WHAT THE STATIONMASTER SAW
The number of type-writer exchanges in London is not large. Impressing the
services of Smith and his wife as amanuenses, Brett despatched the
requisite letters before he retired for the night.
He was up betimes and out before breakfast, surprising the domestics of
his club by an early visit to the library. The Etona contained a great
many service members, and made a feature of its complete editions of Army
and Navy lists.
In one of the latter, eight years old, Brett found, among the officers of
the _Northumberland_, at that time in commission, "Robert Hume-Fraser,
sub-lieutenant." A later volume recorded his retirement from the service.
Hume and Winter reached Brett's flat together.
"Any luck with the Jap, sir?" asked the detective cheerily.
Brett told them what had happened, and Winter sighed. Here, indeed, was a
promising subject for an arrest. Why not lock him up, and seize the
type-writer? But he knew the barrister by this time, and uttered no word.
"And now," said Brett, after a malicious pause to enable Winter to declare
himself, "I am going back to Stowmarket. No, Hume, you are not coming with
me. When does Fergusson arrive here?"
The question drove from David's face the disappointed look with which he
received his friend's announcement.
"To-morrow evening," he replied. "My father thinks the old man should not
risk an all-night journey. He has also sent me every detail he can get
together, either from documents or recollection, bearing upon our family
history."
He produced a formidable roll of manuscript. The old gentleman had
evidently devoted many hours and some literary skill to the compilation.
"I will read that in the train," said Brett. "You must start at once for
Portsmouth. I have here a list of all the officers serving with your
cousin Robert on the _Northumberland_ immediately prior to his quitting
the Navy. Portsmouth, Devonport, Southsea, and the neighbourhood will
almost certainly contain some of them. If not, people there will know
where they are to be found. You must make yourself known to them, and
endeavour to gain any sort of news concerning the ex-lieutenant. Naval men
roam all over the world. Some of them may have met him in the Argentine,
or in any of the South American ports where British warships are
constantly calling. He was a sailor. He left the Navy under no cloud.
Hence, the presence of a British man-o'-war would draw him like a magnet.
Do not come back here until you bring news of him."
"Why is it so important? You cannot imagine--"
"No; I endeavour to restrain my imagination. I want facts. You are the
best person to obtain them. One relative inquiring for another is a
natural proceeding. It will not arouse suspicions that you are a
debt-collector."
"Suppose I obtain news of his whereabouts?"
"Telegraph to me and I will give you fresh instructions."
Hume walked to the door.
"Give my kind regards to Miss Layton," he said grimly.
"I will be delighted. Work hard. You will see her all the sooner."
"There goes a man in love," continued Brett, addressing the back of
Winter's skull, though looking him straight in the face. "His career, his
reputation, everything he values most in this world is at stake. He is a
sensible, level-headed fellow, who has become embittered by unjust
suspicion; yet he would unwillingly let a material item like his cousin's
proceedings sink into oblivion just for the sake of telling a girl that
she looks more charming to-day than she did yesterday, or some equally
original remark peculiar to love-making. How do you account for it,
Winter?"
"I give it up," sighed the detective. "We are all fools where women are
concerned."
"You surprise me," said the barrister sternly. "Such a personal confession
of weakness is unexpected--I may say distressing."
Winter shook his head.
"You're not married, Mr. Brett, or you wouldn't talk like that."
"Well, let it pass. I want you to make the acquaintance of that loving
couple, Mr. and Mrs. Numagawa Jiro. You must disguise yourself. Jiro is to
be shadowed constantly. Get any help you require, but do it. Be off,
Winter, on the wings of the wind. Fasten on to Jiro. Batten on him. Become
his invisible vampire. Above all else, discover his associates. Run now to
the bank and cash this cheque. It repays the sum you advanced last night,
and provides money for expenses."
"I must first see Capella off," gasped the detective.
"All the more reason that you should fly."
Left to himself, the barrister compiled memoranda for an hour or more. He
read through what he had written.
"The web is spreading quickly," he murmured. "I wonder what sort of fly we
shall catch! Is he buzzing about under our very noses, or will he be an
unknown variety? As they say in the Argentine--_Quien sabe?_"
During the journey to Stowmarket he mastered the contents of the bulky
document sent from Glen Tochan. It contained a great many irrelevant
details, but he made the following notes:--
After the duel in 1763, David Hume, the man who avenged with his
sword the supposed injury inflicted upon his father by the first
Sir Alan Hume-Frazer, escaped to the Netherlands, and was never
heard of again.
There was a local tradition on the Scotch estate that five
Hume-Frazers would meet with violent deaths in England. The reason
for this singular belief was found in the recorded utterances of
an old nurse, popularly credited with the gift of second sight,
who prophesied, after the outlawry of the Humes in 1745, that
there would be five long-lived generations of both families, and
that five Frazers would die in their boots.
"Curiously enough," commented the old gentleman who supplied this
information, "Aunt Elspeth's prediction is capable of two
interpretations, owing to the fact that the first Sir Alan Frazer
assumed the additional surname of Hume. I have absolutely no
knowledge of any distinct branch of the Hume family. David Hume's
sister was married to my ancestor at the time of the duel."
Admiral Cunningham, the hardy old salt who brought from Japan the
sword used by a Samurai to commit _hari-kara_, or suicide by
disembowelling, commanded the British vessels of the combined
squadron which sailed up the Bay of Yedo on July 6, 1853, to
intimidate the Mikado.
He narrowly escaped assassination at the hands of a two-sword man,
who was knocked down by a sailor and soundly kicked, after being
disarmed.
The Admiral brought home the two weapons taken from his assailant,
and the larger sword was still to be seen in the armoury at Glen
Tochan.
The three brothers, of whom the writer alone survived, quarrelled
over money matters about eight years before the murder of the
fifth baronet. The youngest, Charles, had entangled himself in a
disastrous speculation in the city, and bitterly reproached Alan
and David (the narrator) because they would not come to his
assistance.
The old gentleman laboured through many pages to explain the reasons which
actuated this decision, but Brett skipped all of them.
Finally, he suspected no one of committing the crime itself, which was
utterly inexplicable.
At Stowmarket the barrister sought a few minutes' conversation with the
stationmaster.
"Have you been long in charge of this station?" he asked, when the
official ushered him into a private office.
"Nearly five years, sir," was the surprised answer.
"Ah, then you know nearly all the members of the Hume-Frazer family?"
"Yes, sir. I think so."
"Do you remember the New Year's Eve when the young baronet was killed?"
"Yes, generally speaking, I do remember it."
The stationmaster was evidently doubtful of the motives which actuated
this cross-examination, and resolved not to commit himself to positive
statements.
"You recollect, of course, that Mr. David Hume-Frazer was arrested and
tried for the murder of his cousin?"
"Yes."
"Very well. Now I want you to search your memory well and tell me if you
saw anyone belonging to the family in the station on that New Year's Eve.
The terrible occurrence at Beechcroft the same night must have fixed the
facts in your mind."
The stationmaster, a cautious man of kindly disposition, seemed to be
troubled by the interrogatory.
"Do you mind if I ask you, sir, why you are seeking this information?" he
inquired, after a thoughtful pause.
"A very proper question. Mr. David Hume-Frazer is a friend of mine, and he
has sought my help to clear away the mystery attached to his cousin's
death."
"But why do you come to me?"
"Because you are a very likely person to have some knowledge on the point
I raised. You see every person who enters or leaves Stowmarket by train."
"That is true. We railway men see far more than people think," said the
official, with a smile. "But it is very odd that you should be the first
gentleman to think of talking to me in connection with the affair, though
I can assure you certain things puzzled me a good deal at the time."
"And what were they?"
"You are the gentleman who came here three days ago with Mr. David, whom,
by the way, I hardly recognised at first?"
"Exactly."
"Well, I suppose it is all right. I did not interfere because I could not
see my way clear to voluntarily give evidence. Of course, were I summoned
by the police, it would be a different matter. The incidents of that New
Year's Eve fairly bewildered me."
"Indeed!"
"It was stated at the trial, sir, that Mr. David came from Scotland that
morning, left Liverpool Street at 3.20 p.m., and reached Stowmarket at
5.22 p.m."
"Yes."
"Further, he was admittedly the second person to see his cousin's dead
body, and remained at the Hall until arrested by the police on a warrant."
Brett nodded. The stationmaster's statement promised to be intensely
interesting.
"Well, sir," continued the man excitedly, "I was mystified enough on New
Year's Eve, but after the murder came out I thought I was fairly
bewitched. That season is always a busy one for us, what between parcels,
passengers, and bad weather. On the morning of December 31, I fancied I
saw Mr. David leave the London train due here at 12.15 midday. I only
caught a glimpse of him, because there was a crowd of people, and he was
all muffled up. I didn't give the matter a second thought until I saw him
again step out of a first-class carriage at 2.20 p.m. I looked at him
rather sharp that time. He was differently dressed, and hurried off
without any luggage. He left the station quickly, so I imagined I had been
mistaken a couple of hours earlier. You could have knocked me down with a
feather when he appeared by the 5.22 p.m. This time he had several leather
trunks, and a footman from the Hall was waiting for him on the platform.
Excuse me, sir, but it was a fair licker!"
"It must have been. I wonder you did not speak to him!"
"I wish I had done so. Mr. David is usually a very affable young
gentleman, but, what between my surprise and the bustle of getting the
train away, I lost the opportunity. However, the queerest part of my story
is coming. I'm blest if he didn't leave here again by the last train at
5.58 p.m. I missed his entrance to the station, but had a good look at him
as the train went out. He showed the ticket-examiner at Ipswich a return
half to London, because I asked by wire. Now what did it all mean?"
"If I could tell you, it would save me much trouble," said Brett gravely.
"But why did you not mention these incidents subsequently?"
"Perhaps I was wrong, sir. I did not know what to do for the best. Every
one at the Hall, including Mr. David himself, would have proved that I was
a liar with respect to his two earlier arrivals and his departure by the
5.58. I did not see what I would accomplish except to arouse a strong
suspicion that I had been drinking."
"Which would be unjustifiable?"
The stationmaster regained his dignity.
"I have been a teetotaler, sir, for more than twenty years."
"You are sure you are making no mistake?"
"Nothing of the kind, sir. I must have been very much mistaken, but I did
not think so at the time, and it bothered me more than enough. If my
evidence promised to be of any service to Mr. David, no consideration
would have kept me back. As it was--"
"You thought it would damage him?"
"I'm afraid that was my idea."
"I agree with you. It is far better that it never came to the knowledge of
the police. I am greatly obliged to you."
"May I ask, sir, if what I have told you will be useful in your inquiry?"
"Most decidedly. Some day soon Mr. David Hume-Frazer will thank you in
person. I suppose you have no objection to placing your observations in
written form for my private use, and sending the statement to me at the
County Hotel?"
"Not the least, sir; good-day."
The barrister walked to the hotel, having despatched his bag by a porter.
"I suppose," he said to himself, "that when Winter came here he rushed
straight to the police-station. How his round eyes will bulge out of their
sockets when I tell him what I have just learnt."