ANOTHER DISCOVERY.
Informed of this astounding fact, Garth stared at his friend in blank
astonishment. The detective resumed his cigar, and waited.
"You cannot be in earnest," said the barrister after a pause.
"Why not? The theory is feasible enough. It was proved at the inquest
that the man died from blood-poisoning."
"Yes. But it might have been administered in the liquor. The pair had
drinks, remember."
"I have not forgotten," said Fanks quietly, "but on your part remember
that no trace of poison was found in the stomach; while the blood was
so corrupted, as to show that the deceased had been inoculated with
some powerful vegetable poison. There was no mark on the body, save
the cross on the left arm; and, by your own showing, it was not there
when Fellenger went to Tooley's Alley. The assumption is that it was
done there; as is more than confirmed by the presence of gunpowder."
"Again, according to Mrs. Boazoph, there was no struggle; therefore
the deceased must have passed away quietly. My inference is that this
negro desired to kill Sir Gregory--or else he was instructed to do so
by some one else who wished for the death of your cousin. What then so
easy, as for the negro to have a poisoned needle prepared to execute
the tattooing. Quite unaware of the danger, Fellenger--for some
unknown reason--would permit the insertion of the fatal needle. As the
work went on, he would gradually be inoculated with the poison. When
the gunpowder and acids were applied the job would be finished, and he
would pull down his sleeve, quite ignorant that to all intents and
purposes he was a dead man. Then he sat and chatted with the negro
till the end came; when he sank into a state of coma and died. When
certain that the death was an assured fact, the negro took his
departure. Oh, it is all as plain as day to me;--all excepting one
fact."
"And that fact?"
"Why did Fellenger get a negro in Tooley's Alley to tattoo him."
Garth reflected.
"I can only conclude that a secret--"
"Rubbish!" said Fanks, contemptuously, "you and your secret societies.
I tell you that is all nonsense. Even assuming that the cross is an
emblem of some association--which I do not grant for a moment--we have
proved that it was not tattooed on your cousin's arm when he went to
keep his appointment; therefore he could not at that time have been a
member of your mythical society. If, on the other hand, he was being
made a member--a ceremony which would not have taken place in a low
pot-house--why should he be killed? These societies admit living men
to work their ends; they have no use for dead bodies."
"That is all true enough, Fanks. We must reject the idea of a secret
society. But in an affair of robbery and murder--"
"In such an affair, the method of procedure would be different. A
bludgeon--a sand-bag--a knife--any of these weapons if you please. But
if this negro had designed to rob Fellenger, he need not have
ingratiated himself into his confidence to permit the performance of
so delicate an operation as that of the poisoned needle. No. We must
reject that theory also."
"Then what do you think was the motive of the murder?"
"I am not a detective out of a novel, Mr. Garth. Ask me an easier
question."
He rose from his seat and began to walk to and fro. "The whole mystery
lies in the tattooing," he muttered to himself. "If I can only find
out why Sir Gregory permitted that cross to be tattooed; and why he
went to Tooley's Alley to have it done, I shall discover the
assassin."
"Hersham has a tattooed cross on his left arm," said Garth, "perhaps
he can explain the riddle."
"Perhaps he can; perhaps he can't," returned Fanks, sharply. "The
coincidence is certainly curious. I shall see and question Hersham;
but there is much to be done before then. You must help me, Garth."
"I am willing to do whatever you wish, my friend."
"Ah," said Fanks with a smile, "you have a touch of detective fever. I
suffer from it myself notwithstanding my experience. The unravelling
of these criminal problems is like gambling; a never-failing source of
excitement; and, like gambling, chance enters largely into their
solution."
"I don't see much 'chance' in this case."
"Don't you think again. Why, the very fact that you and I should know
that Hersham has a tattooed cross on his left arm is a chance. Such
knowledge--which is mere chance knowledge--might lead to nothing; on
the other hand, it may help to find the man who killed your cousin."
"Surely you do not suspect Hersham?"
"Certainly not. Why should I suspect him on the evidence of the
tattooed cross. For all I or you know, it may be a simple coincidence,
such as crops up constantly in real life. No. I don't suspect
Hersham."
"Do you suspect anyone?"
"I don't suspect any special person of committing the murder; but I
suspect some people, and particularly one individual, of knowing more
than they chose to say. But this is beside the point. I wish you to
help me."
"By all means. What is it you want me to do?"
"You know the chambers of your cousin; by my desire they have been in
the hands of the police since his death. Fellenger's valet is also
there--detained by my desire. Now I wish to search the chambers for
possible evidence and to examine him. You must take me there at once."
"Is it necessary when, by your own showing, you are all-supreme
already?"
"My friend," said Fanks, solemnly, "it is my experience that when the
lower orders--to which this valet belongs--come into contact with a
detective they are quite useless as witnesses, for the very simple
reason that the presence of the law paralyses them. To avoid this
danger you must introduce me into the chambers as a sympathising
friend only. You can question the servant in my presence, and having
got rid of him in the meantime, we can search the chambers together."
"But the police may recognise you."
"The police have their instructions; they will recognise me as Mr.
Rixton, of the West End."
Garth fell in readily with this scheme, and together the two men left
the club. As they proceeded along Piccadilly--the dead man's chambers
were in Half-Moon Street--Fanks resumed the conversation from the
point where it had been broken off.
"You have answered my questions capitally, Garth. Now, as we are
working together, I shall reply to anything you like to ask me."
The barrister, restored to a sense of importance by the thought of the
part he was about to play in the forthcoming interview with the valet,
availed himself readily of the opportunity of learning the plans of
the detective. Fanks had no hesitation in confiding them to him, as,
foreseeing that Garth would be necessary to the elucidation of the
mystery, he wished to interest him in the case as much as possible. He
was well aware that Garth was not the man to give up an idea when once
it had fixed itself in his head, and his present idea was to
investigate the mystery of his cousin's death. With characteristic
wisdom Fanks, who never wasted a person or an opportunity, made use of
this new factor in the case to further his own ends. Such economies
aided his frequent successes in no small degree.
"What are your plans?" asked Garth, taking advantage of the
permission.
"As yet I cannot be certain of them; but, so far as I can see at
present, they include the search and examination of chambers and
valet, a conversation with the landlady of the Red Star, a visit to
Taxton-on-Thames, and an interview with Dr. Renshaw."
"Why with the latter gentleman?"
"Because Renshaw is too confidential with Mrs. Boazoph, because he was
too conveniently on the spot at the time of the murder for my liking;
and, finally, because Renshaw had a cut-and-dried theory of the motive
of the crime prepared on the instant."
"You don't trust the man?"
"I think that his conduct is suspicious; but I do not accuse him of
anything--as yet."
"He does not look a man to be feared," said Garth, disbelievingly; "he
was very timid in giving his evidence at the inquest."
"That is one reason why I mistrust him. Dr. Renshaw is acting a part,
but I am unable to say whether he is mixed up in this especial affair.
I have my suspicions, but, as you know, I never like to speak unless
certain."
Garth looked curiously at the detective.
"You hint at the guilt of Mrs. Boazoph," he said, doubtfully.
"Do I? Then I should hold my tongue. There is no doubt that the negro
committed the crime in the way that I told you of. But I believe that
he acted as the agent of a third party--not Mrs. Boazoph. I wish to
find out that party to hang him or her as an accessory before the
fact."
"You can't hang him or her."
"Perhaps not; but I can imprison him or her."
"Do you think that Mrs. Boazoph knows the motive of the crime?"
Fanks reflected.
"Yes, I think she does," he said, quietly; "it is my belief that the
motive for which you and I are searching is to be found in the past
life of Mrs. Boazoph."
"Her past is known to the police, is it not?"
"It is known for the last twenty years only. She appeared in London
twenty-one years ago, but who she is and where she came from, the
police know no more than you do."
"Then how can the motive be found in----"
"Garth," said Fanks, pausing, and touching the other with his finger,
"I have presentiments and premonitions; these rarely deceive me. In
this instance they point to Mrs. Boazoph. Do not ask me why, for I can
tell you no more. But I am sure that we are going forward on a dark
path; at the end of that path we will find--Mrs. Boazoph."
"I never thought that you were so superstitious, Fanks."
"I do not regard myself as so, I assure you. But," and here Fanks
became emphatic, "I believe in my instinct, in my presentiment."
Garth walked along in silence, rather inclined to ridicule the
apparent weakness of Fanks. However, he judged it wiser to keep these
thoughts to himself, and merely asked another question relative to the
negro.
"I am at a loss about the negro," said Fanks, "as I do not know where
to search for him. Under these circumstances I think it necessary to
follow the clue I hold in my hand. The going of your dead cousin to
Tooley's Alley to keep his appointment."
"How do you know that it was an appointment?"
"I learnt that much from Mrs. Boazoph. She said that the white man
came first and was asked for by the black man. That is an appointment,
and I wish to find out who made it."
"How can you discover that?"
"Well, I hope to do so by searching the chambers of your cousin. There
must be a letter or some sign whereby Fellenger knew where to meet the
negro."
"The letter may have been destroyed."
"Possibly. From your knowledge of your cousin's character would you
think it probable that he would destroy the letter making the
appointment?"
"No," said Garth, after a moment's thought. "If the appointment was
made within the last month I should think that the letter was still in
existence."
"On what ground?" asked Fanks, eagerly.
"Well, Gregory used to read all his letters and then drop them into
the drawer of his desk. At the end of the month he went through the
pile, and the letters that were worth nothing were destroyed. So if
that letter making the appointment is in existence it will be in the
drawer of the desk."
"Good! This is a chance I hardly hoped to have."
"Chance again?"
"Yes; chance again," replied Fanks, good-humouredly. "How many men
burn their letters; but for the fortunate circumstance that your
cousin saved his for a month it would be almost hopeless to think of
gaining a clue; but now there is more than a hope."
"Provided that the appointment was made by letter."
"Of course," assented Fanks, gravely; "we must always take that into
consideration. But a question on my side. Did it strike you at the
inquest that there was a resemblance between Doctors Renshaw and
Binjoy?"
"I can't say that it did. Renshaw is much older than Binjoy, and he
wears a full beard, whereas Binjoy is shaven clean. Still they are
both burly; both have fine voices, and indulge in long words and
stately Johnsonian dialogue. You surely do not think the two men are
one and the same?"
"I have such an idea," said Fanks, dryly, "strange as it may appear.
But as my opinion is mainly founded on your description I may be
wrong. At all events Renshaw goes to India next week. If I find Binjoy
in the company of Sir Louis Fellenger after Renshaw's departure, I
shall admit my error. Otherwise--well, I must get to the bottom of the
matter."
"I have only seen each of them once," said Garth, "so do not depend
altogether on my powers of description."
"I won't. I depend on nothing but my own eyesight. For instance, if I
see a black man wearing a green overcoat with brass buttons, I shall
have a reasonable suspicion that I see the assassin of your cousin.
Hullo! what is the matter?"
For Garth was leaning against the iron railings of Green Park with a
look of dread on his face.
"By heaven, Fanks, you may be right!"
"About what?"
"About Renshaw and Binjoy being one and the same man."
"Indeed; what makes you think so," asked Fanks, dryly.
"Because Binjoy has a negro servant who wears a green coat with brass
buttons."