The Stowmarket Mystery Part 39

"What with--his fist?" inquired Brett.

"Nah, guv'nor--'is 'eel, blawst 'im. I could 'ave dodged a square blow. I can use my dukes a bit myself."

"What was the value of the punch?"

The youth tried to smile, though the effort tortured him. "It was worth 'arf a thick 'un at least, guv'nor."

Hume gave him two sovereigns, and the runner could not have been more taken aback had the donor "landed him" on the sound jaw.

"And now, you," said Brett to the cabman. "What did you see?"

"Me!" with a snort of indignation. "Little over an hour ago I sawr a smawt keb an' a tidy little nag wot I gev thirty quid fer at Ward's in the Edgware Road a fortnight larst Toosday. And wot do I see now? Marylebone Work'us fer me an' the missis an' the kids. My keb gone, my best hoss killed, an' a pore old crock left, worth abart enough to pay the week's stablin'. I see a lot, I do."

The man was telling the truth. He was blear-eyed with misery. Brett looked at Hume, and the latter rang a bell. He asked the waiter for a pen and ink.

"How much did your cab cost?" he said to the driver, who was so downcast that he actually failed to correctly interpret David's action. The question had to be repeated before an answer came.

"It wasn't a new 'un, mister. I was just makin' a stawt. I gev fifty-five pound fer it, an' three pun ten to 'ave it done up. But there! What's the use of talkin'? I'm orf 'ome, I am, to fice the missis."

"Wait just a little while," said David kindly. "You hardly understand this business. The madman who attacked us meant to injure me, not you. Here is a cheque for 100, which will not only replace your horse and cab, but leave you a little over for the loss of your time."

Winter caught the dazed cabman by the shoulder.

"Billy," he said, "you know me. Are you going home, or going to get drunk?"

Billy hesitated.

"Goin' 'ome," he vociferated. "S'elp me--"

"One moment," said Brett. "Surely you have some idea of the appearance of the rascal who pulled your horse over?"

The man was alternately surveying the cheque and looking into the face of his benefactor.

"I dunno," he cried, after a pause. "I feel a bit mixed. This gentleman 'ere 'as acted as square as ever man did. 'E comes of a good stock, 'e does, an' yet--I 'umbly ax yer pawdon, sir--but the feller who tried to kill you an' me might ha' bin yer own brother."

CHAPTER XXIII

MARGARET'S SECRET

The waiter managed to remove the most obvious traces of Brett's escapade in the gutter, and incidentally cleaned the stick.

It was a light, tough ashplant, with a silver band around the handle. The barrister held it under a gas jet and examined it closely. Nothing escaped him. After scrutinising the band for some time, he looked at the ferrule, and roughly estimated that the owner had used it two or three years.

Finally, when quite satisfied, he handed it to Winter.

"Do you recognise those scratches?" he said, with a smile, pointing out a rough design bitten into the silver by the application of aqua regia and beeswax.

The detective at once uttered an exclamation of supreme astonishment.

"The very thing!" he cried. "The same j.a.panese motto as that on the Ko-Katana!"

Hume now drew near.

"So," he growled savagely, "the hand that struck down Alan was the same that sought my life an hour ago!"

"And your cousin's this morning," said Brett

"The cowardly brute! If he has a grudge against my family, why doesn't he come out into the open? He need not have feared detection, even a week ago. I could be found easily enough. Why didn't he meet me face to face? I have never yet run away from trouble or danger."

"You are slightly in error regarding him," observed Brett. "This man may be a fiend incarnate, but he Is no coward. He means to kill, to work some terrible purpose, and he takes the best means towards that end. To his mind the idea of giving a victim fair play is sheer nonsense. It never even occurs to him. But a coward! no. Think of the nerve required to commit robbery and murder under the conditions that obtained at Beechcroft on New Year's Eve. Think of the skill, the ready resource, which made so promptly available the conditions of the two a.s.saults to-day. Our quarry is a genius, a Poe among criminals. Look to it, Winter, that your handcuffs are well fixed when you arrest him, or he will slip from your grasp at the very gates of Scotland Yard."

"If I had my fingers round his windpipe--" began David.

"You would be a dead man a few seconds later," said the barrister. "If we three, unarmed, had him in this room now, equally defenceless, I should regard the issue as doubtful."

"There would be a terrible dust-up," smirked Winter.

"Possibly; but it would be a fight for life or death. No half measures. A matter of decanters, fire-irons, chairs. Let us return to the hotel."

Whilst Hume went to summon the others, Brett seated himself at a table and wrote:

"A curious chapter of accidents happened in Northumberland Avenue yesterday. Early in the morning, Mr. Robert Hume-Frazer quitted his hotel for a stroll in the West End, and narrowly escaped being run over in Whitehall. About 8 p.m. his cousin, Mr. David Hume-Frazer, was driving through the Avenue in a hansom, when the vehicle upset, and the young gentleman was thrown out. He was picked up in a terrible condition, and is reported to be in danger of his life."

The barrister read the paragraph aloud.

"It is casuistic," he commented, "but that defect is pardonable. After all, it is not absolutely mendacious, like a War Office telegram. Winter, go and bring joy to the heart of some penny-a-liner by giving him that item. The 'coincidence' will ensure its acceptance by every morning paper in London, and you can safely leave the reporter himself to add details about Mr. Hume's connection with the Stowmarket affair."

The detective rose.

"Will you be here when I come back, sir?" he asked.

"I expect so. In any case, you must follow on to my chambers. To-night we will concert our plan of campaign."

Margaret entered, with Helen and the two men. Robert limped somewhat.

"How d'ye do, Brett?" he cried cheerily. "That beggar hurt me more than I imagined at the time. He struck a tendon in my left leg so hard that it is quite painful now."

Brett gave an answering smile, but his thoughts did not find utterance.

How strange it was that two men, so widely dissimilar as Robert and the vendor of newspapers, should insist on the skill, the unerring certainty, of their opponent.

"Mrs. Capella," he said, wheeling round upon the lady, "when you lived in London or on the Continent did you ever include any j.a.panese in the circle of your acquaintances?"

"Yes," was the reply.

Margaret was white, her lips tense, the brilliancy of her large eyes almost unnatural.