The Stowmarket Mystery Part 43

"I recommend you to transfer it to your head. It should be issued departmentally as a supplement to the Police Code. But let us waste no more time. To-morrow we have much to accomplish."

"I am all attention."

"In the first place, Mrs. Capella is leaving London for the North. She must not be regarded in our operations. The woman is weighted with a secret. I am sorry for her. I prefer to allow events as supplied by others to unravel the skein. Secondly, Jiro and his wife, and all who visit them, or whom they visit, must be watched incessantly. Get all the force required for this operation in its fullest sense. You, with one trusted a.s.sociate, must keep a close eye on No. 37 Middle Street. On no account obtrude yourself personally into affairs there. Rather miss twenty opportunities than scare that man by one false move. Do you understand me thoroughly?"

"I am to see and not be seen. If I cannot do the one without the other, I must do neither."

"Exactly. What a holiday you are having! You will return to the Yard with an expanded brain. When you buy a new hat you will be astounded and gratified. But beware of the fate of the frog in the fable. He inflated himself until he emulated the size of the bull."

"And then?"

"Oh, then he burst."

The detective changed the conversation abruptly.

"What do you propose doing, Mr. Brett?"

"I purpose reading a chapter in 'The Stowmarket Mystery,' written by your friend, Mr. Holden."

They heard a loud rat-tat on the outer door.

"Probably," continued Brett, "this is its t.i.tle."

Smith entered with a telegram. It was in the typed capitals usually a.s.sociated with Continental messages. It read:

"Johnson leaves Naples to-night with others, I travel same train.--HOLDEN."

The barrister surveyed the simple words with an intensity that indicated his desire to wrest from their context its hidden significance.

Winter, more subject to the influences of the hour, puffed his cigar furiously.

"You arrange your words to suit the next act for all the world like an Adelphi play," he growled.

"I see that Holden has the same gift. What does he mean by 'others'? Who is Capella bringing with him?"

"Witnesses," volunteered Winter.

"Just so; but witnesses in what cause?"

"How the--how can I tell?"

"By applying your borrowed logic. Try the deductive reasoning you flung at me a while ago."

"I don't quite know what 'deductive' means," was the sulky admission.

"That is the first step towards wisdom. You admit ignorance. Deduction, in this sense, is the process of deriving consequences from admitted facts.

Now, mark you. Capella wishes to be rid of his wife, by death or legal separation. He thinks he wants to marry Miss Layton. He is convinced that something within his power, if done effectively, will bring about both events. He can shunt Mrs. Capella, and so disgust Miss Layton with the Hume-Frazers that she will turn to the next ardent and sympathetic wooer that presents himself. He knew the points of his case, and went to Naples to procure proofs. He has obtained them. They are chiefly living persons.

He is bringing them to England, and their testimony will convict Mrs.

Capella of some wrong-doing, either voluntary or involuntary. Holden knows what Capella has accomplished, and thinks it is unnecessary to remain longer in Naples. He is right. I tell you, Winter, I like Holden."

"And I tell you, Mr. Brett, that If I swallowed the whole of Mr. Poe's stories, I couldn't make out Holden's telegram in that fashion. So I must stick to my own methods, and I've put away a few wrong 'uns in my time.

When shall I see you next?"

Brett took out his watch.

"At seven p.m., the day after to-morrow," he said coolly. "Until then my address is 'Hotel Metropole, Brighton.'"

CHAPTER XXVI

MR. OOMA

He kept his word. Early next morning, after despatching a message to David Hume, and receiving an answer--an acknowledgment of his address in case of need--he took train to London-by-the-Sea, and for thirty-six hours flung mysteries and intrigues to the winds.

He came back prepared for the approaching climax. In such matters he was a human barometer. The affairs of the family in whose interests he had become so suddenly involved were rapidly reaching an acute stage.

Something must happen soon, and that something would probably have tremendous and far-reaching consequences.

Capella and his companions, known and unknown, would reach London at 7.30 p.m. It pleased Brett to time his homeward journey so that he would speed in the same direction, but arrive before them.

In these trivial matters he owned to a boyish enthusiasm. It stimulated him to "beat the other man," even if he only called upon the London, Brighton, and South Coast line to conquer a weak opponent like the South-Eastern.

At his flat were several letters and telegrams. Mrs. Capella wrote:

"I have seriously considered your last words to me. It is hard for a woman, the victim of circ.u.mstances, and deprived of her husband's support at a most trying and critical period, to know how to act for the best. You said you wished your hands to be left unfettered. Well, be it so. You will encounter no hindrance from me. I pray for your success, and can only hope that in bringing happiness to others you will secure peace for me."

"Poor woman!" he murmured. "She still trusts to chance to save her. Whom does she dread? Not her husband. Each day that pa.s.ses she must despise him the more. Does she know that Robert loves her? Is she afraid that he will despise her? Really, a collision in which Capella was the only victim would be a perfect G.o.dsend."

David telegraphed the safe arrival of the party at a Whitby hotel. "We have seen nothing more of our Northumberland Avenue acquaintance," he added.

Holden, too, cabled from Paris, announcing progress. The remainder of the correspondence referred to other matters and social engagements, all which latter fixtures the barrister had summarily broken.

Winter was announced. His face heralded important tidings.

"Well, how goes the ratiocinative process?' was Brett's greeting.

"I don't know him," said the detective. "But I do happen to know most of the private inquiry agents in London, and one of 'em is going strong in Middle Street. He's watching Mr. Ooma for all he's worth."

"Mr. Whom-a?"

"I'm not joking, Mr. Brett. That is the name of the mysterious gent in No.

37--Ooma, no initials. Anyhow, that is the name he gives to the landlady, and her daughter--the girl you followed from the hotel--tells all her friends that when he gets his rights he will marry her and make her a princess."

"Ooma--a princess," repeated Brett.

"Such is the yarn in Kennington circles. I obeyed orders absolutely. I and my mate took turn about in the lodgings we hired, where we are supposed to be inventors. My pal has a mechanical twist. He puts together a small electric machine during his spell, and I take it to pieces in mine.