The Chestermarke Instinct Part 21

"Quite so--so we'll adjourn till morning, when Mr. Simmons shall see Mrs.

Pratt--just to establish things," remarked Starmidge. "In the meantime he'd better come round with me to my place, and I'll get him a bed."

Neither the police-superintendent nor the detective had the slightest doubt after hearing Simmons' story that the man who presented himself at the Station Hotel at Scarnham on the evening of John Horbury's disappearance was Mr. Frederick Hollis, solicitor, of Gray's Inn. If they had still retained any doubt it would have disappeared next morning when they took the clerk down to see Mrs. Pratt. The landlady described her customer even more fully than before: Simmons had no doubt whatever that she described his employer: he wouldn't have been more certain, he said, that Mrs. Pratt was talking about Mr. Hollis, if she'd shown him a photograph of that gentleman.

"So we can take that for settled," remarked Polke, as the three left the hotel and went back to the town. "The man who came here last Sat.u.r.day night was Mr. Frederick Hollis, solicitor, of South Square, Gray's Inn, London. That's established, I take it, Starmidge?"

"Seems so," agreed the detective.

"Then the next question is--Where's he got to?" said Polke.

"I think the next question is--Has anybody ever heard of him in connection with Mr. Horbury, or the Chestermarkes?" observed Starmidge.

"There's no doubt he came down here to see one or other of them--Horbury, most likely."

"And who's to tell us anything?" asked Polke.

"Miss Fosd.y.k.e's a relation of Horbury's," replied Starmidge. "She may know Hollis by name. Mr. Neale's always been in touch with Horbury--he may have heard of Hollis. And--so may the bankers."

"The difficulty is to make them say anything," said Polke. "They'll only tell what they please."

"Let's try the other two, anyway," counselled Starmidge. "They may be able to tell something. For as sure as I am what I am, the whole secret of this business lies in Hollis's coming down here to see Horbury, and in what followed on their meeting. If we could only get to know what Hollis came here for--ah!"

But they got no further information from either Betty Fosd.y.k.e or Wallington Neale. Neither had ever heard of Mr. Frederick Hollis, of Gray's Inn. Betty was certain, beyond doubt, that he was no relation of the missing bank-manager: she had the whole family-tree of the Horburys at her finger-ends, she declared: no Hollis was connected with even its outlying twigs. Neale had never heard the name of Hollis mentioned by Horbury. And he added that he was absolutely sure that during the last five years no person of that name had ever had dealings with Chestermarke's Bank--open dealings, at any rate. Secret dealings with the partners, severally or collectively, or with Horbury, for that matter, Mr. Hollis might have had, but Neale was certain he had had no ordinary business with any of them.

Polke took heart of grace and led Simmons across to the bank. To his astonishment, the partners now received him readily and politely; they even listened with apparent interest to the clerk's story, and asked him some questions arising out of it. But each declared that he knew nothing about Mr. Frederick Hollis, and was utterly unaware of any reason that could bring him to Scarnham: it was certainly on no business of theirs, as a firm, or as private individuals, that he came.

"He came, of course, to see Horbury," said Joseph at last. "That's dead certain. No doubt they met. And after that--well, they seem to have vanished together."

Gabriel followed Polke into the hall and drew him aside.

"Did this clerk tell you whether his master was a man of standing?" he asked.

"Man of private means, Mr. Chestermarke, with a small, highly respectable practice--a conveyancing solicitor," answered Polke.

"Oh!" replied Gabriel. "Just so. Well--we know nothing about him."

Polke and his companion returned to the Scarnham Arms, where Starmidge was in consultation with Betty and Neale.

"They know nothing at all over there," he reported. "Never heard of Hollis. What's to be done now!"

"Mr. Simmons must do the next thing," answered the detective. "Get back to town, Mr. Simmons, and put yourself in communication with every single one of Mr. Hollis's clients--you know them all, of course. Find out if any of them gave Mr. Hollis any business that would send him to Scarnham. Don't leave a stone unturned in that way! And the moment you have any information, however slight, wire to me, here--on the instant."

CHAPTER XVI

THE LEAD MINE

Starmidge and Polke presently left--to walk down to the railway station with the bewildered clerk; when they had gone, Betty turned to Neale, who was hanging about her sitting-room with no obvious intention of leaving it.

"While these people are doing what they can in their way, is there nothing we can do in ours?" she asked. "I hate sitting here doing nothing at all! You're a free man now, Wallie--can't you suggest something?"

Neale was thoroughly enjoying his first taste of liberty. He felt as if he had just been released from a long term of imprisonment. To be absolutely free to do what he liked with himself, during the whole of a spring day, was a sensation so novel that he was holding closely to it, half-fearful that it might all be a dream from which it would be a terrible thing to awake--to see one of Chestermarke's ledgers under his nose. And this being a wonderfully fine morning, he had formed certain sly designs of luring Betty away into the country, and having the whole day with her. A furtive glance at her, however, showed him that Miss Fosd.y.k.e's thoughts and ideas just then were entirely business-like, but a happy inspiration suggested to him that business and pleasure might be combined.

"We ought to go and see if that tinker chap's found out or heard anything," he said. "You remember he promised to keep his eyes and ears open. And we might do a little looking round the country for ourselves: I haven't much faith in those local policemen and gamekeepers. Why not make a day of it, going round? I know a place--nice old inn, the other side of Ellersdeane--where we can get some lunch. Much better making inquiries for ourselves," he concluded insinuatingly, "than sitting about waiting for news."

"Didn't I say so?" exclaimed Betty. "Come on, then!--I'm ready. Where first?"

"Let's see the tinker first," said Neale. "He's a sharp man--he may have something else to tell by now."

He led his companion out of the town by way of Scarnham Bridge, pointing out Joseph Chestermarke's gloomy house to her as they pa.s.sed it.

"I'd give a lot," he remarked, as they turned on to the open moor which led towards Ellersdeane Hollow, "to know if either of the Chestermarkes really did know anything about that chap Hollis coming to the town on Sat.u.r.day. I shouldn't be a bit surprised if they did. Those detective fellows like Starmidge are very clever in their way, but they always seem to me to stop thinking a bit too soon. Now both Starmidge and Polke seem to take it for certain that this Hollis went to meet Horbury when he left the Station Hotel. There's no proof that he went to meet Horbury--none!"

"Whom might he have gone to meet, then?" demanded Betty.

"You listen to me a bit," said Neale. "I've been thinking it over.

Hollis comes to the Station Hotel and uses their telephone. Mrs. Pratt overhears him call up Chestermarke's Bank--that's certain. Then she goes away, about her business. An interval elapses. Then she hears some appointment made, with somebody, along the river bank, for that evening.

But--that interval during which Mrs. Pratt didn't overhear? How do we know that the person with whom Hollis began his conversation was the same person with whom he finished it? Come, now!"

"Wallie, that's awfully clever of you!" exclaimed Betty. "How did you come to think of such an ingenious notion?"

"Worked it out," answered Neale. "This way! Hollis comes down to Scarnham to see Chestermarke's Bank--which means one of the partners. He rings up the bank. He speaks to somebody there. How do we know that somebody was Horbury? We don't! It may have been Mrs. Carswell. Now supposing the real person Hollis wanted to see was either Gabriel or Joseph Chestermarke? Very well--this person who answered from the bank would put Hollis on to either of them at once. Gabriel has a telephone at the Warren: Joseph has a telephone at his home yonder behind us. It may have been with either Gabriel or Joseph that Hollis finished his conversation. And--if it was finished with one of them, it was, in my opinion, whatever that's worth, with Master Joseph!"

"What makes you think that?" asked Betty, startled by the suggestion.

Neale laid a hand on the girl's arm and turned her round to face the town. He lifted his stick and pointed at Joseph Chestermarke's high roof, towering above the houses around it; then he swept the stick towards the river and its course, plainly to be followed, in the direction of the station.

"You see Joseph's house there," he said. "You see the river--the path along its bank--going right down to the meadow opposite the Station Hotel? Very well--now, supposing it was Joseph with whom Hollis wound up that telephone talk, suppose it was Joseph whom Hollis was to see. What would happen? Joseph knew that Hollis was at the Station Hotel. The straightest and easiest way from the Station Hotel to Joseph's house is--straight along the river bank. Now then, call on your memory! What did Mrs. Pratt tell us? 'When I was going back to the bar,' says Mrs.

Pratt, 'I heard more. "Along the river-side," says the gentleman.

"Straight on from where I am--all right." Then, after a minute, "At seven-thirty, then?" he says. "All right--I'll meet you." And after that,' concludes Mrs. Pratt, 'he rings off.' Now, why shouldn't it be Joseph Chestermarke that he was going to meet?--remember, again, the river-side path leads straight to Joseph's house. Come!--Mrs. Pratt's story doesn't point conclusively to Horbury at all. It's as I say--the telephone conversation may have begun with Horbury, but it may have ended with--somebody else. And what I say is--who was the precise person whom Hollis went to meet?"

"Are you going to tell all that to Starmidge?" asked Betty admiringly.

"Because I'm sure it's never entered his head--so far."

"Depends," replied Neale. "Let's see if the tinker has anything to tell.

He's at home, anyway. There's his fire."

A spiral of blue smoke, curling high above the green and gold of the gorse bushes, revealed Creasy's whereabouts. He had shifted his camp since their first meeting with him: his tilted cart, his tethered pony, and his fire, were now in a hollow considerably nearer the town. Neale and Betty looked down into his retreat to find him busily mending a collection of pots and pans, evidently gathered up during his round of the previous day. He greeted his visitors with a smile, and fetched a three-legged stool from his cart for Betty's better accommodation.

"Heard anything?" asked Neale, seating himself on a log of wood.

The tinker pointed to several newspapers which lay near at hand, kept from blowing away by a stone placed on the uppermost.

"Only what's in these," he answered. "I've read all that--so I'm pretty well posted up, mister. I've just read this morning's--bought it in the town when I went to fetch some bread. Queer affair altogether, I call it!"

"Have you looked round about at all?" asked Betty.