Surefoot knelt and brought his face close to the floor. The smell of gas
was overpowering. He tried the handle. The door was fastened on the
inside. Repeated knocking produced no response. Stepping back he threw
the whole weight of his body against the frame. There was a crash and he
fell headlong into the room. The place was so full of gas that he was
almost asphyxiated and only staggered out with difficulty. Going into
the girl's room, he soaked a towel in water and clapping it over his
face ran through to the room and flung open the window. Then, turning
his attention to the man who lay on the bed, he put his arm round him
and dragged him into the passage.
The man was still breathing. One glance he took at the purple face, and
in his astonishment almost dropped the inanimate figure. Leo Moran!
By this time the hotel was aroused. A doctor, who lived on the same
floor, came out in pyjamas and an overcoat, and rendered first aid,
whilst Surefoot went back into the room.
He switched on the electric light. The gas was still hissing from the
burner on the hearth and he turned this off before he opened the window
wider. He saw now that elaborate preparations had been made for this
near tragedy. There was sticking-plaster down each side of the window.
He found it also over the keyhole, and the space between the bottom of
the door leading into the bathroom had been stuffed with a towel. Near
the bed was a half-glass of whisky and soda. Evidently Moran had been
writing. Surefoot took up a half-finished letter. He saw it was
addressed to the general manager of the bank for which he had worked.
"DEAR SIR,
"I am back in London, and for reasons which I will explain to you,
I am living under an assumed name at this hotel. The explanation
which I will give I think will satisfy ..."
Here the writing ended in a scrawl, as though Moran had been suddenly
overcome.
There was a closely typed foolscap sheet on the table, but this Surefoot
did not see immediately.
He looked round the room; the first thing that struck him was that the
door of a large cupboard stood wide open and on the floor of the
cupboard, which was empty, were two muddy foot-prints. They were
unmistakably the prints of goloshes, and he remembered the old pair of
goloshes which had been found in the car where Mike Hennessey's body had
been discovered. Somebody had been hiding there. Outside it had been
raining heavily; the prints were still wet.
He went outside and found that Moran had been carried into another
bedroom, where the doctor and the porter were engaged in applying
artificial resuscitation. Returning to Moran's room, he remembered the
typewritten sheet which lay on the top of other documents and picked it
up. He had not read half a dozen words when his jaw dropped in
amazement, and he sat down heavily in a chair: for this typewritten
statement was a murder confession.
"I, Leopold Moran, am about to say farewell to life, and, before
going, I want to make a full statement concerning the killing of
three men. The first of these is a man named Tickler.
"In some way he had discovered that I was robbing the bank. He had
been blackmailing me for months. He knew that under the name of Mr.
Washington Wirth I was giving parties, and traced me back to a room
over a garage which I used to change my clothes and have used on
other occasions as a hiding place. He came into this room and
demanded a thousand pounds. I gave him a hundred in treasury notes
and then persuaded him to let me drive him down to the West End in
a cab that was standing in the mews. As he got into the cab I shot
him, closed the door, and, driving him down into Regent Street,
left the cab on the rank.
"The next day I had an interview with Hervey Lyne. He was growing
suspicious. I had forged his name to large sums of money and when,
at his request, I called on him, I knew that the game was up. I had
tried to bribe Binny--his servant--into helping me to keep the old
man in the dark, but Binny was either too honest or too foolish to
fall in with my suggestions. Binny is one of the straightest men I
have ever met. I think he was a fool to himself, but that is
neither here nor there.
"I knew Hervey Lyne was in the habit of going into Regent's Park
every afternoon and he always chose a spot where I could see him.
On the afternoon in question, realising that I could see my finish,
I shot him from the window with a rifle to which I had fastened a
silencer. What made it so easy was that a noisy car was passing at
the time. Afterwards I sent a man to Germany under my name and
myself stayed in England.
"I was afraid of Hennessey, who was also blackmailing me, and I had
to silence him. I drove him into the country, and killed him on the
Colnbrook By-pass. Before he died he told me that Miss Lane had the
bank statement. That night I entered her house and made a search
for it, but found nothing.
"All the above is true. I am tired of life and am going out with no
regret."