CHAPTER XVII.Bannister Strikes the TrailBannister left the Seabourne train with a quickness of step that denoted serious business in front. The express had made excellent time from Victoria, as a result of which the Inspector’s spirits had considerably risen. This “note” story that had been telephoned to him was really interesting. At last there had come tangible evidence upon which he and his subordinates could get to work. He walked quickly down the platform, passed the barrier and flung himself into a waiting “taxi.” When he had heard from Sergeant Godfrey, at Westhampton, that the missing notes had been traced to the possession of Captain Willoughby, he had instructed the Sergeant to take no immediate action but temporarily, at least, to hold his hand. To hold his hand until Bannister himself could arrive upon the scene and direct the plan of operations. He dashed into the Police Station and within a matter of a few minutes was interviewing Sergeant Godfrey.“Tell me the whole story from the beginning, Godfrey,” he ordered. “I mean from the time when I sent you the numbers of the notes.”“That’s an easy matter,” replied Godfrey. “We circulated the missing numbers as you instructed us in the usual way and within a couple of hours received surprising information. Information from the Seabourne Branch of the Southern and Home Counties Bank. The Manager telephoned us here and I went along myself to hear what he had to say. It appears that one of his cashiers remembered taking some five pound notes over the counter on the previous day. He looked at them again just out of curiosity when our inquiry went through to his Bank and discovered to his surprise that two of them corresponded with those taken from Miss Delaney. They had been paid into the credit of the ‘Cassandra’ Hotel. There was no doubt about it. He shewed me the entry on the paying-in slip. I thanked the Manager and rolled off at once to the ‘Cassandra.’ Saw the Manager there, saw the cashier, saw pretty nearly everybody concerned. ‘Quite right,’ they said, ‘the notes had come from them certainly.’ The cashier was able to remember receiving them, perfectly. They had been paid over in settlement of his weekly account by Captain Willoughby, who has stayed at the hotel for some time. I enjoined absolute silence upon all of them for the time being and ’phoned the news direct to you. Willoughby is blissfully ignorant that the notes have been traced to him! What will you do—see him?”“Most assuredly,” chipped in Bannister. “I can’t neglect to follow this up. Say what you like—it’s most important. These notes in the first instancemusthave been taken from the dead girl. There’s more than one point in connection with this case that I haven’t been able to clear up yet—but this note business doesn’t look like falling into that category. So, I’m thankful for small mercies.”“Right then,” responded Godfrey. “I’ll come up to the ‘Cassandra’ with you. I’d like to hear what this Captain Willoughby has to say.”Captain Willoughby was in and Bannister reflected how strange it was that Willoughby had been talking to him on the very evening that Godfrey had so unexpectedly brought the problem to him. Now it had fallen to his duty to see Willoughby and examine him in the clearing-up of the affair. “One never knows,” muttered Bannister to himself, “even one’s next-door neighbour.” Willoughby received them in his own room. He had stayed at the “Cassandra” so many times that he had come to regard one particular room as his own.“Well, Inspector”—he greeted the two men with the utmost cordiality—“here we are again, then! What can I do for you this time?”The pallor and anxiety that had marked his face a few mornings before were gone and Captain Willoughby looked at his best.“Quite right,” exclaimed Bannister. “Youcando something for me. I am going to ask you an exceedingly delicate question. Think carefully before you answer it.”Willoughby’s paleness returned—Bannister’s remark had obviously “rattled” him. “What is it?” he asked anxiously.“A few days ago you settled your bill here with a couple of five pound notes—is that so? Do you admit it?”“Of course,” muttered Willoughby; “what of it?”“Only this. Those two five pound notes are very interesting indeed to us. Could you go a step further and tell us from where you got them?” Bannister prided himself upon what he considered was his ability to come straight to the point.But Willoughby did not answer.“I’ll go a step further,” continued the Inspector. “The cashier handed you change for a ten-pound note two days after you settled that particular account. Do you remember that? I should also like to know from where you obtained that one.”A look of annoyance flashed across Willoughby’s face. “Look here, Inspector,” he said with a well-defined note of asperity, “I’m well aware that you’re conducting an investigation of a murder-case, and I’ve no doubt from all I hear about you that you’re getting a rough passage. I am also equally aware that I should be prepared to assist you and all that”—he paused and gave Bannister the benefit of a straight look between the eyes—“but I’m damned if I can see why I should be expected to tell you where my own money comes from!”Bannister smiled cynically. “Perhaps I shall be able to stimulate your imagination then. Give me those numbers, Godfrey, that I ’phoned to you from Westhampton.”The Sergeant passed the list over to his superior. Bannister held it judicially. “Those three notes I may tell you to which I have just made reference, the two ‘fives’ and the ‘ten,’ were handed to Sheila Delaney at the ‘Mutual Bank,’ Westhampton, by the cashier there on the morning that she was murdered. To the best of our knowledge, they were stolen from her in Branston’s operating-room. That was why I put the question to you. Certainly we have no reason to suspect that they were taken from her before.” He handed the list back to Sergeant Godfrey. “Perhaps you are now more likely—shall we say—to give me the information I am requesting? I think so—eh?” His tone was cold and hard.Willoughby’s face as the Inspector spoke became more and more an open register of astonishment and bewilderment. If he were not the victim of genuine surprise, concluded Bannister, then he was a most accomplished actor, for astonishment was written palpably upon every line of his face.“What?” he exclaimed, “you’re joking, surely.”“Don’t be absurd. This is no time to quibble. And please come to the point.”Willoughby went white to the lips. He seemed about to make an angry retort when suddenly a definite sense of his own awkward position came home to him. The angry astonishment on his face gave place to a look of sullen determination. “Well,” he said, “since you must know—those notes were paid to me by a well-known Seabourne gentleman. So you can rule me out of any connection with Miss Delaney.”“Name—if you please?” said Bannister curtly. He was eminently business-like now.“Oh—I hate all this information-giving business—it seems to me always to border on the unspeakable—no decent man can ever——”Bannister broke in again—even more curtly perhaps than on the previous occasion. “Cut out the sentiment—can’t you see it’s to your own advantage to supply me with the information I want?”“Of course I can,” snapped Willoughby, “and can’tyousee that’s just the reason why a decent chap doesn’t want to do it. It’s to my advantage and consequently to somebody else’s detriment. That’s just the point.” He stopped again and bit his lip. “Well, I suppose there’s no help for it that I can see. I’ll tell you the whole story. My cousin is the well-known trainer of racehorses—Phipps-Holloway. He doesn’t send out too many winners as he hasn’t got a very big string now. But occasionally he pulls off a ‘coup’—usually with a dark two-year-old. He pulled one off at the Newmarket First July Meeting. He had a colt engaged in the July Stakes—‘Sherlock Holmes,’ by ‘Hurry On,’ out of ‘Popingaol.’ ” Bannister winced; he regarded it as a most unfortunate allusion. “He had won a good trial the week before and ‘Lobster’ gave me the tip. ‘Lobster’s’ my cousin. The colt opened at ‘tens’ but somebody evidently had got wind of the good thing—for when ‘The Blower’ money got wafted back on to the course—he came down ‘with a rush’ to ‘fives’ and actually started second favourite. I only got S.P. myself. I had a modest little tenner on—so I had fifty quid to draw. I drew it. Off my bookmaker, here in Seabourne. I’ve an arrangement that he pays all winnings in cash. That’s all there is to it.”“Off your bookmaker?” yelled Bannister. “Who in thunder’s he?”Willoughby took out his pocket-book and handed Bannister the usual card of the ordinary “Turf Accountant.” “Jacob Morley, 9, Macbeth Court Mansions, Seabourne.”Sergeant Godfrey was unable to restrain his excitement. “Jacob Morley,” he cried, with a ring of triumph in his voice. “Jacob Morley! Don’t you remember—Branston’s story the night we first investigated the murder?”Bannister nodded complacently. “I do,” he rejoined very quietly. “Jacob Morley was the name of the patient who had an appointment with Branston at the identical time that Sheila Delaney was found murdered. He must have kept that appointment after all!”
Bannister left the Seabourne train with a quickness of step that denoted serious business in front. The express had made excellent time from Victoria, as a result of which the Inspector’s spirits had considerably risen. This “note” story that had been telephoned to him was really interesting. At last there had come tangible evidence upon which he and his subordinates could get to work. He walked quickly down the platform, passed the barrier and flung himself into a waiting “taxi.” When he had heard from Sergeant Godfrey, at Westhampton, that the missing notes had been traced to the possession of Captain Willoughby, he had instructed the Sergeant to take no immediate action but temporarily, at least, to hold his hand. To hold his hand until Bannister himself could arrive upon the scene and direct the plan of operations. He dashed into the Police Station and within a matter of a few minutes was interviewing Sergeant Godfrey.
“Tell me the whole story from the beginning, Godfrey,” he ordered. “I mean from the time when I sent you the numbers of the notes.”
“That’s an easy matter,” replied Godfrey. “We circulated the missing numbers as you instructed us in the usual way and within a couple of hours received surprising information. Information from the Seabourne Branch of the Southern and Home Counties Bank. The Manager telephoned us here and I went along myself to hear what he had to say. It appears that one of his cashiers remembered taking some five pound notes over the counter on the previous day. He looked at them again just out of curiosity when our inquiry went through to his Bank and discovered to his surprise that two of them corresponded with those taken from Miss Delaney. They had been paid into the credit of the ‘Cassandra’ Hotel. There was no doubt about it. He shewed me the entry on the paying-in slip. I thanked the Manager and rolled off at once to the ‘Cassandra.’ Saw the Manager there, saw the cashier, saw pretty nearly everybody concerned. ‘Quite right,’ they said, ‘the notes had come from them certainly.’ The cashier was able to remember receiving them, perfectly. They had been paid over in settlement of his weekly account by Captain Willoughby, who has stayed at the hotel for some time. I enjoined absolute silence upon all of them for the time being and ’phoned the news direct to you. Willoughby is blissfully ignorant that the notes have been traced to him! What will you do—see him?”
“Most assuredly,” chipped in Bannister. “I can’t neglect to follow this up. Say what you like—it’s most important. These notes in the first instancemusthave been taken from the dead girl. There’s more than one point in connection with this case that I haven’t been able to clear up yet—but this note business doesn’t look like falling into that category. So, I’m thankful for small mercies.”
“Right then,” responded Godfrey. “I’ll come up to the ‘Cassandra’ with you. I’d like to hear what this Captain Willoughby has to say.”
Captain Willoughby was in and Bannister reflected how strange it was that Willoughby had been talking to him on the very evening that Godfrey had so unexpectedly brought the problem to him. Now it had fallen to his duty to see Willoughby and examine him in the clearing-up of the affair. “One never knows,” muttered Bannister to himself, “even one’s next-door neighbour.” Willoughby received them in his own room. He had stayed at the “Cassandra” so many times that he had come to regard one particular room as his own.
“Well, Inspector”—he greeted the two men with the utmost cordiality—“here we are again, then! What can I do for you this time?”
The pallor and anxiety that had marked his face a few mornings before were gone and Captain Willoughby looked at his best.
“Quite right,” exclaimed Bannister. “Youcando something for me. I am going to ask you an exceedingly delicate question. Think carefully before you answer it.”
Willoughby’s paleness returned—Bannister’s remark had obviously “rattled” him. “What is it?” he asked anxiously.
“A few days ago you settled your bill here with a couple of five pound notes—is that so? Do you admit it?”
“Of course,” muttered Willoughby; “what of it?”
“Only this. Those two five pound notes are very interesting indeed to us. Could you go a step further and tell us from where you got them?” Bannister prided himself upon what he considered was his ability to come straight to the point.
But Willoughby did not answer.
“I’ll go a step further,” continued the Inspector. “The cashier handed you change for a ten-pound note two days after you settled that particular account. Do you remember that? I should also like to know from where you obtained that one.”
A look of annoyance flashed across Willoughby’s face. “Look here, Inspector,” he said with a well-defined note of asperity, “I’m well aware that you’re conducting an investigation of a murder-case, and I’ve no doubt from all I hear about you that you’re getting a rough passage. I am also equally aware that I should be prepared to assist you and all that”—he paused and gave Bannister the benefit of a straight look between the eyes—“but I’m damned if I can see why I should be expected to tell you where my own money comes from!”
Bannister smiled cynically. “Perhaps I shall be able to stimulate your imagination then. Give me those numbers, Godfrey, that I ’phoned to you from Westhampton.”
The Sergeant passed the list over to his superior. Bannister held it judicially. “Those three notes I may tell you to which I have just made reference, the two ‘fives’ and the ‘ten,’ were handed to Sheila Delaney at the ‘Mutual Bank,’ Westhampton, by the cashier there on the morning that she was murdered. To the best of our knowledge, they were stolen from her in Branston’s operating-room. That was why I put the question to you. Certainly we have no reason to suspect that they were taken from her before.” He handed the list back to Sergeant Godfrey. “Perhaps you are now more likely—shall we say—to give me the information I am requesting? I think so—eh?” His tone was cold and hard.
Willoughby’s face as the Inspector spoke became more and more an open register of astonishment and bewilderment. If he were not the victim of genuine surprise, concluded Bannister, then he was a most accomplished actor, for astonishment was written palpably upon every line of his face.
“What?” he exclaimed, “you’re joking, surely.”
“Don’t be absurd. This is no time to quibble. And please come to the point.”
Willoughby went white to the lips. He seemed about to make an angry retort when suddenly a definite sense of his own awkward position came home to him. The angry astonishment on his face gave place to a look of sullen determination. “Well,” he said, “since you must know—those notes were paid to me by a well-known Seabourne gentleman. So you can rule me out of any connection with Miss Delaney.”
“Name—if you please?” said Bannister curtly. He was eminently business-like now.
“Oh—I hate all this information-giving business—it seems to me always to border on the unspeakable—no decent man can ever——”
Bannister broke in again—even more curtly perhaps than on the previous occasion. “Cut out the sentiment—can’t you see it’s to your own advantage to supply me with the information I want?”
“Of course I can,” snapped Willoughby, “and can’tyousee that’s just the reason why a decent chap doesn’t want to do it. It’s to my advantage and consequently to somebody else’s detriment. That’s just the point.” He stopped again and bit his lip. “Well, I suppose there’s no help for it that I can see. I’ll tell you the whole story. My cousin is the well-known trainer of racehorses—Phipps-Holloway. He doesn’t send out too many winners as he hasn’t got a very big string now. But occasionally he pulls off a ‘coup’—usually with a dark two-year-old. He pulled one off at the Newmarket First July Meeting. He had a colt engaged in the July Stakes—‘Sherlock Holmes,’ by ‘Hurry On,’ out of ‘Popingaol.’ ” Bannister winced; he regarded it as a most unfortunate allusion. “He had won a good trial the week before and ‘Lobster’ gave me the tip. ‘Lobster’s’ my cousin. The colt opened at ‘tens’ but somebody evidently had got wind of the good thing—for when ‘The Blower’ money got wafted back on to the course—he came down ‘with a rush’ to ‘fives’ and actually started second favourite. I only got S.P. myself. I had a modest little tenner on—so I had fifty quid to draw. I drew it. Off my bookmaker, here in Seabourne. I’ve an arrangement that he pays all winnings in cash. That’s all there is to it.”
“Off your bookmaker?” yelled Bannister. “Who in thunder’s he?”
Willoughby took out his pocket-book and handed Bannister the usual card of the ordinary “Turf Accountant.” “Jacob Morley, 9, Macbeth Court Mansions, Seabourne.”
Sergeant Godfrey was unable to restrain his excitement. “Jacob Morley,” he cried, with a ring of triumph in his voice. “Jacob Morley! Don’t you remember—Branston’s story the night we first investigated the murder?”
Bannister nodded complacently. “I do,” he rejoined very quietly. “Jacob Morley was the name of the patient who had an appointment with Branston at the identical time that Sheila Delaney was found murdered. He must have kept that appointment after all!”