"As strange a case as any I ever heard of," said Inspector Gale to
himself, after Gilbert had withdrawn. "Now, what do I know about it
exactly? Let me see."
Gale was a shrewd man, with an abundance of sound common sense and an
extensive experience in criminal matters. He also had a certain degree
of imagination, which is the quality the ordinary detective lacks.
From a cabinet he took some sheets of blue paper which were fastened
together; they were the memoranda he had made of the facts connected
with the disappearance of Morris Thornton. Gale read them over rapidly
but carefully. Putting them down on his desk, he reflected.
"Morris Thornton, a rich colonial," he thought, "came to London on July
29th, and put up at the Law Courts Hotel in Holborn. Late in the evening
of the next day, July 30th, he left the hotel for a walk in Holborn or
perhaps in Chancery Lane--so he said to the porter. To-day, August 14th,
his body is found in a room at the top of a house in Stone Buildings,
Lincoln's Inn, that is, on the Chancery Lane side of the Inn. That looks
as if he had carried out his intention of taking a stroll in Chancery
Lane. This fits in well enough. What next?
"How did he get up to the room at that time of night? The Inn would be
closed; the night porter of the Inn must have let him in. I must make a
note of that. And what took him there? He must have had some object in
view. And the room was in the set of chambers occupied by Mr. Cooper
Silwood, one of the most respectable solicitors in London, and a member
of the very firm of solicitors with whom Mr. Thornton transacted his
business. Could it be that Mr. Thornton had gone to see Mr. Silwood
about some matter? But surely not at that hour--it hardly seems
possible. Still I must not neglect that phase of the case.
"As regards Mr. Silwood. As he is now dead, the thing looks like leading
up to a blind wall. He had been for some time away on a holiday. I must
get the date when he left London. If he was in London on July 30th, or
on the next day, the case would appear pretty black for him. Then there
is the locked door. The door of the room in which the body was found had
a special lock, and of course a special key, which Mr. Silwood carried.
Some one locked the door on the dead man; the only one, presumably, who
had the key to lock it was Mr. Silwood. This also looks pretty black for
him.
"But the motive? Suppose Silwood did kill Morris Thornton, what would be
his reason? It must have been some very strong reason indeed that would
make a respectable solicitor murder an important client. Most
improbable--impossible, one would have said; but nothing is impossible,
nothing in the world. Yet everything points to the deed having been
done by Silwood. The conclusion is obvious."
At this point in his reflections Gale took a turn up and down the floor.
He was saying to himself, as he had said to Gilbert, that when a
conclusion was obvious, then it was necessary to beware of it. His long
experience had taught him that obvious conclusions rarely turned out to
be correct.
"Well, where are we?" Gale mused, sitting down again. "Let us say
Silwood had a motive for murdering Thornton, and did actually kill him,
and having committed the murder, fled the country on the pretence of
taking a holiday--suppose all this; where does it land us?"
Here a curious idea came into Gale's mind. He considered it doubtfully
for two or three minutes; then, reminding himself of his favourite
theory that nothing was impossible, he gave it tentatively a place in
his thoughts.
"Suppose," he said to himself, "that Silwood is not dead, and that all
this palaver about the certificate of death from the Italian magistrate
is a skilfully manufactured affair, a mere pretence, in fact, with the
object of defeating justice? If this were so, it would complete the case
with a vengeance. Still, why shouldn't Silwood be dead? Well, I must
look into it, though the idea that he is alive seems rather
far-fetched."
Far-fetched or not, the idea fascinated the inspector as it appealed to
his imagination; it haunted him so that he could not drive it out of his
mind.
"Suppose," he kept saying to himself over and over again, "Silwood is
not dead. If he is not dead, what does that imply? Does it mean that
there is some conspiracy, a conspiracy in which the Eversleighs are
involved?"
Gale pondered deeply. He had the feeling that somehow he was on the
verge of a great discovery; but, as he thought still further, he was not
so sure. It seemed absurd to connect the Eversleighs with anything of
the sort. Finally, he came to a decision. Rising from his chair, he
pressed an electric bell, and told a man who instantly appeared in
answer to his call to ask Mr. Gilbert Eversleigh to step into the room.
Gilbert, expecting that the coroner had been heard from, came in
eagerly.
"The coroner?" he asked.
"No, Mr. Gilbert. I wished you to tell me again the name of the place in
Italy where Mr. Silwood died."
"Camajore, in the province of Tuscany--it is in the north of Italy, on
the west coast or a few miles inland."
"Camajore?" repeated Gale. "How is it spelt?"
Gilbert spelt the word.
"Do you know the place?" asked the officer.
"Not at all."
"Do you happen to know the best and quickest way of getting to it?"
"You would take the train for Genoa, I fancy. Camajore is only a short
distance from Genoa. But why do you ask me this?"
"It will be necessary, I think, for us to have the death of Mr. Silwood
confirmed."
"I understand," said Gilbert, but he had only a glimmering of the
inspector's meaning. "It will be as well--as a matter of form."
"Quite so," said Gale. "All sorts of inquiries will be made, and we
must be in a position to answer them. By the way, Mr. Gilbert, would you
mind telling me if Mr. Silwood was on terms of intimacy with Mr.
Thornton--would you say that Mr. Silwood was as much of a friend of Mr.
Thornton as your father was?"
"Mr. Thornton certainly knew Mr. Silwood very well, though perhaps he
was hardly on the same terms of intimate friendship as my father was."
"Still there was a considerable acquaintance?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Do you think Mr. Thornton knew Mr. Silwood well enough to go to the
latter's rooms at midnight or thereabouts?"
"I should scarcely have thought so. It's rather an extreme thing to go
to a man's rooms at that time of night."
"But if there was some pressing reason?"
"Of course, necessity knows no law, but I can't suppose for one instant
there was such a necessity. I believe that Mr. Thornton's relations with
both Mr. Silwood and my father were of the most cordial character;
indeed, I am certain they were. There was absolutely no hint of anything
else. I know that for many years past Mr. Thornton reposed the greatest
confidence in my father's firm."
"So I understand," assented Gale. "Now, Mr. Gilbert, I must ask you to
leave me. I shall tell you the instant I hear from the coroner."
And Gilbert went out once more.
As soon as he had gone, Gale rang his bell again.
"I cannot go myself," he mused; "I must be present at the inquest--that
is necessary. I must send Brydges."
Brydges was the detective who ranked next to himself in Scotland Yard.
In a moment or two more Brydges was in the presence of the chief.
"You have heard about the Lincoln's Inn case?" asked Gale.
"Yes, something, but not accurately--just what they are saying in the
Yard."
"And that is?"
"That the body of the missing millionaire has been found in a room at
the top of a house in Stone Buildings, the said room being the
sitting-room of a Mr. Cooper Silwood, a solicitor, a member, in fact, of
the firm of solicitors who did the dead man's legal business. A very
curious position, is it not?" commented Brydges.
"Very curious indeed. All the more so because Mr. Silwood too is dead."
"Yes, I heard that also."
"It is with reference to Silwood's death that I want you just now. I
wish you to go to Italy, to a place called Camajore, some miles from
Genoa, and find out everything you can about his death."
"Ah!" exclaimed Brydges; "I see. You think his death may be a fake; is
that it?"
"Well, it occurred to me that it might be so; at any rate, I think it
well worth inquiring further into. You can leave to-night for Genoa?"
"Yes, certainly."
"And you will wire the results of your mission in cipher to me as soon
as possible," said Gale.
"Am I to consult the local authorities?"
"Yes; I'll have a letter of credentials prepared for you. You will
present it to the police at Genoa, and I do not imagine you will find
any difficulty. Now, go and make your preparations."
Left alone once again, Gale took up the thread of his musings.
"There is one other point," he thought, "and that is the presence in
Chancery Lane, on the night when Thornton disappeared, of that
mysterious workman, who possessed the key to the iron gates of the small
footway communicating with the court of Stone Buildings and Chancery
Lane itself.
"What was it I was told? A workman, or a man dressed as a workman, let
himself out of the iron gate late at night; the man appeared to be
flurried, to act in a suspicious manner. In about half an hour he
returned, and let himself in again. He was seen no more that night. And
it was _the_ night--the night presumably of the murder.
"This assuredly must be followed up; it looks like a clue. I must get
hold of the waster who told the story, and hear for myself what he has
to say. I wonder if he spoke the truth, or if he invented the whole
thing. And if this story is true, and if this workman had something to
do with Thornton's death, how is he to be connected with Cooper Silwood?
If this workman committed the murder, how did he get possession of the
key to Silwood's chambers? Perhaps, during Silwood's absence, he got
into the room. Well, it comes back to getting the date on which Silwood
left London for his holiday--that's what I must ascertain."
The inspector had reached this conclusion when there was a knock at his
door, and a constable entered and informed him that the coroner had sent
a message to the effect that he was waiting for him in Silwood's
chambers.
Gale called Gilbert, who had been sitting outside wearily and
impatiently, and the two men got into a cab and drove to the scene of
the discovery of the body. On their way thither Gale put a question.
"I am very anxious to get to know the day on which Mr. Silwood left
London," said the officer; "do you think you could find that out for me
this afternoon?"
"I think the office will be closed, but I'll go and see, if you like."
"I wish you would. Suppose you go round to New Square while I go on to
Mr. Silwood's chambers?"
Gilbert agreed, and presently was in the office of Eversleigh, Silwood
and Eversleigh, where, to his great surprise, he found Williamson still
on the premises, apparently hard at work.
"What a day this has been, Mr. Gilbert!" cried Williamson. "I thought
I'd wait to see if there was any more news. Your father and Mr. Ernest
have just gone home. I'm afraid your father, Mr. Gilbert, is very
poorly--not that that is strange, after what has happened."
"No, indeed," said Gilbert. "Can you tell me, Mr. Williamson," he went
on, "the day on which Mr. Silwood left for his holiday?"
"A fortnight ago, exactly, to-day I had a note from him, saying he was
off to Italy. I don't know whether he went by the night mail on the
evening of the Friday or by the continental express on the Saturday
morning; he did not mention which train he was going by."
"A fortnight ago to-day? That was July 31st. And Friday was the 30th."
"Precisely," said Williamson, with a touch of malice, "and that is the
very day--that Friday--on which Mr. Thornton disappeared. It has a
strange look, Mr. Gilbert; I can make nothing of it--nothing at all."
"You are sure of the date?" asked Gilbert, sharply.
"As I said, it was either on the Friday night or on the Saturday morning
that Mr. Silwood left."
Gilbert, as he went to tell Inspector Gale what he had learned, could
not but confess to himself that the matter did wear a very strange look
indeed.
When he got to Stone Buildings, he saw the inspector, the coroner, an
assistant, and two constables. It was Gale who spoke.
"The coroner," he remarked, "is having the body taken to the nearest
mortuary, Mr. Gilbert, and he will report later. Meanwhile, I have made
an examination of these apartments, and I am bound to say that
everything in them appears to be in good order. I see no sign of
disorder, no indication of a struggle. And I have looked into the
bedroom, and there also I can see nothing to take hold of. Mr. Silwood,
I should say, prepared in the most leisurely fashion for his trip; not a
thing betokens hurry or flurry--this is all satisfactory enough, so far
as it goes."
Gale addressed a few words to the coroner, and then the body was
removed. As Gilbert turned to leave the room, Gale put his arm on his
sleeve.
"What about the date?" he asked.
"Mr. Silwood left either that Friday night or next morning--which, is
not certain."
Gale looked at Gilbert, earnestly, but he did not speak; his silence was
eloquent enough.
"You think," said Gilbert, slowly, "that Silwood murdered----?"
He did not complete the sentence.
"I say nothing definite, Mr. Gilbert; but don't you think it looks that
way?"
"It is impossible--impossible!" said Gilbert.
But Gale shook his head.
When Gilbert got to Waterloo, on his way to see Kitty, he heard at the
bookstall people eagerly asking for the latest editions of the evening
papers. On the placards he saw in big black letters--
"THE BODY OF THE MISSING MILLIONAIRE DISCOVERED."
"IS IT MURDER?"
How was he to tell Kitty, his darling? What could he say to her?
But when he arrived at Surbiton, he was surprised to find that Kitty
showed considerable calmness in the circumstances.
"I was sure my father was dead," she said to him, as they talked over
the discovery of the body. "I was certain that if he had been alive he
would have come to me. I never had any hope. And, Gilbert, I do not
believe that Mr. Silwood killed him. Why should he have done so? I
wonder if the darkness which surrounds my father's death will ever be
cleared away?"
"It is shrouded in mystery at present, my darling," said Gilbert,
immensely relieved that Kitty was bearing up so well; "but perhaps some
evidence will be forthcoming at the inquest. It is to take place on
Tuesday."
"I think I should like to be present," said Kitty, after a long pause.
"It may be very painful for you, and I do not believe you will be called
on."
"It is my duty, I suppose, and I must not shrink from it."
"My own brave little girl," said Gilbert, kissing her fondly.