THE LETTER
What Fuller meant exactly when he suggested to Marie that there was now
a clue to the truth may be gathered from one of the frequent
conversations he held on the subject with his friend. Fuller had much
to say when he returned to town from his week-end visit to Belstone,
but for some little time he did not find a favorable moment for an
exhaustive talk. He certainly gave Dick a few hints as to what he had
learned, and spoke more or less in a desultory manner, but Latimer’s
time was so fully taken up with journalism that the matter was not
discussed thoroughly until the middle of the week. And even then the
chance came about in a somewhat unexpected way, as Alan took the
opportunity to detain the reporter when he strolled into the Chancery
Lane office for a few minutes. Dick had stated that he was off the
chain for a time, and simply wished for a smoke and a rest.
“You can fire away with your work, old son,” said Latimer, taking
possession of the client’s chair. “I sha’n’t bother you.”
“This affair of the peacock bothers me a deal more than you do,”
retorted the solicitor, “and I am glad to get you to myself for a few
minutes to talk it over. Hitherto you have always rushed off when I
wanted you.”
“Humanity demands my services, Alan,” said Dick ironically, “and I have
to earn a ridiculously small income by attending to the squalling of
brother man. However, I am at your disposal for one entire hour, so you
can burble to your heart’s content.”
“There is much more than burbling in this matter,” rejoined the other
man gravely. “You don’t take so much interest in this matter as I
expected you to, Dick, considering our first conversation on the
matter.”
Latimer, with a lighted match held over the filled bowl of his pipe,
looked up quickly. “Oh, but I do, my son. I am very interested indeed,
and if you have things to tell me, as I gather from what you have let
drop since you came back from the country, I have information also.”
“What about?”
“First your story and then mine,” said Dick imperturbably. “All things
in order, old boy. I suppose none of your confounded clients will come
in to interrupt.”
“I don’t think so. Things are slack just now, and I am rather glad that
they are, as I shall have time to attend to the Rotherhithe matter.”
Dick grunted and shook himself, looking like a huge good-natured bear
in the fur overcoat which the bitter cold of the December day demanded.
“I don’t see the use of your bothering about the business unless you
are legally retained to thresh it out. Why waste your time?”
“Far from wasting my time,” said Alan quietly, “the solution of this
mystery means that Miss Inderwick may acquire a large fortune.”
“And you, by marrying Miss Inderwick, will gain possession of the same
along with a tolerably pretty young woman,” said Latimer dryly.
Fuller’s dark eyes flashed. “She’s the loveliest girl in the world,” he
cried vehemently, “and you know it.”
“I ought to, since you have told me as much as fifty times. But I say,
your hint of a large fortune sounds interesting. How much?”
“One hundred to two hundred thousand pounds.”
Dick whistled. “The deuce. We are playing with crowns and kingdoms it
seems, old son. Fire away. I’m all attention, in the hope that some of
the cash may come into my pockets.”
Alan took no notice of this flippant remark, but went into the outer
office to tell his clerk that he would be engaged for one hour. As a
solicitor with a small but certain practice Fuller only enjoyed the
ownership of two dingy rooms very badly lighted and still more badly
furnished. His inner sanctum only contained a large writing-table, a
green-painted iron safe, a shabby bookcase filled with law volumes
bound in calf, and a few cane-bottomed chairs. A window with a slanting
silvered glass outside to attract the light and reflect it into the
dark room, was opposite the door, and beside it was a small grate in
which at the present moment burned an equally small fire. Alan returned
and seated himself beside this, taking out his pipe to enjoy the hour
during which “he sported his oak,” as the phrase goes. Dick grunted and
sucked at his briar in an opposite chair, waiting for Fuller to open
the conversation.
“I told you that Miss Inderwick had given me a clue,” began Alan, but
was cut short by his friend.
“Why not ‘Marie’ to me, my haughty solicitor?”
“By all means,” said Fuller readily, “since I keep nothing from you.
But I have fallen so much into the habit of speaking stiffly about
Marie to outsiders, so as to prevent old Sorley from interfering, that
I forget how implicitly I can trust you.”
“I sha’n’t say a word about your wooing to the man, if that’s what you
mean,” growled Dick, “but if you talk of ‘Miss Inderwick’ I shall
expect you to call me ‘Mr. Latimer.’”
“Oh, hang your nonsense. Let us get to business.”
“How can we when you talk all round the shop?” protested Dick, raising
his eyebrows. “Well, go on. You hinted to me that you spoke to Marie
about the peacock.”
“I did, but not to Mr. Sorley.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t trust him.”
“Why not?” inquired Latimer once more and very stolidly.
“Now you ask me a question which is not easy to answer,” said Alan,
looking meditatively into the fire. “I can give no reason for my
mistrust since, so far as I know, Sorley is straight enough on the
whole.”
“Well then, if he is straight, why mistrust him?”
“I said on the whole he is straight; but he does certain things of
which I do not approve.”
“Such as stopping your wooing,” chuckled the journalist. “Ho! Ho!”
“I rather refer to his selling certain valuable furniture which belongs
to Marie, and which I am pretty sure he has no right to dispose of.”
“It sounds crooked. But after all he is her guardian, and you don’t
know what power the will of her father gives him.”
“I mean to find that out by an examination of the will at Somerset
House, Dicky. Sorley enjoys Marie’s income and his own and has the
benefit of living at The Monastery rent free. He is, as you know, crazy
about jewels, and from what Marie tells me he uses all the cash to buy
them. She only has her clothes and a few shillings a week for pocket
money. But he never allows her to go into county society, nor does he
take her to town.”
Latimer removed his pipe and nodded. “He wants her to remain as a
flower unseen until she is of age. Then he will hand over the
accumulated money in the form of jewels, and will present her to an
astonished world when she come of age in a year and his guardianship
ceases.”
“Hum!” said Alan dubiously, “so you say. But my impressions are quite
different. It is my opinion that this precious guardian will not be
able to render an honest account of his stewardship, but, when required
to do so, will bolt with the jewels upon which he has squandered
Marie’s money and with the fortune of the peacock if he can find the
same.”
“Is there any difficulty in finding it, Alan?”
“Yes. In the first place the fortune is hidden and only by gaining
possession of the peacock can the clue be found to its whereabouts. And
in the second place, even if that bird——”
“The ooff-bird,” suggested Latimer vulgarly.
“If you like. But even if it is found there will be a difficulty in
reading its riddle.”
“Its riddle? Whatever do you mean?”
“What I say,” retorted Fuller impatiently. “The secret of the fortune
is connected with some secret writing which has to do with the
peacock.”
“But how can there be secret writing on a metal ornament?”
“I can’t say. I don’t know. There’s an enigma of some sort, a
cryptogram.”
“This is very interesting but patchy,” said Dick, readjusting his big
body in the chairs. “Suppose you tell me all from the beginning. Then I
might get a glimmer of what you exactly mean.”
“Very good, then don’t interrupt.” And Alan related the strange story
of George Inderwick and his faithful servant, who had preserved the
secret so faithfully indeed that not even the master had been able to
find the jewels. Latimer listened with great attention, and nodded when
the story was concluded with an air of satisfaction.
“It’s quite a romance,” he declared slowly, when Fuller waited for
comment, “and there is no doubt that the assassin stole the peacock by
murdering Grison in order to get the Begum’s gems. No man would have
been such a fool as to risk his neck otherwise for a paltry ornament.”
“I am not so sure of that, seeing how valuable the peacock is,”
rejoined the other doubtfully. “It is—as I learned from my father, who
saw this fetish of the Inderwicks—as large as a thrush; of pure gold
elaborately worked, and is studded with precious stones of more or less
price. The tail is spread out and is also jewelled. Now any of those
Lascars or Dagoes in Mother Slaig’s boarding-house would not mind
killing a man by cutting his throat to gain possession of such an
object.”
“Ah, but the man was not killed in that way. A seaman of whatever
nationality would cut a throat, but would not use a slender instrument
which scarcely drew any blood to get rid of Grison. The instrument
used—which has not been discovered, by the way—suggests a refined
criminal.”
“A slender instrument,” repeated Fuller musingly, “why not a stiletto
which an Italian would use? And there are Italian seamen, you know.”
Dick nodded. “There is something in that,” he admitted, “but we’ll let
that point alone for the time being. Evidently the peacock is worth
more than its intrinsic value to a man who can solve its mystery. Now
the question is, how did Grison get hold of the ornament?”
“I see no trouble in answering that, Dicky,” and again Alan told the
story: this time that one which dealt with Grison’s dismissal from his
post by Sorley on a charge of forgery, and with the visit of the sister
to the big house. Then he related how Miss Grison had spoken to her
host and also how she had talked about cryptograms. “Although,”
concluded Alan, “since I was talking to Marie at the time, I don’t
exactly know how she introduced that particular subject.”
“That she introduced it at all, shows two things,” said Latimer
decisively. “One, that she knew her brother stole the peacock; and two,
she was aware how he was searching for the solution of the cryptogram
connected with the bird in order to secure the gems.”
“But how could he have learned about the Begum’s treasure?” asked
Fuller.
“Undoubtedly in the same way as Marie did. Grison, as Sorley’s
secretary, must have found the manuscript and——”
“But if he found it, why did he not take it with him?”
“I can’t explain that. He would have done better had he secured it so
that no one else should learn the true value of the peacock. But it was
to get the gems that he stole the ornament, and perhaps told the story
in a moment of weakness to the third party who afterwards murdered him
for its possession. That’s what I think. Have you any reason to believe
that Sorley himself knows about the peacock cryptogram?”
Fuller jumped up and, laying down his pipe, began to pace the narrow
confines of the office. “Yes, I do, and for these reasons. In the first
place, Miss Grison would not have mentioned cryptograms to him without
she guessed that he knew something; in the second, when I boasted
purposely about my knowledge of secret writings, he would not have told
me that he had a cryptogram which would baffle my skill, as he
certainly did more or less; and in the third, Dicky, he would not have
been afraid of Miss Grison.”
“What do you mean by that exactly?”
“Well, Sorley told me that he hated Miss Grison and that she annoyed
him by saying that he had dismissed her brother unjustly and had
practically ruined his life. She walked into the house and all over the
house, and yet Sorley did not dare to object either to her taking such
a liberty or to her calling him names when Marie and I were present.
Also she asked about his motor cycle which I told you he had bought,
and inquired if he had been to London. He denied that he had, and she
sarcastically advised him not to go lest he should be knocked over in
the streets.”
“Then I infer,” said Dick, slowly removing his pipe, “that you believe
Miss Grison suspects Sorley of knowing both the secret of the peacock
and that it was in the possession of her brother. Also that he came up
to town by means of his motor cycle and murdered the man for its
possession?”
“Yes, I do infer as much,” said Fuller bluntly and returning to his
chair. “If Sorley has not the peacock, and does not know the story of
Ferrier, why should he speak to me about cryptograms?”
“But he only made an idle remark which was natural, seeing that Miss
Grison spoke of cryptograms, although I admit that it is strange she
should talk about them at all unless——”
“Exactly,” interrupted the solicitor, tilting back his chair so as to
get at the drawer of his writing-table; “unless she believes that he
murdered her brother and now possesses the peacock with an intention of
learning the cryptogram by employing me to solve it.”
“Sorley would scarcely do that when he knows that if he is guilty, such
a revelation of his possession of the peacock would condemn him.”
“You forget,” said Alan, who had extracted a letter from the drawer,
“that the fact of the murder being committed for the sake of the
peacock has not yet been made public. As I said, I told Marie, but I
did not tell Sorley because I mistrust him, and warned her not to do so
either. So if Miss Grison’s assumption is true Sorley will have no
hesitation in enlisting my services, or in showing me the peacock,
always presuming that he is indeed the murderer and has it in his
possession.”
Latimer nodded three times solemnly. “It _is_ strange, and you argue
very well, my son. What’s that letter you are holding?”
“It’s from Sorley and came yesterday morning. I have not had an
opportunity of talking about it to you before, as you have been so
confoundedly busy. It is a letter,” said Fuller, unfolding the missive,
“which illustrates the proverb that he who excuses himself accuses
himself.”
“Ho,” said Latimer with a world of meaning, “read it out, my boy.”
“There is no need to read it. I can give you the gist in a few words,”
was Fuller’s reply, as he ran his eye rapidly over the lines. “Sorley
begs me not to take notice of Miss Grison’s wild words, as she is a
trifle mad. He had to dismiss her brother for forging his name to a
check, but, as the man was also insane—slightly, that is—he did not
prosecute him.”
“Very kind and Christian-like, Alan, But why does Sorley put up with
Miss Grison’s vagaries?”
“He declares that he is sorry for her, in this letter.”
“And by word of mouth as good as told you that he hated her. Humph! It
seems to me that our dear friend is hedging. Well, and what more,
Alan?”
“Nothing more on the subject of Miss Grison, save that he declares his
contempt for her threats.”
“Threats. What threats?” Dick sat up alertly.
“She told him in the presence of Marie, and in my presence also, that
he was to wait and see how iniquity would be punished.”
“Humph! That looks as though she means to be nasty.”
“Exactly. And Sorley’s cringing to her implies that he guesses she can
make things hot for him. However, he simply ends his letter by saying
that when I come to Belstone for Christmas he will have a chat with me
on the subject of cryptograms. Did I not say, Dick, that his letter
illustrates the proverb I referred to. Why should Sorley think it
necessary to explain about Miss Grison and her crazy words—if indeed
they are crazy—or why should he wish to talk about cryptograms to me,
unless——”
“Quite so,” interrupted Dick on the same word and in the same manner as
his friend had stopped him previously. “Unless she believes that Sorley
made away with her brother. It’s a strange case, and grows more
complicated as we go into it.”
“What is your opinion, Dick?”
“It is rather difficult to give a hard and fast one on what facts we
have before us, seeing that we are so much in the dark. By the way, how
long has Sorley had the motor bicycle?”
“He told me, or rather hinted at three weeks, but Marie said that he
bought it four months ago.”
“Humph! So Sorley tells a lie about that, does he? It looks fishy.
Certainly on a good machine he could slip up to town and back again in
a night without anyone being the wiser.”
“Then you think that he committed the murder, by——?” Alan spoke
excitedly.
“I can’t say that,” interrupted Latimer swiftly.
“Oh! You infer then that he is innocent?”
“I can’t say that either.”
“Then what the deuce do you say?” demanded the lawyer irritably.
“This much. That before we can be sure of Sorley being mixed up with
the crime, we must learn for certain if he possesses the peacock of
jewels.”
“But how can we?”
“_We_ can’t, but _you_ can, Alan. Sorley’s request that you should talk
cryptograms with him at Christmas can only arise from his desire to
solve the riddle of the peacock. Wait and hear what he has to say.”
“And then?” asked Fuller, nodding approval.
“Then we shall be able to take another step along this dark path. You
mean to travel it, I presume?” asked Dick, looking up searchingly.
“Of course I do,” replied the young man emphatically. “If those jewels
are in existence they belong to Marie, and I want to find them before
Sorley does, lest he should make off with them.”
“Well,” said Latimer grimly, “I daresay he would bolt, both because he
loves jewels and moreover—if guilty—must dread risking his neck.”
“Guilty? If he possesses the peacock he must be guilty.”
“It would appear so, Alan, since only by means of the peacock can the
gems be discovered. If he finds them we can assume very reasonably that
he killed Baldwin Grison, but as yet so far as we know the jewels are
still hidden.” Dick thought for a few moments, then ventured on advice.
“You have a week or so before taking your Christmas holiday. Why not
visit Miss Grison at her boarding-house? You know where it is.”
“Yes. She gave me her card. But she won’t speak out, Dicky. Had she
been certain of Sorley’s criminality she would have denounced him then
and there to gratify her hatred.”
“She may only have a suspicion of his guilt, or perhaps her wish is
father to her thought. But it seems to me that by her allusion to the
bicycle, and to cryptograms, she wished to arouse your mistrust of the
man.”
“Still she cannot be aware that Marie told me about the peacock
riddle?”
Latimer ruffled his hair in perplexity. “Oh, hang it, what is the use
of speculating!” he cried crossly, and rising to stretch his big limbs.
“Before we can arrive at any conclusion we must sound Miss Grison as to
what she knows, or what she does not know.”
“At all events she detests Sorley and, so far as I can see, will do her
best to hang him.”
“Perhaps. But it is your task to prevent such a miscarriage. Go and see
her, Alan, and then tell me what you learn.”
“Very good. I shall write a note and invite myself to dinner.”
“Why to dinner?”
“I wish to see what kind of lodgers Miss Grison has, and to hear their
opinion of their landlady. Much can be learned in this way. But tell
me, Dick, what you have discovered.”
“Very little. Moon is still hunting for the assassin and is still at
his wit’s end how to strike the true trail. The only thing of interest
that I have learned is about Jotty.”
“The street-arab whom Grison befriended?”
“Yes. He’s a clever little animal, and in better surroundings might
improve into something useful. Miss Grison intends to give him his
chance, and is taking him into her service as a page-boy: She’ll have
enough to do to teach him civilized habits,” concluded Dick cynically.
“Why is she acting so philanthropically?”
“Out of regard for the memory of her brother, as she told Inspector
Moon.”
“Well,” murmured Fuller thoughtfully, “that is reasonable enough since
she appears to have had a strong regard for her brother. Perhaps he
commended Jotty to her care.”
“It’s not improbable. The poor wretch may have wished to give the boy a
chance, and if so, it shows that there were decent feelings in him. But
if you visit this boarding-house I wish you to keep an eye on Jotty.”
“Why?” Alan looked up quickly.
“Because I believe the boy knows much more than he has hitherto
admitted.”
“Oh,” said Fuller, after a pause, “so it is probable that Miss Grison’s
interest in the lad is not wholly philanthropic. You fancy that she may
desire to keep him under her own eye lest he should say too much.”
Latimer shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t say that I quite took that
view, Alan, as Miss Grison may really be acting kindly out of regard
for her brother’s wishes. All the same I believe that Jotty knows
things about the murder which he is keeping quiet, and it will be just
as well to watch him more or less closely.”
“But on what grounds——?”
“On no grounds whatever. It’s just an idea I have, and may be all
rubbish.”
Fuller nodded. “On the other hand it may be useful not to reject your
idea, Dick. I shall watch and question Jotty if I get the chance.”
“Be careful, Alan. He is a sharp lad.”
“I’ll see that he does not get the better of me. Dick, isn’t it strange
how suspicious one gets of everything when on a man-hunt?”
“Yes. But it’s natural enough. On a trail one always observes small
signs to indicate the direction, and so everything around becomes of
value in the way of evidence. However, you know what you have to do?”
“Yes. And you?”
“I shall keep in touch with Rotherhithe and Mother Slaig’s
boarding-house and Moon. Whatever I learn you shall know. Good luck,
Alan, to your hunting.”
“Ditto to yours, Dicky, and now clear out and let me get to work.”
Latimer tramped to the door and vanished with a friendly growl.