 CHAPTER 34 THE WHIP HAND Spargo, almost irritable from desire to get at close grips with the objects of his long journey, shook off Breton's hand with a growl of resentment. And how on earth can I waste time guessing? he exclaimed. Who is he? Breton laughed softly. Steady, Spargo. Steady, he said. It's Maist, the safe deposit man. Maist! Spargo started as if something had bitten him. Maist! he almost shouted. Maist! Good God! Why did I never think of him? Maist! Then! I don't know why you should have thought of him, said Breton, but he's there. Spargo took a step towards the cottage. Breton pulled him back. Wait, he said. We've got to discuss this. I'd better tell you what they're doing. What are they doing then? demanded Spargo impatiently. Well, answered Breton, they're going through a quantity of papers. The two old gentlemen look very ill and very miserable. Maist is evidently laying down the law to them, in some fashion or other. I formed a notion, Spargo. What notion? Maist is in possession of whatever secret they have, and he's followed them down here to blackmail them. That's my notion. Spargo thought a while, pacing up and down the river bank. You dare say you're right, he said. Now, what's to be done? Breton, too, considered matters. I wish, he said at last, I wish we could get in there and overhear what's going on. But that's impossible. I know that cottage. The only thing we can do is this. We must catch Maist unawares. He's here for no good. Look here. And reaching round to his hip pocket, Breton drew out a browning revolver and wagged it in his hand with a smile. That's a useful thing to have, Spargo, he remarked. I slipped it into my pocket the other day, wondering why on earth I did it. Now it'll come in handy. For anything we know, Maist may be armed. Well, said Spargo, come up to the cottage. If things go out as I think they will, Maist, when he's got what he wants, will be off. Now, you shall get where I did just now. Behind that bush, and I'll station myself in the doorway. You can report to me, and when Maist comes out, I'll cover him. Come on, Spargo, it's beginning to get light already. Breton cautiously led the way along the river bank, making use of such cover as the willows and olders afforded. Together he and Spargo made their way to the front of the cottage. Arrived at the door, Breton posted himself in the porch, motioning to Spargo to creep in behind the bushes and to look through the window. And Spargo noiselessly followed his directions and slightly parting the branches which concealed him, looked in through the uncurtained glass. The interior into which he looked was rough and comfortless in the extreme. There were the bare accessories of a moorland cottage, rough chairs and tables, plastered walls, a fishing rod or two piled in a corner, some food set out on a side table. At the table in the middle of the floor, the three men sat. Cardal Stone's face was in the shadow. Maist had his back to the window. Old Elfic, bending over the table, was laboriously writing with shaking fingers, and Spargo twisted his head round to his companion. Elfic, he said, is writing a check. Maist has another check in his hand. Be ready. When he gets that second check, I guess he'll be off. Breton smiled grimly and nodded. A moment later Spargo whispered again, look out Breton, he's coming. Breton drew back into the angle of the porch. Spargo quitted his protecting bush and took the other angle. The door opened and they heard Maist's voice threatening, commanding in tone. Now remember all I've said and don't you forget, I've the whip hand of both of you, the whip hand. Then Maist turned and stepped out into the grey light, to find himself confronted by an athletic young man who held the muzzle of an ugly revolver within two inches of the bridge of his nose and in a remarkably firm and steady grip. Another glance showed him the figure of a second business-like-looking young man at his side whose attitude showed a desire to grapple with him. Good morning, Mr. Maist, said Breton, with cold and ironic politeness. We are glad to meet you so unexpectedly and I must trouble you to put up your hands quick. Maist made one hurried movement of his right hand towards his hip but a sudden growl from Breton made him shift it as quickly above his head wither the left followed it. Breton laughed softly. That's wise, Mr. Maist, he said, keeping his revolver steadily pointed at his prisoner's nose. Discussion will certainly be the better part of your valour on this occasion. Spargo, may I trouble you to see what Mr. Maist carries in his pockets? Go through them carefully, not for paper or documents just now. We can leave that matter with plenty of time. See if he's got a weapon of any sort on him, Spargo, that's the important thing. Considering that Spargo had never gone through the experience of searching a man before, he made sharp and creditable work of seeing what the prisoner carried and he forthwith drew out and exhibited a revolver whilst Maist, finding his tongue, cursed them both heartily and with profusion. Excellent, said Breton, laughing again, sure he's got nothing else on him that's dangerous, Spargo? All right, now, Mr. Maist, right about face. Walk into the cottage, hands up, and remember there are two revolvers behind your back. March! Maist abased its peremptory order with more curses. The three walked into the cottage. Breton kept his eye on his captive. Spargo gave a glance at the two old men. Cardelstone white and shaking was lying back in his chair. Elfic, scarcely less alarmed, had risen and was coming forward with trembling limbs. Wait a moment, said Breton soothingly. Don't alarm yourself. We'll deal with Mr. Maist here first. Now, Maist, my man, sit down in that chair. It's the heaviest the place affords. Into it now. Spargo, you see that coil of rope there. Tie Maist up, hand and foot, to that chair, and tie him well, all the knots to be double, Spargo, and behind him. Maist suddenly laughed. You damn young bully, he exclaimed. If you put a rope round me, you're only putting ropes round the necks of these two old villains. Mark that, my fine fellows. We'll see about that later, answered Breton. He kept Maist covered while Spargo made play with the rope. Don't be afraid of hurting him, Spargo, he said. Tie him well and strong. He won't shift that chair in a hurry. Spargo spliced his man to the chair in a fashion that would have done credit to a sailor. He left Maist literally unable to move either hand or foot, and Maist cursed him from crown to heel for his pains. That'll do, said Breton, at last. He dropped his revolver into his pocket and turned to the two old men. Elfic averted his eyes and sank into a chair in the darkest corner of the room. Old Cardelstone shook us with palsy, and muttered words which the two young men could not catch. Guardian, continued Breton, don't be frightened, and don't you be frightened either, Mr. Cardelstone. There's nothing to be afraid of, just jet, whatever there may be later on. It seems to me that Mr. Spargo and I came just in time. Now, Guardian, what was that fellow after? Old Elfic lifted his head and shook it. He was plainly on the verge of tears. As for Cardelstone, it was evident that his nerve was completely gone, and Breton pointed Spargo to an old corner cupboard. Spargo, he said, I'm pretty sure you'll find whiskey in there. Give them both a stiff dose. They've broken up. Now, Guardian, he continued when Spargo had carried out this order. What was he after? Shall I suggest it? Was it black mail? Cardelstone began to whimper. Elfic nodded his head. Yes, yes, he muttered, black mail. That was it, black mail. He, he got money, papers from us. They're on him. Breton turned on the captive with a look of contempt. I thought as much, Mr. Meist, he said. Spargo, let's see what he has on him. Spargo began to search the prisoner's pockets. He laid out everything on the table as he found it. It was plain that Meist had contemplated some sort of flight or a long, long journey. There was a quantity of loose gold, a number of banknotes, of the more easily negotiated denominations, various foreign securities, realisable in Paris, and there was an open cheque signed by Cardelstone for ten thousand pounds and another with Elfic's name at the foot, also open for half that amount. Breton examined all these matters as Spargo handed them out. He turned to old Elfic. Guardian, he said, why have you or Mr. Cardelstone given this man these cheques and securities? What hold has he on you? Old Cardelstone began to whimper afresh. Elfic turned a troubled face on his ward. He threatened to accuse us of the murder of Marbury, he faltered. We didn't see that we had a chance. What does he know of the murder of Marbury and of you in connection with it? demanded Breton. Come, tell me the truth now. He's been investigating, so he says, answered Elfic. He lives in that house in Middle Temple Lane, you know, in the top floor rooms above Cardelstone's. And he says he's the fullest evidence against Cardelstone and against me as an accessory after the fact. And it's a lie, asked Breton. A lie, answered Elfic. Of course it's a lie, but he's so clever that you don't know how you could prove it otherwise, said Breton. And so this fellow lives over Mr. Cardelstone there, does he? That may account for a good many things. Now, we must have the police here. He sat down at the table and drew the writing materials to him. Look here, Spargo, he continued, I'm going to write a note to the superintendent of police at Hawes. There's a farm half a mile from here where I can get a man to ride down to Hawes with the note. Now if you want to send a wire to the watchman, draft it out and he'll take it with him. Elfic began to move in his corner. Must the police come? he said, must. The police must come, answered Breton firmly. Go ahead with your wire, Spargo, while I write this note. Three quarters of an hour later, when Breton came back from the farm, he sat down at Elfic's side and laid his hand on the old man's. Now, Guardian, he said quietly, you've got to tell us the truth. End of Chapter 34 Chapter 35 of the Middle Temple Murder by J. S. Fletcher. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 35 Maest explains It had been apparent to Spargo from the moment of his entering the cottage that the two old men were suffering badly from shock and fright. Cardelstone still sat in his corner shivering and trembling. He looked incapable of explaining anything. Elfic was scarcely more fitted to speak. And when Breton issued his peremptory invitation to his guardian to tell the truth, Spargo intervened. Far better leave them alone, Breton, he said in a low voice. Don't you see the old chaps done up? They're both done up. We don't know what they've gone through with this fellow before we came, and it's certain they've had no sleep. Leave it all till later. After all, we found them and we found him. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in Maest's direction, and Breton involuntarily followed the movement. He caught the prisoner's eye and Maest laughed. And I dare say you two young men think yourselves very clever, he said sneeringly. Don't you now? We've been clever enough to catch you, anyway, retorted Breton, and now we've got you, we'll keep you till the police can relieve us of you. Oh! said Maest, with another sneering laugh. And on what charge do you propose to hand me over to the police? It strikes me you'll have some difficulty in formulating one, Mr. Breton. We'll see about that later, said Breton. You've extorted money by menaces from these gentlemen at any rate. Have I? How do you know they didn't entrust me with these checks as their agent? exclaimed Maest. Answer me that. Or rather, let them answer if they dare. Here you, Cardelstone, you, Elfic, didn't you give me these checks as your agent? Speak up now, and quick! Spargo, watching the two old men, saw them both quiver at the sound of Maest's voice. Cardelstone, indeed, began to whimper softly. Look here, Breton, he said, whispering. This scoundrel's got some hold on these two old chaps. They're frightened to death of him. Leave them alone. It would be best for them if they could get some rest. Hold your tongue, you, he added aloud, turning to Maest. When we want you to speak, we'll tell you. But Maest laughed again. All very high and mighty, Mr. Spargo, of the watchman, he sneered. You're another of the cocksure lot. And you're very clever, but not clever enough. Now, look here, supposing. Spargo turned his back on him. He went over to old Cardelstone and felt his hands. And he turned to Breton with a look of concern. I say, he exclaimed. He's more than frightened. He's ill. What's to be done? I asked the police to bring a doctor along with them, answered Breton. In the meantime, let's put him to bed. There are beds in that inner room. We'll get him to bed and give him something hot to drink. That's all I can think of for the present. Between them they managed to get Cardelstone to his bed and Spargo, with a happy thought, boiled water on the rusty stove and put hot bottles to his feet. When that was done, they persuaded Elfic to lie down in the inner room. Presently both old men fell asleep and then Breton and Spargo suddenly realised that they themselves were hungry and wet and weary. There ought to be food in the cupboard, said Breton, beginning to rummage. They've generally had a good stock of tin things. Here we are, Spargo. These are tongues and sardines. Make some hot coffee while I open one of these tins. The prisoner watched the preparations for a rough and ready breakfast with eyes that eventually began to glisten. I may remind you that I'm hungry too," he said as Spargo set the coffee on the table, and you've no right to starve me, even if you've the physical ability to keep me tied up. Give me something to eat, if you please. You shan't starve," said Breton carelessly. He cut an ample supply of bread and meat, filled a cup with coffee and placed a cup and a plate before Maist. Untie his right arm, Spargo, he continued. I think we can give him that liberty. We've got his revolver anyhow. For a while the three men ate and drank in silence. At last Maist pushed his plate away. He looked scrutinisingly at his two captors. Look here, he said. You think you know a lot about all this affair, Spargo, but there's only one person who knows all about it. That's me. We're taking that for granted, said Spargo. We guessed as much when we found you here. You'll have ample opportunity for explanation, you know, later on. I'll explain now if you care to hear, said Maist, with another of his cynical laughs. And if I do, I'll tell you the truth. I know you've got an idea in your head that isn't favourable to me, but you're utterly wrong, whatever you may think. Look here, I'll make you a fair offer. There are some cigars in my case there. Give me one, and mix me a drink of that whisky. A good one. And I'll tell you what I know about this matter. Come on, anything's better than sitting here doing nothing. The two young men looked at each other, then Breton nodded. Let him talk if he likes, he said. We're not bound to believe him. And we may hear something that's true. Give him his cigar and his drink. Maist took a stiff pull at the contents of the tumbler which Spargo presently set before him. He laughed as he inhaled the first fumes of his cigar. As it happens, you'll hear nothing but the truth, he observed. Now that things are as they are, there's no reason why I shouldn't tell the truth. The fact is, I've nothing to fear. You can't give me in charge, for it so happens that I've got a power of attorney from these two old chaps inside there to act for them in regards to the money they entrusted me with. It's in an inside pocket of that letter case and if you look at it Breton, you'll see it's in order. But I'm not even going to dare you to interfere with or destroy it. You're a barrister and you'll respect the law. But that's a fact. And if anybody's got a case against anybody, I have against you two for assault and illegal detention. But I'm not a vindictive man and Breton took up Mayas' letter case and examined its contents and presently he turned to Spargo. He's right, he whispered. This is quite in order. He turned to Mayas. All the same, he said addressing him. We shan't release you because we believe you're concerned in the murder of John Marbury. We're justified in holding you on that account. All right, my young friend, said Mayas. Have your own stupid way. But I said I'll tell you the plain truth. Well the plain truth is that I know no more of the absolute murder of your father than I know of what is going on in Timbuktu at this moment. I do not know who killed John Maitland. That is a fact. It may have been the old man in there who's already at his own last gasp. Or it mayn't. I tell you, I don't know. Though like you, Spargo, I've tried hard to find out. That's the truth. I do not know. You expect us to believe that? exclaimed Bretton incredulously. Believe it or not as you like. It's the truth. answered Mayas. Now look here. I said nobody knew as much of this affair as I know. And that's true also. And here's the truth of what I know. The old man in that room whom you know as Nicholas Cardelstone is in reality Chamberlain the stockbroker of Market Milcaster whose name was so freely mentioned when your father was tried there. That's another fact. How, asked Bretton sternly, can you prove it? How do you know it? Because, replied Mayas with a cunning grin, I helped to carry out his mock death and burial. I was a solicitor in those days. And my name was something else. There were three of us at it. Chamberlain's nephew, a doctor of no reputation and myself. We carried it out very cleverly. And Chamberlain gave us five thousand pounds of peace for our trouble. It was not the first time that I had helped him and been well paid for my help. The first time was in connection with the Cloudhampton Half and Home Mutual Benefit Society Affair. Ailmore, or Ainsworth, was as innocent as a child in that. Chamberlain was the man at the back. But unfortunately Chamberlain didn't profit. He lost all he got by it pretty quick. That was why he transferred his abilities to Market Milcaster. You can prove all this, I suppose, remarked Sparger in every word, in every letter, but about the Market Milcaster Affair. Your father, Bretton, was writing what he said about Chamberlain, having all the money that was got from the bank. He had, and he engineered, that mock death and funeral so that he could disappear. And he paid us who helped him generously, as I told you. The thing couldn't have been better done. When it was done, the nephew disappeared, the doctor disappeared, Chamberlain disappeared. I have bad luck to tell you the truth. I was struck off the rolls for a technical offence. So I changed my name and became Mr. Meist and eventually what I am now. And it was not until three years ago that I found Chamberlain. I found him in this way. After I became Secretary to the Safe Deposit Company, I took chambers in the temple above Cardal Stones and I speedily found out who he was. Instead of going abroad, the old fox, though he was a comparatively young man, had shaved off his beard, settled down in the temple and given himself up to his two hobbies, collecting curiosities and stamps. There he'd lived quietly all these years and nobody had ever recognised or suspected him. Indeed, I don't see how they could. He lived such a quiet, secluded life with his collections, his old port and his little whims and fads. But I knew him. And you doubtless profited by your recognition, suggested Bretton. I certainly did. He was glad to pay me a nice sum every quarter to hold my tongue, replied Meist, and I was glad to take it, and naturally I gained a considerable knowledge of him. He had only one friend, Mr. Elfik in there. Now I'll tell you about him. Only if you're going to speak respectfully of him, said Bretton sternly. I've no reason to do otherwise. Elfik is the man who ought to have married your mother. When things turned out as they did, Elfik took you and brought you up as he has done, so that you should never know of your father's disgrace. Elfik never knew until last night that Cardelstone is Chamberlain. Even the biggest scoundrels have friends. Elfik's very fond of Cardelstone. He... Spargo turned sharply on Meist. You say Elfik didn't know until last night, he exclaimed. Why then, this running away? What were they running from? With no more notion than you have, Spargo, replied Meist. I'll tell you one or other of them knows something that I don't. Elfik, I gather, took fright from you and went to Cardelstone. Then they both vanished. It may be that Cardelstone did kill Meitland. I don't know. But I'll tell you what I know about the actual murder. For I do know a good deal about it, though as I say I don't know who killed Meitland. Now first you know all that about Meitland's having papers and valuables and gold on him. Very well, I've got all that. The whole lot is locked up safely and I'm willing to hand it over to you, Bretton, when we go back to town and the necessary proof is given, as it will be, that you're Meitland's son. Meist paused to see the effect of this announcement and laughed when he saw the blank astonishment which stole over his hearer's faces. And still more, he continued, I've got all the contents of that leather box Meitland deposited with me, that safely locked up too, and at your disposal I took possession of that the day after the murder. Then for purposes of my own I went to Scotland Jard as Spargo there is aware. You see, I was playing a game and it required some ingenuity. A game! exclaimed Bretton. Good heavens, what game! I never knew until I had possession of things that Marbury was Meitland of Market Milcaster, answered Meist. When I did know, then I began to put things together and to pursue my own line, independent of everybody. I tell you, I had all Meitland's papers and possessions by that time, except one thing, that packet of Australian stamps. And I found out that those stamps were in the hands of Cardal Stone. End of Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 36 The final telegram Meist paused to take a pull at his glass and to look at the two amazed listeners with a smile of conscious triumph. In the hands of Cardal Stone, he repeated, Now, what did I argue from that? Why, of course, that Meitland had been to Cardal Stone's rooms that night. Wasn't he found lying dead at the foot of Cardal Stone's stairs? Ah, but who found him? Not the porter, not the police, not you, Mr. Spargo, with all your cleverness. The man who found Meitland lying dead there that night was I. In the silence that followed, Spargo, who had been making notes of what Meist said, suddenly dropped his pencil and thrusting his hands in his pockets, sat bolt upright with a look which Breton, who was watching him seriously, could not make out. It was the look of a man whose ideas and conceptions are being rudely upset. And Meist, too, saw it, and he laughed more sneeringly than ever. That's one for you, Spargo, he said. That surprises you. That makes you think. Now, what do you think, if one may ask? I think, said Spargo, that you are either a consummate liar or that this mystery is bigger than before. I can lie when it's necessary, retorted Meist. Just now it isn't necessary. I'm telling you the plain truth. There's no reason why I shouldn't. As I've said before, although you too young bullies have tied me up in this fashion, you can't do anything against me. I've a power of attorney from those two old men in there, and that's enough to satisfy anybody as to my possession of their checks and securities. I've the whip hand of you, my son, in all ways. And that's why I'm telling you the truth to amuse myself during this period of waiting. The plain truth, my sons. In pursuance of which, observed Bretton dryly, I think you mentioned that you were the first person to find my father lying dead. I was. That is, as far as I can gather. I'll tell you all about it. As I said, I live over Cardelstone. That night I came home very late. It was well past one o'clock. There was nobody about. As a matter of fact, no one has residential chambers in that building, but Cardelstone and myself. I found the body of a man lying in the entry. I struck a match and immediately recognised my visitor of the afternoon, John Marbury. Now, although I was so late in going home, I was as sober as a man can be, and I think pretty quickly at all times. I thought at double extra speed just then, and the first thing I did was to strip the body of every article it had on it, money, papers, everything. All these things are safely locked up. They've never been trapped. Next day, using my facilities as secretary of the safe deposit company, I secured the things in that box. Then I found out who the dead man really was, and then I deliberately set to work to throw dust in the eyes of the police and of the newspapers, and particularly in the eyes of young master Spargo there. I had an object. What! asked Bretton. What! Knowing all I did, I firmly believed that Marbury or other Maitland had been murdered by either Cardelstone or Elphic. I put it to myself in this way, and my opinion was strengthened as you, Spargo, inserted news in your paper. Maitland, finding himself in the vicinity of Cardelstone after leaving Aylmore's rooms that night, turned into our building, perhaps just to see where Cardelstone lived. He met Cardelstone accidentally, or he perhaps met Cardelstone and Elphic together. They recognized each other. Maitland probably threatened to expose Cardelstone, or rather, Chamberlain. Nobody, of course, could know what happened, but my theory was that Chamberlain killed him. There, at any rate, was the fact that Maitland was found murdered at Chamberlain's very threshold. And in the course of a few days I proved to my own positive satisfaction by getting access to Chamberlain's rooms in his absence, that Maitland had been there, had been in those rooms, for I found there in Chamberlain's desk the rare Australian stamps of which, quite dear, told at the inquest. That was proof positive. Spargo looked at Breton. They knew what Maist did not know, that the stamps of which he spoke were lying in Spargo's breast pocket, where they had lain since he had picked them up from the litter and confusion of Chamberlain's floor. Why, asked Breton after a pause, why did you never accuse Cardelstone or Chamberlain of the murder? I did. I have accused him a score of times, and Elfic, too, replied Maist with emphasis. Not at first, mind you. I never let Chamberlain know that I ever suspected him for some time. I had my own game to play. But at last, not so many days ago, I did. I accused them both. That's how I got the whip hand of them. They began to be afraid. By that time, Elfic had got to know all about Cardelstone's past as Chamberlain. And as I tell you, Elfic's fond of Cardelstone. It's queer, but he is. He wants to shield him. What did they say when you accused them, asked Breton? Let's keep to that point. Never mind their feelings for one another. Just so. But that feeling's a lot more to do with this mystery than you think, my young friend, said Maist. What did they say, you ask? Why they strenuously denied it. Cardelstone swore solemnly to me that he had no part or lot in the murder of Maitland. So did Elfic. But they know something about the murder. If those two old men can't tell you definitely who struck John Maitland down, I'm certain they have a very clear idea in their minds as to who really did. They... A sudden sharp cry from the inner room interrupted Maist. Breton and Spargos started to their feet and made for the door. But before they could reach it, Elfic came out, white and shaking. He's gone, he exclaimed in quavering accents. My old friend's gone. He's dead. I was asleep. I woke suddenly and looked at him. He... Spargos forced the old man into a chair and gave him some whisky. Breton passed quickly into the inner room only to come back, shaking his head. He's dead, he said. He evidently died in his sleep. Then his secrets gone with him, remarked Maist calmly. And now we shall never know if he did kill John Maitland or if he didn't. So that's done with. Old Elfic suddenly sat up in his chair, pushing Spargos fiercely away from his side. He didn't kill John Maitland, he cried angrily, attempting to shake his fist at Maist. Whoever says he killed Maitland lies. He is as innocent as I am. You've tortured and tormented him to his death with that charge, as you're torturing me, among you. I tell you, he had nothing to do with John Maitland's death. Nothing. Maist laughed. Who had, then? he said. Hold your tongue, commandee Breton, turning angrily on him. He sat down by Elfic's side and laid his hand soothingly on the old man's arm. Guardian, he said. Why don't you tell what you know? Don't be afraid of that fellow there. He's safe enough. Tell Spargo and me what you know of the matter. Remember, nothing can hurt Cardelstone or Chamberlain or whoever he is or was, now. Elfic sat for a moment, shaking his head. He allowed Spargo to give him another drink. He lifted his head and looked at the two young men with something of an appeal. I'm badly shaken, he said. I've suffered much lately. I've learned things that I didn't know. Perhaps I ought to have spoken before, but I was afraid for—for him. He was a good friend, Cardelstone, whatever else he may have been. A good friend. And I don't know any more than what happened that night. Tell us what happened that night, said Breton. Well, that night I went round, as I often did, to play pique with Cardelstone. It was about ten o'clock. About eleven, Jane Baylis came to Cardelstone's. She'd been to my rooms to find me, wanted to see me particularly, and she'd come on there knowing where I should be. Cardelstone would make her have a glass of wine and a biscuit. She sat down and we all talked. Then about, I should think, a quarter to twelve, a knock came at Cardelstone's door. His outer door was open and, of course, anybody outside could see lights within. Cardelstone went to the door. We heard a man's voice inquire for him by name. Then the voice added that cry dear the stamp dealer had advised him to call on Mr. Cardelstone to show him some rare Australian stamps and that seeing a light under his door he had not. Cardelstone asked him in. He came in. That was the man we saw next day at the mortuary. Upon my honour we didn't know him either that night or next day. What happened when he came in? asked Breton. Cardelstone asked him to sit down. He offered and gave him a drink. The man said cry dear had given him Cardelstone's address and that he'd been with a friend at some rooms in Fountain Court and as he was passing our building he just looked to make sure where Cardelstone lived and as he'd noticed a light he'd made bold to knock. He and Cardelstone began to examine the stamps. Jane Baylis said good night and she and I left Cardelstone and the man together. No one had recognised him, said Breton. No one. Remember I only once or twice saw Maitland in all my life. The others certainly did not recognise him. At least I never knew that they did if they did. Tell us said Spargo joining in for the first time. Tell us what you and Miss Baylis did. At the foot of the stairs Jane Baylis suddenly said she'd forgotten something in Cardelstone's lobby as she was going out to Fleet Street and I was going down Middle Temple Lane to turn off to my own rooms, we said good night. She went back upstairs and I went home and upon my soul and honour that's all I know. Spargo suddenly leapt to his feet. He snatched at his cap, a sodden and bidraggled headgear which he had thrown down when they entered the cottage. That's enough he almost shouted. I've got it at last. Breton wears the nearest telegraph office. Horses straight down this valley, then here's for it. Look after things till I'm back or when the police come join me there. I shall catch the first train to town anyhow after wiring. But what are you after Spargo? exclaimed Breton. Stop, what on earth? But Spargo had closed the door and was running for all he was worth down the valley. Three quarters of an hour later he startled a quiet and peaceful telegraphist by darting breathless and dirty into a sleepy country post office snatching a telegraph form and scribbling down a message in shaky handwriting. Rathbury, New Scotland Jard, London Arrest Jane Baylis at once for murder of John Maitland coming straight to town with full evidence. Frank Spargo. Then Spargo dropped on the office bench and while the wandering operator set the wires ticking strove to get his breath utterly spent in his mad race across the heather and when it was got he set out again to find the station. Some days later Spargo having seen Stephen Elmore walk out of the Bow Street dock cleared of the charge against him and in a fair way of being cleared of the affair of twenty years before found himself in a very quiet corner of the court holding the hand of Jesse Elmore who he discovered was saying things to him which he scarcely comprehended. There was nobody near them and the girl spoke freely and warmly. But you will come. You will come to-day and be properly thanked, she said. You will, won't you? Spargo allowed himself to retain possession of the hand. He also took a straight look into Jesse Elmore's eyes. I don't want thanks, he said. It was all a lot of luck and if I come today it will be to see just you. Jesse Elmore looked down at the two hands. I think, she whispered, I think that is what I really meant. End of chapter thirty-six End of the Middle Temple Murder by J. S. Fletcher