AN INDIAN CLIENT
Dick Latimer had promised to hold his peace for three days before
imparting to the inspector who was in charge of the Rotherhithe case
what had been discovered with reference to Sorley. All the same he was
troubled in his mind, as he could not be sure if he was acting rightly.
Much as he sympathized with Fuller because the man likely to be
arrested was the uncle of the girl to whom his friend was engaged, it
did not seem right that a criminal should remain at large. The
journalist indeed thought that Alan’s objections were rather
sentimental, and that justice should be done in spite of Marie’s
feelings, which assuredly would be outraged. Nevertheless he admitted
that Fuller was placed in a difficult position, and it was natural that
he should wish to gain time in the hope of proving Mr. Sorley’s
innocence, and so avert the scandal.
But, so far as Dick could see, there was no chance of clearing the
man’s character. He had been with Grison, whom he openly detested, on
the very night when the murder was committed, and shortly before it
took place, as was conclusively proved not only by the letter, but by
the evidence of the street-arab, who certainly could never have
invented such an accurate description of the guilty person. Then again,
Jotty had sworn that on the night of the crime he had been given his
usual treat of a display of the peacock, and since that was now in
Sorley’s possession, it could only have passed into it directly from
the dead man. And as the presumed criminal’s full name, Randolph Vernon
Sorley, was intimated by the initials R. V. S., and the note to Grison
was certainly in his handwriting there appeared to be no doubt that he
had murdered the miserable creature to obtain wrongful possession of
the Inderwick fetish. Finally, since that had been stolen, all Sorley’s
energies had been bent upon getting it again, and in desperation he
probably had struck the fatal blow. Of course the story of Miss Grison
having taken the peacock back to The Monastery was one—so Dick
thought—deliberately invented to implicate the woman and account for
the reappearance of the desired article.
Upon this evidence it could scarcely be doubted that Sorley was guilty,
and when the fact that he had purchased a motor bicycle was taken into
account, Latimer could see no flaw in the indictment. More than ever he
considered it necessary to have Sorley brought to justice, which would
be done as soon as Inspector Moon was informed of these discoveries.
But having made a promise, Dick faithfully kept it, in spite of the
many qualms of conscience he daily felt. Then on the third day he took
up a newspaper to find a new and extraordinary development of the case.
After mastering the article, which appeared in _The Latest News_, a
daily paper much given to gossip, he jumped into a hansom and drove
direct to Fuller’s office. It chanced that Alan was not engaged, so
Dick entered at once into his friend’s private room, flourishing the
paper.
“Have you seen this?” he asked, placing it before Alan.
“Seen what?” asked the other, glancing at the heading indicated, and
then he took in the meaning at once. “Good Lord!”
He might well utter the ejaculation, for the article contained an
account of the Inderwick fetish given—as was intimated—by no less a
person than Miss Louisa Grison. The story of Ferrier was narrated, much
in the same fashion as it appeared in the manuscript at The Monastery,
and it was very plainly stated that a treasure was to be found when the
riddle attached to the peacock was solved. Finally, Miss Grison ended
the interview with the man, who had written the article, by saying that
her dead brother had possessed the golden bird at the time of his
death, and that in her mind there was no doubt that he had been
murdered for its sake. “Find the peacock,” said Miss Grison, “and you
find the assassin of my dear brother.” Then the article terminated with
comments by the writer on the extraordinary and romantic story which
had been set forth, and with the original remark culled from Hamlet,
“That there were more things in heaven and earth, etc., etc.”
“I wonder he didn’t add that truth is stranger than fiction,” remarked
Dick, while Alan hastily skimmed the account. “It is just as original.
Well, my son, and what do you think now?”
“I think,” replied Fuller, very decisively, “that Jotty has repeated to
his mistress what he told us, and she has taken steps to trap Sorley.”
“But she doesn’t know that he has the peacock—for certain that is?”
Alan shrugged his shoulders. “My mistake in showing the drawing to the
boy has proved that Sorley has the bird. Miss Grison, I daresay, knew
that no sketch had been made of it before it was taken away; and in any
event what Jotty told us is sufficient evidence to secure Sorley’s
arrest.”
“I think so indeed. There is no longer any need for me to keep
silence.”
“Well,” said Fuller hesitatingly, “I suppose there isn’t. Moon is
certain to see this account, and will come to ask Miss Grison why she
has made the matter public after promising to be silent. She can only
excuse herself by repeating Jotty’s story, and Moon will certainly go
down to Belstone to arrest Sorley. Poor Marie!”
“I’m not so sure you can call her that,” put in Dick hastily. “After
all if the man is a criminal, it is better that she should not be in
his company.”
“But the disgrace to the name——”
“To Sorley’s name, not to Miss Inderwick’s. Besides when she marries
you she will change her name. It is no use being sentimental any
longer, my boy,” said Latimer resolutely. “The man must be punished.
I’m off to see the inspector, and tell him what I know.”
“But Dick won’t it be best to question Miss Grison first, and learn if
she really has heard Jotty’s story.”
“I am quite sure she has,” said the reporter emphatically, “else she
would not have broken her promise to Moon. The matter of the peacock
was kept silent so that the assassin, feeling safe, might betray
himself—as he has done, by the way to you. Miss Grison, learning from
the boy that Sorley is guilty, has taken the opportunity of making the
story as public as possible so that the man can’t escape.”
“He may see the papers and take warning,” suggested Alan. “I expect
this tale will be in every paper in the kingdom to-morrow.”
“All the more reason that I should see Moon at once. I am not going to
dilly-dally any more, Alan, but do my duty, as I expect you to do
yours.”
“I can’t blame you. Go and see Moon.”
Latimer hesitated at the door. “You won’t wire to Sorley, or send that
paper to him, I suppose.”
“No. If the man is guilty and it certainly looks as though he were, he
must be punished. I shall not interfere, unpleasant as the scandal will
be for Marie. Go and do your duty, Dick, by telling Moon, and I shall
do mine by keeping perfectly quiet.”
Latimer argued no longer but took his departure, leaving Alan much
disturbed in his own mind. And no wonder. Marie did not love her uncle,
who had always treated her with indifference, and had made use of her
money for his own purposes. Still, it would be a terrible shock for her
to hear that he had murdered the brother of Miss Grison, and of course
the shame of having a relative hanged would be great. And Fuller did
not see how Mr. Sorley could escape the gallows, since the evidence on
the whole was so very decisive. At the best he could only defend
himself by putting forward the story about Miss Grison, and that was
but a weak line to take up.
“Hum!” said Alan, opening the drawer of his desk to look at the sketch
he had made, “I wish I had not showed this to Jotty. He must have
mentioned it to Miss Grison, and from that fact she probably guessed
that Sorley had the peacock. The man will certainly be arrested, for he
will have no time to escape.”
As Alan murmured this he glanced idly at the paper which Dick had
brought, and saw that it was dated the previous day, and of course had
been issued yesterday morning. It occurred to the young man that chance
might possibly bring the paper to Sorley’s notice, since four and
twenty hours—if not more—had elapsed since its publication. And if the
man was warned in time he assuredly would escape, before Inspector Moon
could lay hands on him. Fuller hoped that this would be the case, if
only to spare Marie the shame and pain of the scandal. But after all it
was doubtful if the account would fall into Sorley’s hands immediately,
as few newspapers arrived at Belstone, and the doings of the world were
always hours and days and, at times, weeks late. The solicitor shook
his head dubiously, and wrapping up his sketch in the journal, he
placed both in the drawer of his desk. There seemed nothing for it but
to wait for Sorley’s arrest, and to hear what defense he would make to
the charge brought against him.
Shortly a card was presented to the lawyer by his clerk, and on seeing
the name Fuller ordered the owner to be shown in at once. In a few
moments he was face to face with Mr. Morad-Bakche, who looked calm and
aristocratic and—as Alan judged—indifferent. Yet if he had seen the
article in _The Latest News_, and really had come to England to search
for the treasure, Bakche surely would not feign a nonchalance he could
not possibly feel.
“How are you, Mr. Bakche?” asked, Alan, polite and watchful, while
placing a chair for the Indian, “so you have come to see me as you said
you would.”
“Yes, sir, and about a very important subject,” replied Bakche, sitting
down stiffly, and taking a newspaper out of his pocket.
“Yes?” said Alan inquiringly, though of course the moment he saw the
paper produced he knew why the man had come to see him.
Bakche doubled back the journal and pointed out the article with a
slender brown finger. “Have you seen this?” he asked quietly.
It was not to Fuller’s interest to admit anything, as it was necessary
to conduct this interview with great caution. The young man quietly
read again the account of the interview with Miss Grison. All the time,
Bakche was looking at him hard, trying to guess by the expression of
Alan’s face what he truly thought.
But the solicitor was prepared for the scrutiny, and kept an unmoved
countenance. “Very interesting,” remarked Fuller coolly, when he had
finished.
“But not new to you, sir, I presume.”
“Well no, Mr. Bakche. The story told by Miss Grison is well known in
Belstone, the parish of which my father is the vicar. I have heard it
before.”
“Have you heard before that this man Grison was murdered for the sake
of the peacock?” demanded the Indian rather impatiently, and thereby
showed that his indifference was mainly pretence.
“It was commonly reported in Belstone that the Grisons, brother and
sister, had stolen the peacock from the Inderwick family when they left
The Monastery some twenty years ago. But, pardon me, Mr. Bakche, why do
you come here and ask me these questions?”
“Can’t you guess, sir?”
“How can I guess?” retorted Fuller cautiously.
“By putting two and two together, as is your English way,” said Bakche
in a calmer manner. “I told you when you dined at Miss Grison’s that I
had come to England in order to recover certain family property.”
“You did. Well?”
“The property I referred to is the peacock of jewels,”
“How did you expect me to know that, Mr. Bakche?”
“I can answer that if you will reply to a question?”
“What is the question?”
“Do you know the story set forth in this article?” asked the Indian
quickly.
“Yes. As I told you the whole countryside knows it.”
“Then you must be aware that the Begum of Kam gave the jewels to Simon
Ferrier. I told you that I am a descendant of the Rajah of Kam, so you
must have guessed that I desired to obtain possession of the peacock.”
“Quite so,” said Fuller coolly, “but there was no need for me to say
so.”
Bakche was honest enough to admit this. “You are very cautious, you
English gentlemen,” he said with a faint sneer, “and no doubt you did
not wish me to get the peacock.”
“I fail to see how my telling you what you have now told me would aid
you to get what belongs rightfully to another person.”
“It does not belong to another person, but to me,” cried Bakche
wrathfully.
Alan raised his eyebrows. “How do you make that out?” he demanded in an
exasperating manner. “George Inderwick’s servant, Ferrier, manufactured
the peacock for his master and——”
“And so manufactured it that in some strange way it reveals where the
jewels of the Begum are concealed,” finished the Indian sharply.
“Understand Mr. Fuller, that I do not exactly claim the peacock——”
“You did just now,” interrupted Alan in his turn, and shrugging.
“Only because I wish to learn where the jewels are hidden.”
“Indeed. You will find that difficult, since for over one hundred
years, the riddle of the peacock has been unsolved.”
“Never mind,” said Bakche doggedly. “If I see the bird I shall probably
be able to learn the truth.”
“And then?——” Alan raised his eyebrows again.
“Then,” said the other confidently, “I shall take the jewels.”
“You may not be allowed.”
“Why not. The jewels belong to me as the descendant of the Rajah of
Kam.”
“You forget,” said Fuller smoothly, “that the rajah’s wife gave the
same to George Inderwick because he saved her life and the life of her
son.”
“She had no right to do so,” cried Bakche loudly, “the jewels were not
her private property to dispose of, Mr. Fuller. They belonged to the
family—to the state as it were. Royal treasure cannot be parted with in
this way.”
“I am not prepared to argue the matter, Mr. Bakche,” remarked Fuller in
a dry manner, “since—beyond the known story, which has become a Sussex
legend—I am not acquainted with the exact facts. But I would point out
that the rajah may have given his wife permission to reward her
preserver in this way. Inderwick assuredly deserved a return for what
he did.”
Bakche bowed stiffly. “I admit that the gentleman acted bravely, and as
I am descended from the young prince he saved I am indebted to him for
the fact that I exist at all. Nevertheless, Mr. Fuller, the reward need
not have taken the form of almost the whole of the royal treasure of
Kam.”
Alan shrugged his shoulders again. “The Begum was apparently a very
grateful woman, Mr. Bakche. And if she had retained the treasure, it
would have been confiscated by the British Government when the royalty
of Kam was abolished.”
“It is probable,” said Bakche dryly; “but I think that the priests
would have taken care to preserve the jewels and give them, when times
became quieter, to the rightful owner.”
“In which case you would now be in possession of them, I presume?”
“Certainly. I am a direct descendant of the prince saved by Mr.
Inderwick, sir. As it is I shall certainly claim them.”
“You have to find them first,” retorted Alan coolly.
“Show me the peacock and I shall try to solve the riddle and find
them.”
Fuller laughed and shrugged. “Does that mean I am the criminal?”
“Oh no,” Bakche hastened to explain smoothly; “but you may know where
the peacock is to be found.”
“Really, I don’t quite follow your line of argument, Mr. Bakche.
“Let me put the matter in this way,” said the Indian deliberately: “The
peacock is not only valuable in itself, but also indicated the
whereabouts of a great treasure. Miss Grison declares that her brother
was murdered for the sake of the bird, so it is plain that the assassin
must have known the meaning of the riddle.”
“Still I cannot follow your line of argument,” persisted Fuller; “so
far as I know the riddle has never been solved, unless Baldwin Grison,
who had the bird for over twenty years—according to his sister that
is—guessed what has baffled everyone.”
“Well,” said Bakche sullenly, “whether he solved the riddle or not,
some one who wanted the treasure murdered him to obtain the clue.”
“On the other hand some rough sailor may have killed the man merely for
the sake of getting the bird. It is valuable enough, as you say
yourself, to account for the assassin risking his neck. But why come to
me, Mr. Bakche, since on the face of it I can possibly know nothing.”
“You know who wants the bird!”
“Oh yes. Miss Inderwick, from whose house it was stolen, and to whom I
am engaged, wants the bird very much, since it belongs rightfully to
her. But I hope you don’t accuse a girl of twenty of the crime.”
“No! no! no!” said Bakche earnestly; “but other people know of the
value of the peacock.”
“I agree. The whole countryside knows the story. If you suspect anyone
in Belstone you had better go down and look for the individual.”
“I suspect Mr. Sorley!”
“Why?” demanded Alan, who had quite anticipated the question.
“Because he wanted the peacock.”
“So did Miss Inderwick, so did many other people. Everyone who knows
the story would like to find the jewels.” Alan paused for a reply but
as none came he continued coolly: “How did you trace the possession of
the peacock to Baldwin Grison?”
“I didn’t—that is, I did in a way,” stammered the Indian nervously.
“In what way?” asked Fuller relentlessly, and trying to make Bakche
tell what was already known to him, “for instance how did you come to
live at Miss Grison’s boarding-house?”
“I explained when I met you there, sir.”
Fuller laughed ironically. “You did, and I beg leave to doubt the truth
of the explanation, Mr. Bakche.”
“How dare you, sir; by what right do you doubt me?” demanded the man
furiously, and his dark eyes shot fire.
“By the doubt of common-sense. You were in search of the peacock in
order to gain a clue to the hiding-place of these jewels you claim.
Come now, Mr. Bakche, it was not mere chance that guided you to Miss
Grison, who of all the people in London, knew about the matter.”
Morad-Bakche looked sullenly at the carpet, and evidently saw that Alan
was one too many for him. After a long pause, which Fuller took care
not to terminate too soon, he looked up with a would-be frank smile.
“As I wish you to help me in the matter,” he declared, “I may as well
make a clean breast of what I know.”
Alan nodded, and neither refused or agreed to accept the man as his
client, but intimated that he was ready to give his attention to the
confession. Morad-Bakche at once took exception to the word.
“It is not a confession I wish to make, sir, but merely a statement to
show how I came to learn about the matter we are discussing.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” said Fuller ceremoniously, “go on please!”
Bakche frowned at the irony of his tone, but made no further objection
to relating what he knew.
“My explanation as to how I came to Thimble Square was not wholly true,
Mr. Fuller,” he said abruptly.
“So I thought at the time?”
“Why did you think so?” asked Bakche quickly.
“Because I got it into my head that you were after the Inderwick
fetish, although when you spoke I did not know that it was the Begum of
Kam who had given away the jewels. That fact I learned later. However,
it struck me that if you had come on some such errand, you went for
that reason to Miss Grison’s boarding-house, and not because your
Ceylon friend recommended it.”
Bakche nodded. “Very creditable to your intelligence,” he said in a
patronising manner. “To be plain, sir, I learned the story which is set
forth in the newspaper, from some family documents.”
“As I thought,” murmured Fuller softly.
“Seeing that the Begum had given away jewels which should rightfully
belong to the family I determined to find them. I came to England and
went to Belstone, where the documents I mentioned informed me the
Inderwicks lived. At the inn there I learned from a very voluble woman
all that was to be known about the loss of the peacock. . . Afterwards
I visited Mr. Sorley, who is, I understand, the guardian of Miss
Inderwick, to whom the peacock is supposed to belong. He told me that
the ornament was lost, but he did not say who had taken it from The
Monastery.”
“Quite so,” said Alan, remembering that Sorley had withheld such
information lest Miss Grison should give the peacock to the man; “but
of course Mrs. Verwin at the inn hinted that the Grisons had the bird.”
“She did, sir and what is more she gave me the address of the
boarding-house in Thimble Square. I returned to London in July last and
took up my abode there, determined to learn all that I could.”
“Well?” asked Fuller, when the Indian paused.
“Well,” echoed the other, “I learned nothing particular.”
“Hum!” remarked Alan doubtfully, and looking hard at the speaker, “did
you tell Miss Grison the story of your search?”
“Yes I did, at a later period when I had become more or less friendly
with her. I even stated that it was reported how she and her brother
had stolen the peacock.”
“What answer did she make?”
“She said nothing to the purpose, only stating that she believed there
was such an ornament, but that she did not know where it was. Of course
in the light of this interview,” added Bakche, placing his hand on the
newspaper, “you can see that for her own ends she spoke falsely.
Evidently Baldwin, her brother, was the thief, and possessed it the
whole time. The wonder is, Mr. Fuller, that being desperately hard up
as he was, he did not sell or pawn the peacock.”
“I rather think that the man hoped to learn the secret and get
possession of the jewels. Did you ever see Grison?”
“No,” said Bakche so quickly that Alan felt sure he was not speaking
the exact truth, and became more sure of the fact when he elaborated
his denial. “Miss Grison refused to give me her brother’s address,
which I knew was in some slum. And of course, not guessing that Grison
had the peacock, I did not push my enquiries. Had I known that he had
the bird I should have placed the matter in the hands of a private
detective, and in some way I should have learned his whereabouts.”
“And then?”
“Then,” said Bakche, drawing a deep breath and clenching his small
hands, “I should have forced him to surrender it to me.”
“You would have used violence?” asked Alan in A peculiar tone.
“Yes! That is——” Bakche broke off with a laugh of contempt. “Why do you
look at me so suspiciously, Mr. Fuller? Do you think that I did see the
man and did use violence even to the extent of stabbing him? You are
entirely wrong, sir. Had I murdered him and obtained the peacock I
should by this time have been far away on the Continent out of danger,
and until things grew quieter, I should have remained absent trying to
solve the riddle. I am not the criminal, and I am not the possessor of
the peacock.”
“I grant that,” said Fuller quietly, who knew well that the man spoke
the truth, since Sorley owned the bird at that moment. “Well, and what
do you expect me to do, Mr. Bakche?”
“I wish you to find out who murdered Grison, so that the peacock may be
recovered and handed over to me.”
“On behalf of Miss Inderwick I am doing that,” said Alan dryly, “so I
cannot possibly act on your behalf.”
“The peacock is mine,” cried the Indian, rising to his feet with a
snarl which again reminded Fuller of his tigerish nature.
“The peacock is Miss Inderwick’s, and should I find it, I shall hand it
over to her so that she may discover the treasure.”
“You are——” began Bakche violently, then suddenly and dangerously
restrained his anger and smiled meaningly. “Well, since you are engaged
to the lady, it is natural that you should want her to gain the
jewels——”
“Mr. Bakche, stop that if you please.” Alan rose in his turn with
indignant looks.
The Indian shrugged his shoulders and walked to the door. “It is a duel
between us,” he said smoothly, “you want what I want, so we shall see
who wins. And I can tell you what is your best step to take.”
“Very kind of you, Mr. Bakche. And that is——”
“To find the boy Alonzo, formerly called Jotty. He knows the truth.”
“Then why not question him, since he is at Miss Grison’s house?”
“Indeed he is not; Jotty has been missing since last night!” and
refusing to explain further, the Indian departed, leaving Fuller
greatly astonished and greatly annoyed also, that the boy should have
disappeared.