EXIT DR. RENSHAW.
Fanks had gained some useful information from the lawyer, and it would
appear that the conversation had settled, at least, two important
points in the case. Of these the first was that Sir Louis could not
have had anything to do with the commission of the crime, or the
leaving of the parcel at the chambers in Half Moon Street. Yet the
needle had been prepared by a man learned in experimental chemistry;
and, as that was the special study of the new baronet, it might be
that he was responsible for the preparation of that deadly instrument.
By the death of his cousin he had gained a fortune; therefore that
might stand as a motive for the committal of the crime. But Sir Louis
had been ill for some months; he had been confined to bed, therefore
he could not have been in London on the night of the murder; nor later
on--being still in bed--could he have deposited the needle in the
letter box. Clearly, the case against Louis broke down entirely.
As for Binjoy, he also had not been in town for six weeks. If this
were so, he could not be identical with Renshaw, in which case the
suspicions entertained by the detective could not fail to prove
groundless. Then again, the fact that Binjoy had a negro servant
habited like the assassin--also a black man--was highly suspicious.
Binjoy might have instructed the negro to slay, and himself have
remained at Taxton-on-Thames in attendance on Sir Louis. But then what
could be his motive for the perpetration of so terrible a crime? Fanks
sought for this motive.
In the first place, he noted that the absence of Louis from town on
that night was deposed to by Binjoy; in the same way Louis said that
Binjoy had not left Taxton-on-Thames for six weeks. Both these
statements had been made to Fanks by Vaud. It would then appear that
Louis and the doctor were in collusion to obtain the property of
Gregory by procuring his death at the hands of the negro. But even
this theory failed to discover, or point out, who was the man who had
called to leave the parcel at Half Moon Street. The constable had
asserted positively that no negro had gone up the stairs. If then the
messenger was not the negro, it was either Binjoy or Sir Louis. Mr.
Vaud said that the one was ill, the other in attendance. Thus the case
stood when Fanks left the office of Vaud and Vaud; and he felt utterly
unable to cope with the intricacies which met him on every hand. There
seemed no way in or out.
Yet in the face of the presumption that Renshaw was not the double of
Binjoy, the detective determined to follow up that clue. He did not
like the way in which the doctor had behaved, either in the chamber of
death, or at the inquest; he was suspicious of his apparent intimacy
with Mrs. Boazoph: therefore, for his own gratification, he went to
Great Auk Street to interview the man, and to see whether his
suspicions had any foundation in fact. On arriving at the house he was
unable to decide on his next action, but before he left it again he
had determined what to do.
A stupid-looking man-servant received Fanks, and took him into a dull
waiting room, while he went to inform Dr. Renshaw of the name of his
visitor. In a few moments he returned and conducted the detective to
the back of the house, where he found Renshaw waiting for him in the
company of another man. This latter was Dr. Turnor, for whom Renshaw
had been acting as "locum tenens;" a lean, little man with a ferret of
a face, and a sharp, jerky way of speaking which must have been
exceedingly irritating in a sickroom. Renshaw was more imposing in
looks than ever, and, with habitual restlessness, combed his long,
brown beard with his fingers; but in the badly-lighted room Fanks
could not find out if the beard was false. So closely did Renshaw
resemble Garth's description of Binjoy, that notwithstanding
Vaud's evidence, Fanks was on the alert to discover if--as he truly
believed--the two were one and the same. The ensuing conversation was
likely to prove interesting in more ways than one.
After being introduced to Fanks, and acknowledging the introduction
with a sour smile, Turnor arose to leave the room. He was stopped by
Renshaw, who evidently did not relish the idea of facing a difficult
interview by himself. Another proof, as Fanks considered, of his
uneasy conscience.
"Pray do not depart, Turnor," he said, in his usual pompous manner. "I
have no secrets from you. I trust, Mr. Fanks, that you see no
objection in my adopting this course?"
"Certainly, I see no objection," replied Fanks, quietly. "Let Dr.
Turnor stay by all means. I have nothing particular to say."
Turnor, who had resumed his chair, looked up at this, and Renshaw
stared at his visitor with pompous indignation.
"Then why are you here, sir?" he demanded in a more confident tone.
Fanks shrugged his shoulders. "Really, I cannot tell you, unless it is
because you left a message at my office that you wished to see me."
"I did so in fulfilment of my promise to communicate with you before
leaving London."
"Indeed! So you think of starting again on your travels? You will like
that much better than staying in London."
"There is no reason why I should not like to stay in London," said
Renshaw, with an angry glance.
"No reason in the world, that I can see."
"I am going out to India--to Bombay. I proceed to Aden by the
'Oceana,' and there I exchange into the 'Cylde.'"
"It is really very good of you to tell me all this, doctor," said
Fanks, ironically; "I trust that you will have a pleasant voyage."
Renshaw looked nonplussed and a trifle disappointed at the coolness of
the detective. It was Fank's intention to bring about this feeling;
for if Renshaw had nothing to do with the crime, if he was not
masquerading under a false name, the detective did not see that it was
necessary to make these elaborate explanations. It seemed to Fanks
that Renshaw's anxiety to bestow gratuitous information as to his
movements had its root in a design to mislead the police.
Notwithstanding the assurances of Vaud, his suspicions of Renshaw
revived in full force under this clumsy diplomacy; and he bent his
energies to get to the bottom of the matter. To this end he affected
indifference, and gave Renshaw plenty of rope with which to hang
himself.
"Am I to understand that I am free to go?" demanded the stout doctor,
in a highly dramatic manner.
"I suppose so; this is a free country."
"You do not think--my friend--any knowledge--murder?" jerked Turnor,
as he looked eagerly at Fanks.
The detective saw the eagerness and wondered. "Hallo! my friend," he
thought, "are you in this also?" However, he answered the question in
the calmest manner. "I was not aware that I had made any accusation
against Dr. Renshaw," was his suave reply.
"But I have been watched," cried Renshaw; "watched like a criminal."
"You don't say so," said Fanks, imperturbably. "And who is watching
you? And why have you been watched?"
The two doctors looked at one another, and, from a covert sign made by
Turnor to Renshaw, the detective became convinced that there was an
understanding between them. He guessed that the sign hinted at the
conclusion of the interview, and this interpretation proved correct.
Turnor rose and jerked out an apology.
"Mistake!" said the little man. "Told Renshaw--moonshine--no watching.
Hope you'll catch--murderer."
"I have little hope of that," said Fanks, dolefully. "He has concealed
his trail too cleverly," and he chuckled inwardly as he saw the two
faces brighten.
"Well! well! well! We will say no more, Mr. Fanks," said Renshaw, in a
patronising tone. "I deemed it my duty to let you know that I go to
India to-night. I shall not return to England for many years, as I
propose exploring Thibet. Good evening; I am delighted that my fears
that I was being watched have proved to be groundless."
But Fanks was not to be got rid of so easily. He wished to ask Turnor
a few questions, for he believed that the little man knew all about
this mysterious Renshaw. However, he made his examination carefully,
as he did not wish to startle the pair, but rather to lull their
suspicions, so that he might the more easily carry out his plans. He
had already decided upon his next step.
"You were not in London at the time of the murder, Dr. Turnor?" he
asked.
"No," replied the doctor, promptly. "If I had been, I should have been
summoned by Mrs. Boazoph. As it was, Renshaw went."
"Yes, I saw Renshaw," said Fanks; "and I believe that he was right in
his theory that the crime was due to a secret society."
"What makes you agree with my theory?" said Renshaw, quickly.
"Well," drawled Fanks, keeping an eye on both men, "you see I can't
find out the meaning of that tattooed cross. It must be the work of a
society, else it would not have been obliterated. If I could only find
out what that cross means I would hang someone." Renshaw wiped the
perspiration off his bald forehead and laughed in an uneasy manner. "I
wish I could help you," he said, "but I know nothing about the cross,
or the society."
"And what do you say, Dr. Turnor?"
"Nothing--was away on that night. Read about cross--papers. Queer."
Fanks saw plainly enough that the pair were on their guard, and that
there was nothing more to be got, out of them. The only thing to be
done was to watch and wait the progress of events. With this idea he
said goodbye, and took his departure. Once outside and he made up his
mind that Renshaw should be tracked. His anxiety to show that he was
leaving England appeared to be suspicious, and Fanks concluded that he
did not intend to go as he had so emphatically declared.
"I shouldn't be surprised to find that he was Binjoy after all,"
thought the detective. "He professes a deal too much, and his friend
Turnor is a deal too eager. I shouldn't wonder if the pair were in
league. However, I have thrown them both off their guard. Now I'll
play my own game. I'll find out the owner of that silver needle yet,
and then I'll punish its owner. I wonder," added Fanks, with a silent
laugh, "I wonder whether the criminal will prove to be black or
white?"
With this peculiar remark he went in search of the detective whose
duty it was to guard the house, and rated himself severely. "You have
let yourself be seen," said Fanks. "Have you not more sense than to
play the fool? Keep yourself out of sight; remain here until I send
another watcher, and report yourself at the Yard."
The detective, much abashed, tried to exculpate himself, but Fanks
would not listen to his excuses. He hurried to New Scotland Yard,
picked out a smart man, and instructed him to relieve the disgraced
watcher, and to follow Renshaw to the Docks.
"And then, sir?" asked the man.
"Then if Renshaw goes on board the steamer you will report the fact to
me without loss of time."
"Am I to come back here, Mr. Fanks?"
"No; I shall be at the Docks in disguise. If you see a clergyman
holding a white handkerchief in his right hand you will see me. If you
are doubtful ask the clergyman what the time is, and you will be safe
as to my identity. Off with you, and send that fool back to Mr.
Crate."
"What are you about to do, Mr. Fanks?" asked Crate, when the man had
gone.
"Learn if Renshaw is lying or not. I'll see if he boards the steamer
at the Docks, and find out if he has taken a passage to Bombay--a fact
which at present I am much inclined to doubt."
"And if he goes on board the steamer?"
"In that case I'll follow him as far as Plymouth to make sure that he
does not get off there."
"If he doesn't?"
"I shall know that he has nothing to do with this murder."
"And if he does get off at Plymouth?"
"Why," said Fanks, rubbing his hands, "I shall track him to Mere Hall
in Hampshire."
Crate looked astonished, for he could by no means follow the thoughts
of his superior. "How do you know that he will go there?" he demanded
in a disbelieving manner.
"Because if Dr. Renshaw leaves the steamer at Plymouth under that name
I shall find him at Mere Hall as Dr. Binjoy."