The Mystery of Lincoln's Inn Part 21

As soon as he had gone, Gale rang his bell again.

"I cannot go myself," he mused; "I must be present at the inquest--that is necessary. I must send Brydges."

Brydges was the detective who ranked next to himself in Scotland Yard.

In a moment or two more Brydges was in the presence of the chief.

"You have heard about the Lincoln's Inn case?" asked Gale.

"Yes, something, but not accurately--just what they are saying in the Yard."

"And that is?"

"That the body of the missing millionaire has been found in a room at the top of a house in Stone Buildings, the said room being the sitting-room of a Mr. Cooper Silwood, a solicitor, a member, in fact, of the firm of solicitors who did the dead man's legal business. A very curious position, is it not?" commented Brydges.

"Very curious indeed. All the more so because Mr. Silwood too is dead."

"Yes, I heard that also."

"It is with reference to Silwood's death that I want you just now. I wish you to go to Italy, to a place called Camajore, some miles from Genoa, and find out everything you can about his death."

"Ah!" exclaimed Brydges; "I see. You think his death may be a fake; is that it?"

"Well, it occurred to me that it might be so; at any rate, I think it well worth inquiring further into. You can leave to-night for Genoa?"

"Yes, certainly."

"And you will wire the results of your mission in cipher to me as soon as possible," said Gale.

"Am I to consult the local authorities?"

"Yes; I'll have a letter of credentials prepared for you. You will present it to the police at Genoa, and I do not imagine you will find any difficulty. Now, go and make your preparations."

Left alone once again, Gale took up the thread of his musings.

"There is one other point," he thought, "and that is the presence in Chancery Lane, on the night when Thornton disappeared, of that mysterious workman, who possessed the key to the iron gates of the small footway communicating with the court of Stone Buildings and Chancery Lane itself.

"What was it I was told? A workman, or a man dressed as a workman, let himself out of the iron gate late at night; the man appeared to be flurried, to act in a suspicious manner. In about half an hour he returned, and let himself in again. He was seen no more that night. And it was _the_ night--the night presumably of the murder.

"This a.s.suredly must be followed up; it looks like a clue. I must get hold of the waster who told the story, and hear for myself what he has to say. I wonder if he spoke the truth, or if he invented the whole thing. And if this story is true, and if this workman had something to do with Thornton's death, how is he to be connected with Cooper Silwood?

If this workman committed the murder, how did he get possession of the key to Silwood's chambers? Perhaps, during Silwood's absence, he got into the room. Well, it comes back to getting the date on which Silwood left London for his holiday--that's what I must ascertain."

The inspector had reached this conclusion when there was a knock at his door, and a constable entered and informed him that the coroner had sent a message to the effect that he was waiting for him in Silwood's chambers.

Gale called Gilbert, who had been sitting outside wearily and impatiently, and the two men got into a cab and drove to the scene of the discovery of the body. On their way thither Gale put a question.

"I am very anxious to get to know the day on which Mr. Silwood left London," said the officer; "do you think you could find that out for me this afternoon?"

"I think the office will be closed, but I'll go and see, if you like."

"I wish you would. Suppose you go round to New Square while I go on to Mr. Silwood's chambers?"

Gilbert agreed, and presently was in the office of Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh, where, to his great surprise, he found Williamson still on the premises, apparently hard at work.

"What a day this has been, Mr. Gilbert!" cried Williamson. "I thought I'd wait to see if there was any more news. Your father and Mr. Ernest have just gone home. I'm afraid your father, Mr. Gilbert, is very poorly--not that that is strange, after what has happened."

"No, indeed," said Gilbert. "Can you tell me, Mr. Williamson," he went on, "the day on which Mr. Silwood left for his holiday?"

"A fortnight ago, exactly, to-day I had a note from him, saying he was off to Italy. I don't know whether he went by the night mail on the evening of the Friday or by the continental express on the Sat.u.r.day morning; he did not mention which train he was going by."

"A fortnight ago to-day? That was July 31st. And Friday was the 30th."

"Precisely," said Williamson, with a touch of malice, "and that is the very day--that Friday--on which Mr. Thornton disappeared. It has a strange look, Mr. Gilbert; I can make nothing of it--nothing at all."

"You are sure of the date?" asked Gilbert, sharply.

"As I said, it was either on the Friday night or on the Sat.u.r.day morning that Mr. Silwood left."

Gilbert, as he went to tell Inspector Gale what he had learned, could not but confess to himself that the matter did wear a very strange look indeed.

When he got to Stone Buildings, he saw the inspector, the coroner, an a.s.sistant, and two constables. It was Gale who spoke.

"The coroner," he remarked, "is having the body taken to the nearest mortuary, Mr. Gilbert, and he will report later. Meanwhile, I have made an examination of these apartments, and I am bound to say that everything in them appears to be in good order. I see no sign of disorder, no indication of a struggle. And I have looked into the bedroom, and there also I can see nothing to take hold of. Mr. Silwood, I should say, prepared in the most leisurely fashion for his trip; not a thing betokens hurry or flurry--this is all satisfactory enough, so far as it goes."

Gale addressed a few words to the coroner, and then the body was removed. As Gilbert turned to leave the room, Gale put his arm on his sleeve.

"What about the date?" he asked.

"Mr. Silwood left either that Friday night or next morning--which, is not certain."

Gale looked at Gilbert, earnestly, but he did not speak; his silence was eloquent enough.

"You think," said Gilbert, slowly, "that Silwood murdered----?"

He did not complete the sentence.

"I say nothing definite, Mr. Gilbert; but don't you think it looks that way?"

"It is impossible--impossible!" said Gilbert.

But Gale shook his head.

When Gilbert got to Waterloo, on his way to see Kitty, he heard at the bookstall people eagerly asking for the latest editions of the evening papers. On the placards he saw in big black letters--

"THE BODY OF THE MISSING MILLIONAIRE DISCOVERED."

"IS IT MURDER?"

How was he to tell Kitty, his darling? What could he say to her?