A SINGULAR DISMISSAL
Perhaps it may be wondered why I didn’t at once make a frank statement
of my part in the mystery to my kind-hearted chief and throw myself on
his mercy.
I was withheld by more than one reason. In the first place I couldn’t
feel sure that I should be believed. I had no means of proving my
innocence. The circumstantial evidence against me was as strong as
it could be. I had the strongest motive to kill the monster who was
trying to put my secret to the basest use; I had been on the spot, and
been there in disguise; and I had given him a drug which was only less
dangerous than the one that had caused his death. Who would believe
that I had stopped short there? And Sir Frank Tarleton had shown by
this time that he did not believe me. To him, as to everyone else, it
must appear evident that the man who was prepared to commit a crime in
defence of a woman would be prepared to tell a lie as well.
Then, again, the relations between my chief and me were not merely
private ones. Both of us were Government officials, and I owed my own
post to his recommendation. His official conscience might well be
different from his private one. He might be willing to make excuses for
me personally, and yet feel it his duty to report to the Department we
both served that I was no longer worthy of its confidence.
And, lastly, there was the consideration that had controlled my action
all along. My secret was Violet’s secret. To no living being had I
a right to tell it without her consent. That consent I need not say
no peril to myself would have tempted me to ask. The only question I
now put to myself was whether I ought not to put her on her guard by
letting her know what I had come to fear.
I slept, or tried to sleep, that night without coming to my decision.
In the morning Sir Frank extracted from the pile of letters beside his
plate on the breakfast-table one with an earl’s coronet on the flap of
the envelope.
He did not show me the contents, but said carelessly, “I shall be out
to lunch. Lord Ledbury is anxious to see me in John Street.”
The news decided me. Before Violet was exposed to any further
questioning from my shrewd chief she must be warned how things stood.
I couldn’t complain of not being included in the invitation. In Lord
Ledbury’s eyes naturally I was a mere subordinate, only acting under
Tarleton’s orders.
There was another letter that interested the consultant more than the
Earl’s. It came from New Scotland Yard.
“Sarah Neobard and her mother have gone abroad,” he remarked with
something like satisfaction. “Charles has sent a man after them. They
seem to have gone to Paris. You must have frightened that young woman
rather badly.”
I forced my wandering mind back to the subject of the letters. Had they
come into Sarah’s hands, and, if so, had she taken them with her? After
all, this was a more pressing matter than any danger of mine.
“Will it be possible for them to hide in Paris?” I asked anxiously.
The specialist shook his head.
“Charles knows his business--up to a certain point. Depend on it a
smart officer will have been there to meet them at the Gare du Nord, if
the French police were notified in time. I don’t think there is much
chance of two Englishwomen slipping between the fingers of the Paris
detective force.”
“Then what will be the next step?” I inquired vaguely.
“I shall leave for Paris by to-night’s mail.”
The announcement was made curtly. The day before it was I who had
been charged with this part of the case. I was to have interviewed
Mrs. Weathered and appealed to her womanly feelings on behalf of her
husband’s victims. Now it seemed that my chief had changed his mind,
and intended to see her himself. I dared not even ask if I was to go
with him. A shadow had fallen between us which it was not for me to
pierce.
I held my tongue, and went on quietly with my breakfast. The
consultant went through his mail, passing on to me such letters as I
was accustomed to deal with on his behalf--requests for appointments
and consultations with other doctors, and so forth. There was no sign
that he had withdrawn his confidence in me except when the mystery of
the Domino Club was concerned.
The meal was just over when a loud summons at the front door was
followed by the entrance of Tarleton’s man showing in Inspector Charles.
The Inspector was in a state of excitement. In his hand he carried a
newspaper which he waved at us both.
“Have you seen this morning’s paper?” he called out before the door was
closed. “The advertisement in the Agony Column?”
Tarleton glanced at me before answering, and I remembered his
prediction to Lord Ledbury as he spoke.
“What, have they got to work already? What does it say?”
Captain Charles read out from the paper in a round, commanding voice:
“Dr. Weathered, deceased. Any patients of the late Dr. Weathered
desiring to have their letters to him returned are requested to apply,
mentioning number, to Messrs. James, Halliday and James, Solicitors,
Carmichael House, Chancery Lane, E.C.4.” He did not spare us even the 4.
Sir Frank nodded approvingly. “Very well worded, very well worded,
indeed. It sounds like a perfectly respectable offer.”
It sounded so to me. But the Inspector was puzzled.
“What does it mean?” he exclaimed. “Why should they advertise? Why not
return the letters at once, or write to the patients? And why should
they want to know the exact numbers?”
“Ah, that is part of the case that I haven’t had an opportunity of
going into with you yet, Charles. Won’t you sit down. The fact is, I
have been rather expecting some approach of this kind. Dr. Cassilis and
I have ascertained that Weathered induced some of his patients to write
him letters of a rather compromising kind. The arrangement was that the
letters should be signed with a number instead of a name, probably they
bore no address. The object of this advertisement is to find out who
the writers are. The demand for money will come later.”
“Blackmail!” the Inspector gasped in horror.
“I’m afraid so. An honest person who had found such a correspondence
would have burnt it. You see now one of my reasons for not dropping the
case to oblige that Crown Prince of Slavonia.”
One of the reasons only. I had little doubt as to another. Captain
Charles looked extremely subdued.
“I had no idea of anything like this in the background, I needn’t
say, Sir Frank. I will look up these solicitors at once. Chancery
Lane--there are better addresses than that, and there are worse.
Unless you have anything else to advise.”
“I should advise you to find out what you can about the solicitors,
certainly. But I doubt if they are in possession of the letters. I
shouldn’t be surprised if the letters were in Paris by this time.”
Captain Charles struck his forehead.
“Of course! The widow has carried them abroad to be out of reach in
case of trouble. It was fortunate that we heard of their flight so
soon. We know where they are already. They have some smart men in the
Rue Jerusalem.”
“I shall be glad if you will write me a line of introduction to the
French police,” Tarleton responded. “By the way, have you secured me
that finger-print yet?”
“I have it here, Sir Frank.” The Inspector took out a substantial
pocket-book and extracted a mounted photograph, which my chief slipped
into his own pocket without giving it a glance. Charles looked as if he
were as much in the dark as I was as to the meaning of this proceeding.
“It may come in useful,” was all the consultant said. “But you were
going to tell us where Mrs. Weathered and her daughter were hiding.”
“They don’t seem to be hiding, that’s the curious part of it. Perhaps
they don’t understand the law about extradition. They’ve put up at
a respectable hotel on Cook’s list, a hotel swarming with English
tourists, the Hotel St. Catherine in the Rue Tivoli.”
Tarleton knitted his brows at this intelligence. “We don’t know yet the
reason for their flight, if it is a flight,” he observed thoughtfully.
“We have nothing against either of them so far, remember.”
He drew out his mascot and played with it gently for a minute while
Charles and I watched him in keen suspense. Suddenly he looked up and
spoke to the Inspector in a brisk voice.
“We mustn’t lose time. Some unfortunate victim may be answering that
advertisement already. Luckily, I have come across one of Weathered’s
correspondents whose letters to him were quite innocent,--that Mrs.
Baker your man reported on for me. I want you to see her at once,
using my name if necessary, and get her authority to deal with these
solicitors on her behalf. Ask for the letters first, and if they make
some excuse for not parting with them, ask who is instructing them. If
they refuse to give you their client’s name we shall know the worst.”
It seemed to me that we knew the worst already, if my chief was right.
As he had said, an honest woman, finding such letters after her
husband’s death, would have put them in the fire. It was more than ever
imperative that I should see Violet at once. She might have read the
advertisement by now, and taken it in good faith.
Directly after Captain Charles had left us I made some excuse for going
out on business, and hailed the first taxi I saw. It was still early
when I got to John Street, Mayfair, where the Earl of Ledbury’s modest
town house stood. The door was opened by the same man whom I had made a
friend of down at Tyberton, and I was careful to confirm the friendship
in the surest way. He was much more smartly dressed on this occasion,
and everything about the house indicated that Lord Ledbury had taken
Tarleton’s advice to heart, and was preparing to give his daughter her
proper position in the fashionable world.
Violet, too, was changed. Her dress was still a little lacking in those
touches which only the most expensive houses can impart, but she bore
herself quite differently. Her father’s new-born care for her had given
her confidence, and done something to banish the look of hopelessness
and resignation I had last seen on her face. I hate to confess it, but
glad as I was on her account I felt a little sorry on my own. The old
gulf between us I was beginning to hope had shrunk, but now a new one
seemed to have opened. Who was I, what was plain Bertrand Cassilis,
M.D., that he should venture to go on loving the bright star set high
above him in the social firmament?
“I think I know why you have come,” was her greeting. She did not offer
me her white hand. “They are offering to return those letters. I can’t
tell you how thankful I shall be.”
It was what I had feared. I would have given anything to leave her in
ignorance, but the risk was too great.
“Have you answered the advertisement yet?” I asked.
“Not yet. I was tempted to go there at once, but I thought I had better
consult you first. Why, is there anything wrong?”
She must have seen there was by this time from my air. Yet at that very
moment the knowledge that she had thought of me, that she had put her
trust in me and no one else, made my courage rise; and I answered her
with a boldness that surprised myself.
“Thank Heaven for that! I came here the first moment I could to warn
you to take no notice of that advertisement. It shows that they don’t
know whom the letters are from, or they would have written to you
direct. Trust me; the matter is in good hands; those letters shall
either be returned to you or destroyed unread, I swear it.”
“Thank you, Bertrand. I do trust you. I know it isn’t your fault if
they haven’t been destroyed already.”
The words rolled a great burden from my heart. I was on the point of
murmuring that I hadn’t deserved her trust, but some instinct bade me
refrain from the least reference to the past. I believed that the sad
old wound was beginning to heal, and that the best chance for both of
us was to bury the past in silence, and never to conjure up its ghost
by one single word.
Already Violet was forgetting her own trouble to think of mine. She
went on before I had found anything to say.
“But what about yourself? Has anything more been discovered about the
murder?”
It was necessary for me to tell her what I feared. “We have found what
caused Weathered’s death,” I answered. “It was a poison that only Sir
Frank Tarleton knew of. He recognized the symptoms from the first, and
now he has found out where it was obtained from.” And I briefly related
the story of the stolen bottle.
Violet looked relieved when she had heard it.
“Then he must have stolen the bottle himself. Did he commit suicide, do
you think?”
“I’m afraid that’s not what Sir Frank thinks. Unless I am mistaken he
suspects me of having taken the bottle from Mrs. Baker. His manner
towards me has quite changed. He is going to Paris to-night on the
track of the letters, but he isn’t taking me with him.”
I had alarmed her more than I meant. She uttered a cry of despair.
“Bertrand! It isn’t true! Will he have you arrested? Shall you be----”
She began to sob.
“No, no; it isn’t as bad as that. There’s not going to be any arrest if
the police can help it. Any way, I don’t believe Sir Frank would let
them arrest me. But I shall have to resign my post, I expect, and I
may have to leave the country.”
She looked at me through her tears. “That will be almost as bad, won’t
it?”
It was all I could do to keep from answering, “Not if you come with
me.” But I could not take advantage of her like that.
“I shall always have my profession,” I said. “Sir Frank has confidence
in me as a doctor, I know. But I didn’t mean to distress you like this.
I shouldn’t have said anything to you about it, but Sir Frank is coming
here to lunch to-day, and I was afraid he might find out something from
you.”
“Surely you didn’t think that,” she protested. “You don’t think I
should betray you. If you had killed that villain it would have been
for my sake. And he deserved to be killed.”
My heart glowed within me. I spoke out.
“And I would have killed him if I had seen no other way. No, I
didn’t think for a moment that you would give me away knowingly; but
Tarleton is a past master in the art of sounding people and extracting
information from them unawares. I only wanted to put you on your guard,
lest you should think that you could trust him as a friend of mine.”
“I certainly thought he was. He looked so kind and good,” Violet said
thoughtfully.
Perhaps I was a little irritated. “He impresses all women in that way,”
I said with a touch of jealousy. “I could see that he admired you.”
Violet’s eyes brightened. “I must try to make a friend of him. If I let
him see that--that I should be sorry if any harm came to anyone through
me, perhaps that may influence him.”
I ought to have been very grateful, but I’m afraid my response was
lacking in warmth.
“Don’t tell him I have been here,” I said as I rose to go. And she
smiled at me rather pathetically as she promised.
I had a rather dismal lunch by myself, wondering what was passing at
Lord Ledbury’s. When I saw Tarleton again I was staggered by his gay
appearance. He had blossomed out in a new coat and a white waistcoat
and a fancy tie. Most wonderful of all, the shabby black ribbon by
which he was so fond of swinging his watch had been replaced by a
brilliant gold chain that I had never seen before. It was evident that
he had decked himself to make an impression in John Street.
He had not long been back when we had another call from Captain
Charles. He came in looking grave, and greeted my chief with increased
respect.
“I have been to Chancery Lane, as you advised, Sir Frank, and seen the
principal. There is only one. The names in the advertisement are bogus
ones, unless he bought the good-will of some old firm going out of
business. The man’s real name is Stillman. I saw it on his notepaper.
And he strikes me as hot stuff.”
“What did he say?”
“It was just what you expected. Made an excuse for not giving me Mrs.
Baker’s letters. Said he was only authorized to hand them over to the
writer in person. And when I asked who was instructing him, said he
wasn’t authorized to give his client’s name.”
Tarleton shrugged his shoulders.
“Clever, very clever,” he repeated. “There’s nothing for you to take
hold of, so far. If you go back again with Mrs. Baker you will put him
in a corner, and very likely her letters will be given up, as they
contain nothing serious. It’s a nasty business.”
“What had we better do?”
“Do nothing till you hear from me again. I am off to Paris to-night,
and when I come back I shall know where the letters are, if I don’t
bring them back with me.”
The Inspector bowed himself out quite meekly. My curiosity prompted me
to venture on a rash question.
“Do you think it possible that Miss Neobard has the letters?”
My chief swung himself slowly round in his chair and gave me a steady
look, under which I quailed inwardly.
“I don’t think I ought to tell you, Cassilis. It seems to me that you
are an interested party.”
So my fear had been well grounded. I listened breathlessly for more.
“From the beginning of this investigation you have shown a bias that
is fatal in one who is playing the part of a detective, or aspiring
to play it. A man in your position should be absolutely impartial. He
should not let himself be swayed for a moment by personal prejudices
or personal preferences. Now you have all along showed a disposition
to screen Lady Violet Bredwardine. You have made excuses for her to
me, and you have defended her to others. At the same time you have
shown an inclination to think the worst of Sarah Neobard. And your
animus against her came out most strongly when she showed herself Lady
Violet’s enemy.”
What could I say? I was only too thankful that he had spared me any
reference to the omission of Violet’s name from the list I had copied
for Inspector Charles. That was a clear breach of duty, as I had to
admit to myself.
Sir Frank’s voice was perfectly bland as he continued:
“Lady Violet is worthy of any man’s admiration, and I am quite as
determined as you are to protect her from any dastardly use of her
correspondence. I should not have blamed you severely for anything you
might have done for her protection if you had been acting in a private
capacity. But you are here in a responsible position. You owe it to the
Home Office and to me to conduct the inquiry into this murder without
fear or favour, whatever may be the consequences, and whoever may be
guilty. You must ask yourself if you have done so.”
I am afraid I asked myself instead how much he really knew. So far he
had made no definite accusation. He had charged me with nothing but a
display of personal sympathy and antipathy, a charge which it would
have been foolish to deny.
“It is a question of temperament, it seems to me,” pursued the
consultant in the same even tones. “Sympathy is a valuable quality in
a doctor, but it is fatal in a criminal investigator. I think I made a
mistake in inviting you to enter the Government service. You would get
on better in private practice.”
The blow had fallen and I had only to make the best of it. “Of course,
I am in your hands, sir. If that is your opinion I will send in my
resignation.”
Australia, Canada, South Africa passed before my mind’s eye as I spoke,
as possible refuges for a penniless medico. I could not hope for
anything in England after being practically dismissed from the Home
Office.
My prompt offer, however, seemed to have greatly softened my judge.
“We will talk of that after I have come back from Paris,” he said
kindly. “For your own sake I don’t advise any sudden step. And there
is Lady Violet to consider. As I said before, you have acted as her
champion. Anything like a public slur on you, or an admission on your
part that you were to blame, would be certain to give her pain, even if
it didn’t reflect on her. She spoke of you to me this morning in a very
friendly way.”
Poor Violet. So she had done the very worst thing she could have done
in my interest. To praise a young man to an elderly admirer--what other
result could it have but to ensure his being driven from the field?
I was too much cast down to make any response to Sir Frank’s well-meant
advice, beyond a silent bow. He was as friendly as ever the next
minute, invited me to come to Charing Cross to see him off, and shook
my hand cordially at parting. I preferred to walk home afterwards,
dreading the dull hours till bedtime. So miserable was I that, when I
came in, I should have gone straight upstairs without looking to see
if there were any letters for me if I had not been arrested by a faint
fragrance that had many memories for me.
I looked down, and there was a delicate blue envelope beckoning me by
name.
DEAR BERTRAND,
I write at once to tell you that you have nothing to fear from dear
Sir Frank. He spoke of you most highly to my father, said you had a
distinguished career before you, and that he would not take £3,000 a
year for your practice in a few years’ time.
Yours,
VIOLET.