Coutts having seen that his father and sisters were provided with all
necessary comforts, hastened to the city. He had an appointment which
could not be postponed; he could do nothing more at Ringsford; in town
he could arrange with some contractor to send out a band of men to make
the least injured portion of the Manor again habitable, and to clear
away the débris as quickly as possible.
The appointment was to meet Philip and Wrentham at Mr Shield’s
apartments. Coutts was confident that the bill he held was a forgery.
He had no doubt Philip had been fooled into it somehow, but that was no
reason why _he_ should be fooled out of it. The way Shield had received
him plainly indicated that he would give him no place in his will;
whilst he was anxious to avoid scandal which would involve Philip.
‘Well, if the old fellow won’t give me a slice of his fortune, I’ll
screw a plum out of it,’ was Coutts’s agreeable reflection. ‘I have the
forged bill, and unless he hands me over double the amount, I don’t
give it up.’
That was a ‘smart’ stroke of business, which delighted Coutts almost
as much as the prospect of gaining such a large sum of money, and of
making the ‘old fellow’ stump up in spite of himself. There was, too,
in his mind a kind of moral fitness in the transaction; for it would be
paying out this precious uncle for some of the annoyance he had caused
his father. In addition, there was to be reckoned the satisfaction of
outwitting one of the cutest scamps he had come across—a fellow who
had overreached even him—for with the same move which was to checkmate
Shield, Wrentham would be paid out too. He gave little consideration to
his brother, having no doubt that he would escape all right somehow.
He had secured the services of a detective who possessed the highest
qualifications for his office, namely, he was not like a detective
at all in manner, appearance or speech. Meeting Sergeant Dier in an
ordinary way, you would regard him as a successful commercial man.
There was not the slightest flavour of Scotland Yard about him. He
was a good actor, a good singer, and a capital story-teller. Some of
his most important discoveries were made whilst he was entertaining a
roomful of company with his merry anecdotes. The secret of his success
lay partly in a natural gift for his business, his enthusiasm, and the
good-nature which underlay it all. He never allowed a scoundrel to
escape; but he dealt very gently with any poor creature who might be
betrayed into a first crime.
When Coutts reached his office, Sergeant Dier was waiting for him.
Any one looking at the detective as he stood, bareheaded, reading a
newspaper, would have imagined that he was one of the bank officials.
He accompanied Coutts to his private room.
‘Well, what news have you?’
‘Our man has everything prepared for a holiday abroad,’ was Dier’s
smiling reply.
‘Can he get away?’
‘O dear, no; he is at present under the eye of one of my friends, and
he has been obliged to delay his departure until to-morrow, owing to a
difficulty he has found in collecting his funds on such short notice.’
‘Is that all?’
‘There is a little more,’ said Dier complacently. ‘I have found a man
who can identify his writing under any disguise.’
‘Who is he?’
‘Our man’s brother. It was not easy to persuade him to help us, but he
consented at the last moment, and is to meet us at Mr Shield’s place.’
‘Capital,’ said Coutts. ‘You understand, I do not wish to proceed to
extremities unless we are forced to it.’
‘So you informed me; but the case is turning out such a pretty one that
it would have been an honour to explain it in court.’
‘Never mind the honour; we’ll balance that somehow. I shall be ready in
twenty minutes, and will meet you at the hotel.’
Sergeant Dier bowed and left. Outside the room he nodded and smiled
to himself as he placed a glossy hat jauntily on his head. Mentally
and cheerfully he was saying: ‘I don’t care about that chap—not much.
I should not be surprised to find him coming my way sometime with the
positions changed.’
Coutts examined letters, signed papers brought to him by his chief
clerk, and punctually at the expiration of twenty minutes was on his
way to Mr Shield’s hotel. At the door he found Sergeant Dier and Bob
Tuppit waiting. The poor little conjurer was nervous, and evidently
required all the robust encouragement of the good-natured detective to
sustain him in going through with the task he had been persuaded to
undertake.
They were immediately conducted to Mr Shield’s sitting-room. Coutts was
a little surprised and not pleased to find that Philip and Wrentham
had arrived before him; and beside Mr Shield stood Mr Beecham—for whom
he entertained an instinctive dislike, not to mention that on the few
occasions of their meeting his wittiest cynicisms had been silenced by
the quiet searching gaze of the elder man.
Philip had not yet heard of the previous night’s events at Ringsford.
He was pale, but calm, and he greeted his brother somewhat coldly.
Wrentham was apparently at ease and playing his part of devoted and
therefore anxious friend to perfection. He had not yet caught sight
of Bob Tuppit, who easily hid himself behind the broad shoulders of
Sergeant Dier.
‘I expected,’ said Coutts after formal salutations, ‘to have had the
pleasure of a few minutes’ private conversation with you, Mr Shield,
before we proceeded with this disagreeable business.’
‘I don’t think it necessary,’ answered Shield in his brusque way.
‘As you will, sir,’ continued Coutts with a slight inclination of the
head. ‘I have brought with me two persons who will, I believe, aid us
materially in the inquiry we are about to make.’
‘Who are they?’ was the blunt query, indicating Mr Shield’s usual
impatience of palaver.
‘This is Mr Dier, who is interested on my behalf; and this’——
‘Is a friend of mine,’ interposed Dier blandly, ‘who is an expert in
distinguishing handwriting.’
Wrentham was the only one who showed surprise at these introductions,
and he moved a little backward at sight of Bob Tuppit, covering his
uneasiness by a slight cough, as if clearing his throat. Shield looked
at Beecham, and the latter spoke.
‘A very good idea, Mr Hadleigh, and as I have some acquaintance with
Mr Tuppit, I can vouch for his ability to discharge any task he
undertakes. I presume you have shown him specimens of the different
handwritings?’
‘I do not understand your position in this affair, Mr Beecham,’ said
Coutts superciliously; ‘I can only address myself to Mr Shield, or if
he chooses, I can retire, and let the matter take the ordinary legal
course.’
‘I am here as the friend of Mr Shield,’ was the reply, without the
least symptom of irritation at the manner and words of Coutts.
‘You can speak to him as you would to me,’ growled Shield.
‘Oh, very well,’ said Coutts, shrugging his shoulders. ‘I thought you
wanted to keep the affair as quiet as possible. But, please yourself.
Then, I have not submitted any writing to Mr Tuppit, whose name I learn
from Mr Beecham. He, being perfectly acquainted with the penmanship of
one of the persons concerned, I thought it would be more satisfactory
to you to have the investigation made in your presence.’
He glanced at Wrentham as he spoke, and that gentleman assumed an air
of curiosity and interest.
‘Begin with Tuppit at once: that will cut the thing short,’ said
Shield, as if already impatient of the delay caused by these
preliminaries.
‘Then here is a sheet of paper which Mr Shield has already signed,’
said Mr Beecham. ‘Will you put down your name, Mr Philip, and you, Mr
Wrentham?’
They signed at once, and there was no reluctance apparent on the part
of either, but the grand flourish which Wrentham was in the habit of
drawing under his signature was not quite so steady as usual.
‘Now,’ proceeded Mr Beecham, ‘here is a scrap of paper on which Mr
Shield has written a few words. Will you both write something on
separate slips, and that will enable us to test Mr Tuppit’s skill in
distinguishing the writers.’
This having been done, the sheet bearing the three signatures was first
given to Tuppit, and it shook slightly in his hand as he advanced to
the window to inspect it carefully. He then laid the paper on the table.
‘I think I know the character of the writings now,’ he said.
The three slips were next handed to him, and he named the writer of
each correctly.
‘Clever chap—knows what he is about,’ was Shield’s comment. Then
looking almost fiercely at Coutts: ‘Suppose you have brought _your_
paper with you?’
‘Certainly.’
‘Show it then, and let us hear what he has to say about it.’
Coutts slowly took out his pocket-book and looked inquiringly at
Sergeant Dier. The latter had been observing the whole proceedings with
that kind of interest which a skilful player bestows on an exciting
game at cards or billiards. He responded promptly to Coutts’s look.
‘Best thing you can do, sir. It will settle the whole business at once.’
But Coutts did not want to settle the whole business until he had
spoken to Shield in private, and explained the terms on which publicity
might be avoided. So he put in a hypocritical protest which he hoped
would aid him in making his bargain by-and-by.
‘You are aware, Mr Shield, that there are reasons why I do not wish
this matter to go beyond ourselves; and I believe you have the same
desire. On that account we need not regard Mr Tuppit’s decision as
final.’
‘I shall,’ answered Shield, frowning. ‘Hand him the paper.’
Coutts obeyed with the reluctant air of one who is compelled to do
something he dislikes. He did not look at Philip, who was watching him
with pitying eyes.
‘It is rather a serious thing, gentlemen,’ said Tuppit, speaking for
the first time, and now as coolly as if he were on his conjuring
platform, ‘a very serious thing to give a decided opinion in a case
of this sort without very careful examination. You will permit me to
compare the signatures on this paper with the writing on the different
papers you showed me.’ He gathered them up in his hand as he spoke. ‘I
must use a magnifying glass.’
He whipped one out from the tail-pocket of his coat. Then with its aid
he carefully compared the writings. After ten minutes he rose, and
instead of giving his decision, he advanced to Philip with the bill in
his hand.
‘That is your signature,’ he said.
‘It is,’ replied Philip, quietly.
Coutts gave a slight shake of the head, as if this was no more than he
expected although he deplored it. Wrentham’s eyes moved restlessly from
one face to the other.
Tuppit next advanced to Mr Shield.
‘This is the signature of Mr Austin Shield.’
‘That is the signature of Austin Shield,’ was the answer after a brief
glance at the writing.