WHO WAS SHE?
Late that night, when Hetherwick was thinking things over, a pounding
on his stairs and a knock on his outer door heralded the entrance of
Matherfield, who, with an expressive look, flung himself into the
nearest easy chair.
"For heaven's sake, Mr. Hetherwick, give me a drop of that whisky!" he
exclaimed. "I'm dead beat--and dead disappointed, too! Such a day as
I've had after that woman! And what it all means the Lord only
knows--I don't!"
Hetherwick helped his evidently far-spent visitor to a whisky and soda,
and waited until he had taken a hearty pull at it. Then he resumed his
own seat and took up his pipe.
"I gather that you haven't had a very successful day, Matherfield?" he
suggested. "Hope it wasn't exactly a wild-goose chase?"
"That's just about what it comes to, then!" exclaimed Matherfield.
"Anyway, after taking no end of trouble she got clear away, practically
under my very nose! But I'll tell you all about it; that's what I
dropped in for. When I went out of that house in St. Mary's Terrace,
she was just turning the corner to the right, Bishop's Road way. Of
course I followed. She went over the bridge--the big railway
bridge--and at the end turned down to Paddington Station. I concluded
then that she was going up by some early morning train. She entered
the station by the first-class booking office; I was not so many yards
in her rear then. But instead of stopping there and taking a ticket
she went right through, crossed the station to the arrival platform and
signalled to a taxi-cab. In another minute she was in it, and off.
Very luckily there was another cab close by. I hailed that and told
the driver to keep the first cab in sight and follow it to wherever it
went. So off we went again, on another pursuit! And it ended at
another terminus--Waterloo!"
"Going home, I suppose," remarked Hetherwick, as Matherfield paused to
take up his glass. "You can get to Dorking from Waterloo."
"She wasn't going to any Dorking!" answered Matherfield. "I soon found
that out. Early as it was, there were a lot of people at Waterloo, and
when she went to the ticket office I contrived to be close behind
her--close enough, at any rate, to overhear anything she said. She
asked for a first single to Southampton."
"Southampton!" exclaimed Hetherwick. "Um!"
"Southampton!" repeated Matherfield. "First single for Southampton.
She took the ticket and walked away, looking neither right nor left;
she never glanced at me. Well, as I said yesterday, I don't believe in
starting out on anything unless I go clean through with it. So after a
minute's thought I booked for Southampton--third. Then I went out and
looked at the notice board. Southampton, 5.40. It was then 5.25. So
I went to the telephone office, rang up our head-quarters and told 'em
I was after something and they needn't expect to see me all day. Then
I bought a time-table and a newspaper or two at the bookstall, just
opening, and went to the train. There were a lot of people travelling
by it. The train hadn't come up to the platform then; when it came
down a minute or two later I watched her get in; she was good to spot
because of her tall figure. I got into a smoker, a bit lower down, and
in due course off we went, me wondering, to tell you the truth,
precisely why I was going! But I was going--wherever she went."
"Even out of the country?" asked Hetherwick, with a smile.
"Aye, I thought of that!" assented Matherfield. "She might be slinging
her hook for anything I knew. That made me turn to the steamship news
in the paper, and I saw then that the _Tartaric_ was due to leave
Southampton for New York about two o'clock that very afternoon. Well,
there were more improbable things than that she meant to go by it, for
reasons of her own, especially if she really is the Mrs. Whittingham of
the Sellithwaite affair ten years ago. You see, I thought it out like
this--granting she's Mrs. Whittingham, that was, she'll be astute
enough to know that there's no time-limit to a criminal prosecution in
this country, and that she's still liable to arrest, prosecution, and
conviction; she'd probably know, too, that this Hannaford affair has
somehow drawn fresh attention to her little matter, and that she's in
danger. Again, I'd been working out an idea about her and this man
Baseverie. How do we know that Baseverie wasn't an accomplice of hers
in that Sellithwaite fraud? In most cases of that sort the woman has
an accomplice somewhere in the background--Baseverie may have been
mixed with her then. And now he may have information that has led him
to warn her to make herself scarce, eh?"
"There's something in that, Matherfield," admitted Hetherwick.
"Yes--decidedly something."
"There may be a good deal," affirmed Matherfield. "You see, we've let
those newspaper chaps have a lot of information. I'm a believer in
making use of the Press; it's a valuable aid sometimes, perhaps
generally, but there are other times when you can do too much of it:
it's a sort of giving valuable aid to the enemy. I don't know whether
we haven't let those reporters know too much in this case. We've let
'em know, for instance, about the portrait found in Hannaford's
pocket-book, and about the sealed packet in which, we believe, was the
secret of his patent: all that's been in the papers, though, to be
sure, they didn't make much copy out of it. Still, there was enough
for anybody who followed the case closely. Now, supposing that
Baseverie was Mrs. Whittingham's accomplice ten years ago, and that
he'd read all this and seen the reproduction of the portrait, wouldn't
he see that she was in some danger and warn her? I think it likely,
and I wish we hadn't been quite so free with our news for those paper
chaps. I'm glad, anyhow, that there's one thing I haven't told 'em
of--that medicine bottle found at Granett's! There's nobody but me,
you, and the medical men know of that, so far."
"You think this woman--Lady Riversreade as she is, Mrs. Whittingham as
she used to be--was making off to Southampton, and possibly farther, on
a hint from Baseverie?" said Hetherwick ruminatively.
"Put it this way," replied Matherfield. "Of course, you've got to
assume a lot, but we can't do without assuming things in this business.
Lady Riversreade was formerly Mrs. Whittingham. Mrs. Whittingham did a
clever bit of fraud at Sellithwaite, and got away with the swag.
Baseverie was her accomplice. Now then, ten years later Mrs.
Whittingham has become my Lady Riversreade, a very wealthy woman.
She's suddenly visited by Baseverie at Riversreade Court, and is
obviously upset by his first visit. He comes again. Three nights
later she's seen to come out of a club which he frequents. She spends
most of the night in a flat in a quiet part of London, and next morning
slopes off as early as five o'clock to a port--Southampton. What
inference is to be drawn? That her visit to Southampton has certainly
something to do with Baseverie's visits to her and her visit to
Vivian's!"
"I think there's something in that, too," said Hetherwick, "But--we're
on the way to Southampton. Go on!"
"Very good train, that," continued Matherfield. "We got to Southampton
just before eight--a minute or two late. I was wanting something to
eat and drink by that time, and I was glad to see my lady turn into the
refreshment-room as soon as she left her carriage. So did I. I knew
she'd never suspect a quiet, ordinary man like me; if she deigned to
give me a glance--she's a very haughty-looking woman, I observed--she'd
only take me for a commercial traveller. And we were not so far off
each other in that room; she sat at a little table, having some tea and
so on: I was at the counter. Of course, I never showed that I was
taking any notice of her--but I got in two or three good, comprehensive
inspections. Very good-looking, no doubt of it, Mr. Hetherwick--a
woman that's worn well! But of course you've seen that for yourself."
"You must remember that I've only seen her twice," remarked Hetherwick,
with a laugh. "Once at Victoria, when Miss Hannaford pointed her out;
once night before last, when it was by a poorish gaslight. But I'll
take your word, Matherfield. Well, and what happened next?"
"Oh, she took her time over her tea and toast," continued Matherfield.
"Very leisured in all her movements, I assure you. At last she moved
off--of course I followed, casually and carelessly. Now, as you may be
aware, Southampton West, where the train set us down, is a bit out of
the town, and I expected her to take a cab. But she didn't; she walked
away from the station. So did I--twenty or thirty yards in the rear.
She took her time; it seemed to me she was purposely loitering. It
struck me at last why--she was waiting until the business offices were
open. I was right in that: as soon as the town clocks struck nine she
quickened her pace and made a beeline for her objective. And what do
you think that was?"
"No idea," said Hetherwick.
"White Star offices!" answered Matherfield. "Went straight there, and
walked straight in! Of course, I waited outside, where she wouldn't
see me when she came out again. She was in there about twenty minutes.
When she came out she turned to another part of the town. And near
that old gateway, or bar, or whatever it is that stands across the
street, I lost her--altogether!"
"Some exceptional reason, I should think, Matherfield," remarked
Hetherwick. "How was it?"
"My own stupid fault!" growled Matherfield. "Took my eye off her in a
particularly crowded part--the town was beginning to get very busy. I
just happened to let my attention be diverted--and she was gone! At
first I made certain she'd gone into some shop. I looked into
several--risky as that was--but I couldn't find her. I hung about; no
good. Then I came to the conclusion that she'd turned down one of the
side streets or alleys or passages--there were several about there--and
got clean away. And after hanging around a bit, and going up one
street and down another--a poor job in our business at the best of
times and all dependent on mere luck!--I decided to make a bold stroke
and be sure of at any rate something."
"What? How?" asked Hetherwick.
"I thought I'd find out what she'd gone to the White Star offices for,"
replied Matherfield. "Of course, I didn't want to raise any suspicion
against her under the circumstances. But I flatter myself I'm a bit of
a diplomatist, and I laid my plans. I went in there, got hold of a
clerk who was a likely looking chap for secret keeping, told him who I
was and showed my credentials, and asked him for the information I
wanted. I got it. As luck would have it, my man had attended to her
himself and remembered her quite well. Of course, little more than an
hour and a half had passed since she'd been in there."
"And--what had she been in for?" asked Hetherwick. "What did you hear?"
Matherfield nodded significantly.
"Just what I expected to hear," he answered. "She'd booked a
second-class passage for New York in the _Tartaric_, sailing that
afternoon, in the name of H. Cunningham. As soon as I found that out,
I knew I should come across her again--there'd be no need to go raking
the town for her. I ascertained that passengers would be allowed to go
aboard from two o'clock; the boat would sail between five and six. So,
having once more admonished the clerk to secrecy and given him
plausible excuses for my inquisitiveness, I went off to relax a bit,
and in due time sat down to an early and comfortable lunch--a man must
take his ease now and then, you know, Mr. Hetherwick."
"Exactly, Matherfield--I quite agree," said Hetherwick. "But I dare
say your brain was at work, all the same, while you ate and drank?"
"It was, sir," assented Matherfield. "Yes--I made my plans. I wasn't
going to New York, of course; that was out of the question. But I was
going to have speech with her. I decided that I'd watch for her coming
aboard the _Tartaric_--being alone, she'd probably come early. I
proposed to get her aside, accosting her, of course, as Lady
Riversreade, tell her who I was and show my papers, and ask her if she
would give me any information about a certain Dr. Cyprian Baseverie. I
thought I'd see how she took that before asking anything further; if I
saw that she was taken aback, confused, and especially if she gave me
any prevaricating or elusive answer, I'd ask her straight out if before
her marriage to the late Sir John Riversreade she was the Mrs.
Whittingham who, some ten years ago, stayed for a time at the White
Hart Hotel at Sellithwaite. And I practically made up my mind, too,
that if she admitted that and I saw good cause for it, I'd detain her."
"You meant to go as far as that?" exclaimed Hetherwick.
"I did! I should have been justified," replied Matherfield. "However,
that's neither here nor there, for I never saw her! I was down at the
point of departure well before two, and I assured myself that nobody
had gone aboard the _Tartaric_ up to that time. I kept as sharp a look
out as any man with only one pair of eyes could, right away from ten
minutes to two until five-and-twenty past five, when the boat sailed,
but she never turned up. Of course you'll say that she must have
slipped on unobserved by me, but I'm positive she didn't. No, sir!
It's my opinion that she thought better of it and didn't go--forfeiting
her passage money, or a part of it, would be nothing to a woman of her
means--or that she was frightened at the last minute of showing herself
on that stage!"
"Frightened! Why?" asked Hetherwick.
Matherfield laughed significantly.
"There were two or three of our men from Scotland Yard about," he
answered. "I'm not aware of what they were after; I didn't ask 'em.
But I did ask them to give me a hand in looking out for a lady whom I
fully described--which is why I'm dead certain she never went aboard.
Now, it may have been that she came down there, knew--you never
know!--some of those chaps and--made herself scarce! Anyway--I never
set eyes on her. Never, in fact, saw her again after I lost her in the
morning. So--that's where I am!"
"You came back--defeated?" remarked Hetherwick.
"Well, if you like to call it so," admitted Matherfield. "Yes, I came
back by the seven thirty-eight. Dog tired! But I'm not through with
this yet, Mr. Hetherwick, and I want you to do something for me. This
Miss Hannaford, now, is down at Riversreade Court. They'll be on the
telephone there, of course. I want you to ring her up early to-morrow
morning, and ask her if she can meet you on important private business
in Dorking town at noon. Where shall we say?"
"'White Horse' would do," suggested Hetherwick.
"Very well--White Horse Hotel, at noon," agreed Matherfield. "We'll go
down--for I'll go with you--by the 10.10 from Victoria. Now please be
very careful about this, Mr. Hetherwick, when you telephone. Don't say
anything of any reason for going down to Dorking. Don't on any account
mention Lady Riversreade, in any way. Merely tell Miss Hannaford that
you have urgent reasons for seeing her. And--fix it up!"
"Oh, I can fix it up all right," answered Hetherwick. "Miss Hannaford
can easily drive down from Riversreade Court. But I don't know what
you want her for."
"Wait till morning," replied Matherfield, with a knowing look. "You'll
see. I'll meet you at Victoria at ten o'clock, sharp."