ANOTHER STRANGE AND UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY.
The first thing to be done, after partaking of a hurried breakfast,
was to arrange our programme. Carton suggested that we should all go
together to Athelstan Road to see his guardian, and I had some
difficulty in prevailing upon him to forego this plan. We spoke
together quite openly in the presence of Devlin, who, for the most
part, contented himself with listening to the discussion.
"Evidently," said Carton, "you have suspicions against my guardian,
and it is only fair that he should be made acquainted with them."
"He shall be made acquainted with them," I replied, "but it must be in
the way and at the time I deem best. I hold you to your promise to be
guided by me."
Carton nodded discontentedly. "I am to stop here and do nothing, I
suppose," he said.
"That is how you will best assist me," I said. "If you are seen at
present by Mr. Dowsett, you will ruin everything. You shall not,
however, be quite idle. Have you your cheque-book with you?"
"Yes," he said, producing it.
"Let me look at the block of the cheque for the two thousand pounds
you drew on Saturday morning, payable to bearer, and gave to Mr.
Dowsett."
"It is the last cheque I drew," said Carton, handing me the book.
I glanced at it, saw that the bank was the National Provincial Bank of
England, and the number of the cheque 134,178. Then I obtained a
telegraph form, and at my instruction Carton wrote the following
telegram:
"To the Manager, National Provincial Bank of England, 112 Bishopsgate
Street, London. Has my cheque for two thousand pounds (No. 134,178),
drawn by me on Saturday, and made payable to bearer, been cashed, and
how was it paid, in notes or gold? Reply paid. Urgent. Waiting here
for answer. From Richard Carton, Nayland Rock Hotel, Margate."
"I will take this myself to the telegraph-office," I said, "and you
will wait here for the answer. I will be back as quickly as possible,
but it is likely I may be absent for an hour or more."
With that I left him, Devlin accompanying me at my request.
I could have sent the telegram from the railway station, but I chose
to send it from the local post-office, for the reason that I expected
to receive there a telegram from my wife, whom I had instructed to
wire to me, before eight o'clock, whether there was anything fresh in
the London newspapers concerning the murder of Lizzie Melladew. I
mentioned this to Devlin, and he said,
"You omit nothing; it is a pleasure to work with you. Command me in
any way you please. My turn, perhaps, will come by and by."
It was early morning, and our way lay along the Marine Parade, every
house in which was either a public or a boarding house. From every
basement in the row, as we walked on, ascended one uniform odour of
the cooking of bacon and eggs, which caused Devlin to humorously
remark that when bacon and eggs ceased to be the breakfast of the
average Englishman, the decay of England's greatness would commence.
All along the line this familiar odour accompanied us.
At the post-office I found my wife's telegram awaiting me. It was to
the effect that there was nothing new in the papers concerning the
murder. The criminal was still at large, and the police appeared to
have failed in obtaining a clue. I despatched Carton's telegram to the
London bank, and then we proceeded to Athelstan Road, and soon found
the house we were in search of. I had decided upon my plan of
operations: Devlin was not to appear; he was to stand at some distance
from the house, and only to come forward if I called him. I was to
knock and inquire for Mr. Dowsett, and explain to him that, not
feeling well, I had run down to Margate for the day. Carton had given
me his guardian's address, and had asked me to inquire whether Mr.
Dowsett would be absent from London for any length of time, intending,
if such was the case, to join Mr. Dowsett and his family in the
country. Then I was to trust to chance and to anything I observed how
next to proceed. The whole invention was as lame as well could be, but
I could not think of a better. It was only when decided action was
necessary that I felt how powerless I was. All that I had to depend
upon was a slender and mysterious thread of conjecture.
I knocked at the door, and of the servant who opened it I inquired if
Mr. Dowsett was up yet.
"O, yes, sir," replied the girl. "Up and gone, all of 'em."
"Up and gone, all of them!" I exclaimed.
"Yes, sir. Had breakfast at half-past six, and went away directly
afterwards."
"Do you know where to?"
"No, sir. O, here's missus."
The landlady came forward. "Do you want rooms, sir?"
"Not at present. I came to see Mr. Dowsett."
"Gone away, sir; him and the three ladies."
"So your servant informed me; but I thought I should be certain to
find him here. Stop. What did you say? Mr. Dowsett and the three
ladies? You mean the two ladies?"
"I mean three," said the landlady, looking sharply at me. "They only
came on Saturday; Mr. Dowsett came yesterday. You must excuse me, sir;
there's the dining-room bell and the drawing-room bell ringing all
together."
"A moment, I beg," I said, slipping half-a-crown into her hand. "Do
you know where they have gone to?"
"No; they didn't tell me. They were in a hurry to catch a train; but I
don't know what train, and don't know where to."
Her manner proclaimed that she not only did not know, but did not
care.
"They had some boxes with them?" I said.
"Yes, two. I can't wait another minute. I never did see such a
impatient gentleman as the dining-rooms."
"Only one more question," I said, forcibly detaining her. "Did they
drive to the station?"
"Yes; they had a carriage. Please let me go, sir."
"Do you know the man who drove them? Do you know the number of the
carriage?"
"Haven't the slightest idea," said the landlady; and, freeing herself
from my grasp, she ran down to her kitchen.
I stepped into the street with a feeling of mortification. Mr. Kenneth
Dowsett had given me the slip again. Rejoining Devlin, I related to
him what had passed.
"What are you going to do next?" he asked.
"I am puzzled," I replied, "and hardly know what to do."
"That is not like you," said Devlin. "Come, I will assist you. Mr.
Kenneth Dowsett seems to be in a hurry. The more reason for spirit and
increased vigilance on our part. Observe, I say our part. I am growing
interested in this case, and am curious to see the end of it. If Mr.
Dowsett has gone back to London, we must follow him there. If he has
gone to some other place, we must follow him to some other place."
"But how to find that out?"
"He was driven to the station in a carriage. We must get hold of
the driver. At present we are ignorant whether he has gone by the
South-Eastern or the London, Chatham, and Dover. We will go and
inquire at the cab-ranks."
But although we spent fully an hour and a half in asking questions of
every driver of a carriage we saw, we could ascertain no news of the
carriage which had driven Mr. Dowsett and his family from Athelstan
Road. I was in despair, and was about to give up the search and return
disconsolately to the Nayland Rock, when a bare-footed boy ran up to
me, and asked whether I wasn't looking for "the cove wot drove a party
from Athelstan Road."
"Yes," I said excitedly. "Do you know him?"
"O, I knows him," said the boy. "Bill Foster he is. I 'elped him up
with the boxes. There was one little box the gent wouldn't let us
touch. There was somethink 'eavy in it, and the gent give me a copper.
Thank yer, sir."
He was about to scuttle off with the sixpence I gave him, when I
seized him, not by the collar, because he had none on, but by the neck
where the collar should have been.
"Not so fast. There's half-a-crown more for you if you take me to Bill
Foster at once."
"Can't do that, sir; don't know where he is; but I'll find 'im for
yer."
"Very good. How many persons went away in Bill Foster's carriage?"
"There was the gent and one-two-three women--two young 'uns and a old
'un."
"You're quite sure?"
"I'll take my oath on it."
"Now look here? Do you see these five shillings? They're yours
if you bring Bill Foster to me at the Nayland Rock in less than
half-an-hour."
"You ain't kidding, sir?"
"Not at all. The money's yours if you do what I tell you."
"All right, sir? I'll do it."
"And tell Bill Foster there's half-a-sovereign waiting for him at the
Nayland Rock; but he mustn't lose a minute."
With an intelligent nod the boy scampered off, and we made our way
quickly back to the hotel, where Richard Carton was impatiently
waiting us.
"Did you see him?" he asked eagerly.
"No," I replied, "he went away early this morning."
"Where to?"
"I hope to learn that presently. Have you received an answer to your
telegram?"
"No, not yet. There's the telegraph messenger."
The lad was mounting the steps of the hotel. We followed him, and
obtained the buff-coloured envelope, addressed to "Richard Carton,
Nayland Rock Hotel, Margate," which he delivered to a waiter. Carton
tore open the envelope, read the message, and handed it to me. The
information it contained was that cheque 134,178, for two thousand
pounds, signed by Richard Carton, was cashed across the counter on
Saturday morning; that the gentleman who presented it demanded that it
should be paid in gold; that as this was a large amount to be so paid
the cashier had asked the gentleman to sign his name at the back of
the cheque, notwithstanding that it was payable to bearer, and that
the signature was that of Kenneth Dowsett.
"Do you think there is anything strange in that?" I asked.
"It does seem strange," replied Carton thoughtfully.
I made a rapid mental calculation, and said, "Two thousand sovereigns
in gold weigh forty pounds. A heavy weight for a man to carry away
with him." Carton did not reply, but I saw that, for the first time,
his suspicions were aroused. "You told me," I continued, "that Mrs.
Dowsett and her daughter Letitia went away from their house on
Saturday morning early."
"So my guardian informed me."
"Was any other lady stopping with them?"
"I did not understand so from my guardian."
"Did they have any particular lady friend whom, for some reason or
other, they wished to take with them to the seaside?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"You can think of no one?"
"Indeed, I cannot."
"It is your belief that only two ladies left the house?'
"Yes, it is my belief."
"But," I said, "Mrs. Dowsett took not only her daughter Letitia with
her, but another lady, a young lady, as well; and the three, in
company with your guardian, left Margate suddenly this morning. I have
ascertained this positively. Now, who is this young lady of whom you
have no knowledge?" He passed his hand across his forehead, and gazed
at me with a dawning terror in his eyes. "Shall I tell you what is in
my mind?"
"Yes."
"If," I said, speaking slowly and impressively, "the theory I have
formed is correct--and I believe it is--the young lady is Mary
Melladew, poor Lizzie's sister."
"Good God!" cried Carton. "What makes you think that?"