The Rayner-Slade Amalgamation Part 21

Chettle showed his gratification by a start of pleased surprise.

"You have--already!" he exclaimed.

"Already!" replied Allerd.y.k.e. "Found it out within an hour of getting back in here. He gave it"--here, though the door was closed and bolted, and there was no fear of eavesdroppers, he sank his voice to a whisper--"he gave it to Fullaway's secretary, the woman we discussed, Mrs. Marlow. That's a fact. He gave it to her just before he set off for Russia."

Chettle screwed his lips up to whistle--instead of whistling he suddenly relaxed them to a comprehending smile.

"Aye, just so!" he said. "I was sure it lay somewhere--here. Fullaway himself, now--does he know?"

"James gave it to her in Fullaway's presence," replied Allerd.y.k.e. "She's a bit of a photographer, I understand--they were talking about photography, I gathered, one day when James was in Fullaway's office, and James pulled that out and gave it to her as a specimen of my work."

"All that came out in talk this afternoon?" asked Chettle.

"Just so. Ordinary, casual talk," a.s.sented Allerd.y.k.e.

"No suspicion roused?" suggested Chettle.

"I don't think so. Of course, you never can tell. I should say,"

continued Allerd.y.k.e, "that she's as deep and clever as ever they make 'em! But it was all so casual, and so natural, that I don't think she'd the slightest idea that I was trying to get at anything. However, I found this much out--she couldn't produce the photograph. Said she'd taken it home. Well--there we are! That's part one of my bit of news, Chettle. Now for part two. This woman's leading a double life. She's Mrs. Marlow as Fullaway's secretary and here at his rooms and on his business; where she lives she's Miss Slade. Eh?"

Chettle p.r.i.c.ked his ears.

"When did you find that out?" he asked. "Since you left me this morning?"

"Found it out this afternoon," replied Allerd.y.k.e, with something of triumph. He had been strolling about the bedroom up to that moment, but now he drew a chair to the table at which Chettle sat and dropped into it close beside his visitor.

"I'll tell you all about it," he went on. "You said at Hull yesterday that you'd always found Yorkshiremen sharp and shrewd--well, this is a bit more Yorkshire work--work of my manager here in town--Mr.

Appleyard. Listen!"

He gave the detective a clear and succinct account of all that Appleyard and his satellites had done, and Chettle listened with deep attention, nodding his head at the various points.

"Yes," he said, when Allerd.y.k.e had made an end, "yes, that's all right, so far. Good, useful work. The thing is--can you fully trust these two young men--your chauffeur and his brother?"

"I could and would trust my chauffeur with my last shilling," answered Allerd.y.k.e. "And as for his brother, I'll take my man's word for him.

Besides, they both know--or Mr. Gaffney knows--that I'm a pretty generous paymaster. If a man does aught for me, and does it well, he profits to a nice penny!"

"A good argument," agreed Chettle. "I don't know that you could beat it, Mr. Allerd.y.k.e. Well, well--we're getting to something and to somewhere!

Now, as you've told me all this, I'll just keep things quiet until I've met you and your manager to-morrow, with these two Gaffneys--we'll have a conference. I won't go near the Yard until after that. Eleven o'clock to-morrow, then, at your warehouse in Gresham Street."

He presently replaced the watch and the postcard in an inner pocket, and took his leave, and Allerd.y.k.e, letting him out, walked along the corridor with him as far as the lift. And as Allerd.y.k.e turned back to his own room, the third event of that day happened, and seemed to him to be the most surprising and important one of all.

What made Allerd.y.k.e pause as he retraced his steps along the corridor, pause to look over the bal.u.s.trade to the floor immediately below his own, he never knew nor could explain. But, just as he was about to re-enter his room, he did so pause, leaning over the railings and looking down for a moment. In that moment he saw Mrs. Marlow.

A considerable portion of the floor immediately beneath him was fully exposed to the view of any one leaning over the bal.u.s.trade as Allerd.y.k.e did. This was a quiet part of the hotel, a sort of wing cut away from the main building; the floor at which he was looking was given up to private suites of rooms, one of them, a larger one than the others, being Fullaway's, which filled one side of the corridor; the others were suites of two, in some cases of three rooms. As he looked over and down, Allerd.y.k.e suddenly saw a door open in one of these smaller suites--open silently and stealthily. Then he saw Mrs. Marlow look out, and she glanced right and left about her. The next instant, she emerged from the room with the same stealthiness, closed and locked the door with a key which she immediately pocketed, slipped along the corridor, and disappeared into Franklin Fullaway's suite. It was all over in less than a minute, and Allerd.y.k.e turned into his own door, smiling cynically to himself.

"She looked right and left, but she forgot to look up!" he muttered.

"Ah! those small details. And what does that mean? Anyway, I know which door she came out of!"

He glanced at his watch--precisely half-past eleven. He made a note of the time in his pocket-book and went to bed. And next morning, rising early, as was his custom, he descended to the ground floor by means of the stairs instead of the lift, and as he pa.s.sed the door from which he had seen Mrs. Marlow emerge he mentally registered the number.

Fifty-three. Number fifty-three.

Allerd.y.k.e, who could not exist without fresh air and exercise, went for a stroll before breakfast when he was in London--he usually chose the Embankment, as being the nearest convenient open s.p.a.ce, and thither he now repaired, thinking things over. There were many new features of this affair to think about, but the one of the previous night now occupied his thoughts to the exclusion of the others. What was this woman doing, coming--with evident secrecy--out of one set of rooms, and entering another at that late hour? He wanted to know--he must find out--and he would find out with ease,--and indirectly, from Fullaway.

Fullaway always took his breakfast at a certain table in a certain corner of the coffee-room at the hotel; there Allerd.y.k.e had sometimes joined him. He found the American there, steadily eating, when he returned from his walk, and he dropped into a chair at his side with a casual remark about the fine morning.

"Didn't set eyes on you last night at all," he went on, as he picked up his napkin. "Off somewhere, eh?"

"Spent the evening out," answered Fullaway. "Not often I do, but I did--for once in a way. Van Koon and I (you don't know Van Koon, do you?--he's a fellow countryman of mine, stopping here for the summer, and a very clever man) we dined at the Carlton, and then went to the Haymarket Theatre. I was going to ask you to join us, Allerd.y.k.e, but you were out and hadn't come in by the time we had to go."

"Thank you--no, I didn't get in until seven o'clock or so," answered Allerd.y.k.e. "So I'd a quiet evening."

"No news, I suppose?" asked Fullaway, going vigorously forward with his breakfast. "Heard nothing from the police authorities?"

"Nothing," replied Allerd.y.k.e. "I suppose they're doing things in their own way, as usual."

"Just so," a.s.sented Fullaway. "Well, it's an odd thing to me that n.o.body comes forward to make some sort of a shot at that reward! Most extraordinary that the man of the Eastbourne Terrace affair should have been able to get clean away without anybody in London having seen him--or at any rate that the people who must have seen him are unable to connect him with the murder of that woman. Extraordinary!"

"It's all extraordinary," said Allerd.y.k.e. He took up a newspaper which Fullaway had thrown down and began to talk of some subject that caught his eye, until Fullaway rose, pleaded business, and went off to his rooms upstairs. When he had gone Allerd.y.k.e reconsidered matters. So Fullaway had been out the night before, had he--dining out, and at a theatre?

Then, of course, it would be quite midnight before he got in. Therefore, presumably, he did not know that his secretary was about his rooms--and entering and leaving another suite close by. No--Fullaway knew nothing--that seemed certain.

The remembrance of what he had seen sent Allerd.y.k.e, as soon as he had breakfasted, to the hall of the hotel, and to the register of guests.

There was no one at the register at that moment, and he turned the pages at his leisure until he came to what he wanted. And there it was--in plain black and white--

NUMBER 53. MR. JOHN VAN KOON. NEW YORK CITY, U.S.A.

CHAPTER XXI

THE YOUNG MAN WHO LED PUGS

Allerd.y.k.e, with a gesture peculiar to him, thrust his hands in the pockets of his trousers, strolled away from the desk on which the register lay open, and going over to the hall door stood there a while, staring out on the tide of life that rolled by, and listening to the subdued rattle of the traffic in its ceaseless traverse of the Strand.

And as he stood in this apparently idle and purposeless lounging att.i.tude, he thought--thought of a certain birthday of his, a good thirty years before, whereon a kind, elderly aunt had made him a present of a box of puzzles. There were all sorts of puzzles in that box--things that you had to put together, things that had to be arranged, things that had to be adjusted. But there was one in particular which had taken his youthful fancy, and had at the same time tried his youthful temper--a shallow tray wherein were a vast quant.i.ty of all sorts and sizes of bits of wood, gaily coloured. There were quite a hundred of those bits, and you had to fit them one into the other. When, after much trying of temper, much exercise of patience, you had accomplished the task, there was a beautiful bit of mosaic work, a picture, a harmonious whole, lovely to look upon, something worthy of the admiring approbation of uncles and aunts, grandmothers and grandfathers. But--the doing of it!

"Naught, however, to this confounded thing!" mused Allerd.y.k.e, gazing at and not seeing the folk on the broad sidewalk. "When all the bits of this puzzle have been fitted into place I daresay one'll be able to look down on it as a whole and say it looks simple enough when finished, but, egad, they're of so many sorts and shapes and queer angles that they're more than a bit difficult to fit at present. Now who the deuce is this Van Koon, and what was that Mrs. Marlow, alias Miss Slade, doing in his rooms last night when he was out?"

He was exercising his brains over a possible solution of this problem when Fullaway suddenly appeared in the hall behind him, accompanied by a man whom Allerd.y.k.e at once took to be the very individual about whom he was speculating. He was a man of apparently forty years of age, of average height and build, of a full countenance, sallow in complexion, clean-shaven, wearing gold-rimmed spectacles over a pair of sapphire blue eyes--a shrewd, able-looking man, clad in the loose fitting, square-cut garments just then affected by his fellow-countrymen, and having a low-crowned, soft straw hat pulled down over his forehead. His hands were thrust into the pockets of his jacket; a long, thin, black cigar stuck out of a corner of his humorous-looking lips; he c.o.c.ked an intelligent eye at Allerd.y.k.e as he and Fullaway advanced to the door.

"Hullo, Allerd.y.k.e!" said Fullaway in his usual vivacious fashion.

"Viewing the prospect o'er, eh? Allow me to introduce Mr. Van Koon, whom I don't think you've met, though he's under the same roof. Van Koon, this is the Mr. Allerd.y.k.e I've mentioned to you."

The two men shook hands and stared at each other. Whoever and whatever this man may be, thought Allerd.y.k.e, he gives you a straight look and a good grip--two characteristics which in his opinion went far to establish any unknown individual's honesty.

"No," remarked Van Koon. "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Mr.

Allerd.y.k.e before. But I'm out a great deal--I don't spend much time indoors this fine weather. You gentlemen know your London well--I don't, and I'm putting in all the time I can to cultivate her acquaintance."

"Been in town long?" asked Allerd.y.k.e, wanting to say something and impelled to this apparently trite question by the New Yorker's own observations.