The Secret of Chimneys
the apartments set aside for him. Dinner was served to him there, and
he did not meet the other members of the house party. Is that correct?”
“Quite correct.”
“This morning a housemaid discovered the body at approximately 7.45
A.M. Dr. Cartwright examined the dead man and found that death was the
result of a bullet fired from a revolver. No revolver was found, and no
one in the house seems to have heard the shot. On the other hand the
dead man’s wrist watch was smashed by the fall, and marks the crime as
having been committed at exactly a quarter to twelve. Now what time
did you retire to bed last night?”
“We went early. Somehow or other the party didn’t seem to ‘go’ if you
know what I mean, superintendent. We went up about half-past ten, I
should say.”
“Thank you. Now I will ask you, Lord Caterham, to give me a description
of all the people staying in the house.”
“But, excuse me, I thought the fellow who did it came from outside?”
Superintendent Battle smiled.
“I dare say he did. I dare say he did. But all the same I’ve got to
know who was in the house. Matter of routine, you know.”
“Well, there was Prince Michael and his valet and Mr. Herman
Isaacstein. You know all about them. Then there was Mr. Eversleigh——”
“Who works in my department,” put in George condescendingly.
“And who was acquainted with the real reason of Prince Michael’s being
here?”
“No, I should not say that,” replied George weightily. “Doubtless
he realized that something was in the wind, but I did not think it
necessary to take him fully into my confidence.”
“I see. Will you go on, Lord Caterham?”
“Let me see, there was Mr. Hiram Fish.”
“Who is Mr. Hiram Fish?”
“Mr. Fish is an American. He brought over a letter of introduction from
Mr. Lucius Gott—you’ve heard of Lucius Gott?”
Superintendent Battle smiled acknowledgment. Who had not heard of
Lucius C. Gott, the multi-millionaire?
“He was specially anxious to see my first editions. Mr. Gott’s
collection is, of course, unequalled, but I’ve got several treasures
myself. This Mr. Fish was an enthusiast. Mr. Lomax had suggested that
I ask one or two extra people down here this week-end to make things
seem more natural, so I took the opportunity of asking Mr. Fish. That
finishes the men. As for the ladies, there is only Mrs. Revel—and I
expect she brought a maid or something like that. Then there was my
daughter, and of course the children and their nurses and governesses
and all the servants.”
Lord Caterham paused and took a breath.
“Thank you,” said the detective. “A mere matter of routine, but
necessary as such.”
“There is no doubt, I suppose,” asked George ponderously, “that the
murderer entered by the window?”
Battle paused for a minute before replying slowly.
“There were footsteps leading up to the window, and footsteps leading
away from it. A car stopped outside the park at 11.40 last night. At
twelve o’clock a young man arrived at the _Jolly Cricketers_ in a car,
and engaged a room. He put his boots outside to be cleaned—they were
very wet and muddy, as though he had been walking through the long
grass in the park.”
George leant forward eagerly.
“Could not the boots be compared with the footprints?”
“They were.”
“Well?”
“They exactly correspond.”
“That settles it,” cried George. “We have the murderer. The young
man—what is his name, by the way?”
“At the inn he gave the name of Anthony Cade.”
“This Anthony Cade must be pursued at once, and arrested.”
“You won’t need to pursue him,” said Superintendent Battle.
“Why?”
“Because he’s still there.”
“What?”
“Curious, isn’t it?”
Colonel Melrose eyed him keenly.
“What’s in your mind, Battle? Out with it.”
“I just say it’s curious, that’s all. Here’s a young man who ought to
cut and run, but he doesn’t cut and run. He stays here, and gives us
every facility for comparing footmarks.”
“What do you think, then?”
“I don’t know what to think. And that’s a very disturbing state of
mind.”
“Do you imagine——” began Colonel Melrose, but broke off as a discreet
knock came at the door.
George rose and went to it. Tredwell, inwardly suffering from having to
knock at doors in this low fashion, stood dignified upon the threshold,
and addressed his master.
“Excuse me, my lord, but a gentleman wishes to see you on urgent and
important business, connected, I understand, with this morning’s
tragedy.”
“What’s his name?” asked Battle suddenly.
“His name, sir, is Mr. Anthony Cade, but he said it wouldn’t convey
anything to anybody.”
It seemed to convey something to the four men present. They all sat up
in varying degrees of astonishment.
Lord Caterham began to chuckle.
“I’m really beginning to enjoy myself. Show him in, Tredwell. Show him
in at once.”
12
Anthony Tells His Story
“Mr. Anthony Cade,” announced Tredwell.
“Enter suspicious stranger from village inn,” said Anthony.
He made his way toward Lord Caterham with a kind of instinct rare in
strangers. At the same time he summed up the other three men in his
own mind thus: “1, Scotland Yard. 2, Local dignitary—probably chief
constable. 3, Harassed gentleman on the verge of apoplexy—possibly
connected with the Government.”
“I must apologize,” continued Anthony, still addressing Lord Caterham.
“For forcing my way in like this, I mean. But it was rumoured round the
_Jolly Dog_, or whatever the name of your local pub may be, that you
had had a murder up here, and as I thought I might be able to throw
some light upon it I came along.”
For a moment or two, no one spoke. Superintendent Battle because he was
a man of ripe experience who knew how infinitely better it was to let
every one else speak if they could be persuaded upon to do so, Colonel
Melrose because he was habitually taciturn, George because he was in
the habit of having notice given him of the question, Lord Caterham
because he had not the least idea of what to say. The silence of the
other three, however, and the fact that he had been directly addressed,
finally forced speech upon the last named.
“Er—quite so—quite so,” he said nervously. “Won’t—you—er—sit down?”
“Thank you,” said Anthony.
George cleared his throat portentously.
“Er—when you say you can throw light upon this matter, you mean——?”
“I mean,” said Anthony, “that I was trespassing upon Lord Caterham’s
property (for which I hope he will forgive me) last night at about
11.45, and that I actually heard the shot fired. I can at any rate fix
the time of the crime for you.”
He looked round at the three in turn, his eyes resting longest on
Superintendent Battle, the impassivity of whose face he seemed to
appreciate.
“But I hardly think that that’s news to you,” he added gently.
“Meaning by that, Mr. Cade?” asked Battle.
“Just this. I put on shoes when I got up this morning. Later, when I
asked for my boots, I couldn’t have them. Some nice young constable had
called round for them. So I naturally put two and two together, and
hurried up here to clear my character if possible.”
“A very sensible move,” said Battle non-committally.
Anthony’s eyes twinkled a little.
“I appreciate your reticence, inspector. It is inspector, isn’t it?”
Lord Caterham interposed. He was beginning to take a fancy to Anthony.
“Superintendent Battle of Scotland Yard. This is Colonel Melrose, our
Chief Constable, and Mr. Lomax.”
Anthony looked sharply at George.
“Mr. George Lomax?”
“Yes.”
“I think, Mr. Lomax,” said Anthony, “that I had the pleasure of
receiving a letter from you yesterday.”
George stared at him.
“I think not,” he said coldly.
But he wished that Miss Oscar were here. Miss Oscar wrote all his
letters for him, and remembered who they were to and what they were
about. A great man like George could not possibly remember all these
annoying details.
“I think, Mr. Cade,” he hinted, “that you were about to give us
some—er—explanation of what you were doing in the grounds last night
at 11.45?”
His tone said plainly: “And whatever it may be, we are not likely to
believe it.”
“Yes, Mr. Cade, what _were_ you doing?” said Lord Caterham, with lively
interest.
“Well,” said Anthony regretfully. “I’m afraid it’s rather a long story.”
He drew out his cigarette case.
“May I?”
Lord Caterham nodded, and Anthony lit a cigarette, and braced himself
for the ordeal.
He was aware, none better, of the peril in which he stood. In the short
space of twenty-four hours, he had become embroiled in two separate
crimes. His actions in connection with the first would not bear looking
into for a second. After deliberately disposing of one body, and so
defeating the aims of justice, he had arrived upon the scene of the
second crime at the exact moment when it was being committed. For a
young man looking for trouble, he could hardly have done better.
“South America,” thought Anthony to himself, “simply isn’t in it with
this!”
He had already decided upon his course of action. He was going to tell
the truth—with one trifling alteration, and one grave suppression.
“The story begins,” said Anthony, “about three weeks ago—in Bulawayo.
Mr. Lomax, of course, knows where that is—outpost of the Empire—‘What
do we know of England who only England know?’ all that sort of thing. I
was conversing with a friend of mine, a Mr. James McGrath—”
He brought out the name slowly, with a thoughtful eye on George. George
bounded in his seat and repressed an exclamation with difficulty.
“The upshot of our conversation was that I came to England to carry
out a little commission for Mr. McGrath, who was unable to go himself.
Since the passage was booked in his name, I travelled as James
McGrath. I don’t know what particular kind of offence that was—the
superintendent can tell me, I dare say, and run me in for so many
months’ hard if necessary.”
“We’ll get on with the story, if you please, sir,” said Battle, but his
eyes twinkled a little.
“On arrival in London I went to the Blitz Hotel, still as James
McGrath. My business in London was to deliver a certain manuscript to a
firm of publishers, but almost immediately I received deputations from
the representatives of two political parties of a foreign kingdom. The
methods of one were strictly constitutional, the methods of the other
were not. I dealt with them both accordingly. But my troubles were not
over. That night my room was broken into, and an attempt at burglary
was made by one of the waiters at the hotel.”
“That was not reported to the police, I think?” said Superintendent
Battle.
“You are right. It was not. Nothing was taken, you see. But I did
report the occurrence to the manager of the hotel, and he will confirm
my story, and tell you that the waiter in question decamped rather
abruptly in the middle of the night. The next day, the publishers
rang me up, and suggested that one of their representatives would
call upon me and receive the manuscript. I agreed to this, and the
arrangement was duly carried out on the following morning. Since I
have heard nothing further, I presume the manuscript reached them
safely. Yesterday, still as James McGrath, I received a letter from Mr.
Lomax——”
Anthony paused. He was by now beginning to enjoy himself. George
shifted uneasily.
“I remember,” he murmured. “Such a large correspondence. The name, of
course, being different, I could not be expected to know. And I may
say,” George’s voice rose a little, firm in the assurance of moral
stability, “that I consider this—this—masquerading as another man in
the highest degree improper. I have no doubt, no doubt whatever, that
you have incurred a severe legal penalty.”
“In this letter,” continued Anthony, unmoved, “Mr. Lomax made various