"The devils!" I said hoarsely. "The infernal devils! They've
murdered him, just as they murdered Satan."
Bobby laid his hand on my shoulder. "It's a rotten business, but we
mustn't lose our heads, Jack. We've got to decide what we're going
to do."
"I feel as if it were all my fault," I muttered. "I ought to have
killed Manning yesterday when I had the chance."
"What the hell would have been the good of that?" demanded Bobby
impatiently. He thrust his hands into his pockets and took a couple
of rapid turns up and down the room. "Look here, old son," he went
on quietly. "We haven't any time to spare, so the sooner we fix
things up the better. In the first place, what are you going to tell
the police?"
"Nothing," I said curtly. "There's only one other person in this
beside ourselves, and that's Inspector Campbell. I shall go up to
London as soon as I can and put the whole thing in front of him."
He nodded his approval. "Just what I was about to propose. There'll
be the very devil to pay if these local people get hold of the
faintest idea of the truth." He paused. "You must lie to them for
all you're worth," he added. "You must make them believe that no
suspicion of foul play has ever entered your head. I'll stop here
and look after the place until you get back."
"You're sure you can manage it?" I asked.
"Easily," was the comforting rejoinder. "There's next to nothing
doing in our line at present. I must run over to Martlesea some time
to-morrow; otherwise I'm at your disposal for the next three days."
Considerably cheered by this assurance, I led the way back into the
hall where I found our two visitors in the act of wiping their
moustaches.
"Very good whisky that, sir," observed the landlord approvingly.
"'Tain't often you get a taste of the pre-war stuff nowadays."
"Well, I'm ready if you are, gentlemen," I said.
With a regretful glance at the decanter the Sergeant picked up his
helmet, and, leaving Bobby standing in the window, we all three set
out across the lawn.
We found the motor-launch lying about twenty yards out in the
estuary, and a dilapidated dinghy tied up alongside the landing-stage.
"I had to bring one of me own boats," explained the landlord as he
unfastened the painter. "We got yours all right, sir, same as I told
you; but the rudder's broke and two of her planks stove in."
"She must have been smashed up pretty badly," I remarked. "It seems
to me as if she'd been run down."
"I should have said the same," put in the Sergeant, "but accordin' to
what they told me at Pen Mill there wasn't a craft afloat yesterday.
That's so, ain't it, Mr. Robinson?"
The landlord nodded. "None of our folks was out, at all events," he
observed. "Might 'a' bin a stranger goin' up to the lock, but it
don't seem likely--not in a fog like that."
"Well, we can find out, I suppose," I said, taking my place in the
boat. "The point is sure to be raised at the inquest, anyhow."
We sculled rapidly across to the opposite shore, and disembarked on
the jetty, close in front of the inn. It was easy to see that
something unusual had happened, for the whole population of the
village had apparently collected on the hard, and were hanging about
in small groups eagerly watching our arrival.
Through a fire of curious glances we marched up to the stable,
outside which a solemn-looking constable was standing on guard.
Lifting the latch, the Sergeant opened the door just wide enough for
us to enter; and then, following on our heels, closed it carefully
behind him.
We found ourselves in a large, dimly lit coach-house, which had
evidently been emptied for its present tragic purpose.
Stretched out on a bundle of straw was the dead body of Bascomb, and
stooping over it a tall, grey-haired man who bore the unmistakable
stamp of a country doctor.
In a businesslike fashion the Sergeant stepped forward.
"Well, here we are, doctor," he said. "This is the gentleman I was
speaking about. Mr. Dryden--Dr. 'Ayward."
The doctor straightened himself, and, having surveyed me for a moment
through a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, came up to where I was
standing.
"I am pleased to meet you, sir," he said. "I only wish it was under
less distressing circumstances."
We shook hands.
"It's a very sudden and shocking business," I said. "Bascomb was the
sort of man who ought to have lived to be a hundred." I paused.
"Have you any idea how it happened?" I asked.
Dr. Hayward pursed up his lips and looked at me a little queerly.
"I am quite certain of one thing at least," he answered, "and that is
that the poor fellow didn't meet his death by drowning. He was dead
before he ever reached the water."
There was a brief silence.
"Then the idea about his having run into the jetty--" I began.
The doctor shook his head. "He was killed by a violent blow on the
back of the skull. If you think you can stand a rather unpleasant
sight, I'll show you the actual injury."
I contented myself with a nod, and, moving forward, followed him
across the stone floor.
Bascomb's body was lying on the straw, face downwards. It had been
stripped to the waist, and in the grey light which filtered in
through the glass roof the enormous muscular development of his back
and shoulders was plainly visible.
My companion took out an electric torch from his pocket, and, bending
down, switched on the current.
"See that?" he enquired briefly.
Hardened as I was by my experiences in the war, I was unable to
repress a shudder of horror. Right in the middle of the
close-cropped hair the bone had been smashed in like the top of an
eggshell.
"Not much doubt about the cause of death--eh?" The doctor switched
off his torch, and stood up facing me. "One doesn't do that sort of
thing without a little assistance," he added grimly. "He may have
been struck by the prow of a boat or the screw of a steamer; the only
other explanation I can offer is that he was deliberately murdered."
"Murdered!" The Sergeant strode forward, and then, suddenly pulling
up, stared incredulously from one to the other of us.
"We must at least consider the possibility," I remarked.
The Sergeant rubbed his chin in the same thoughtful fashion as before.
"It's a startlin' notion," he observed at last. "There's never been
a murder in Pen Mill yet--at least not in my time."
"I don't say there has now," interrupted the doctor, with a slight
touch of impatience. "It all depends upon whether any vessel went up
the estuary last night in the fog."
"We can find that out easy enough," chimed in the landlord. "Only a
matter of enquiries at the lock. She couldn't 'ave got no
farther--not till this mornin'."
The Sergeant looked at him with a certain severity. "I know my
business, thank ye, Mr. Robinson. When I want any help I'll ask you
for it." He turned to me. "What's your opinion, sir? Any party in
your knowledge as had a grudge against the deceased?"
I shook my head. "I am absolutely ignorant about his private
affairs," I answered. "As I told you before, he was one of the most
reserved men who ever lived. For all I know he might have been at
daggers drawn with the entire neighbourhood."
"Was he violent tempered or quarrelsome?" asked the doctor.
"I never saw any sign of it," I replied. "We were alone together for
a month, and I couldn't have wished for a better servant."
"I reckon our first idea was the right one," announced the Sergeant.
"It must have been some craft coming up in the fog that did it. The
odds are they thought it was an empty boat they had run down, and,
seeing as they'd be liable for damages, they made up their minds to
say nothing about it." He took out his note-book and sucked the
stump of a pencil. "What time was it when the deceased left the
island?" he enquired.
"I couldn't say exactly," I replied. "It was probably between five
and six."
"Just about high tide," he observed, in a satisfied voice. "That
more or less settles it to my way of thinking."
He asked me one or two other questions, to all of which he noted down
the answers; then, with the air of a man who has efficiently
discharged a difficult duty, he snapped together his book and
replaced it in his pocket.
"I don't think we need detain you any longer, Mr. Dryden. If the
Head Constable comes over he'll probably wish to speak to you, but as
like as not he'll leave the case to me. I'm going along to the lock
straight away now, and it's my belief that before to-night we'll have
our hands on the party that's wanted."
"I shouldn't be surprised, Sergeant," I said untruthfully. "All the
same, it will be a smart bit of work if you do."
The doctor, who appeared to have lost interest in our conversation,
picked up a piece of sacking and spread it across Bascomb's body. I
had an idea that he was very far from satisfied, and the moment we
left the coach-house my suspicions were confirmed.
Drawing me slightly to one side, he glanced impatiently at the
Sergeant, who was engaged in giving some instructions to his
subordinate.
"The man's a fool," he said in a low voice, "but there's nothing more
to be done at present. We must wait until the Head Constable comes
over."
Before I could make any reply we were joined by Mr. Robinson, the
landlord.
"Excuse me, sir," he began apologetically, "but if you 'appen to be
wantin' a boat while that dinghy o' yours is under repair, you're
welcome to the use o' the one we came across in."
"That's uncommonly good of you," I said, "and, what's more, I should
like to thank you for all you've done this morning. I am very sorry
you should have been put to so much trouble and inconvenience."
"There ain't nothing that calls for mention," he objected. "You and
me are neighbours in a manner o' speakin', and quite apart from that,
sir, I'm always ready to do me duty by a corpse."
I was still searching for a suitable rejoinder to this sentiment when
I was released from my embarrassment by the Sergeant.
"I'll wish you good morning, Mr. Dryden," he remarked, coming across
to where we were collected. "Don't you get upsetting yourself over
this business; you leave it to me, and I'll see that it's brought
home to the right quarter."
I shook hands all round, and, followed by the fascinated glances of
the public, made my way down to the jetty, where I proceeded to
re-embark. On the whole, in spite of Dr. Hayward's suspicions, the
affair had gone off as well as I could possibly have hoped, and it
was with feelings of considerable relief that I ran in alongside the
landing-stage and stepped out once more on to my own territory.
I found Bobby lying in a deck chair on the verandah awaiting my
return. He jumped up as I appeared and came forward across the lawn
to meet me.
"Welcome home, my lad," he observed. "I was just beginning to be
afraid they'd clapped you into the local dungeon."
"Anything fresh happened while I've been away?" I asked.
He shook his head. "It's been positively dull. I've spent the time
sitting in the sunshine, brooding over your family affairs."
He led the way back to the verandah, and, taking the chair alongside
of him, I plunged straight away into an account of my experiences at
Pen Mill.
"I hope I handled the thing right, Bobby," I concluded. "The doctor
was evidently inclined to think it might be a case of murder, and to
have set myself up against him would have been simply asking for
trouble. If he felt the least suspicious about me, he'd probably
have wired bang off to the Head Constable. As it is, thanks to that
fool of a Sergeant, we ought to have at least twenty-four hours'
breathing space."
Bobby patted me approvingly on the back. "You displayed a surprising
amount of tact," he remarked. "It looks to me as if falling in love
had considerably sharpened your wits."
"I think it was falling into the dock," I retorted. "Anyhow, the
question is, What are we going to do now? According to the Sergeant
the inquest will probably be on Friday morning, and unless we make
pretty good use of our time----"
"We shall," interrupted Bobby. "I've been chewing the whole thing
over while you were ashore, and I've come to one or two highly
intelligent conclusions." He leaned across the arm of his chair, and
knocked out his pipe against the side railing. "In the first place,"
he continued, in a rather more serious tone, "we've got to face the
fact that Bascomb's death puts us into a devilish awkward position.
I'm not very strong on law, but there's such a thing as being an
accessory to murder. If we suspect Manning and de Roda we've no
right to keep the fact from the police merely because we don't want
to get your girl into trouble."
"But it was your advice," I protested. "Besides, I don't believe
that de Roda had anything to do with it. I'm almost certain that
Bascomb went over to the barge with some mad idea of revenging
himself upon Manning. He probably found Craill there as well, and
between the pair of them----"
"Exactly my idea," broke in Bobby. "All the same, we've got to be
precious careful what we do or the police will end by nabbing the
whole damned lot of us."
"Well, what do you suggest?" I asked.
"I think your notion's the right one. You must cruise up to town
first thing to-morrow morning and get hold of this detective Johnnie.
Tell him everything, just as you have told it to me. He is evidently
a long-headed sort of bird, and he'll probably see some way out of
the difficulty. Even if he can't we shall have put ourselves on the
right side of the fence."
"Hadn't I better go at once?" I proposed.
Bobby glanced at his watch. "You may as well wait till the morning.
He would most likely have left his office by the time you got there,
and it's quite on the cards you might be missing all sorts of fun
down here."
"Not much chance of that," I said regretfully. "They'll give us a
fairly wide berth as long as your motor-boat's lying off the jetty."
"One never can tell," observed Bobby philosophically. "If Manning
has found out all he wants to, and if he and Craill really did
Bascomb in, you can bet your boots they won't hang about any longer
than they can possibly help."
"I wish I could guess where the diamonds are hidden," I remarked.
Bobby looked at me with that queer provoking grin of his.
"Well?" I demanded.
"You're not very good at riddles, are you, Jack?" he said slowly. "I
suppose it's never occurred to you that your uncle must have had some
damned good reason for putting in a new fireplace?"
"By God!" I cried, jumping up from my chair; "I believe you've hit
it." I paused for a moment, as a whole stream of significant
memories rushed back into my mind. "It explains everything," I
almost shouted. "Bascomb told me he had workmen over from Holland to
put it in, and----"
"Why the devil didn't you say so before?" interrupted Bobby. "Of
course, if that's the case, it absolutely settles the matter. I was
merely going on the fact that directly Manning thought you were
asleep he made a bee-line for the hall."
"I'm an ass, Robert," I admitted humbly. "Manning told me so
yesterday, and I'm hanged if for once in his life he wasn't speaking
the truth." I glanced in through the open window in the direction of
the hearth. "Have you got as far as making a search?" I asked.
He nodded. "I went over every inch of it while you were away. It's
my belief they're bricked up behind one of the tiles. You don't want
much space to hide a packet of diamonds in."
"Well, come along then," I exclaimed. "There's a good hefty chisel
in the kitchen, and if we can't----"
"Don't be in such a hurry," drawled Bobby. "We've an uncommonly
tricky course to navigate, and we can't afford to run aground."
"But where's the harm?" I objected. "It's my property. I've every
right to hack it about if I want to."
"I'm not questioning your title deeds," returned Bobby languidly.
"What we've got to consider is how it will look in a Court of Law.
If there's any trouble we shall be more or less dependent on this
detective merchant of yours to get us out of it, and that being so, I
don't propose to do any treasure-hunting until he's actually on the
spot."
"I suppose you're right," I said after a short pause. "I only hope
Campbell will be able to come."
"Hoping's no good; unless you find him and bring him back with you
to-morrow night we shall have to tell the Head Constable the whole
truth. If the Coroner knows his job something's sure to come out at
the inquest, and you don't want to see your girl stuck up in the dock
alongside Manning and Craill."
"It's the one idea that's been haunting me all through this ghastly
business," I exclaimed. "I'm not talking rot, Bobby, but I'd hand in
my ticket without a kick as long as I could keep Christine out of it."
"Of course you would," he replied. "Otherwise I shouldn't be wasting
my time trying to help you." He hoisted himself out of his chair and
put his hand on my shoulder. "You have my blessing for what it's
worth, Jack," he added. "I don't know much about girls--not what you
call nice girls; all the same, I'm absolutely certain that you've
struck a regular prize-packet."
Compliments were so rare in Robert's vocabulary that I appreciated
his effort at its proper value. We shook hands solemnly, and then,
with a little grunt of satisfaction, he reseated himself on the arm
of his chair.
"Well, that's that," he observed; "all we've got to do now is to
carry on till to-morrow morning. You'll trot up to town by the first
train, and I'll stop here and look after the treasure."
"I don't quite know how we shall manage about the housekeeping," I
said. "There's tons of liquor, but the grub's running devilish
short."
"It doesn't really matter," replied Bobby cheerfully. "Drink's very
sustaining, provided one has enough of it."
As things turned out, I think we should have contrived to get through
the rest of the day successfully, even without the help of Uncle
Richard's well-stocked cellar. Although Bobby had heard my story
from start to finish, there were still so many points on which he was
anxious for further enlightenment that it took me all my time to
answer his innumerable questions. He cross-examined me with a dogged
persistence that would have done credit to a prosecuting counsel, and
in more than one instance I was extraordinarily impressed by the
shrewdness and insight of his comments.
At seven o'clock we adjourned the discussion in favour of a scratch
meal, which consisted chiefly of champagne and biscuits. The former
being Pol Roget of a particularly good vintage, we were able to give
Bobby's nutriment theory a really convincing test. It worked out
most successfully, for resuming our conversation over a couple of
cigars, we talked on for the next two hours without the faintest
feeling of exhaustion.
About ten Bobby glanced at his watch. "You'd better turn in now," he
remarked firmly. "You've got a long day ahead of you, and the more
sleep you have the better."
"Hang it all!" I protested. "I'm not going to dodge my share of the
work. Somebody's got to keep awake."
"That will be all right," he interrupted. "I shall have nothing to
do to-morrow after you're gone. If I want to I can sleep the whole
blessed morning."
"But how about to-night?" I persisted. "Suppose Manning and Craill
pay us a visit?"
Bobby smiled grimly, and, putting his hand in his hip pocket, pulled
out a vicious-looking Mauser pistol.
"You'll probably hear the shooting," he replied. "You can come down
in your pyjamas and help me throw out the bodies."
I saw that it would be a waste of time to argue any further, so,
having made sure that he was provided with plenty of smokes and
drinks, I assisted him to close the shutters and lock up the house.
This done, I wished him a pleasant vigil, and, retiring upstairs to
my own room, I was soon safely between the sheets, with Manning's
Smith and Wesson tucked away under the pillow beneath my head.
I must have dropped off on the spot, for the next thing I remember is
suddenly sitting up in bed and finding Bobby standing beside me with
a cup of tea in his hand. He had drawn back the curtain, and the
grey light of early day was coming in through the open window.
"Here you are, my son," he remarked cheerfully. "You shove this down
your neck and tumble out at once. It's getting on for six o'clock."
"Anything happened?" I enquired. "I've been sleeping like a log."
"The champagne's finished," he announced with a grin. "There's no
other news that I can think of at the moment."
I gulped down the tea, and, scrambling out of bed, proceeded to
commence a hasty toilet, while Bobby, who looked very unshaven and
disreputable, seated himself on the window sill and puffed
contentedly at a cigarette.
"I've never spent a more peaceful night in my life," he continued.
"If we can't find the diamonds you might do worse than turn the place
into a rest cure. I believe you'd make a pot of money."
"It's not a bad notion," I admitted. "We could have Manning as a
resident physician."
I ducked my head into a basin of water, and emerged from the process
feeling considerably refreshed.
"How's the weather?" I enquired, seeing that he was looking out of
the window.
"Better than it was. There's still a lot of mist hanging about the
estuary, but the wind's south-east, and it will probably get up later
in the day." He turned back into the room. "What time are you due
in town?" he demanded.
"Just after nine," I said. "I ought to be in Fleet Street by half
past."
He sat there swinging his foot and meditating while I rapidly pulled
on my trousers and laced up my boots.
"It all depends whether the sleuth-hound's in his kennel," he
observed. "If he is you'll be through by about ten-thirty. Send me
a wire directly you've fixed up your arrangements. I want to let
them know when to expect me at Martlesea."
"You couldn't put off the trip till to-morrow?" I suggested.
He shook his head. "I must look in for an hour. It doesn't matter
what time though; there's always someone there till eight o'clock."
"I shall try and bring Campbell back with me by the mid-day train," I
said. "Then we can have a hunt for the diamonds before you start."
"That's the idea," he replied approvingly. "With any luck it ought
to be a very interesting and profitable afternoon."
He hoisted himself off the sill, and, coming up to where I was
standing, helped me on with my coat.
"I'll row you ashore now," he added, "and if you'll let me know when
to expect you I'll be waiting for you at Pen Mill."
"But how about the house?" I objected. "We oughtn't to leave it
empty."
"I've only got to tip the word to my man Jenkins," he replied.
"He'll take damned good care that nobody lands on the island."
We made our way downstairs, and, shutting the front door behind us,
we set off at a brisk pace for the landing-stage.
The motor-boat, which had slewed round with the tide, was now lying
with her nose towards the island, and Jenkins himself--a stalwart
figure in white slops--was leaning pensively over the iron railing.
As soon as he saw us he drew himself up and saluted.
We paddled alongside, where Bobby gave his instructions; and then,
pulling straight across the estuary, ran in under the end of the
jetty. Except for an aged fisherman mending his nets the place was
entirely deserted.
With an encouraging "Good luck" from my companion I jumped ashore. I
expected any moment that the landlord would appear at his door and
waylay me before I could pass the inn, but by the mercy of providence
his attention must have been otherwise occupied. Anyway I reached
the village green unchallenged, and a few minutes later I was half
way up the hill and safely beyond the reach of any such unfortunate
encounter.
It was a full hour's tramp to Torrington, even for a quick walker
like myself. Bobby had timed things perfectly, however, and just as
I arrived at my destination the train came steaming in alongside the
platform.
I made a rapid inspection of my fellow-passengers, and, having
discovered that to the best of my knowledge they were all complete
strangers, I took my seat in the corner of an empty smoker. The
doors banged, the guard waved his flag, and with a triumphant whistle
we slid slowly forward on our fifty mile journey to London.
I don't know whether the Great Eastern is generally punctual, but on
this occasion its performance was beyond criticism. The hands of the
big timepiece at Liverpool Street were pointing to exactly nine
o'clock as I stepped out of the carriage and, hailing a taxi,
instructed the man to drive me to Angel Court. He put me down
outside the entrance, and with a queer feeling of excitement at my
heart I walked up the narrow passage and pressed the bell of the
Inspector's office.
My ring was answered by an alert-looking youth in his shirt-sleeves.
"Mr. Campbell hasn't come yet, sir," he said, in answer to my
enquiry. "I'm not expecting him till half past ten this morning."
I suppose he saw my disappointment, for he added civilly: "Was it
something important you wished to see him about, sir?"
"It was important enough to get me out of bed at six o'clock this
morning," I explained.
"Well, perhaps you could look in again, sir," he suggested "If you
like to leave your name I'll give it to him directly he arrives.
He'll be here for certain by ten-thirty."
"I'll come back in an hour then," I replied. "If he turns up before
tell him that Mr. John Dryden wants to see him."
I had met with the first hitch in my programme, but as I walked back
into Fleet Street I consoled myself by reflecting that things might
very easily have been much worse. Even if we missed the earlier
train there was another, an equally good one, at two-fifteen. This
would get us to Pen Mill shortly after four, which would still give
Bobby plenty of time for his trip to Martlesea.
It occurred to me that the best thing I could do while I was waiting
was to lay in a stock of fresh provisions. I could hardly expect
Campbell to subsist entirely upon a diet of dry biscuits and
champagne, so summoning another taxi, I told the driver to take me to
Fortnum and Mason's. Here I purchased a number of delicacies,
including a couple of cold chickens and a fresh tongue. I gave
instructions that they should be packed in a hamper and sent off to
the cloak-room at Liverpool Street to await my arrival, and then,
still having half an hour to spare, I strolled across to the
Piccadilly Hotel and treated myself to a glass of sherry and two or
three caviare sandwiches.
At ten-thirty exactly I was back once more in Angel Court with my
finger on the Inspector's bell. It had scarcely rung before the door
was pulled open and the burly figure of Campbell himself appeared in
the passage.
"Glad to see you, Mr. Dryden," he exclaimed, giving me a hearty grip.
"My clerk told me you'd be along in a minute. I'm sorry I wasn't in
when you called before."
"It was my fault," I said, following him into the office. "If people
will come at such unholy hours they can hardly expect to find you at
home."
"We're used to early visitors in this line of business," he replied
with a laugh. "Besides, you couldn't have come at a more convenient
time anyhow. As a matter of fact I was just going to write to you."
He pulled forward a tattered arm-chair, and, relieving me of my coat
and hat, laid them on the sofa.
"Are you busy this morning?" I asked. "Can you fix things so that we
shan't be interrupted for at least a couple of hours?"
He glanced at me sharply from under his bushy eyebrows.
"I daresay I can if it's really essential. Do you mind waiting a
minute while I speak to my clerk?"
He stepped out into the passage and entered the opposite room. A
minute later he returned, and, having shut the door behind him, took
the chair opposite mine.
"Now," he enquired genially, "what's the trouble?"
I suppose that the task of listening to the most incredible stories
is just part and parcel of a detective's business. Few men had
probably had more experience in this line than Campbell himself, but
as I began to speak I wondered in my own mind if he had ever
encountered such a strange yarn as the one which I was about to
unfold.
Following the same course that I had adopted with Bobby, I once more
described my first meeting with Christine and her uncle that sunny
afternoon in Manaos Harbour. Then, step by step, and taking infinite
pains to omit nothing which might be of the least significance, I
laid bare the whole amazing train of incidents which had led up to my
present visit.
As a feat of uninterrupted talking (for, unlike Bobby, Campbell made
no attempt even to ask a question) it was the nearest approach to a
record that I am ever likely to achieve. Long before I had finished
my voice was as hoarse as a crow's, and even now I can remember the
feeling of relief with which I lay back in my chair when it was all
over, and gazed expectantly into the shrewd, wide-awake eyes of my
apparently unwearied companion.
It was he who was the first to break the silence.
"I congratulate you on a really remarkable performance, Mr. Dryden,"
he observed. "I have never met anyone who would make a better
witness."
"Well, if that's the case," I replied, "I hope to God my abilities
will be wasted."
Campbell looked at me for a moment with a queer, half-quizzical
smile; then very suddenly his expression changed to one of the utmost
gravity.
"Aye," he said in his harsh North country accent, "it's a serious
enough matter in all conscience. The pity is that you couldn't come
to me before. It might have saved one poor fellow's life anyway."
"You believe that Bascomb was murdered then?" I answered slowly.
"I'm sure of it," was the grim reply, "and, what's more, I'm
practically certain that every word which that young lady told you is
the Gospel truth." He sucked in his upper lip, and sat there for a
moment gnawing the end of his short stubbly moustache.
"It's curious what a fool one can be at times," he continued. "I've
been looking out for those stones ever since the Brazilian Government
sent round their first notice. Twenty per cent was the offer they
made, and on their own original estimate that would have worked out
at something like forty thousand pounds. There isn't a police
officer or detective in Europe who hasn't tried his hand on the
job--and to think that for the last three months I've been walking
around with the blessed things right under my very nose!"
"Oh, hang the diamonds!" I exclaimed. "We've got something more
important to think about than them."
"Quite so," assented Campbell drily. "All the same, you may find the
subject of some interest--after we've settled with Dr. Manning."
"Have you any doubt in your own mind as to whether he killed
Bascomb?" I asked.
"I should think it's more likely to have been Craill," was the
answer. "There was a touch of crudeness about the affair which
doesn't quite fit in with our friend's record."
I leaned forward eagerly. "You've traced him?" I exclaimed. "You've
found out who he is?"
Campbell pulled open a drawer in the table beside him and took out a
piece of paper.
"I've managed to dig up one or two interesting little details. I was
going to send them along to you this morning if you hadn't saved me
the trouble." He glanced at his memoranda. "The gentleman's right
name," he continued, "is not Manning at all. It's Francis Maitland
Winter. He is thirty-six years old, a graduate of Harvard
University, and I should say one of the most complete scoundrels that
ever infested this earth."
I looked at my companion with open admiration. "How on earth did you
discover all that?" I demanded.
"It wasn't difficult. The cleverest criminal makes a slip at times,
and when our friend let out to you that he had once been a ship's
surgeon he was actually speaking the truth. It was an unpardonable
piece of carelessness, and he has probably regretted it bitterly ever
since. Of all people in the world a ship's surgeon is one of the
easiest to trace. A few enquiries in the right quarter convinced me
that Dr. Manning was the same person who, under the name of Francis
Winter, was tried for murder some years ago in New York and
triumphantly acquitted by a well-meaning but remarkably thick-headed
jury."
"Whom did he murder?" I asked.
"Well, he was charged with having poisoned one of his own
patients--an old gentleman who had been ill-advised enough to make a
will in his favour. He seems to have carried the whole thing through
with extraordinary cleverness. Anyhow, he was not only acquitted,
but he actually got away from America with the money. I believed it
amounted to about a hundred thousand dollars."
"He must be a greedy devil," I observed. "If I'd made a coup like
that, I'm hanged if I'd risk my neck a second time."
Campbell shrugged his shoulders. "I don't suppose he's well off.
According to the evidence that came out at the trial, the man's a
born gambler. He's probably lost the whole of it by now."
"But what are we to do?" I exclaimed, getting up from my chair. "I'm
tied hand and foot for fear of dragging in Christine and her uncle.
Unless you can help us----"
"I'll help you, Mr. Dryden, that's what I'm here for." The Inspector
had risen to his feet also, and somehow or other the sight of his
burly figure and the fighting gleam in his hard grey eyes sent a
fresh wave of hope and confidence through my heart. "Our first job,"
he continued, "is to get Mr. de Roda and the young lady out of the
hands of these ruffians. We must do that immediately. As soon as
we've made quite certain that de Roda had nothing to do with the
murder of Bascomb we can put the Yard on to Manning straight away.
That will keep them busy while we're looking for the diamonds."
"I'd better go out and wire to Bobby that I'm bringing you back with
me," I said. "I promised to let him know as soon as I could."
Campbell glanced at the watch which he was wearing on his wrist.
"The only trouble is that I can't leave here until after five. I've
asked a man to come and see me this afternoon, and there's no
possible way in which I can put him off."
I did a moment's rapid thinking. "Have you got such a thing as a
time-table?" I enquired.
He handed me an A.B.C. off the mantelpiece, and, hunting up the right
page, I soon found what I wanted.
"The best plan for you," I said, "will be to come straight through to
Martlesea. There's a six o'clock train from Liverpool Street which
gets in at seven-fifteen. I'll go back this afternoon and arrange
with Bobby to pick you up at the station. Then he can bring you over
to Greensea in his motor-boat."
Campbell nodded. "That will do me all right. What time shall we get
in?"
"Oh, somewhere about eight-thirty," I replied "It's not more than a
dozen miles, and you won't hang about on the way--not if Bobby's
driving her." I picked up my hat and coat. "I'd better be clearing
off now," I added. "That will give you a chance to settle up your
affairs and make your will."
With a twinkle in his eyes Campbell held out his hand.
"Well, good-bye for the present," he remarked. "Don't do anything
rash while your friend's away, Mr. Dryden. If you take my advice
you'll just lock yourself in the house and wait there till we arrive."
He walked with me to the front door, and, leaving him standing on the
steps, I made my way back down the alley into the roar and bustle of
Fleet Street.
In answer to my enquiry a friendly policeman directed me to the
nearest post office, where, after a brief deliberation, I sent off
the following wire to Bobby:
"Business satisfactorily arranged. Meet me Pen Mill four
o'clock."
By the time I had handed this in it was already a few minutes past
one, and, feeling that whatever else I had accomplished I had
certainly earned a good lunch, I turned into the Cock Tavern, which
was only half a dozen yards away.
Here I feasted sumptuously on roast saddle of mutton and a bottle of
Burgundy--an excellent wine for anyone who is suffering from the
after-effects of two hours' continuous oratory. There being no
occasion for hurry, I dawdled away another pleasant half hour over a
cigar, and then at a leisurely pace I walked back through the City to
Liverpool Street. At five and twenty to three I was watching the
panorama of East London slip by the carriage window, with Fortnum and
Mason's hamper reposing safely in the opposite rack.
On reaching Torrington station I was fortunate enough to secure the
same ramshackle cab which had carried me to Pen Mill two days before.
Packing myself and the hamper inside, I requested the driver to
repeat the performance, and at a stumbling trot we once more jogged
off through the wet and narrow lanes.
Bobby had evidently received my wire, for as we descended the hill I
caught sight of him strolling in solitary state up and down the hard.
He came forward to meet me, and opened the door of the cab when we
drew up.
"Hullo!" he exclaimed. "Where's the sleuth-hound?"