THE OTHER CHEQUE
Starmidge sent off his telegram when the train stopped at Nottingham,
and thereafter went to sleep, secure in the knowledge that it would be
promptly acted upon by its recipients. And when, soon after eleven
o'clock, the express ran into St. Pancras, he paid no particular
attention to Gabriel Chestermarke. He had no desire, indeed, that the
banker should see him, and he hung back when the crowded carriages
cleared, and the platform became a scene of bustle and animation. But he
had no difficulty in distinguishing Gabriel's stiffly erect figure as it
made its way towards the hall of the station, and his sharp eyes were
quick to notice a quietly dressed, unobtrusive sort of man who sauntered
along, caught sight of the banker, and swung round to follow him.
Starmidge watched both pass along towards the waiting lines of
vehicles--then he turned on his heel and went to the refreshment room
and straight to a man who evidently expected him.
"You got the wire in good time, then?" said Starmidge.
"Plenty!" answered the other man laconically. "I've put a good man on to
him. See anything of them?"
"Yes--but I didn't know our man," remarked Starmidge. "Who is he? Will
he do what I want?"
"He's all right--fellow who's just been promoted, and, of course, he's
naturally keen," replied Starmidge's companion. "Name of Gandam. That
was a pretty good and full description of the man you want followed,
Starmidge," he went on, with a smile. "You don't leave much out!"
"I didn't want him to be overlooked, and I didn't want to show up
myself," said Starmidge. "I noticed that our man spotted him quick. Now,
look here--I'll be at headquarters first thing tomorrow morning--I want
this chap Gandam's report. Nine-thirty sharp! Now we'll have a drink,
and I'll get home."
"Good case, this?" asked the other man, as they pledged each other.
"Getting on with it?"
"Tell you more tomorrow," answered Starmidge. "When--and if--I know
more. Nine-thirty, mind!"
But when Starmidge met his companion of the night before at nine-thirty
next morning, it was to find him in conversation with the other man, and
to see dissatisfaction on the countenances of both. And Starmidge, a
naturally keen observer, knew what had happened. He frowned as he looked
at Gandam.
"You don't mean to say he slipped you!" he exclaimed.
"I don't know about slipped," muttered Gandam. "I lost him, anyway, Mr.
Starmidge, and I don't see how I can be blamed, either. Perhaps you
might have done differently, but----"
"Tell about it!" interrupted Starmidge. "What happened?"
"I spotted him, of course, from your description, as soon as he got out
of the train," replied Gandam. "No mistaking him, naturally--he's an
extra good one to watch. He'd no luggage--not even a handbag. I followed
him to the taxi-cabs. I was close by when he stepped into one, and I
heard what he said. 'Stage door--Adalbert Theatre.' Off he went--I
followed in another taxi. I stopped mine and got out, just in time to
see him walk up the entry to the stage-door. He went in. It was then
half-past eleven; they were beginning to close. I waited and waited
until at last they closed the stage-door. I'll take my oath he'd never
come out!--never!"
Starmidge made a face of intense disgust.
"No, of course he hadn't!" he exclaimed. "He'd gone out at the front. I
suppose that never struck you? I know that stage-door of the
Adalbert--it's up a passage. If you'd stood at the end of that passage,
man, you could have kept an eye on the front and stage-door at the same
time. But, of course, it never struck you that a man could go in at the
back of a place and come out at the front, did it? Well--that's off for
the present. And so am I."
Vexed and disappointed that Gabriel Chestermarke had not been tracked to
wherever he was staying in London, Starmidge went out, hailed a
taxi-cab, and was driven down to the city. He did not particularly
concern himself about Gabriel's visit to the stage-door of the Adalbert
Theatre; it was something, after all, to know he had gone there: if need
arose, he might be traced from that theatre, in which, very possibly, he
had some financial interest. What Starmidge had desired to ascertain
was the banker's London address: he had already learned in Scarnham that
Gabriel Chestermarke was constantly in London for days at a time--he
must have some permanent address at which he could be found. And
Starmidge foresaw that he might wish to find him--perhaps in a hurry.
But just then his chief concern was with another banking
firm--Vanderkiste's. He walked slowly along Lombard Street until he came
to the house--a quiet, sober, eminently respectable-looking old business
place, quite unlike the palatial affairs in which the great banking
corporations of modern origin carry on their transactions. There was no
display of marble and plaster and plate glass and mahogany and heavy
plethoric fittings--a modest brass plate affixed to the door was the
only sign and announcement that banking business was carried on within.
Equally old-fashioned and modest was the interior--and Starmidge was
quick to notice that the clerks were all elderly or middle-aged men,
solemn and grave as undertakers.
The presentation of the detective's official card procured him speedy
entrance to a parlour in which sat two old gentlemen, who were evidently
greatly surprised to see him. They were so much surprised indeed, as to
be almost childishly interested, and Starmidge had never had such
attentive listeners in his life as these two elderly city men, to whom
crime and detention were as unfamiliar as higher finance was to their
visitor. They followed Starmidge's story point by point, nodding every
now and then as he drew their attention to particular passages, and the
detective saw that they comprehended all he said. He made an end at
last--and Mr. Vanderkiste, a white-bearded, benevolent-looking
gentleman, looked at Mr. Mullineau, a little, rosy-faced man, and shook
his head.
"It would be an unusual thing, certainly," he observed, "for Mr.
Frederick Hollis to have ten thousand pounds lying here to his credit.
Mr. Hollis was an old customer--we knew him very well--but he didn't
keep a lot of money here. We--er--know his circumstances. He bought
himself a very nice annuity some years ago--it was paid into his account
here twice a year. But--ten thousand pounds!"
Mr. Mullineau leaned forward.
"We don't know if Frederick Hollis paid any large amount in lately, you
know," he observed. "Hadn't you better summon Linthwaite?"
"Our manager," remarked Mr. Vanderkiste, as he touched a bell. "Ah, yes,
of course--he'll know. Mr. Linthwaite," he continued, as another elderly
man entered the room, "can you tell us what Mr. Frederick Hollis's
balance in our hands is?"
"I have just been looking it up, sir," replied the manager, "in
consequence of this sad news in the papers. Ten thousand, eight hundred,
seventy-nine, five, four, Mr. Vanderkiste."
"Ten thousand eight hundred and seventy-nine pounds, five shillings and
fourpence," repeated Mr. Vanderkiste. "Ah! An unusually large amount, I
think, Mr. Linthwaite?"
"Just so, sir," agreed the manager. "The reason is that rather more
than a week ago Mr. Hollis called here himself with a cheque for ten
thousand pounds which he paid into his account, explaining to me that it
had been handed to him for a special purpose, and that he should draw a
cheque for his own against it, for the same amount, very shortly."
"Ah!" remarked Mr. Vanderkiste. "Has the cheque which he paid in been
cleared?"
"We cleared it at once," replied the manager. "Oh, yes! But the cheque
which Mr. Hollis spoke of drawing against it has not come in--and now,
of course----"
"Just so," said Mr. Vanderkiste. "Now that he's dead, of course, his
cheque is no good. Um! That will do, thank you, Mr. Linthwaite."
He turned and looked at Starmidge when the manager had withdrawn.
"That explains matters," he said. "The ten thousand pounds had been paid
to Mr. Frederick Hollis for a special purpose."
"But--by whom?" asked Starmidge. "That's precisely what I want to know!
The knowledge will help me--ah!--I don't know how much it mayn't help
me! For there's no doubt about it, gentlemen, Hollis went down to
Scarnham to pay ten thousand pounds to somebody on somebody else's
account! He was, I am sure, as it were, ambassador for somebody. Who
was--who is--that somebody? Almost certainly, the person who gave Hollis
the cheque your manager has just mentioned--and whose ten thousand
pounds is, as a matter of fact, still lying in your hands! Who is that
person? What bank was the cheque drawn on? Let me have an answer to
both these questions, and----"
The two old gentlemen exchanged looks, and Mr. Mullineau quietly rose
and left the room. In his absence Mr. Vanderkiste shook his head at the
detective.
"A very, very queer case, officer!" he remarked.
"An extraordinary case, sir," agreed Starmidge. "Before we get to the
end of it there'll be some strange revelations, Mr. Vanderkiste."
"So I should imagine--so I should imagine!" assented the old gentleman.
"Very remarkable proceedings altogether! We shall be deeply interested
in hearing how matters progress. Of course, this affair of the ten
thousand pounds is very curious. We----"
Mr. Mullineau came back--with a slip of paper, which he handed to the
detective.
"That gives you the information you want," he said.
Starmidge read aloud what the manager had written down on his
principal's instructions.
"Drawer--Helen Lester," he read. "Bank--London & Universal: Pall Mall
Branch." He looked up at the two partners. "I suppose you gentlemen
don't know who this Mrs. or Miss Helen Lester is?" he inquired.
"No--not at all," answered Mr. Mullineau. "Nor does Linthwaite. I
thought Mr. Hollis might have told him something about that special
purpose. But--he told him nothing."
"You'll have to go to the London & Universal people," observed Mr.
Vanderkiste. "They, of course, will know all about this customer."
Mullineau looked inquiringly at his partner.
"Don't you think that--as there are almost certain to be some
complications about this matter--Linthwaite had better go with Detective
Starmidge?" he suggested. "The situation, as regards the ten thousand
pounds, is a somewhat curious one. This Miss or Mrs. Lester will want to
recover it. Now, according to what Mr. Starmidge tells us, no body, so
far as he's aware, is in possession of any facts, papers, letters,
anything, relating to it. I think there should be some consultation
between ourselves and this other bank which is concerned."
"Excellent suggestion!" agreed Mr. Vanderkiste. "Let him go--by all
means."
Half an hour later, Starmidge found himself closeted with another lot of
bankers. But these were younger men, who were quicker to grasp
situations and comprehend points, and they quickly understood what the
detective was after: moreover, they were already well posted up in those
details of the Scarnham mystery which had already appeared in the
newspapers.
"What you want," said one of them, a young and energetic man, addressing
Starmidge at the end of their preliminary conversation, "is to find out
for what purpose Mrs. Lester gave Mr. Frederick Hollis ten thousand
pounds?"
"Precisely," replied Starmidge. "It will go far towards clearing up a
good many things."
"I have no doubt Mrs. Lester will tell you readily enough," said the
banker. "In fact, as things are, I should say she'll only be too glad to
give you any information you want. That ten thousand pounds being in
Messrs. Vanderkiste's hands, in Hollis's name, and Hollis being dead,
there will be bother--not serious, of course, but still formal
bother--about recovering it. Very well--Mrs. Lester, who, I may tell
you, is a wealthy customer of ours, lives in the country as a rule, and
I happen to know she's there now. I'll write down her address. Tell her,
by all means, that you have been to see us on the matter."
Starmidge left Mr. Linthwaite talking with the London & Universal
people; he himself, now that he had got the desired information, had no
more to say. Outside the bank he opened the slip of paper which had just
been handed to him, and saw that another journey lay before him. Mrs.
Lester lived at Lowdale Court, near Chesham.
CHAPTER XII
ABOUT CENT PER CENT.
Starmidge, lingering a moment on the steps of the bank to consider
whether he would go straight to Chesham or repair to headquarters for a
consultation with his superior, was suddenly joined by the manager who
had just given him his information.
"You are going down to Lowdale Court?" asked the manager.
"During the morning--yes," answered Starmidge.
"If it will be any help to you," said the manager, "I'll ring up Mrs.
Lester on the telephone, and let her know you're coming. She's rather a
nervous woman and it will pave the way for you if I give you a sort of
introduction. Besides--" here he paused, and looked at the detective
with an inquiring air--"don't you think Mrs. Lester had better be
warned--at once--not to speak of this matter until she's seen you?"
"You think she may be approached?" asked Starmidge.
The manager wagged his head and smiled knowingly.
"I think there's something so very queer about this affair that Mrs.
Lester ought to be seen at once," he said.
"She shall be!" answered Starmidge. "Tell her I'll be down there within
two hours--I'll motor there. Thank you for your suggestion. Now I'll
just run to headquarters and then be straight off."
He hailed a passing taxi-cab and drove to New Scotland Yard, where he
was presently closeted with a high personage in deep and serious
consultation, the result of which was that by twelve o'clock, Starmidge
and a fellow-officer, one Easleby, in whom he had great confidence, were
spinning away towards the beech-clad hills of Buckinghamshire, and
discussing the features and probabilities of the queer business which
took them there. Before two, they were in the pleasant valley which lies
between Chenies and Chesham and pulling up at the door of a fine old
Jacobean house, which, set in the midst of delightful lawns and gardens,
looked down on the windings of the river Chess. And practical as both
men were, and well experienced in their profession, it struck both as
strange that they should come to such a quiet and innocent-looking place
to seek some explanation of a mystery which had surely some connection
with crime.
The two detectives were immediately shown into a morning room in which
sat a little, middle-aged lady in a widow's cap and weeds, who looked at
her visitors half-timidly, half-welcomingly. She sat by a small table on
which lay a heap of newspapers, and Starmidge's sharp eyes saw at once
that she had been reading the published details of the Scarnham affair.
"You have no doubt been informed by your bankers that we were coming,
ma'am?" began Starmidge, when he and Easleby had seated themselves near
Mrs. Lester. "The manager there was good enough to say he'd telephone
you."
Mrs. Lester, who had been curiously inspecting her callers and appeared
somewhat relieved to find that they were quite ordinary-looking beings,
entirely unlike her own preconceived notions of detectives, bowed her
head.
"Yes," she answered, "my bankers telephoned that an officer from
Scotland Yard would call on me this morning, and that I was to speak
freely to him, and in confidence, but--I really don't quite know what it
is that I'm to talk to you about, though I suppose I can guess."
"This, ma'am," answered Starmidge, bending towards the pile of
newspapers and tapping a staring head-line with his finger. "I see
you've been reading it up. I have been in charge of this affair since
Monday last, and I came up to town last night about it--specially. You
will have read in this morning's paper that the body of Mr. Frederick
Hollis was found at Scarnham yesterday?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Lester, with a sigh. "I have read of that. Of course, I
knew Mr. Hollis--he was an old friend of my husband. I saw him last
week. But--what took Mr. Hollis down to Scarnham? I have been in the
habit of seeing Mr. Hollis constantly--regularly--and I never even heard
him mention Scarnham, nor any person living at Scarnham. There are many
persons mentioned in these newspaper accounts," continued Mrs. Lester,
"in connection with this affair whose names I never heard before--yet
they are mentioned as if Mr. Hollis had something to do with them. Why
did he go there?"
"That, ma'am, is precisely what we want to find out from you!" replied
Starmidge, with a side glance at his fellow-detective. "It's just what
we've come for!"
He was watching Mrs. Lester very closely as he spoke, and he saw that up
to that moment she had certainly no explanation in her own mind as to
the reason of this police visit.
"But what can I tell you?" she exclaimed. "As I have said, I don't know
why Frederick Hollis went to Scarnham! He never mentioned Scarnham to me
when he was here last week."
"Let me tell you something that is not in the papers--yet--ma'am," said
Starmidge. "I think it will explain matters to you. When we examined Mr.
Hollis's effects at Scarnham, yesterday morning, after the finding of
his body, we found in his letter-case a cheque for ten thousand
pounds----"
Starmidge stopped suddenly. Mrs. Lester had started, and her pale face
had grown paler. Her eyes dilated as she looked at the two men.
"A cheque!" she exclaimed. "For--ten thousand pounds. On--him?
And--whose cheque?"
"It was a curious cheque, ma'am," replied Starmidge. "It was drawn on
Mr. Hollis's bankers, Vanderkiste, Mullineau & Company, of Lombard
Street. It was dated. It was filled in for ten thousand pounds--in words
and in figures. But it was not signed--and it was not made out to any
body. No name of payee, you understand, ma'am, no name of payer. But--it
is very evident Mr. Hollis made out that cheque intending to pay it
to--somebody. What we want to know is--who is--or was, that somebody? I
came up to town to try to find that out! I went to Mr. Hollis's bankers
this morning. They told me that last week Mr. Hollis paid into his
account there a cheque for ten thousand pounds, drawn by Helen Lester,
and told their manager that he should be drawing a cheque for his own
against it in a day or two. I then went to your bank, ma'am, saw your
bankers, and got your address. Now, Mrs. Lester, there's no doubt
whatever that the cheque which we found on Mr. Hollis is the cheque he
spoke of to Vanderkiste's manager. And we want you, if you please, to
tell us two things: For what purpose did you give Mr. Hollis ten
thousand pounds?--To whom was he to pay it? Tell us, ma'am--and we shall
have gone a long way to clearing this affair! And--it's more serious
than you'd think."
Mrs. Lester, who had listened to Starmidge with absorbed and almost
frightened attention, looked anxiously at both men before she replied to
the detective's direct inquiry.
"You will respect my confidence, of course?" she asked at last.
"Whatever I say to you will be in strict confidence?"
"Whatever you tell us, Mrs. Lester," answered Starmidge, "we shall have
to report to our superiors at the Criminal Investigation Department. You
may rely on their discretion--fully. But if there is any secret in
this, ma'am, it will all have to come out, now that it's an affair of
police investigation. Far better tell us here and now!"
"There'll be no publication of anything without Mrs. Lester's knowledge
and consent," remarked Easleby, who guessed at the reason of the lady's
diffidence. "This is a private matter, so far. All that she can tell us
will be for police information--only."
"I shall have to mention the affairs of--some other person," said Mrs.
Lester. "But--I suppose it's absolutely necessary? Now that you know
what you do, for instance, I suppose I could be made to give evidence,
eh!"
"I'm afraid you're quite right, ma'am," admitted Starmidge. "The mystery
of Mr. Hollis's death will certainly have to be cleared up. Now that
this cheque affair is out, you could be called as a witness at the
inquest. Better tell us, ma'am--and leave things to us."
Mrs. Lester, after a moment's reflection, looked steadily at her
visitors. "Very well!" she answered, "I suppose I had better. Indeed, I
have been feeling, ever since my bankers rang me up this morning, that I
should have to tell you--though I still can't see how anything that I
can tell you has to do--that is, precisely--with Mr. Hollis's visit to
Scarnham. Yet--it may--perhaps must have. The fact is, I recently called
in Mr. Hollis, as an old friend, to give me some advice. I must tell you
that my husband died last year--now about eight months ago. We have an
only son--who is an officer in the Army."
"You had better give us his name--and regiment, ma'am," suggested
Starmidge.
Mrs. Lester hesitated a little.
"Very well," she said at last. "He is Lieutenant Guy Lester, of the 55th
Lancers. Stationed where? At present at Maychester. Now I have got to
tell you what is both painful and unpleasant for me to tell. My husband,
though a very kind father, was a very strict one. When our son went
into the Army, his father made him a certain yearly allowance which he
himself considered a very handsome one. But my husband," continued Mrs.
Lester, with a faint smile, "had been engaged in commercial pursuits all
his life, until a year or two before his death, and he did not know that
the expenses, and the--well, the style of living in a crack cavalry
regiment are--what they are. More than once Guy asked his father to
increase his allowance--considerably. His father always refused--he was
a strict and, in some ways, a very hard man about money. And so--my son
had recourse to a money-lender."
Starmidge, who was sitting close by his fellow-detective, pressed his
elbow against Easleby's sleeve--at last they were getting at something.
"Just so, ma'am," he said encouragingly. "Nothing remarkable in all this
so far--quite an everyday matter, I assure you! Nothing for you to
distress yourself about, either--all that can be kept quiet."
"Well," continued Mrs. Lester, "my son borrowed money from a
money-lender in London, expecting, of course, to pay it back on his
father's death. I must tell you that my husband married very late in
life--he was quite thirty years my senior. No doubt this money-lender
acquainted himself with Mr. Lester's age--and state of health."
"He would, ma'am, he would!" agreed Starmidge.
"He'd take particular good care of that, ma'am," added Easleby. "They
always do--in such cases."
"Yes," said Mrs. Lester, "but, you see, when my husband died, he did not
leave Guy anything at all! He left everything to me. So Guy had nothing
to pay the money-lender with. Then, of course, the money-lender began to
press him, and in the end Guy was obliged to come and tell me all about
it. That was only a few weeks ago. And it was very bad news, because the
man claimed much--very much--more money than he had ever advanced. His
demands were outrageous!"
Starmidge gave Mrs. Lester a keen glance, and realized an idea of her
innocence in financial matters.
"Ah!" he observed, "they are very grasping, ma'am, some of these
money-lenders! How much was this particular one asking of your son,
now?"
"He demanded between fourteen and fifteen thousand pounds," replied Mrs.
Lester. "An abominable demand!--for my son assured me that at the very
outside he had not had more than seven or eight thousand."
"And--what happened, ma'am?" inquired Starmidge sympathetically. "The
man pestered you, of course!"
"Guy made him one or two offers," answered Mrs. Lester. "Of course I
would have made them good--to get rid of the affair. It was no use--he
had papers and things signed by Guy--who had borrowed all the money
since he came of age--and he refused to abate a penny. The last time
that Guy called on him, he told him flatly that he would have his
fifteen thousand to the last shilling. It was, of course, extortion!"
Starmidge and Easleby exchanged looks. Both felt that they were on the
very edge of a discovery.
"To be sure, ma'am," asserted Starmidge. "Absolute extortion! And--what
is the name of the money-lending gentleman?"
"His name," replied Mrs. Lester, "is Godwin Markham."
"Did you ever see him, ma'am?" asked Starmidge.
Mrs. Lester looked her astonishment.
"I?" she exclaimed. "No--never!"
"Did your son ever describe him to you?--his personal appearance, I
mean," inquired Starmidge.
Mrs. Lester shook her head.
"No!" she replied. "Indeed, I have heard my son say that he never saw
Markham himself but once. He did his--business, I suppose you would call
it--with the manager--who always said--when this recent pressing
began--that he was powerless--he could only do what Mr. Markham bade him
do."
"Precisely!" said Starmidge. "There generally is a manager whose chief
business is to say that sort of thing, ma'am. Dear me!--and where,
ma'am, is this Mr. Godwin Markham's office? You know that, no doubt?"
"Oh, yes--it is in Conduit Street--off New Bond Street," replied Mrs.
Lester.
"Of course you never went there?" asked Starmidge. "No, of course not.
All was done through your son, until you called in Mr. Hollis. Now, when
did you call in Mr. Hollis, Mrs. Lester?--the date's important."
"About a fortnight ago," replied Mrs. Lester--"I sent for him--I told
him all about it--I asked his advice. At his suggestion I gave him a
cheque for ten thousand pounds. He said he would make an endeavour to
settle the whole thing for that amount, and have everything cleared up.
He took the cheque away with him."
"Between then--that day when he was here and you gave him the cheque,"
asked Starmidge, "and last Saturday, when we know Mr. Hollis went to
Scarnham, did you hear of or from Mr. Hollis at all?"
"Only in this way," replied Mrs. Lester. "When he left me, he said that
before approaching Markham, as intermediary, he should like to see Guy,
and hear what his account of the transactions was, and that he would ask
my son to come up to town from Maychester and meet him. I heard from Guy
at the end of last week--last Saturday morning, as a matter of
fact--that he had been to town, that he had lunched with Mr. Hollis at
Mr. Hollis's club, and that after discussing the whole affair, Mr.
Hollis said that he would make a determined effort to settle the matter
at once. And after that," concluded Mrs. Lester, "I heard no more or
anything until I read of this Scarnham affair in the newspapers."
"And now that you have read it, ma'am, and have heard what I have to
tell," said Starmidge, "do you connect it in any way with Mr. Guy
Lester's affair?"
Mrs. Lester looked puzzled. She considered the detective's proposition
in silence for a time.
"No!" she answered at last. "Really, I don't!"
Starmidge got up, and Easleby followed his lead.
"Well, ma'am," said Starmidge, "there is a connection, without doubt,
and I think that within a very short time we shall have discovered what
it is. What you have told us has been of great assistance--the very
greatest assistance. And you can make your mind easy for the present--I
don't see any reason for any unpleasant publicity just now--in fact, I
think you'll find there won't be any. The unpleasant publicity, ma'am,"
concluded Starmidge, with an almost imperceptible wink at Easleby, "will
be for--some other people."
The two detectives bowed themselves out, re-entered their car, and were
driven on to Chesham. Neither had touched food since breakfast-time and
each was hungry. They discovered an old-fashioned hotel in the main
street of the little town, and were presently confronting a round of
cold beef, a cold ham, and two foaming tankards, in the snug parlour
which they had to themselves.
"One result of our profession, young Starmidge," observed the
middle-aged Easleby, bending towards his companion over a well-filled
plate, "is that it makes a man indulge in a tremendous lot of what you
might call intellectual speculation!"
"What are you speculating about?" asked Starmidge.
"This--on information received," replied Easleby, as he lifted his
tankard. "There are the names of three Scarnham gentlemen before
me--Gabriel Chestermarke, Joseph Chestermarke, John Horbury. Now,
then--which of the three sports the other name of Godwin Markham?"
CHAPTER XXII
SPECULATION--AND CERTAINTY
Starmidge ate and drank in silence for awhile, evidently pondering his
companion's question.
"Yes," he said at last, "there's all that in it. It may be any one of
the three. You never know! Yet, according to all I've been told,
Horbury's a thoroughly straight man of business."
"According to all I've been told," remarked Easleby, "and all I've been
told about anything has been told by yourself, the two Chestermarkes
have the reputation of being thoroughly straight men of
business--outwardly. But one thing is certain, my lad, after what we've
just learned--Hollis went down to Scarnham to offer that cheque to one
of these three men. And whichever it was, that man's Godwin Markham!
It's a double-life business, Jack--the man's Godwin Markham here in
London, and he's somebody else in--somewhere else. Dead certainty, my
lad!"
"It's not Horbury," said Starmidge, after some reflection. "I'll stake
my reputation, such as it is, on that!"
"You don't know," replied Easleby. "Remember, Mrs. Lester said this son
of hers always did business with a manager. That's a usual thing with
these big money-lending offices--the real man doesn't show. For aught
you know, Horbury may have been running a money-lender's office in town,
unknown to anybody, under the name of Godwin Markham. And--he may have
wanted new funds for it, and he may have collared those securities which
the Chestermarkes say are missing, and he may have appropriated Lord
Ellersdeane's jewels--d'ye see? You never can tell--in any of these
cases. You see, my lad, you've been going, all along, on the basis, the
supposition, that Horbury's an innocent man, and the victim of foul
play. But--he may be a guilty man! Lord bless you!--I don't attach any
importance to reputation and character, not I! It isn't ten years since
Jim Chambers and myself had a case in point--a bank manager who was
churchwarden, Sunday-School teacher, this, that, and t'other in the way
of piety and respectability--all a cloak to cover as clever a bit of
thievery and fraud as ever I heard of!--he got ten years, that chap, and
he ought to have been hanged. As I say, you never can make certain.
Hollis may have found out that Godwin Markham of Conduit Street was in
reality John Horbury of Scarnham, and then----"
"I'll tell you what!" interrupted Starmidge, who had been thinking as
well as listening. "There's a very sure and certain way of finding out
who Godwin Markham is! Do you remember?--Mrs. Lester said her son had
only seen him once. Well, once is enough!--he'd remember him. We must go
to Maychester right away and see this young Lester, and get him to
describe the man he saw."
"Good notion, of course," assented Easleby. "Where is Maychester, now?"
"Essex," replied Starmidge.
"That would certainly be a solver," said Easleby. "But there's something
else we could do, following up your special line of thought. Now, honour
bright, which of these men do you take Godwin Markham to be?"
"Gabriel Chestermarke!" answered Starmidge promptly. "It's established
that he's constantly in London--as much in London as in Scarnham.
Gabriel Chestermarke certainly--with, no doubt, Joseph in collusion. The
probability is that they run that money-lending office in Conduit Street
under the name of Godwin Markham. They're within the law."
"What about the Moneylenders' Act?" asked Easleby. "Compulsory
registration, you know."
"It's this way," explained Starmidge. "The object of that Act was to
enable a borrower to know for certain who it was that was lending him
the money he borrowed. So registration was made compulsory. But, as in
the case of many another Act of Parliament, Easleby, evasion is not only
possible, but easy. A money-lender can register in a name which isn't
his own if it's one which he generally uses in his business. So--there
you are! I've seen that name Godwin Markham advertised ever since I was
a youngster--it's an old established business, well known. There's
nothing to prevent Abraham Moses from styling himself Fitzwilliam
Simpkins, if he's always done business as Fitzwilliam Simpkins--see?
And--it's highly probable that, as he's so much in town, Gabriel
Chestermarke lives in town under the name of Godwin Markham--double-life
business, as you suggest. But you were going to suggest something else.
What?"
"This," said Easleby. "You know that Gabriel Chestermarke went to
the stage-door of the Adalbert Theatre the other night. Go
there--officially--and find out if he called there as Gabriel
Chestermarke. That'll solve a lot."
"We'll both go!" assented Starmidge. "It's a good notion--I hadn't
thought of it. Whom shall we try to see?"
"Top man of all," counselled Easleby. "Lessee, manager, whatever he is.
Our cards'll manage it."
"I'm obliged to you, old man!" exclaimed Starmidge. "It's a bright idea!
Of course, somebody there'll know who the man was that called last
night--know his name, of course. And in that case----"
"Aye, but don't you anticipate too much, my lad!" interrupted Easleby.
"There's no doubt that Gandam traced your Gabriel Chestermarke to the
stage-door of the Adalbert Theatre--and lost him there. But, you know,
for anything you know, Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke, banker, of Scarnham,
may have had legitimate and proper business at that theatre. For aught
you know, Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke may be owner of that
theatre--ground-landlord--part-proprietor--financier. He may have a
mortgage on it. All sorts of reasons occur to me as to why Mr. Gabriel
Chestermarke may have called. He might be a personal friend of the
manager's, or the principal actor's--called to take 'em out to supper,
d'ye see, on his arrival in town. So--whoever we see there, you want to
go guardedly, eh?"
"I'll tell you what," said Starmidge, "I'll leave it to you. I'll go
with you, of course, but you manage it."
"Right, my lad!" assented Easleby. "All I shall want'll be a copy of
this morning's newspaper--to lead up from."
One of the London morning journals had been making a great feature of
the Scarnham affair from the moment Parkinson, on Starmidge's
inspiration, had supplied the Press with its details, and it had that
day printed an exhaustive résumé of the entire history of the case,
brought up to the discovery of Frederick Hollis's body. Easleby bought a
copy of this issue as soon as he and Starmidge returned to town, and
carefully blue-pencilled the cross-headed columns and the staring
capitals above them. With the folded paper in his hand, and Starmidge at
his heel, he repaired to the stage-door of the Adalbert Theatre at a
quarter to eight, when the actors and actresses were beginning to pass
in for their evening's work and thrust his head into the glass-fronted
cage in which the stage door-keeper sat.
"A word with you, mister," whimpered Easleby. "A quiet word, you
understand. Me and my friend here are from the Yard--New Scotland Yard,
you know, and we've an inquiry to make. Our cards, d'ye see?--I shall
ask you to take 'em inside in a minute. But first, a word with you. Do
you remember a gentleman coming here last night, late, who nodded to
you and walked straight in? Little, stiffly built gentleman, very pale
face, holds himself well up--what?"
"I know him," answered the door-keeper, much impressed by the official
cards which Easleby held before his nose. "Seen him here many a time,
but I don't know his name. He's a friend of Mr. Castlemayne's, and he's
the entry, d'ye see--walks in as he likes."
"Ah, just so--and who may Mr. Castlemayne be, now?" asked Easleby
confidentially.
"Mr. Castlemayne?" repeated the door-keeper. "Why, he's the lessee, of
course!--the boss!"
"Ah, the boss, is he?" said Easleby. "Much obliged to you, sir. Well,
now, then, just take these two cards to Mr. Castlemayne, will you, and
ask him if he'll be good enough to see their owners for a few minutes on
very important private business?"
The door-keeper departed up a dark passage, and Easleby pointed
Starmidge to a playbill which hung, framed on the wall, behind them.
"There you are!" he said, indicating a line near the big capitals at the
top. "'Lessee and Manager--Mr. Leopold Castlemayne.' That's our man.
Fancy name, of course--real name Tom Smith, or Jim Johnson, you know.
But, Lord bless you, what's in a name? Haven't we got a case in point?"
"There's a good deal in what's in a name in our case, old man!" retorted
Starmidge. "You're off it there!"
Easleby was about to combat this reply when a boy appeared, and
intimated that Mr. Castlemayne would see the gentlemen at once. And the
two detectives followed up one passage and down another, and round
corners and across saloons and foyers, until they were shown into a snug
room, half office, half parlour, very comfortably furnished and
ornamented, wherein, at a desk, and alone, sat a gentleman in evening
dress, whose countenance, well-fed though it was, seemed to be just then
clouded with suspicion and something that looked very like anxiety. He
glanced up from the cards which lay before him to the two men who had
sent them in, and silently pointed them to chairs near his own.
"Good-evening, sir," said Easleby, with a polite bow. "Sorry to
interrupt you, Mr. Castlemayne, but you see our business from our cards,
and we've called, sir, to ask if you can give us a bit of much-wanted
information. I don't know, sir," continued Easleby, laying the
blue-pencilled newspaper on the lessee's desk, "if you've read in the
papers any account of the affair which is here called the Scarnham
Mystery!"
Mr. Leopold Castlemayne glanced at the columns to which Easleby pointed,
rubbed his chin, and nodded.
"Yes--yes!" he said. "I have just seen the papers. Case of a strange
disappearance--bank manager--isn't it?"
"It's more than that, sir," replied Easleby. "It's a case of--all sorts
of things. Now you're wondering, Mr. Castlemayne, why we come to you?
I'll explain. You'll see there, sir, the name--blue-pencilled--Gabriel
Chestermarke. Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke is a banker at Scarnham. You
don't happen to know him, Mr. Castlemayne?"
The two detectives watched the lessee narrowly as that question was put.
And each knew instantly that the prompt reply was a truthful one.
"Never heard of him in my life," said Mr. Castlemayne.
"Thank you, sir," said Easleby. "Just so! Well, sir, my friend
here--Detective-Sergeant Starmidge--has been down at Scarnham in charge
of this case from the first, and he's formed some ideas about this Mr.
Gabriel Chestermarke. Last night Gabriel Chestermarke travelled up to
town from Ecclesborough--Mr. Starmidge arranged for him to be shadowed
when he arrived at St. Pancras. A man of ours--not quite as experienced
as he might be, you understand, sir--did shadow him--and lost him. He
lost him here at your theatre, Mr. Castlemayne."
"Ah!" said the lessee, half indifferently. "Got amongst the audience, I
suppose?"
"No, sir," replied Easleby. "Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke, sir, entered your
stage-door at about eleven-thirty--walked straight in. But he never came
out of that door--so he must have left by another exit."
Mr. Leopold Castlemayne suddenly sat up very erect and rigid. His face
flushed a little, his lips parted; he looked from one man to the other.
"Mr.--Gabriel--Chestermarke!" he said. "Entered my
stage-door--eleven-thirty--last night? Here!--describe him!"
Easleby glanced at Starmidge. And Starmidge, as if he were describing a
picture, gave a full and accurate account of Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke's
appearance from head to foot.
The lessee suddenly jumped from his chair, walked over to a door, opened
it, and looked into an inner room. Evidently satisfied, he closed the
door again, came back, seated himself, thrust his hands in his pockets,
and looked at the detectives.
"All in confidence--strict confidence?" he said. "All right, then!--I
understand. I tell you, I don't know any Gabriel Chestermarke, banker,
of Scarnham! The man you've described--the man who came here last
night--is Godwin Markham, the Conduit Street money-lender--damn him!"
CHAPTER XXIII
THE AGGRIEVED VICTIM
If Mr. Leopold Castlemayne's last word was expressive, his next actions
were suggestive and significant. Returning to the door of the inner
room, he turned the key in it; crossing to the door by which the
detectives had been shown in, he locked that also; proceeding to a
cupboard in an adjacent recess, he performed an unlocking process--after
which he produced a decanter, a syphon, three glasses, and a box of
cigars. He silently placed these luxuries on a desk before his visitors,
and hospitably invited their attention.
"Yes!" he said presently, proceeding to help the two men to refreshment,
and pressing the cigars upon them, "I've good reason to say that,
gentlemen! Godwin Markham, indeed! I ought to know him! If I don't look
out, that devil of a bloodsucker is going to ruin me--he is, so!"
Easleby gave Starmidge an almost imperceptible wink as he lighted a
cigar. It was evident that Mr. Leopold Castlemayne was not only willing
to talk, but was uncommonly glad to have somebody to talk to. Indeed,
his moody countenance began to clear as his tongue became unloosed; he
was obviously at that stage when a man is thankful to give confidences
to any fellow-creature.
"I've done business with gentlemen of your profession before," he went
on, nodding to his visitors over the rim of his tumbler, "and I know
you're to be trusted--naturally, you hear a good many queer things and
queer secrets in your line of life. And as you come to me in confidence,
I'll tell you a thing or two in confidence. It may help you--if you're
certain that the man you're wanting is the man who came here last night.
Do you want him?"
"We--may do," replied Easleby. "We don't know yet. Mr. Starmidge here is
much disposed to think that we shall. But let's be clear, sir. We're all
three agreed that we're talking about the same man? Starmidge has
accurately described a certain man who without doubt entered your
stage-door about eleven-thirty last night----"
"And left, with me, by the box-office door, in the front street, a few
minutes later," murmured the lessee. "That's how it was."
"Just so," agreed Easleby. "Now, Starmidge up to now has only known that
man as Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke, senior partner in Chestermarke's Bank,
at Scarnham, while you, up to now----"
"Have only known him as Godwin Markham, money-lender, financial agent,
and so on, of Conduit Street," interrupted Castlemayne. "And known him a
lot too much for my peace, I can tell you! Of course, we're talking of
the same man! I can quite believe he runs a double show. I know that
he's a great deal away from town. It's very rarely that he's to be
found at Conduit Street--very, very rarely indeed--he's a clever manager
there, who sees everybody and does everything. And I know that he's
quite two-thirds of his time away from his own house--so, of course,
he's got to put it in somewhere else."
"His own house!" said Starmidge, catching at an idea which presented
itself. "You know where he lives in London, then, Mr. Castlemayne?"
"Do I know where my own mother lives!" exclaimed the lessee. "I should
think I do! He's a neighbour of mine--lives close by me, up Primrose
Hill way. Nice little bachelor establishment he has--Oakfield Villa.
Spent many an evening there with him--Sunday evenings, of course. Oh,
yes--I know all about him--as Godwin Markham. Bless me!--so he's a
country banker, is he? And mixed up in this affair, eh? Gosh!--I hope
you'll find out that he murdered his manager, and that you'll be able to
hang him--I'd treat the town to a free show if you could hang him in
public on my stage, I would, indeed!"
"You were going to tell us something, sir?" suggested Easleby.
"Something that you thought might help us."
"I hope it will help you--and me, too!" responded Castlemayne, who was
obviously incensed and truculent. "'Pon my honour, when I got your
cards, I wondered if I'd been sleep-walking last night, and had gone and
done for this man--I really did! It was all I could do to keep from
punching his nose last night in the open street, and I left him feeling
very bad indeed! It's this way--I dare say you know that men like me,
in this business, want a bit of financing when we start. All right!--we
do, like most other people. Now, when I thought of taking up the lease
of this spot, a few years ago, I wanted money. I knew this man Markham
as a neighbour, and I mentioned the matter to him, not knowing then he
was the Markham of Conduit Street. He let me know who he was, then, and
he offered to do things privately--no need to go to his office, do you
see? And--he found me in necessary capital. And I dare say I signed
papers without thoroughly understanding 'em. And, of course, when you
get into the hands of a fellow like that, it's like putting your foot on
a piece of butter in the street--you're down before you know what's
happened! But I ain't down yet, my boys!" concluded Mr. Castlemayne,
drinking off the contents of his glass, and replenishing it. "And damme
if I'm going to be, without a bit of a fight for it, that I ain't!"
"Putting some pressure on you, I suppose, sir?" suggested Easleby, who
knew that their host would tell anything and everything if left to
himself. "Wants his pound of flesh, no doubt?"
This Shakespearean allusion appeared to be lost on the lessee, but he
evidently understood what pressure meant.
"Pressure!" he exclaimed. "Yah!--there's nothing would suit that fellow
better than to have one of his victims under one of those steam-hammers
that they have nowadays, and to bring it down on him till he'd crushed
the last drop of blood out of his toes! Pressure!--I'll tell you! This
place didn't do well at first--everybody in town, in our line, anyway,
knows that--but even in these days I paid him his interest regular--down
on the nail, mind, as prompt as the date came round. But now--things are
different. I'm doing well--in a bit I could pay my gentleman off--though
not just yet. But there's big money ahead--this house has caught on, got
a reputation, become popular. And now what d'ye think my lord
wants--what he's screwing me for? Turns out that in one of those
confounded papers I signed there's a clause, that if I didn't repay him
by a certain date I should surrender my lease to him! I no doubt signed
it, not quite understanding--but damme if he didn't keep it dark till
the date was expired! And now, when I've worked things up, not only as
lessee, mind you, but as manager--to success and big prospects, hanged
if he doesn't want to collar my lease with all its fine possibilities,
and put me into work for him at a blooming salary!"
"Dear me, sir!" exclaimed Easleby. "Now--what might that exactly mean?
We're not up in these matters, you know."
"Mean?" vociferated the lessee. "It 'ud mean this. I've paid that man as
much in interest as the original loan was. He now wants my lease, all my
interest, all my chances of reward--this lease is worth many a thousand
a year now! If I surrender my lease peaceably--without fuss, you
understand--he'll wipe off my original debt to him and give me a
blooming salary of twenty-five quid a week--me! Gosh!--he ought to be
burnt alive!"
"And if you don't?" asked Starmidge, deeply interested by this
sidelight on financial dealings. "What then?"
"Then he relies on his damn paper and my signature to it, and turns me
out!" replied the aggrieved one. "Thievery!--that's what I call it.
That's his blooming ultimatum--came in last night to tell me. I hope
you'll catch him and hang him!"
The two detectives had long since realized that Mr. Leopold
Castlemayne's interest in the banker-money-lender was a purely personal
one, based on his own unlucky dealings with him. But they wished for
something outside that interest, and Starmidge, after a word or two of
condolence, and another of advice to go to a shrewd and smart solicitor,
asked a plain question.
"You say you've been on terms of--shall we call it neighbourly
intimacy?--with this man," he remarked. "Have you ever met his nephew?"
The lessee made a face expressive of deep scorn.
"Nephew!" he exclaimed. "Yah!--d'ye think a fellow like that 'ud have a
nephew? I don't believe he's any relations that's flesh and blood! I
don't believe he ever had a mother! I believe he's one of these ghouls
you read about in the story-books--what's he look like? A
bloodsucker!--that's what he is!"
Starmidge gave his host an accurate description of Joseph Chestermarke.
"Did you ever see a man like that at this Markham's house?" he asked.
"Never!" answered the lessee.
"Or at his office?" persisted Starmidge.
"No--don't know such a man! I've only been to the offices in Conduit
Street a few times," said Castlemayne. "The chap you see there is a
fellow called Stipp--Mr. James Stipp. A nice, smooth-tongued,
mealy-mouthed chap--you know. I say--d'ye think you'll be able to fasten
anything on to Markham, or Chestermarke, or whatever his name is?"
Easleby responded jocularly that they certainly wouldn't if they sat
there, and after solemnly assuring Mr. Leopold Castlemayne that his
confidence would be severely respected, he and Starmidge went away. Once
outside they walked for awhile in silence, each reflecting on what he
had just heard.
"Well," remarked Starmidge at last, "we're certain on one point now,
anyway. Godwin Markham, money-lender, of Conduit Street, is the same
person as Gabriel Chestermarke, banker, of Scarnham. That's flat! And
now that we've got to know that much, how much nearer am I to finding
out the real thing that I'm after?"
"Which is--exactly what?" asked Easleby.
"I was called in," answered Starmidge, "to find out the secret of John
Horbury's disappearance. It isn't my business to interfere with Gabriel
Chestermarke or Godwin Markham in his money-lending affairs--nor to
trace Lord Ellersdeane's missing jewels. My job is--to find John
Horbury, or to get to know what happened to him."
"And all this helps," answered Easleby. "Haven't you got anything?"
"Don't know that I have," admitted Starmidge. "Just now, anyway. I've
had a dozen ideas--but they're a bit mixed at present. Have you--after
what we've found out?"
"What sort of banking business is it the Chestermarkes carry on down
there at Scarnham?" asked Easleby. "I suppose you'd get a general idea."
"Usual thing in a small country town," replied Starmidge. "Highly
respectable, county family business, I should say, from what I saw and
heard."
"All the squires, and the parsons, and the farmers, and better sort of
tradesmen go to 'em, I suppose?" suggested Easleby. "And all the nice
old ladies and that sort--an extra-respectable connection, eh?"
"Just as I say--regular country-town business," said Starmidge, half
impatiently.
"Um!" remarked Easleby. "Now, if you were a highly respectable
country-town banker, with a connection of that sort amongst very proper
people, and if it so happened that you were living a double life, and
running a money-lending business in London, do you think you'd want your
banking customers to know what you were after when you weren't banking!"
"What do you think he'd do?" asked Starmidge.
"I'm not quite sure," replied Easleby, with candour. "But I think I
shall get there, all the same. Now, didn't you say that from all the
accounts supplied to you, this Mr. John Horbury was an eminently proper
sort of person? Very well--supposing it suddenly came to his knowledge
that his employer--or employers, for I expect both Chestermarkes are in
at it--were notorious money-lenders in London, and that they carried on
this secret business in the greedy and grasping fashion--what do you
suppose he'd do?--especially if he was, as you say Horbury was, a man of
considerable means?"
"What do you think he'd do?" asked Starmidge.
"I think it's quite on the cards that he'd chuck his job there and
then," said Easleby, "and not only that, but that he'd probably threaten
exposure. Men of a very severe type of commercial religion would, my
lad!--I know 'em!"
"You're suggesting--what?" inquired the younger detective.
"I'm suggesting that on that night of Hollis's visit to Scarnham,
Horbury, through Hollis, became acquainted with the Chestermarke
secret," replied Easleby, "and that he let the Chestermarkes know it.
And in that case--what would happen?"
Starmidge walked slowly on at his companion's side, thinking. He was
trying to fit together a great many things; he felt as a child feels who
is presented with a puzzle in many pieces and told to put them together.
"I know what you're after," he said suddenly. "You think the
Chestermarkes murdered Horbury?"
"If you want it plain and straight," replied Easleby, "I do!"
"There's the other man--Hollis," suggested Starmidge.
"I should say they finished him as well," said Easleby. "Easy enough
job, that, on the evidence. Supposing one of 'em took Hollis off, alone,
across that moor you've told me about, and induced him to look into that
old lead-mine? What easier than to push him into it? Meanwhile, the
other could settle Horbury. Murder, my lad!--that's what all this comes
to. I've known men murdered for less than that."
Again Starmidge reflected in silence.
"There's only one thing puzzles me on that point," he said eventually.
"It's not a puzzle, either--it's a doubt. Do you think the
Chestermarkes--or, we'll say Gabriel, as we're certain about him--do you
think Gabriel would be so keen about keeping his secret as to go to that
length? Do you think he's cultivated it as a secret--that it's been a
really important secret?"
"We can soon solve that," answered Easleby. "At least--tomorrow
morning."
"How?" demanded Starmidge.
"By calling," said Easleby, "on Mr. Godwin Markham, in Conduit Street."
CHAPTER XXIV
MRS. CARSWELL?
Starmidge looked at his companion as if in doubt about Easleby's exact
meaning.
"According to what the theatre chap said just now," he remarked,
"Markham is very rarely to be found in Conduit Street."
"Exactly," agreed Easleby. "That's why I want to go there."
Starmidge shook his head.
"Don't follow!" he said. "Make it clear."
Easleby tapped his fellow-detective's arm.
"You said just now--would Gabriel Chestermarke be so keen about keeping
his secret as to go to any length in keeping it," he answered "Now I say
we can solve that by calling at his office. His manager, as Castlemayne
told us, is one Stipp--Mr. Stipp. I propose to see Mr. Stipp. You and I
must be fools if, inside ten minutes, we can't find out if Stipp knows
that Godwin Markham is Gabriel Chestermarke! We will find out! And if we
find out that Stipp doesn't know that, if we find that Stipp is utterly
unaware that there is such a person as Gabriel Chestermarke, or, at any
rate, that he doesn't connect Gabriel Chestermarke with Godwin
Markham--why, then----"
He ended with a dry laugh, and waved his hand as if the matter were
settled. But Starmidge had a love of precision, and liked matters to be
put in plain words.
"Well--and what then?" he demanded.
"What, then?" exclaimed Easleby. "Why, then we shall know, for a
certainty, that Gabriel Chestermarke is keen about his secret! If he
keeps it from the man who does his business for him here in London, he'd
go to any length to keep it safe if it was threatened by his manager at
Scarnham. Is that clear, my lad?"
The two men in the course of their slow strolling away from the Adalbert
Theatre had come to the end of Shaftesbury Avenue, and had drawn aside
from the crowds during the last minute or two to exchange their
confidences in private.
Starmidge looked meditatively at the thronging multitudes of Piccadilly
Circus, and watched them awhile before he answered his companion's last
observation.
"I don't want to precipitate matters," he said at last. "I don't want an
anti-climax. Suppose we found Markham--or Chestermarke--there? Or
supposing he came in?"
"Excellent!--in either case," replied Easleby. "Serve our purpose equally
well. If he's there, you betray the greatest surprise at seeing him--you
can act up to that. If he should come in, you're equally surprised--see!
We haven't gone there about any Chestermarke, you know--we aren't going
to let it out there that we know what we do know--not likely!"
"What have we gone there for then?" asked Starmidge.
"We've gone to say that Mrs. Helen Lester, of Lowdale Court, near
Chesham, has informed us, the police, that she placed a certain sum of
money in the hands of her friend, Mr. Frederick Hollis, for the purpose
of clearing off a debt contracted by her son, Lieutenant Lester, with
Mr. Godwin Markham; that Mr. Hollis had been found dead under strange
circumstances at Scarnham, and that we should be vastly obliged to Mr.
Markham if he can give us any information or light on the matter, or
hints about it," replied Easleby. "That, of course, is what we shall
say--and all that we shall say--to Mr. James Stipp. If, however, we find
Gabriel Chestermarke there--well, then, we shall say nothing--at first.
We shall leave him to do the saying--it'll be his job to begin."
"All right," assented Starmidge, after a moment's reflection. "We'll try
it! Meet you tomorrow morning, then--corner of Conduit Street and New
Bond Street--say at ten-thirty. Now I'm going home."
Starmidge, being a bachelor, tenanted a small flat in Westminster,
within easy reach of headquarters. He repaired to it immediately on
leaving Easleby, intent on spending a couple of hours in ease and
comfort before retiring to bed. But he had scarcely put on his slippers,
lighted his pipe, mixed a whisky-and-soda, and picked up a book, when a
knock at his outer door sent him to open it and to find Gandam standing
in the lobby. Gandam glanced at him with a smile which was half
apologetic and half triumphant.
"I've been to the office after you, Mr. Starmidge," he said. "They gave
me your address, so I came on here."
Starmidge saw that the man was full of news, and he motioned him to
enter and led him to his sitting-room.
"You've heard something, then?" he asked.
"Seen something, Mr. Starmidge," answered Gandam, taking the chair which
Starmidge pointed to. "I'm afraid I didn't hear anything--I wish I had!"
Starmidge gave his visitor a drink and dropped into his own easy-chair
again.
"Chestermarke, of course!" he suggested. "Well--what!"
"I happened to catch sight of him this evening," replied Gandam. "Sheer
accident it was--but there's no mistaking him. Half-past six I was
coming along Piccadilly, and I saw him leaving the Camellia Club.
He----"
"What sort of a club's that, now?" asked Starmidge.
"Social club--men about town, sporting men, actors, journalists, so on,"
replied Gandam. "I know a bit about it--had a case relating to it not so
long ago. Well--he went along Piccadilly, and, of course, I followed
him--I wasn't going to lose sight of him after that set-back of last
night, Mr. Starmidge! He crossed the Circus, and went into the Café
Monico. I followed him in there. Do you know that downstairs saloon
there?"
"I know it," assented Starmidge.
"He went straight down to it," continued Gandam. "And as I knew that he
didn't know me, I presently followed. When I'd got down he'd taken a
seat at a table in a quiet corner, and the waiter was bringing him a
glass of sherry. There was a bit of talk between 'em--Chestermarke
seemed to be telling the waiter that he was expecting somebody, and he'd
wait a bit before giving an order. So I sat down--in another corner--and
as I judged it was going to be a longish job, I ordered a bit of dinner.
Of course I kept an eye on him--quietly. He read a newspaper, smoked a
cigarette, and sipped his sherry. And at last--perhaps ten minutes after
he'd got in--a woman came down the stairs, looked round, and went
straight over to where he was sitting."
"Describe her," said Starmidge.
"Tallish, very good figure, very good-looking, well-dressed, but
quietly," replied Gandam. "Had a veil on when she came in, but lifted it
when she sat down by Chestermarke. What I should call a handsome woman,
Mr. Starmidge--and, I should say, about thirty-five to forty. Dark hair,
dark eyes--taking expression."
"Mrs. Carswell, for a fiver!" thought Starmidge. "Well?" he said aloud.
"You say she went straight over to him?"
"Straight to him--and began talking at once," answered Gandam. "It
seemed to me that it was what you might call an adjourned meeting--they
began talking as if they were sort of taking up a conversation. But she
did most of the talking. He ordered some dinner for both of 'em as soon
as she came--she talked while they ate. Of course, being right across
the room from them, I couldn't catch a word that was said, but she
seemed to be explaining something to him the whole time, and I could see
he was surprised--more than once."
"It must have been something uncommonly surprising to make him show
signs of surprise!" muttered Starmidge, who had a vivid recollection of
Gabriel Chestermarke's granite countenance. "Yes?--go on."
"They were there about three-quarters of an hour," continued Gandam. "Of
course, I ate my dinner while they ate theirs, and I took good care not
to let them see that I was watching them. As soon as I saw signs of a
move on their part--when she began putting on her gloves--I paid my
waiter and slipped out upstairs to the front entrance. I got a taxi-cab
driver to pull up by the kerb and wait for me, and told him who I was
and what I was after, and that if those two got into a cab he was to
follow wherever they went--cautiously. Gave him a description of the
man, you know. Then I hung round till they came out. They parted at
once--she went off up Regent Street----"
"I wish you'd had another man with you!" exclaimed Starmidge. "I'd give
a lot to get hold of that woman. She's probably the housekeeper who
disappeared from the bank, you know."
"So I guessed, Mr. Starmidge, but what could I do?" said Gandam. "I
couldn't follow both, and it was the man you'd put me on to. I decided,
of course, for him. Well--he tried to get my cab; when he found it was
engaged, he walked on a bit to the corner of Shaftesbury Avenue and got
one there. And, of course, we followed. A longish follow, too!--right
away up to the back of Regent's Park. You know those detached
houses--foot of Primrose Hill? It's one of those--he was a cute chap, my
driver, and he contrived to slow down and keep well behind, and yet to
see where Chestermarke got out. The name of the house is Oakfield
Villa--it's on the gateposts. Of course, I made sure. I sent my man
off--and then I hung round some time, passing and re-passing once or
twice. And I saw Chestermarke in a front room--the blinds were not
drawn--and he was in a smoking-cap and jacket, so I reckoned he was safe
for the night. But I can watch the house all night if you think it's
necessary, you know, Mr. Starmidge."
"No!" answered Starmidge. "Not at all. But I'll tell you what--you be
about there first thing tomorrow morning. Can you hang about without
attracting attention?"
"Easily!" replied Gandam. "Easiest thing in the world. Do you know where
a little lodge stands, as you go into Primrose Hill, the St. John's Wood
side? Well, his house is close by that. On the other side of the road
there's a little path leading over a bridge into the Park--close by the
corner of the Zoo--I can watch from that path. You can rely on me, Mr.
Starmidge. I'll not lose sight of him this time."
Starmidge saw that the man was deeply anxious to atone for his mistake
of the previous night, and he nodded assent.
"All right," he said, "but--take another man with you. Two are better
than one in a job like that--and Chestermarke might be meeting that
woman again. Watch the house carefully tomorrow morning from first
thing--follow him wherever he goes. If he should meet the woman, and
they part after meeting, one of you follow her. And listen--I shall be
at headquarters at twelve o'clock tomorrow. Contrive to telephone me
there as to what you're doing. But--don't lose him--or her, if you see
her again."
"One thing more," said Gandam, as he rose to go. "Supposing he goes off
by train? Do I follow?"
"No," answered Starmidge after a moment's reflection, "but manage to
find out where he goes."
He sat and thought a long time after his visitor had left, and his
thoughts all centred on one fact: the undoubted fact that Gabriel
Chestermarke and Mrs. Carswell had met.
CHAPTER XXV
THE PORTRAIT
The offices of Mr. Godwin Markham, at which the two detectives presented
themselves soon after half-past ten next morning, were by no means
extensive in size or palatial in appearance. They were situated in the
second floor of a building in Conduit Street, and apparently consisted
of no more than two rooms, which, if not exactly shabby, were somewhat
well-worn as to furniture and fittings. It was evident, too, that Mr.
Godwin Markham's clerical staff was not extensive. There was a young man
clerk, and a young woman clerk in the outer office: the first was
turning over a pile of circulars at the counter; the second, seated at a
typewriter, was taking down a letter which was being dictated to her by
a man who, still hatted and overcoated, had evidently just arrived, and
was leaning against the mantelpiece with his hands in his pockets. He
was a very ordinary, plain-countenanced, sandy-haired, quite
commercial-looking man, this, who might have been anything from a Stock
Exchange clerk to a suburban house-agent. But there was a sudden
alertness in his eye as he turned it on the visitors, which showed them
that he was well equipped in mental acuteness, and probably as alert as
his features were commonplace.
The circular-sorting young man looked up with indifference as Easleby
approached the counter, and when the detective asked if Mr. Godwin
Markham could be seen, turned silently and interrogatively to the man
who leaned against the mantelpiece. He, interrupting his dictation, came
forward again, narrowly but continually eyeing the two men.
"Mr. Markham is not in town, gentlemen," he said, in a quick,
business-like fashion, which convinced Starmidge that the speaker was
not uttering any mere excuse. "He was here yesterday for an hour or two,
but he will be away for some days now. Can I do anything for you?--his
manager."
Easleby handed over the two professional cards which he had in
readiness, and leaned across the counter.
"A word or two in private," he whispered confidentially. "Business
matter."
Starmidge, watching Mr. James Stipp's face closely as he looked at the
cards, saw that he was not the sort of man to be taken unawares. There
was not the faintest flicker of an eyelid, not a motion of the lips, not
the tiniest start of surprise, no show of unusual interest on the
manager's part: he nodded, opened a door in the counter, and waved the
two detectives towards the inner room.
"Be seated, gentlemen," he said, following them inside. "You'll excuse
me a minute--important letter to get off--I won't keep you long."
He closed the door upon them and Starmidge and Easleby glanced round
before taking the chairs to which Mr. Stipp had pointed. There was
little to see. A big, roomy desk, middle-Victorian in style, some heavy
middle-Victorian chairs, a well-worn carpet and rug, a book-case filled
with peerages, baronetages, county directories, Army lists, Navy lists,
and other similar volumes of reference to high life, a map or two on the
walls, a heavy safe in a corner--these things were all there was to look
at. Except one thing--which Starmidge was quick to see. Over the
mantelpiece, with an almanac on one side of it, and an interest-table on
the other, hung a somewhat faded photograph of Gabriel Chestermarke.
The younger detective tapped his companion's arm and silently indicated
this grim counterfeit of the man in whose doings they were so keenly
interested just then.
"That's--the man!" he whispered. "Chestermarke! Gabriel!"
Easleby opened mouth and eyes and stared with eager interest.
"Egad!" he muttered. "That's lucky! Makes it all the easier. I'll lay
you anything you like, my lad, this manager doesn't know anything--not a
thing!--about the double identity business. We shall soon find
out--leave it to me--at first, anyway. A few plain questions----"
Mr. Stipp came bustling in, closing the door behind him. He took off
overcoat and hat, ran his fingers through his light hair, and, seating
himself, glanced smilingly at his visitors.
"Well, gentlemen!" he demanded. "What can I do for you now? Want to make
some inquiries?"
"Just a few small inquiries, sir," replied Easleby. "I haven't the
pleasure of knowing your name--Mr.----?"
"Stipp's my name, sir," answered the manager promptly. "Stipp--James
Stipp."
"Thank you, sir," said Easleby, with great politeness. "Well, Mr. Stipp,
you see from our cards who we are. We've called on you--as representing
Mr. Godwin Markham--on behalf--informally, Mr. Stipp--of Mrs. Lester, of
Lowdale Court, Chesham."
Mr. Stipp's face showed a little surprise at this announcement, and he
glanced from one man to the other as if he were puzzled.
"Oh!" he said. "Dear me! Why--what has Mrs. Lester called you in for?"
Easleby, who had brought another marked newspaper with him, laid it on
the manager's desk.
"You've no doubt read of this Scarnham affair, Mr. Stipp?" he asked,
pointing to his own blue pencillings. "Most people have, I think. Or
perhaps it's escaped your notice."
"Hardly could!" answered Mr. Stipp, with a friendly smile. "Yes--I've
read it. Most extraordinary! One of the most puzzling cases I ever did
read. Are you in at it? But this call hasn't anything to do with that,
surely? If it has--what?"
"This much," answered Easleby. "Mrs. Lester has told us, of course, that
her son, the young officer, is in debt to your governor. Well, last
week, Mrs. Lester handed a certain sum of money to the Mr. Frederick
Hollis who's been found dead at Scarnham, to be applied to the
settlement of her son's liability in that respect."
Mr. Stipp showed undoubted surprise at this announcement.
"She did!" he exclaimed. "Gave Mr. Hollis money--for that? Why!--Mr.
Hollis never told me of it!"
In the course of a long professional experience Easleby had learned to
control his facial expression; Starmidge was gradually progressing
towards perfection in that art. But each man was hard put to it to check
an expression of astonishment. And Easleby showed some slight sign of
perplexity when he replied.
"Mr. Hollis has--called on you, then?" he said.
"Hollis was here last Friday afternoon," answered Mr. Stipp. "Called on
me at five o'clock--just before I was leaving for the day. He never
offered me any money! Glad if he had--it's time young Lester paid up."
"What did Hollis come for, then, if that's a fair question?" asked
Easleby.