The Master Detective Part 35

"We mustn't give the press any reason to suppose that we want to thwart justice for the purpose of shielding an officer," the chief said. "Cochran will take charge of the case, and I am letting the press know this."

There was nothing to be said, and I left him feeling very much like a criminal, and very conscious of being in an awkward position. Unless the case were satisfactorily cleared up there would be plenty of people to suspect me.

Quarles, when at last we foregathered in the empty room, was sympathetic but not surprised; Zena, who had come back to town immediately on receiving a letter from me, was furious that I should be suspected.

"I have been busy," said the professor. "I opened those letters, Wigan.

Of course Zena's first question on her arrival was why Mr. Parrish had not opened them. Her second question was: Why did he live the life of a recluse in Gray's Inn? How would you answer those questions?"

"I see no reason why a recluse should not live in Gray's Inn," I answered, "and an eccentric person, obsessed with one idea in life, might throw letters aside without opening them."

"Quite a good answer," said Quarles. "Now, here are the letters. This one is dated eighteen months ago, postmark Liverpool, written at Thorn's Hotel, Liverpool. 'Dear Jack,--Back again like the proverbial bad penny.

Health first cla.s.s; luck medium. Pocket full enough to have a rollick with you. Shall be with you the day after to-morrow.--Yours, C.M.' Your friend Parrish was not a man you would expect to rollick, I imagine?''

"No."

"So either he entirely deceived you or had changed considerably since 'C.M.' had seen him. Here is the other letter. Postmark Rome, dated three years ago, but no address. Just a message in indifferent English: 'Once more you do me good and I repay in interest. B. knows and comes to you.

Beware.--Emanuele.'"

"Parrish told me he was in Italy for some time," I said.

"The first letter took me to Liverpool," Quarles went on. "Thorn's Hotel is third-rate, but quite good enough for a man who does not want to burn money. 'C.M.' stands for Claude Milne. That was the only name with those initials in the hotel books on that date. He had come from New York, and he left an address to which letters were to be forwarded, an hotel in Craven Street. I traced him there. He stayed a week, and, I gather, spent a rollicking time, mostly returning to bed in the early hours not too sober. No friends seem to have looked him up. He appears to have gone abroad again."

"And it is eighteen months ago," I said.

"Exactly. We will remember that," said Quarles. "The other letter is older still. It is evidently a warning. The writer believed Parrish to be in danger from this 'B.' who was coming to England. Now, was it B. who found him the other night after three years' search?"

"The name is on the door and in the directory," I answered.

"That is another point to remember, Wigan. Now, I daresay you have learnt from your inquiries in the building that very little was known about Parrish. Some of the tenants did not remember there was such a name on the door. I have interviewed the agents who receive the rent, and they tell me that until about three years ago they received Parrish's rent by check, always sent from Windsor, and on a bank at Windsor; but since then they have received it in cash, promptly, and sent by messenger boy, the receipt always being waited for. They inform me that at one time, at any rate, Parrish did not use his chambers much, was a river man in the summer, and in the winter was abroad a great deal. The letter sent with the cash was merely a typed memorandum. There was no typewriter in Parrish's chambers, I think?"

"No."

Quarles took from some papers the fly-leaf he had torn from one of the books.

"That is Parish's signature," said Quarles. "The agents recognize it, the bank confirms it; the account is not closed, but has not been used for three years. The rooms he occupied in Windsor are now in other hands, and nothing is known of him there. Inspector c.o.c.kran made these inquiries at Windsor. You see, as you are off the case I am helping him. Having no official position in the matter I must attach myself to some one to facilitate my investigation. c.o.c.kran thinks I am an old fool with lucid moments, during which I may possibly say something which is worth listening to."

"He is generally looked upon as a smart man," I said.

"Oh, perhaps he is right in his opinion of me, also in his judgment of you."

"What has he got to say about me?"

"He says very little, but as far as I can gather his investigations are based on the a.s.sumption that you killed Parrish. Don't get angry, Wigan.

It is really not such an outrageous point of view, and for the present I am shaking my head with him and am inclined to his opinion."

"It is a disgraceful suspicion," said Zena.

"Those who plead not guilty always say that, but it really does not count for much with the judge," Quarles answered. "We will get on with the evidence. I jotted down on this fly-leaf the names of some of the books on that shelf, Wigan. Nothing there, you see, bears any reference to his illuminating work."

"Are you suggesting it was a blind?"

"No, I haven't got as far as that yet, but it is curious that none of his books should relate to his hobby in any way. I have ascertained that he always bought his materials personally, never wrote for them. From the postman I discover that it was seldom they had to go to the top floor; the advertis.e.m.e.nts and letters we have found may be taken to be all the communications he has received through the post. At the same time we have evidence that he had command of money, since he paid his rent promptly, bought expensive materials, and dined every night at Warburton's. Since he did not sell his work, where did the money come from?"

"Some annuity," I suggested.

"Exactly, which he must have collected himself, since he received no letters, and taken away in cash, since he had given up using a banking account. c.o.c.kran has made inquiries at the insurance offices, and in the name of Parrish there exists no such annuity, apparently. It was, therefore, either in another name or came from a private source."

"So we draw blank," I said.

"In one sense we do, in another we do not," returned Quarles. "We come back to the letters and to Zena's questions. First, why did he live the life of a recluse in Gray's Inn? The answer does not seem very difficult to me. He had something to hide, something which made him cut himself off from the world, and that something had its beginning about three years ago, when he ceased paying his rent by check, when he gave up his rooms at Windsor; in short, when he entirely became a changed character.

We may take 'C.M.'s' letter, with its talk of rollicking, as confirming this view."

"But he did not open either letter. He did not see Emanuele's warning," I said.

"True, but I believe, Wigan, the first two words in Emanuele's letter should stand by themselves; that the letter should read thus: 'Once more. You do me good, I repay, etc,' I think there was a previous letter which Parrish did see."

"A far-fetched theory," I returned.

"The key to it is in Zena's question: Why didn't Parrish open his letters?"

"Why, indeed?" I said. "He might throw 'C.M.'s' letter aside, but if there had been a previous letter warning him that danger threatened him from Italy, do you imagine he would have failed to open one with the Rome postmark on it?"

"That does seem to knock the bottom out of my argument," said Quarles.

"I am afraid the theory is too elaborate altogether," I went on. "Parrish was an eccentric. I was not deceived. I am astonished there should ever have been an episode in his life which should necessitate a warning from Emanuele. Probably the Italian exaggerated the position. That B. is stated to have come to England three years ago, and the murder has only just occurred, would certainly confirm this view."

"It does, but you throw no light on the mystery, and the fact remains that Parrish was murdered. You have not knocked the bottom out of my theory, and with c.o.c.kran's help I am going to put it to the test. For the moment there is nothing more to be done. I must wait until I hear from c.o.c.kran. I will wire you some time to-morrow. You must meet me without fail wherever I appoint. I think c.o.c.kran is fully persuaded that I am helping him to snap the handcuffs on to your wrists. The capture of a brother detective would be a fine case to have to his credit, wouldn't it?"

"I hope you are not doing anything risky, dear," said Zena.

"What! Is your faith in Murray growing weak, too?" laughed Quarles.

I was not in the mood to enjoy a joke of this kind--my position was far too serious--and I left Chelsea in a depressed condition. Perhaps it was being so personally concerned in the matter which made me especially critical of Quarles's methods, but it certainly did not seem to me that his arguments had helped me in the least. They only served to emphasize how poor our chance was of finding the criminal.

Next afternoon I received a wire from the professor telling me to meet him at the Yorkshire Grey. I found him waiting there and thought he looked a little anxious.

"We are going to have a tea-party at a quiet place round the corner in Gray's Inn Road," he said; "at least c.o.c.kran and I are, while you are going to look on. You are going to be conspicuous by your absence, and under no circ.u.mstances must you attempt to join us. When it is all over and we have gone, then you can leave your hiding-place and come to Chelsea."

He would answer no questions as we went to the third-rate tea-rooms, but he was certainly excited. The woman greeted him as an old friend. He had evidently been there before.

"This is the gentleman I spoke of," said Quarles, and then the woman led us into a back room.

"Ah, you've put the screen in that corner, I see. An excellent arrangement; couldn't be better. You quite understand that this room is reserved for me and my guests for as long as I may require it. Good. Now, Wigan, your place is behind this screen. There is a chair, so you can be seated, and there is also a convenient hole in the screen which will afford you a view of our table yonder. It is rather a theatrical arrangement, but I have a score to settle with c.o.c.kran if I can. He thinks I am an old fool, and when it does not suit my purpose I object to any one having that idea."

When c.o.c.kran arrived it so happened that I had some little difficulty in finding the slit in the screen; when I did I saw that he had a woman with him. By the time I had got a view of the room she had seated herself at the tea-table and her back was toward me. It did not seem to me the kind of back that would make a man hurry to overtake to see what the face was like.

Quarles talked commonplaces while the tea was being brought in, and then, when the proprietress had gone out, he said, leaning toward the woman:

"Do you constantly suffer from the result of your accident?"