yellow diamond, I should think!" said
Ayscough. "Of course! Well, anything else?"
The man in charge carefully wrapped up and put away the jeweller's box;
then, with a significant glance at his fellow-detective, he slipped a
couple of fingers into his waistcoat pocket and drew out what looked
like a bit of crumpled paper.
"Aye!" he answered. "This! Found it--just there! Lying on the floor, at
the end of this table."
He opened out the bit of crumpled paper as he spoke and held it towards
the other two. Ayscough stared, almost incredulously, and Melky let out
a sharp exclamation.
"S'elp us!" he said. "A five-hundred-pound bank-note!"
"That's about it," remarked the exhibitor. "Bank of England note for
five hundred of the best! And--a good 'un, too. Lying on the floor."
"Take care of it," said Ayscough laconically. "Well--you haven't found
any papers, documents, or anything of that sort, that give any clue?"
"There's a lot of stuff there," answered the man in charge, pointing to
a pile of books and papers on the table, "but it seems to be chiefly
exercises and that sort of thing. I'll look through it myself, later."
"See if you can find any letters, addresses, and so on," counselled
Ayscough. He turned over some of the books, all of them medical works
and text-books, opening some of them at random. And suddenly he caught
sight of the name which the house-surgeon had given him half-an-hour
before, written on a fly-leaf: Mori Yada, 491, Gower Street--and an
idea came into his mind. He bade the man in charge keep his eyes open
and leave nothing unexamined, and tapping Melky's arm, led him outside.
"Look here!" he said, drawing out his watch, as they crossed the hall,
"it's scarcely ten o'clock, and I've got the address of that young Jap.
Come on--we'll go and ask him a question or two."
So for the second time that evening, Melky, who was beginning to feel
as if he were on a chase which pursued anything but a straight course,
found himself in Gower Street again, and followed Ayscough along,
wondering what was going to happen next, until the detective paused at
the door of a tall house in the middle of the long thoroughfare and
rang the bell. A smart maid answered that ring and looked dubiously at
Ayscough as he proffered a request to see Mr. Mori Yada. Yes--Mr. Yada
was at home, but he didn't like to see any one, of an evening when he
was at his studies, and--in fact he'd given orders not to be disturbed
at that time.
"I think he'll see me, all the same," said Ayscough, drawing out one of
his professional cards. "Just give him that, will you, and tell him my
business is very important."
He turned to Melky when the girl, still looking unwilling, had gone
away upstairs, and gave him a nudge of the elbow.
"When we get up there--as we shall," whispered Ayscough, "you watch
this Jap chap while I talk to him. Study his face--and see if anything
surprises him."
"Biggest order, mister--with a Jap!" muttered Melky. "Might as well
tell me to watch a stone image--their faces is like wood!"
"Try it!" said Ayscough. "Flicker of an eyelid--twist of the
lip--anything! Here's the girl back again."
A moment later Melky, treading close on the detective's heels, found
himself ushered into a brilliantly-lighted, rather over-heated room,
somewhat luxuriously furnished, wherein, in the easiest of chairs, a
cigar in his lips, a yellow-backed novel in his hand, sat a
slimly-built, elegant young gentleman whose face was melting to a smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
MR. MORI YADA
Ayscough was on his guard as soon as he saw that smile. He had had some
experience of various national characteristics in his time, and he knew
that when an Eastern meets you with a frank and smiling countenance you
had better keep all your wits about you. He began the exercise of his
own with a polite bow--while executing it, he took a rapid inventory of
Mr. Mori Yada. About--as near as he could judge--two or three and
twenty; a black-haired, black-eyed young gentleman; evidently
fastidious about his English clothes, his English linen, his English
ties, smart socks, and shoes--a good deal of a dandy, in short--and,
judging from his surroundings, very fond of English comfort--and not
averse to the English custom of taking a little spirituous refreshment
with his tobacco. A decanter stood on the table at his elbow; a syphon
of mineral water reared itself close by; a tumbler was within reach of
Mr. Yada's slender yellowish fingers.
"Servant, sir!" said Ayscough. "Detective Sergeant Ayscough of the
Criminal Investigation Department--friend of mine, this, sir, Mr. Yada,
I believe--Mr. Mori Yada?"
Mr. Yada smiled again, and without rising, indicated two chairs.
"Oh, yes!" he said in excellent English accents. "Pleased to see
you--will you take a chair--and your friend! You want to talk to me?"
Ayscough sat down and unbuttoned his overcoat.
"Much obliged, sir," he said. "Yes--the fact is, Mr. Yada, I called to
see you on a highly important matter that's arisen. Your name, sir, was
given to me tonight by one of the junior house-surgeons at the hospital
up the street--Dr. Pittery."
"Oh, yes, Dr. Pittery--I know," agreed Yada. "Yes?"
"Dr. Pittery tells me, sir," continued Ayscough, "that you know two
Chinese gentlemen who are fellow-students of yours at the hospital, Mr.
Yada?"
The Japanese bowed his dark head and blew out a mouthful of smoke from
his cigar.
"Yes!" he answered readily, "Mr. Chang Li--Mr. Chen Li. Oh, yes!"
"I want to ask you a question, Mr. Yada," said Ayscough, bending
forward and assuming an air of confidence. "When did you see those two
gentlemen last--either of them?"
Yada leaned back in his comfortably padded chair and cast his quick
eyes towards the ceiling. Suddenly he jumped to his feet.
"You take a little drop of whisky-and-soda?" he said hospitably,
pushing a clean glass towards Ayscough. "Yes--I will get another glass
for your friend, too. Help yourselves, please, then--I will look in my
diary for an answer to your question. You excuse me, one moment."
He walked across the room to a writing cabinet which stood in one
corner, and took up a small book that lay on the blotting-pad; while he
turned over its pages, Ayscough, helping himself and Melky to a drink,
winked at his companion with a meaning expression.
"I have not seen either Mr. Chang Li or Mr. Chen Li since the morning
of the 18th November," suddenly said Yada. He threw the book back on
the desk, and coming to the hearthrug, took up a position with his back
to the fire and his hands in the pockets of his trousers. He nodded
politely as his visitors raised their glasses to him. "Is anything the
matter, Mr. Detective-Sergeant?" he asked.
Ayscough contrived to press his foot against Melky's as he gave a
direct answer to this question.
"The fact of the case is, Mr. Yada," he said, "one of these two young
men has been murdered! murdered, sir!"
Yada's well-defined eyebrows elevated themselves--but the rest of his
face was immobile. He looked fixedly at Ayscough for a second or
two--then he let out one word.
"Which?"
"According to Dr. Pittery--Chen Li," answered Ayscough. "Dr. Pittery
identified him. Murdered, Mr. Yada, murdered! Knifed!--in the throat."
The reiteration of the word murdered appeared to yield the detective
some sort of satisfaction--but it apparently made no particular
impression on the Japanese. Again he rapped out one word.
"Where?"
"His body was found in the garden of the house they rented in Maida
Vale," replied Ayscough. "Molteno Lodge. No doubt you've visited them
there, Mr. Yada?"
"I have been there--yes, a few times," assented Yada. "Not very lately.
But--where is Chang Li?"
"That's what we don't know--and what we want to know," said Ayscough.
"He's not been seen at the hospital since the 20th. He didn't turn up
there--nor Chen, either, at a class, that day. And you say you haven't
seen them either since the 18th?"
"I was not at the hospital on the 19th," replied Yada. He threw away
the end of his cigar, picked up a fresh one from a box which stood on
the table, pushed the box towards his visitors, and drew out a silver
match-box. "What are the facts of this murder, Mr. Detective-Sergeant?"
he asked quietly. "Murder is not done without some object--as a rule."
Ayscough accepted the offered cigar, passed the box to Melky and while
he lighted his selection, thought quietly. He was playing a game with
the Japanese, and it was necessary to think accurately and quickly. And
suddenly he made up his mind and assumed an air of candour.
"It's like this, Mr. Yada," he said. "I may as well tell you all about
it. You've doubtless read all about this Praed Street mystery in the
newspapers? Well, now, some very extraordinary developments have arisen
out of the beginnings of that, it turns out."
Melky sat by, disturbed and uncomfortable, while Ayscough reeled off a
complete narrative of the recent discoveries to the suave-mannered,
phlegmatic, calmly-listening figure on the hearthrug. He did not
understand the detective's doings--it seemed to him the height of folly
to tell a stranger, and an Eastern stranger at that, all about the fact
that there was a diamond worth eighty thousand pounds at the bottom of
these mysteries and murders. But he discharged his own duties, and
watched Yada intently--and failed to see one single sign of anything
beyond ordinary interest in his impassive face.
"So there it is, sir," concluded Ayscough. "I've no doubt whatever that
Chen Li called at Multenius's shop to pay the rent; that he saw the
diamond in the old man's possession and swagged him for it; that
Parslett saw Chen Li slip away from that side-door and, hearing of
Multenius's death, suspected Chen Li of it and tried to blackmail him;
that Chen Li poisoned Parslett--and that Chen Li himself was knifed for
that diamond. Now--by whom? Chang Li has--disappeared!"
"You suspect Chang Li?" asked Yada.
"I do," exclaimed Ayscough. "A Chinaman--a diamond worth every penny of
eighty thousand pounds--Ah!" He suddenly lifted his eyes to Yada with a
quick enquiry. "How much do you know of these two?" he asked.
"Little--beyond the fact that they were fellow-students of mine,"
answered Yada. "I occasionally visited them--occasionally they visited
me--that is all."
"Dr. Pittery says they weren't brothers?" suggested Ayscough.
"So I understood," assented Yada. "Friends."
"You can't tell us anything of their habits?--haunts?--what they
usually did with themselves when they weren't at the hospital?" asked
the detective.
"I should say that when they weren't at the hospital, they were at
their house--reading," answered Yada, drily. "They were hard workers."
Ayscough rose from his chair.
"Well, much obliged to you, sir," he said. "As your name was mentioned
as some sort of a friend of theirs, I came to you. Of course, most of
what I've told you will be in all the papers tomorrow. If you should
hear anything of this Chang Li, you'll communicate with us, Mr. Yada?"
The Japanese smiled--openly.
"Most improbable, Mr. Detective-Sergeant!" he answered. "I know no more
than what I have said. For more information, you should go to the
Chinese Legation."
"Good idea, sir--thank you," said Ayscough.
He bowed himself and Melky out; once outside the street-door he drew
his companion away towards a part which lay in deep shadow. Some
repairing operations to the exterior of a block of houses were going on
there; underneath a scaffolding which extended over the sidewalk
Ayscough drew Melky to a halt.
"You no doubt wondered why I told that chap so much?" he whispered.
"Especially about that diamond! But I had my reasons--and particularly
for telling him about its value."
"It isn't what I should ha' done, Mr. Ayscough," said Melky, "and it
didn't ought to come out in the newspapers, neither--so I think!
'Tain't a healthy thing to let the public know there's an
eighty-thousand pound diamond loose somewhere in London--and as to
telling that slant-eyed fellow in there--"
"You wait a bit, my lad!" interrupted Ayscough. "I had my reasons--good
'uns. Now, look here, we're going to watch that door awhile. If the Jap
comes out--as I've an idea he will--we're going to follow. And as
you're younger, and slimmer, and less conspicuous than I am, if he
should emerge, keep on the shadowy side of the street, at a safe
distance, and follow him as cleverly as you can. I'll follow you."
"What new game's this?" asked Melky.
"Never mind!" replied Ayscough. "And, if it does come to following, and
he should take a cab, contrive to be near--there's a good many people
about, and if you're careful he'll never see you. And--there, now, what
did I tell you? He's coming out, now! Be handy--more depends on it than
you're aware of."
Yada, seen clearly in the moonlight which flooded that side of the
street, came out of the door which they had left a few minutes earlier.
His smart suit of grey tweed had disappeared under a heavy fur-collared
overcoat; a black bowler hat surmounted his somewhat pallid face. He
looked neither to right nor left, but walked swiftly up the street in
the direction of the Euston Road. And when he had gone some thirty
yards, Ayscough pushed Melky before him out of their retreat.