A week after his discovery of the identity of the dead man, Fanks, having slipped his detective skin for the time being, was seated in the writing room of the Athenian Club, with the "Morning Planet" newspaper on his knee. He was not reading it, however, but was looking absently at a long and lean young man, who was writing letters at a near table.
Francis Garth, of the Middle Temple, barrister and journalist, was one of the few West End men who knew the real profession of Rixton, alias Fanks. In fact, there was very little he did not know; and Fanks--as it will be convenient to call the detective--was debating as to whether he should question him about the Tooley Alley crime. He was urged to this course by the remembrance that he had seen Garth at the inquest. This had been held on the previous day. The jury had brought in a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown, and the conduct of the case had been placed officially in the hands of Fanks. So far all was ship-shape.
And now the detective found himself at a standstill. No evidence had been brought forward implicating either Mrs. Boazoph or Dr. Renshaw; and, doubtful as was Fanks as to their honesty, he could gain no clue from the one or the other of them likely to elucidate the mystery. Failing this, he had determined to learn if possible all about the previous life of the deceased, and in this way discover if anyone was likely to be a gainer by his death. Garth, who had known the late Sir Gregory intimately--who had been present at the inquest--was the most likely person to furnish these details; and Fanks was waiting for an opportunity of addressing him. On the result of the projected conversation would depend his future movements.
"I say, Garth," said Fanks, "how much longer will your correspondence take?"
"I shall be at your service in ten minutes," replied Garth, without desisting from his occupation. "What do you wish to talk about?"
"About the death of your friend, Sir Gregory Fellenger."
Garth looked up and turned round with alacrity.
"Is the case in your hands, Fanks?"
"Yes; and I want some information from you."
"I shall be happy to give it. But wait for a few minutes; I am just writing about it to a friend of mine--and yours."
"Humph! and the name?"
"Ted Hersham, the journalist."
They looked at one another, the same thought occupying both their minds.
"Has your reason for writing anything to do with the left arm of our friend?" asked Fanks, after a pause.
Garth nodded and returned to his work. When he had sealed, directed, and stamped the letter Fanks spoke again.
"Garth?" he said; "I say, Garth?"
"Yes! What's the matter?"
"Don't send that letter till after our conversation."
"Ah! You guess why I am writing to him."
"My remark of a few moments ago ought to have shown you that," said Fanks, dryly. "Yes; I guess your object, and I want you to leave the case in my hands. It is too difficult a one for you to manage alone."
"I know that it is difficult, Fanks, but I wish to solve this mystery."
"Because Fellenger was your friend?" asked Fanks.
"Because Fellenger was my cousin," replied Garth.
The announcement took Fanks by surprise, as he had not known of the relationship. He was aware that Fellenger and Garth had been close friends, but he knew little of the former, save as a club acquaintance, and the latter was very reticent about his private affairs, although he was curious concerning the affairs of others.
"So you wish to revenge the death of your cousin," he remarked after a thoughtful moment.
Garth shrugged his shoulders.
"Hardly that," he replied; "between you and me, I did not care overmuch for Fellenger. He was a bad lot, and we only held together because of our relationship. But I should like to find out what took him to Tooley's Alley and who killed him."
"A laudable curiosity. Do you suspect anybody?"
"Not a soul. I am as much in the dark as--you are."
"I may not be so much in the dark as you think," said the other.
"Then why did you ask me to assist you?" retorted Garth, sharply. "See here, Fanks, tell you all that I know if you will promise to keep me posted up concerning the progress of the case."
Fanks twisted his ring and reflected.
"I agree," he said briefly, "but you must not meddle--unless I tell you to do so."
"Agreed!" And the pair shook hands on the bargain.
"And now," said Fanks, grimly, "that letter, if you please."
After a moment's hesitation Garth handed it over. He had a great respect for the mental capacity of his friend, and on the whole he judged it advisable to carry out the agreement which had been concluded.
"Though I would send that letter if I were you," he expostulated; "Hersham has----"
"I know what Hersham has," interrupted Fanks; "but I want him to see me, not you. Wait till we know how we stand at the present moment. Come into the smoking-room and answer my questions."
"What a peremptory chap you are," grumbled Garth, as they left the room. "Evidently you don't confide in my discretion."
"I am about to do so," said Fanks, who understood the art of conciliation; "we will work together, and all that I know you shall know. But you must let me manage things in my own way."
In his heart Garth was flattered that Fanks should have chosen him as his coadjutor, and, dominated by the stronger will of the detective, he quietly took up the position of an underling. Garth was self-willed and not usually amenable to reason; but Fanks had the law at his back, without which Garth could not hope to do anything. Hence his acquiescence.
"Come, now, old fellow," said Fanks, amiably, "we have a hard task before us; so you must make it easier by answering my questions."
"Go on," said Garth, lighting a cigar; "I always give in to a man who has had more experience than myself."
Fanks laughed at this delicate way of adjusting the situation, but as he wished to keep on good terms with the touchy lawyer he let the remark pass in silence. When they were fairly settled, and he saw that they had the smoking-room to themselves, he took out his pocket-book and began his examination as to the past of the dead man.
"The Fellengers are a Hampshire family, I believe?"
"Yes," replied Garth, with a nod; "Sir Gregory was the fourth baronet and only son. The family seat is Mere Hall, near Bournemouth."
"You are Sir Gregory's cousin?"
"I am, on the mother's side."
"Who is the present baronet? Yourself or somebody else?"
"Somebody else," said Garth, with a sigh. "I should have told you if I had been his heir. I wonder at so clever a man as you asking so very frivolous a question."
"I have my reasons," said Fanks calmly. "Well, and who is the heir?"
"My cousin, Louis Fellenger; he is twenty-five years of age, and as great a prig as ever lived."
"Where does he reside now?"
"I believe that he has gone to Mere Hall to take possession of the property. But he did live at Taxton-on-Thames, a village near Weybridge."
"Do you know Sir Louis intimately?"
"No. I have only seen him once or twice. He is a bookish, scientific man, and an invalid;--at least," corrected Garth, "he has always a doctor living with him; a tall, fat brute, called Binjoy, who twists him round his finger. He has been with him for years."
"A tall, fat brute," repeated Fanks, smiling at this amiable description. "Has the gentleman in question a long, brown beard?"
"No, he is clean shaven. A pompous creature, fond of using long words, and proud of his voice and oratorial powers. Something like 'Conversation Kenge' in 'Bleak House.'"
"Humph!" said Fanks, rather struck by the description, which was not unlike that of Renshaw, "we will discuss Dr. Binjoy later on. In the meantime, just enlighten me as to your precise relationship with the present baronet."
"It's easily understood. Gregory's father, Sir Francis--after whom I was named--had a brother and sister. She married my respected father, Richard Garth, and I am the sole offspring."
"And the brother was the father of the present Sir Louis?"
"Exactly. There is a great deal of similarity between all three cases. Gregory was an only child and his parents are dead; Louis is an only child, and his parents have also gone the way of all flesh; I am an only child, and I am likewise an orphan."
Fanks made a note of the family tree in his book.
"So far so good," he said, with a nod. "Sir Gregory is dead and Sir Louis has succeeded him; if Louis dies without issue, you are the heir. And failing you?"
"The property goes to the Crown," replied Garth. "Louis and I are the sole representatives of the Fellengers."
"The race has dwindled considerably. Now what about your dead cousin. He was a trifle rapid, I believe?"
"A regular bad lot; but I kept in with him because--well, because he was useful to me. Understand?"
"Perfectly," replied Fanks, who knew of Garth's financial difficulties. "We will pass that. Have you any idea what took him to Tooley's Alley?"
"Not the slightest. I saw him two days before his death--on the nineteenth--and he said nothing about going there then."
"Did he behave as usual towards you?"
"No. He was out of sorts. He had lost a lot of money at cards, I believe, and he was crabbed in consequence."
"There was no other trouble; no financial difficulty?"
"Not that I know of. Fast as he was, he could not get through ten thousand a year before the age of twenty-eight."
"I have known men who have done so," said Fanks dryly. "However, if it was not a question of money, what about the inevitable woman?"
"I don't think it was that, either," demurred Garth. "It was a man he met--a negro--not a woman."
"True. Well, you were at the inquest?"--
"How do you know?" asked Garth, starting.
"I saw you there in the crowd."
"You see everything, Fanks."
"It is my business to see everything, Garth. It is because you were at the inquest that I sought you out to-day. Now that you have explained to me your relationship to Sir Gregory I understand why you were present. But to return to the main point. You heard the theory of Dr. Renshaw?"
"Yes," replied Garth reflectively. "There might be something in that secret society business. Not, mind you, that Gregory was the man to meddle with rubbish of that kind. He was too much of a fool; but one never knows; a man does not have a cross tattooed on his arm for nothing."
"Do you think that it is the mark of a revolutionary society?"
"I can't say; I should like to know. That is why I was writing to Hersham. Of course you know that he----"
"I know that he has a cross tattooed on his arm also. And it is for that reason that I reject your secret society business."
"It isn't mine. I am merely following the lead of Renshaw."
"Then you are following a will-o-the-wisp," retorted Fanks. "See here, Garth. I have known Hersham for a long time; he is the son of a clergyman in the Isle of Wight. He was brought up to the law like yourself; and also like yourself, he left it for journalism. As you know, he is a merry, open-minded creature, who could not conceal a secret if his life depended upon it. Do you think that if he had been mixed up with secret societies that he would have been able to conceal the fact from me?"
"Then why is there a cross tattooed on his left arm?" asked Garth.
"I intend to see him and find out. I noticed it long ago; but made no remark on it, thinking that it was the result of some school-boy freak. Now it has assumed a new importance in my eyes. Therefore you must let me interview Hersham, and choose my own time and place for doing so."
"I suppose you are right. Tear up that letter, please." Fanks held out the letter.
"Tear it up yourself," he said.
This Garth did without further remark, and looked at his friend.
"What do you intend to do now?" he asked.
"Continue this conversation for a few minutes longer. You were intimate with the dead man, Garth. Did you ever notice this cross?"
"I did not," said Garth, promptly, "or I should have asked what it meant. By Jove!" he added, with a start. "Then all that obliteration business must be nonsense."
"Of course," assented Fanks, smoothly. "I came to that conclusion long ago. Fellenger had no cross on his arm when he entered Tooley's Alley. It was tattooed that night by the negro."
"What makes you think that?"
"I found a few grains of gunpowder on the tablecloth of the room in which they were together; gunpowder is used in tattooing. Again, the arm, when Renshaw showed it to me, was raw, as though the operation had been done lately."
"But why should Gregory go to Tooley's Alley to be tattooed?"
"Tell me that, and the mystery of his death is at an end," said Fanks, significantly. "But I am certain that Fellenger voluntarily let this negro tattoo his arm; and so came by his death."
"Came by his death," echoed Garth in astonishment. "What do you mean?"
"Why," answered Fanks, seriously, "I mean that the needle used for the tattooing was poisoned; and so--," he shrugged his shoulders, "--the man died."
Informed of this astounding fact, Garth stared at his friend in blank astonishment. The detective resumed his cigar, and waited.
"You cannot be in earnest," said the barrister after a pause.
"Why not? The theory is feasible enough. It was proved at the inquest that the man died from blood-poisoning."
"Yes. But it might have been administered in the liquor. The pair had drinks, remember."
"I have not forgotten," said Fanks quietly, "but on your part remember that no trace of poison was found in the stomach; while the blood was so corrupted, as to show that the deceased had been inoculated with some powerful vegetable poison. There was no mark on the body, save the cross on the left arm; and, by your own showing, it was not there when Fellenger went to Tooley's Alley. The assumption is that it was done there; as is more than confirmed by the presence of gunpowder."
"Again, according to Mrs. Boazoph, there was no struggle; therefore the deceased must have passed away quietly. My inference is that this negro desired to kill Sir Gregory--or else he was instructed to do so by some one else who wished for the death of your cousin. What then so easy, as for the negro to have a poisoned needle prepared to execute the tattooing. Quite unaware of the danger, Fellenger--for some unknown reason--would permit the insertion of the fatal needle. As the work went on, he would gradually be inoculated with the poison. When the gunpowder and acids were applied the job would be finished, and he would pull down his sleeve, quite ignorant that to all intents and purposes he was a dead man. Then he sat and chatted with the negro till the end came; when he sank into a state of coma and died. When certain that the death was an assured fact, the negro took his departure. Oh, it is all as plain as day to me;--all excepting one fact."
"And that fact?"
"Why did Fellenger get a negro in Tooley's Alley to tattoo him."
Garth reflected.
"I can only conclude that a secret--"
"Rubbish!" said Fanks, contemptuously, "you and your secret societies. I tell you that is all nonsense. Even assuming that the cross is an emblem of some association--which I do not grant for a moment--we have proved that it was not tattooed on your cousin's arm when he went to keep his appointment; therefore he could not at that time have been a member of your mythical society. If, on the other hand, he was being made a member--a ceremony which would not have taken place in a low pot-house--why should he be killed? These societies admit living men to work their ends; they have no use for dead bodies."
"That is all true enough, Fanks. We must reject the idea of a secret society. But in an affair of robbery and murder--"
"In such an affair, the method of procedure would be different. A bludgeon--a sand-bag--a knife--any of these weapons if you please. But if this negro had designed to rob Fellenger, he need not have ingratiated himself into his confidence to permit the performance of so delicate an operation as that of the poisoned needle. No. We must reject that theory also."
"Then what do you think was the motive of the murder?"
"I am not a detective out of a novel, Mr. Garth. Ask me an easier question."
He rose from his seat and began to walk to and fro. "The whole mystery lies in the tattooing," he muttered to himself. "If I can only find out why Sir Gregory permitted that cross to be tattooed; and why he went to Tooley's Alley to have it done, I shall discover the assassin."
"Hersham has a tattooed cross on his left arm," said Garth, "perhaps he can explain the riddle."
"Perhaps he can; perhaps he can't," returned Fanks, sharply. "The coincidence is certainly curious. I shall see and question Hersham; but there is much to be done before then. You must help me, Garth."
"I am willing to do whatever you wish, my friend."
"Ah," said Fanks with a smile, "you have a touch of detective fever. I suffer from it myself notwithstanding my experience. The unravelling of these criminal problems is like gambling; a never-failing source of excitement; and, like gambling, chance enters largely into their solution."
"I don't see much 'chance' in this case."
"Don't you think again. Why, the very fact that you and I should know that Hersham has a tattooed cross on his left arm is a chance. Such knowledge--which is mere chance knowledge--might lead to nothing; on the other hand, it may help to find the man who killed your cousin."
"Surely you do not suspect Hersham?"
"Certainly not. Why should I suspect him on the evidence of the tattooed cross. For all I or you know, it may be a simple coincidence, such as crops up constantly in real life. No. I don't suspect Hersham."
"Do you suspect anyone?"
"I don't suspect any special person of committing the murder; but I suspect some people, and particularly one individual, of knowing more than they chose to say. But this is beside the point. I wish you to help me."
"By all means. What is it you want me to do?"
"You know the chambers of your cousin; by my desire they have been in the hands of the police since his death. Fellenger's valet is also there--detained by my desire. Now I wish to search the chambers for possible evidence and to examine him. You must take me there at once."
"Is it necessary when, by your own showing, you are all-supreme already?"
"My friend," said Fanks, solemnly, "it is my experience that when the lower orders--to which this valet belongs--come into contact with a detective they are quite useless as witnesses, for the very simple reason that the presence of the law paralyses them. To avoid this danger you must introduce me into the chambers as a sympathising friend only. You can question the servant in my presence, and having got rid of him in the meantime, we can search the chambers together."
"But the police may recognise you."
"The police have their instructions; they will recognise me as Mr. Rixton, of the West End."
Garth fell in readily with this scheme, and together the two men left the club. As they proceeded along Piccadilly--the dead man's chambers were in Half-Moon Street--Fanks resumed the conversation from the point where it had been broken off.
"You have answered my questions capitally, Garth. Now, as we are working together, I shall reply to anything you like to ask me."
The barrister, restored to a sense of importance by the thought of the part he was about to play in the forthcoming interview with the valet, availed himself readily of the opportunity of learning the plans of the detective. Fanks had no hesitation in confiding them to him, as, foreseeing that Garth would be necessary to the elucidation of the mystery, he wished to interest him in the case as much as possible. He was well aware that Garth was not the man to give up an idea when once it had fixed itself in his head, and his present idea was to investigate the mystery of his cousin's death. With characteristic wisdom Fanks, who never wasted a person or an opportunity, made use of this new factor in the case to further his own ends. Such economies aided his frequent successes in no small degree.
"What are your plans?" asked Garth, taking advantage of the permission.
"As yet I cannot be certain of them; but, so far as I can see at present, they include the search and examination of chambers and valet, a conversation with the landlady of the Red Star, a visit to Taxton-on-Thames, and an interview with Dr. Renshaw."
"Why with the latter gentleman?"
"Because Renshaw is too confidential with Mrs. Boazoph, because he was too conveniently on the spot at the time of the murder for my liking; and, finally, because Renshaw had a cut-and-dried theory of the motive of the crime prepared on the instant."
"You don't trust the man?"
"I think that his conduct is suspicious; but I do not accuse him of anything--as yet."
"He does not look a man to be feared," said Garth, disbelievingly; "he was very timid in giving his evidence at the inquest."
"That is one reason why I mistrust him. Dr. Renshaw is acting a part, but I am unable to say whether he is mixed up in this especial affair. I have my suspicions, but, as you know, I never like to speak unless certain."
Garth looked curiously at the detective.
"You hint at the guilt of Mrs. Boazoph," he said, doubtfully.
"Do I? Then I should hold my tongue. There is no doubt that the negro committed the crime in the way that I told you of. But I believe that he acted as the agent of a third party--not Mrs. Boazoph. I wish to find out that party to hang him or her as an accessory before the fact."
"You can't hang him or her."
"Perhaps not; but I can imprison him or her."
"Do you think that Mrs. Boazoph knows the motive of the crime?"
Fanks reflected.
"Yes, I think she does," he said, quietly; "it is my belief that the motive for which you and I are searching is to be found in the past life of Mrs. Boazoph."
"Her past is known to the police, is it not?"
"It is known for the last twenty years only. She appeared in London twenty-one years ago, but who she is and where she came from, the police know no more than you do."
"Then how can the motive be found in----"
"Garth," said Fanks, pausing, and touching the other with his finger, "I have presentiments and premonitions; these rarely deceive me. In this instance they point to Mrs. Boazoph. Do not ask me why, for I can tell you no more. But I am sure that we are going forward on a dark path; at the end of that path we will find--Mrs. Boazoph."
"I never thought that you were so superstitious, Fanks."
"I do not regard myself as so, I assure you. But," and here Fanks became emphatic, "I believe in my instinct, in my presentiment."
Garth walked along in silence, rather inclined to ridicule the apparent weakness of Fanks. However, he judged it wiser to keep these thoughts to himself, and merely asked another question relative to the negro.
"I am at a loss about the negro," said Fanks, "as I do not know where to search for him. Under these circumstances I think it necessary to follow the clue I hold in my hand. The going of your dead cousin to Tooley's Alley to keep his appointment."
"How do you know that it was an appointment?"
"I learnt that much from Mrs. Boazoph. She said that the white man came first and was asked for by the black man. That is an appointment, and I wish to find out who made it."
"How can you discover that?"
"Well, I hope to do so by searching the chambers of your cousin. There must be a letter or some sign whereby Fellenger knew where to meet the negro."
"The letter may have been destroyed."
"Possibly. From your knowledge of your cousin's character would you think it probable that he would destroy the letter making the appointment?"
"No," said Garth, after a moment's thought. "If the appointment was made within the last month I should think that the letter was still in existence."
"On what ground?" asked Fanks, eagerly.
"Well, Gregory used to read all his letters and then drop them into the drawer of his desk. At the end of the month he went through the pile, and the letters that were worth nothing were destroyed. So if that letter making the appointment is in existence it will be in the drawer of the desk."
"Good! This is a chance I hardly hoped to have."
"Chance again?"
"Yes; chance again," replied Fanks, good-humouredly. "How many men burn their letters; but for the fortunate circumstance that your cousin saved his for a month it would be almost hopeless to think of gaining a clue; but now there is more than a hope."
"Provided that the appointment was made by letter."
"Of course," assented Fanks, gravely; "we must always take that into consideration. But a question on my side. Did it strike you at the inquest that there was a resemblance between Doctors Renshaw and Binjoy?"
"I can't say that it did. Renshaw is much older than Binjoy, and he wears a full beard, whereas Binjoy is shaven clean. Still they are both burly; both have fine voices, and indulge in long words and stately Johnsonian dialogue. You surely do not think the two men are one and the same?"
"I have such an idea," said Fanks, dryly, "strange as it may appear. But as my opinion is mainly founded on your description I may be wrong. At all events Renshaw goes to India next week. If I find Binjoy in the company of Sir Louis Fellenger after Renshaw's departure, I shall admit my error. Otherwise--well, I must get to the bottom of the matter."
"I have only seen each of them once," said Garth, "so do not depend altogether on my powers of description."
"I won't. I depend on nothing but my own eyesight. For instance, if I see a black man wearing a green overcoat with brass buttons, I shall have a reasonable suspicion that I see the assassin of your cousin. Hullo! what is the matter?"
For Garth was leaning against the iron railings of Green Park with a look of dread on his face.
"By heaven, Fanks, you may be right!"
"About what?"
"About Renshaw and Binjoy being one and the same man."
"Indeed; what makes you think so," asked Fanks, dryly.
"Because Binjoy has a negro servant who wears a green coat with brass buttons."
Greatly to the surprise of Garth, the detective appeared to be decidedly disappointed at this announcement.
"You don't seem to be overpleased at what I have told you," he said in a tone of pique. "Yet it makes the case easier to you."
"I confess that I do not think so," was Fanks' reply. "I shall give you my reasons after I have examined your cousin's rooms. At present I must say that you have puzzled me."
Fanks' refusal to discuss the subject of the negro did not at all please Garth; especially as he considered that his discovery had placed the solution of the case in their hands. But to his protestations the detective only reiterated his determination to keep silent, until the rooms had been searched. With this Garth was forced to be content; although he could not conceive the reason of such extraordinary conduct; and he ascended the stairs with an ill-grace.
"Were I in your place, I should follow out the clue of the negro without delay," he said, as they rang the bell.
"Were you in my place you would do as I am doing, and take time to consider your movements," retorted Fanks as the door was opened.
Venturing on no further remonstrance Garth walked into the chambers, followed by his friend. The servant who admitted them was a light-complexioned, light-haired young fellow, who appeared to be thoroughly frightened. His first remark exposed the reason of his terror.
"I am afraid you can't come in, sir," he said to the cousin of his late master, with a backward glance, "the police are here."
As he spoke a policeman made his appearance overflowing with official importance. Prompted by Fanks the barrister at once addressed himself to this Jack-in-office.
"I am the cousin of the late Sir Gregory Fellenger," he said, "and I wish to go into the sitting-room for a few minutes."
"You can't enter, sir," said the policeman, stolidly.
"Why not; my friend here, Mr. Rixton----"
The officer started and looked at Fanks. Evidently he saw his orders in the face of the detective; for he at once moved aside and granted the desired permission. The valet Robert was astonished at this sudden yielding; but he entertained no suspicion that there was any understanding between the policeman and the fashionably-dressed young man who had been introduced as Mr. Rixton. At a glance the detective saw that he had to deal with a timid, simple creature, who might be trusted to tell the truth out of sheer nervous apprehension. The discovery afforded him satisfaction.
"I am much obliged to you, officer," said Garth, slipping a shilling into the policeman's hand. "We shall not stay long. Robert, show us into the sitting-room, if you please. I wish to ask a few questions."
A terrified expression flitted across the face of the mild valet, but like a well-trained servant, he merely bowed and preceded Garth along the passage. Fanks lingered behind.
"Maxwell!" he said to the policeman, "has anyone been here this morning?"
"Yes, sir!" replied, the man, in a low tone. "A young lady, sir; very pretty, with dark 'air and blue eyes. She asked to see Robert, sir."
"Oh, indeed! And how did you act?"
"I wouldn't let her see him, sir. He don't know she called."
"Quite right. What did she say when you refused?"
"She was upset, Mr. Fanks, and insisted on seeing him. I said as he was out, so she said as she would call this afternoon at three o'clock."
Fanks glanced at his watch. It was a quarter past two, so this unknown woman might be expected in a short space of time. Fanks was curious to see her and to learn the reason of her coming; as it might be that she was indirectly connected with the case. As yet there was no woman mixed up in the matter with the doubtful exception of Mrs. Boazoph; but from long experience Fanks was sure that the necessary element would yet appear. It seemed as though his expectations were about to be realised.
"Was she a lady, Maxwell, or an imitation of one?"
"A real lady, sir; she gave me half a sov., sir."
"You had no business to take the money," he said, half smiling at Maxwell's definition of what was a real lady.
"I couldn't help it, sir," said Maxwell, piteously, "she would give it to me, sir. I am ready to return it, sir, if she should come back."
"Well! We shall see; show her into the sitting-room if she calls again; has that valet been out to-day?"
"No, sir; he seems too frightened to go out. He does nothing but go about the 'ouse 'owling. A poor miserable thing, Mr. Fanks."
"Has he said much to you?"
"Never a word, sir; he 'olds his tongue and 'owls; that's all."
This behaviour of the servant struck Fanks as strange; but he did not make any comment thereon to the policeman. Again desiring Maxwell to show the young lady into the room when she called, he went in search of Garth. To his surprise he found the barrister alone.
"Where is Robert?" asked Fanks, sharply.
"I sent him out; thinking that we would search the room first."
"That won't do; we shall want his assistance, call him in at once."
Garth nodded and rang the bell. In a few minutes Robert, looking more terrified than ever, made his appearance. With a glance at Fanks to bespeak his attention--for the detective was lounging idly in a chair--Garth began his interrogation at once.
"Robert," he said, with great deliberation, "how long have you been in the service of my cousin?"
"Four years, sir."
"Was he a kind master?"
"A very kind master, sir. I would not wish for a better place."
"Do you remember the twenty-first of June?" asked the barrister, in true police-court style.
"Yes, sir," replied the man with a shiver. "It was the night that my master was murdered."
"At what time, did Sir Gregory leave the house?"
"I don't know, sir."
"You don't know," repeated Garth, while Fanks pricked up his ears. "Were you not in attendance on him?"
"No, sir. My master received a letter by the five o'clock post which seemed to upset him very much. After a time he recovered and sent me out to get seats for the theatre. When I got back at six he was gone. I never saw him again," declared the man in a shaking voice, "never again till I was called on to identify his dead body."
"You had no idea where your master was going?"
"No, sir! He did not tell me."
"When you left Sir Gregory to get seats for the theatre how was he dressed?"
"In a frock coat and light trousers, sir; but when I saw the body it was clothed in moleskin trousers and a flannel shirt."
"Did you ever see that disguise in his possession?"
"I can't say that I ever did, sir," replied the valet, hesitatingly. "But the week before a parcel came for Sir Gregory, which he would not let me open. I was about to do so when he stopped me. I think the parcel contained the clothes--the disguise."
"Why do you think so?"
r
"Because the parcel was soft, and felt like clothes. Besides it came from Weeks and Co., of Edgeware-road; and they sell more workmen's clothes than anything else."
"On what day did the clothes arrive?" asked Fanks, idly.
"On the fourteenth, sir. I am certain of the date, because Sir Gregory was taken ill in the morning."
"Taken ill!" repeated Garth. "At what time was he taken ill?"
"At breakfast, Mr. Garth, when he was reading the paper. He gave a cry and I came in to find him in a faint like. I got him a glass of brandy, and he dressed and went out. The parcel arrived in the afternoon."
"What paper did your master take in?"
"The 'Morning Post,' sir," replied the man, turning to Fanks, who had asked the question.
"The 'Morning Post' of the fourteenth. And where is the paper?"
"My master put it away, sir."
"Oh! Do you happen to know where he put it?"
"No, sir. I was out of the room at the time."
Fanks sank back in his chair and nodded to Garth to continue the conversation; which the barrister did at once.
"How long had your master been in town before the murder?" he asked.
"About a month, sir. Before that we were at Mere Hall in----"
"I know where it is," said Garth, impatiently. "But about that letter which came by the five o'clock post on the day of the crime. Did you see it?"
"I saw the envelope when I brought it in, sir."
"Was the handwriting a man's or a woman's?"
"It was in female handwriting I am certain, sir."
"Your master was agitated when he opened it?"
"Very agitated, sir. He had an attack like that of the previous week when he was reading the paper."
"The letter was from a woman?"
"I supposed it was, sir, judging from the handwriting."
"Had Sir Gregory anything to do at that time with any particular woman?"
Robert grew even paler than usual, and placed his hand on his throat with a nervous gesture. He replied, with difficulty, his eyes on the ground.
"Not that I know of, sir," he said hoarsely.
Fanks was satisfied that the servant was lying, but he made no attempt to intervene. On the contrary, he signed to Garth to conclude his examination and to let the man go. This the lawyer did forthwith.
"That is all, Robert; you can go. I shall remain here with Mr. Rixton for a few minutes longer."
When the servant had taken his departure, Garth turned eagerly to his friend. "Well, Fanks, and what do you think of all this?"
"I think that there is a woman at the bottom of it as usual."
"Mrs. Boazoph?"
"No, a younger and a prettier woman than Mrs. Boazoph. We will talk of that later. In the meantime I wish to see that letter and the advertisement."
"What advertisement?"
"The one in the 'Morning Post' which upset your cousin on the fourteenth; in which drawer does he stow his letters?"
Garth went to the desk. He tried the middle drawer, but it was locked; as were the other drawers. "He used to place his papers in the middle drawer," said Garth, "but you see that it is closed."
"I thought it might be," said Fanks, producing a bunch of keys, "so I brought these with me."
"No good. No skeleton keys will open these locks. They are of special construction, and Gregory was very proud of them."
"These are the keys of the desk, Garth. They were found in the dead man's pockets; and I brought them with me, in case the drawers should be locked. I was right, it seems. And now let us make our search."
He opened the middle drawer and revealed a mass of letters all in the envelopes in which they had come.
The two men went carefully through the pile; and in ten minutes they were rewarded by finding the object of the search. The envelope, the address of which, as had been stated by Robert, was in female handwriting, contained three documents. Two printed slips cut from a newspaper; a piece of cardboard in the shape of a five-rayed star, painted red, and inscribed with some writing. Slips and star read as follows:
The first printed slip, dated 14th June:
"Tattooed cross left arm. I alone know all. I alone can save you. If you wish to feel secure, meet me when and where you please."
The second printed slip, dated 16th June:
"Tattooed cross left arm. I wish to feel secure. Name time and place, and I shall be there."
The cardboard star, painted red:
starFive pointed star with handwriting in arm viz.:"Tooleys," "Alley," "21 June," "6-7," "Hotel."