The Master Detective Part 9

"Undoubtedly he did meet many."

"They didn't come forward to say they had seen him."

"I can see no reason why they should do so. There was no question of fixing the time he left. I was able to give definite information on that point."

"Well, we seem to have used up our facts," said Quarles, "and are forced to theorize."

Delverton smiled.

"You must not jump to the conclusion that I have failed," said the professor quickly. "I did not promise to tell you the name of the murderer to-night. Let me theorize for a few moments. You told me you believed that Farrell's tragic end had hastened your brother's death. Did your brother chance to come to the office that day?"

"No."

"Perhaps he came that night after you had left. I suppose you cannot bring evidence that he did not?"

"No; but--"

"Or it might have been with him that Farrell had an appointment that day, which was connected with some affair you were not intended to know anything about. That would account for his telling you a lie."

"I a.s.sure you--"

"Let me follow out my idea to the end," said Quarles, leaning over the table, and emphasizing his words by patting the cloth with his open hand.

"Three years ago things were rather bad on the Stock Exchange, one or two men in the House were hammered, and several respected firms were shaky.

Now supposing Farrell had been playing with the firm's money unknown to his partners, or perchance unknown only to one of them--yourself. Your brother may have--"

"Really, Mr. Quarles, you are getting absurd."

"I was going to say--"

"Oh, please, let me stop you before you say anything more foolish," said Delverton. "At that time my brother was very ill and as weak as a rat.

How could he have administered poison to Farrell?"

"It requires no strength to administer poison, only subtlety," said Quarles. "A gla.s.s of wine, perhaps by your brother's bedside, and the thing would be accomplished. Or there is another alternative. Your brother may have been playing with the firm's credit, and Farrell may have found him out."

"Any other alternative, Mr. Quarles? Your fertile brain must hold others."

"Yes, one more, and two opinions which lead up to it," was the quick reply.

Delverton laughed.

"It is not so absurd as the others, I trust."

"The two opinions may lead you to change your ideas concerning this mystery. First, I believe Kellner was made a partner because he knew too much."

"I am inclined to think the discussion of a gla.s.s of my best port will be more profitable than these speculations," said our host with a smile, and he took up the cradle which the servant had placed beside him. "I offered you a gla.s.s in the office the other day, but it was not such good wine as this."

"And I was shocked at the idea of port in the middle of the morning,"

said Quarles.

"But not now, eh?" And Delverton filled our gla.s.ses and his own.

"Of course not. My second belief is that Farrell did not leave the office at all that day. We have only your word for it, you know."

"Shall we drink to your clearer judgment?" said Delverton.

I had raised my gla.s.s when Quarles cried out and tossed a spoon across the table at me.

"So you don't drink, Mr. Quarles," said Delverton, putting down his emptied gla.s.s.

"Not this vintage. It is too strong for me, and also for my friend Wigan."

"Your judgment of a vintage leaves something to be desired. That gla.s.s of port has made me curious to hear the other alternative."

"I think it was you who had been playing with the firm's money, and your nephew found you out," said Quarles very deliberately. "That Stock Exchange settlement was a crisis for you. I think you induced Farrell to drink a gla.s.s of port with you, which was so doctored that he soon fell into a sleep from which he never woke. Perchance you smiled at his drowsiness, and suggested he should have half an hour's sleep in his room. You would look after things in the meanwhile. You did so, and when a clerk came in to say Dr. Morrison had called, you said Mr. Farrell had left for the day. You took care to wash the wine gla.s.s, but it seemed a good point to you to leave a tumbler with a little water in it on the table. You did not leave the office until you knew that the last of the clerks was ready to leave, and I imagine you waited somewhere in Austin Friars to see them safely off the premises. You had no doubt that a verdict of suicide would be returned. Later you were surprised to find that your clerk, Kellner, knew of your money difficulties, and to silence him he was taken into partnership. Whether the firm of Delverton Brothers is running straight now I have no means of knowing, nor can I say whether Mr. Kellner has any suspicion that the death of Mr. Farrell was more opportune than natural. You are the kind of man who is much impressed by his own cleverness, and when you met me in Devonshire it occurred to you to throw down a challenge, to pit your wits against mine.

I suspected you then, for you overdid certain things, and a sinister intention had entered into your head. You confessed yourself charmed with Miss Lester, yet your whole att.i.tude suggested that you believed Dr.

Morrison guilty of murder. You became something more than an ordinary criminal who takes life to save himself from the consequence of his actions, you crossed the line and became devilish. Mrs. Morrison believes you would have asked her to marry you almost directly after Farrell's death had she not very plainly shown you her loathing of such a union. So you planned to be revenged when you threw down the challenge to me, and having failed, you now attempt to be wholesale in your destruction."

"I end by cheating you," said Delverton.

"Not me, but the hangman. I will warn your butler that the port is poisoned, and tell him to telephone for the doctor."

"You can go to the devil," said Delverton.

He died that night, and the following day the Delverton mystery filled columns of the papers. It was a dull season, and the press made the most of it. It is only right to say that Kellner was not generally believed to have known that Farrell had been done to death by his uncle. Quarles believes he was absolutely innocent in this respect. I am doubtful on the point, I admit.

CHAPTER IV

THE MYSTERIOUS HOUSE IN MANLEIGH ROAD

The dramatic suicide of Martin Delverton, and the solution of a mystery which had been relegated to the list of undiscovered crimes produced a sensation. The public clamored for intimate particulars concerning Christopher Quarles, the house in Chelsea was besieged by hopeful interviewers, and the professor could only escape their attentions by going out of town. It was an excellent excuse for golf, he declared, and an opportunity to improve on his five handicap. I am bound to say that while I was with him he never went round in less than twenty over bogey, and when he only took twenty over he had luck.

This sudden enthusiasm on the part of the public was the cause of some difficulty and not a little annoyance so far as I was personally concerned.

As I have said elsewhere, I have constantly received the credit of unmasking a scoundrel simply because Quarles chose to remain in the background, but I have never claimed any credit to which I was not ent.i.tled. It was distinctly hard, therefore, when all the praise for bringing a series of crimes to light was given to him when justly it should have been accorded to me. I had been engaged on the work at the time the case of Eva Wilkinson had cropped up, my investigations had prevented my accompanying Quarles and Zena to Devonshire. He would be the first to deny that he had any part in solving these problems. I daresay I mentioned certain points about them to him, he may possibly have made a suggestion or two, but it is only because he had really nothing to do with them that they have found no place in his chronicle. I admit I was much annoyed, because I rather prided myself on the astuteness I had displayed.

Curiously enough, it was not only the public who persisted in giving him the credit, but the victims of my ingenuity as well, and the mistake was destined to bring peril to both of us in a most unexpected manner.

I was at breakfast one morning about a week after our little golfing holiday, when Quarles telephoned for me to go to him at once. He would give me no information, except that it was an urgent matter, and it was like him to ignore the possibility that I might have another engagement. As it happened I was free that morning, and was soon on my way to Chelsea.

I found him studying some pamphlets and letters which had apparently come altogether in the big envelope which was lying on the table.

"Have you seen the paper this morning?" he asked.

"I had just opened it when you 'phoned to me."