 Chapter 24 Rolf was spending a quiet evening in his room after a trying day's inquiries into a confidence-trick case. Inquiries so fruitless that they had brought down on his head an official reproof from Inspector Chippenfield. Rolf had left Scotland Yard that evening in a somewhat despondent frame of mind in consequence, but a brisk walk home and a good supper had done him so much good that with a tranquil mind and his pipe in his mouth he was able to devote himself to the hobby of his leisure hours with keen enjoyment. This hobby would have excited the wondering contempt of Joe Lever, whose frequent attendance at cinema theatres had led him to the conclusion that police detectives, who, unlike his master, had to take the rough with the smooth, spent their spare time practicing revolver shooting and throwing daggers at an ace of hearts on the wall. Rolf's hobby was nothing more exciting than stamp-collecting. He was deeply versed in the lore of stamps, and his private ambition was to become the possessor of a blue meridias. His collection, though extensive, was by no means of fabulous value, being made up chiefly of modest purchases from the stamp-collecting shops and fines in the waste-paper baskets at Scotland Yard after the arrival of foreign males. That day he had made a particularly good haul from the waste-paper baskets, for his catch included several comparatively good specimens from Japan and Fiji. He sat gloating over these treasures, examining them carefully and holding each one up to the light as he separated it from the piece of paper to which it had been affixed. He pasted them one by one in his stamp-album with loving, lingering fingers, adjusting each stamp in its little square in the book with meticulous care. He was so absorbed in this occupation that he did not hear the ascending footsteps drawing nearer to his door and did not see a visitor at the door when the footsteps seized. It was Crue's voice that recalled him back from the stamp-collector's imaginary world. Why, Mr. Crue, said Rolfe, with evident pleasure, who would have thought of seeing you? Your landlady asked me if I'd come up myself, said Crue, in explaining his intrusion. She's too much worried and put about to say nothing of having a bad back, to show me upstairs. I've never known her to be well, said Rolfe, with the laugh. Every morning when she brings up my breakfast I've got to hear details of her bad back which should be kept for the confidential ear of the doctor. But she regards me as a son, I think. I've been here so long. But now you are here, Mr. Crue. Rolfe waited in polite expectation that his visitor would disclose the object of his visit. But Crue seemed in no hurry to do so. He produced his cigar case and offered Rolfe a cigar which the latter accepted with a pleasant recollection of the excellent flavor of the cigars the private detective kept. When each of them had his cigar well alight, Crue glanced at the open stamp-album and commenced talking about stamps. It was a subject which Rolfe was always willing to discuss. Crue declared that he was an ignorant outsider as far as stamps were concerned, but he professed to have a respectful admiration for those who immersed themselves in such a fascinating subject. Rolfe, with the fervent egoism of the collector, talked about stamps for a half an hour without recalling that his visitor must have come to talk about something else. I've got a small stamp collection in my office, said Crue, when Rolfe paused for a moment. It belonged to that Jewish diamond merchant who was shot in Hatten Gardens two years ago. You remember his case? Rather, that was a smart bit of work of yours, Mr. Crue, in laying your hands on the woman who did it and getting back the diamond? Crue smiled in response. The Jew was very grateful, poor fellow. He died in the hospital after the trial, so she was lucky to escape with twelve years. He left me a diamond ring and a stamp-album that had come into his possession. I should like to see it, said Rolfe eagerly. It is more than likely that there are some good specimens in it. The Jews are keen collectors. If you let me have a look at it, I'll tell you what the collection is worth. You can have it all together, said Crue. I'll send my boy Joe around with it in the morning. Oh, Mr. Crue, it is very good of you, said Rolfe, with the cowardice-ness of the collector shining in his eyes. Nonsense! Why shouldn't you have it? But I didn't come around here solely to talk about stamps, Rolfe. I came to have a little chat about the Riversbrook case. How are you getting on with it? Why, really? said Rolfe. I've not done much with it since... since... since Birchell was acquitted, eh? But you are not letting it drop altogether, are you? That would be a pity, such an interesting case. Whom have you your eye on now, as the right man? Rolfe, who thought he detected a suspicion of banter in Crue's remarks, evaded the latter question by answering the first part of Crue's inquiry. Why, hardly that, Mr. Crue, but the chief is not very keen on the case. Birchell's acquittal was too much of a blow to him. He reckons that nowadays juries are too soft-hearted to convict a capital charge. It's just as well that they are too soft-hearted to convict the wrong man, said Crue. Yes, you told me from the first that we were on the wrong track, said the reply. I haven't forgotten that, and the chief is not allowed to forget it either. All the men at the yard know that you held the opinion that we had got hold of the wrong man when we arrested Birchell, and he has had to stand so much chaff in the office that he's pretty raw about it. Rolfe spoke in the detached tone of a junior who had no share in his chief's mistakes or their attendant humiliation, and he added, that's once more that you've scored over Scotland Yard, Mr. Crue, and you ought to be proud of it. He glanced covertly at Crue to see how he took the flattery. So you've done very little about the case since Birchell was acquitted? Was his only remark. I've been so busy, replied Rolfe, again evading the question, and avoiding meeting Crue's glance by turning over the leaves of his stamp-album. You see, there has been a rush of work at Scotland Yard lately, there is that big burglary at Lord Emden's, and the case of the woman whose body was found in the river-lock at Payton, and a half a dozen other cases, all important in their way. There has been quite an epidemic of crime lightly, as you know, Mr. Crue. I don't seem to get a minute to myself these times. Rolfe, said Crue dryly, you protest too much. You don't suppose that after coming over here to see you, that I can be deceived by such talk? Rolfe flushed at these uncompromising words, but before he could speak, Crue proceeded in a milder tone. I don't blame you a bit for trying to put me off. It's all part of the game. We're rivals, in a sense, and you are quite right not to lose sight of that fact. But as a detective, Rolfe, your methods lack polish. Really, I blush for them. You might have known that I came over here to see you tonight, because I had an important object in view, and you should have tried to find out what it was before playing your own cards. And such cards, too. You're sadly lacking in finesse, Rolfe. You'd never make a chess player. Your concealed intentions are too easily discovered. You must try not to be so transparent if you want to succeed in your profession. Crue delivered his reproof with such good humor that Rolfe stared at him as if unable to make out what his visitor was driving at. I don't know what you are talking about, Mr. Crue, he said at length. Oh, yes you do. You know I'm speaking about your latest move in the Riversburg case, which you've been so busy with of late, and I've come to tell you in a friendly way that once more you're on the wrong track. What do you mean? asked Rolfe quickly. Why, Princess Gait, of course, replied Crue cheerily. You don't suppose that a fine-looking young man like yourself could be seen in the neighborhood of Princess Gait without causing a flutter among feminine hearts there, do you? So the servants have been talking have they? muttered Rolfe. They have and they haven't, but that's beside the point. What I want to say is that you're on the wrong track in suspecting Mrs. Holymead, and I strongly advise you to drop your inquiries if you don't want to get yourself into hot water. She's as innocent of the murder of Sir Horace Fubanks as Birchell is, but you cannot afford to make a false shot in the case of a lady of her social standing as you did with the criminal like Birchell. At this rebuke Rolfe gave way to irritation. Look here, Mr. Crue. I'll thank you to mind your own business, he said. It's got nothing to do with you where I make inquiries. I'll have you remember that. I don't interfere with you, and I won't have you interfering with me. But I'm interfering only for your own good, man. What do you suppose I'm doing it for? I tell you you're writing for a very bad fall in suspecting Mrs. Holymead and shadowing her. Crue's plain words were an echo of a secret fear which Rolfe had entertained from the time his suspicions were directed towards Mrs. Holymead. But he was not going to allow Crue to think he was alarmed. If I'm making inquiries about Mrs. Holymead, it's because I have ample justification for doing so, he said stiffly. And I tell you that you have not. Prubot exclaimed Rolfe defiantly. Crue produced from his pocket a revolver and a lady's handkerchief and handed them to Rolfe without speaking. Rolfe's embarrassment was almost equal to his astonishment as he examined the articles. In the handkerchief with its missing corner he speedily recognized something for which he had searched in vain. He had never confided to Crue the discovery of the missing corner in the dead man's hand and therefore the production of the handkerchief by Crue considerably embarrassed him. He longed to ask Crue how he had obtained possession of the handkerchief, but he could not trust his voice to frame the question without betraying his feelings, so he picked up the revolver and examined it closely. Then he put it down and again gave his attention to the handkerchief, bending his head over it so that Crue should not see his face. You do not seem very astonished at my finds, Rolfe, said Crue quizzically. Perhaps you've seen these articles before? No, I haven't, said Rolfe, still avoiding his visitor's eye. Well, the torn handkerchief is not exactly new to you, said Crue. You've got the missing part. You found it in Sir Horace's hand after he was murdered. You're too clever for me, and that's the simple truth, Mr. Crue, said Rolfe in a mortified tone. I did find a small piece of a lady's handkerchief in his hand, and here it is. He produced his pocket-book and took out the piece. How you found out I had it is more than I know. Mere guesswork, said Crue. Rolfe shook his head slowly. I know better than that, he said. You're deep. You don't miss much. I wish now that I had told you about that bit of handkerchief at the first. But Chippinfield and I wanted to have all the credit for elucidating the Riversbrook mystery. I hunted high and low to get the trace of this handkerchief, but I couldn't. And now you've beaten me, although you couldn't have known at first that there was such a thing as a missing handkerchief in the case. I hope you bear me no malice, Mr. Crue. What for, Rolfe? For not telling you about the handkerchief after I found this piece in Sir Horace's hand. Not in the least, said Crue. Why should you have told me? I don't tell you everything I find out. It's all part of the game. That piece of the handkerchief was a good find, Rolfe, and I congratulate you on getting it. How did you come to discover it? I was trying to force open the murdered man's hand, and I found it clenched between the little finger and the next. Of course, it was not visible, with his hand closed. Chippinfield, who missed it, didn't half like my discovery, and all along he underestimated the value of it as a clue. Well, he has had to pay for his folly. He has, and serves him right, replied Rolfe viciously. He's the most pig-headed, obstinate, vain, narrow-minded man you could come across. It occurred to Rolfe that it was not exactly good form, on his part, to condemn his superior officer so vigorously in the presence of a rival, so he broke off abruptly and asked Crue how he came into possession of the revolver and the handkerchief. Crue's reply was that he had obtained these articles under a promise of secrecy from someone who had assured him that Mrs. Holamead had no connection with the crime. When he was at liberty to tell the story as it had been told to him, Rolfe would be the first to hear it. Mrs. Holamead had no connection with the crime? exclaimed Rolfe impatiently. Perhaps you don't know that the morning after the murder was discovered, she went out to reverse-book and removed some secret papers from the murdered man's desk—papers that he had been in the habit of hiding in a secret drawer? Yes, I know that, said Crue. Well, doesn't that look as if she knew something about the crime? Not necessarily. Well, to me it does. What were these secret papers? They were letters, I am told. I believe so, and you, Rolfe, as a man of the world know that a married woman would not like the police to get possession of letters she had written to a man of the reputation of Sir Horace Fubanks. I admit that her action is capable of a comparatively innocent interpretation, but taken in conjunction with other things, it looks to me mighty suspicious. In Hill's statement to us, he told us, that on the night of the murder, Birchell, when hiding in the garden waiting for the lights to go out before breaking into the house, heard the front door slam and saw a stylish sort of a woman walk down the path to the gate. That was not Mrs. Holymede, said Crue. How do you know? If it was not her, who was it? Do you know? I think I know, and when I am at liberty to speak, I will tell you. Then there is a third point, continued Rolfe. Look at this handkerchief you brought. I saw a handkerchief of exactly similar pattern at Mrs. Holymede's house when I called there. Wasn't that the property of her French cousin, Mademoiselle Chiron? Yes, she dropped it on the floor while I was there. But it is probable the handkerchief was one of a set given her by Mrs. Holymede. Quite probably, Rolfe, but scores of ladies who are fond of expensive things have handkerchiefs of a similar pattern. You will find, if you inquire among the West End shops, that although it is a dainty, expensive article from the man's point of view, there is nothing singular about the quality or the pattern. Perhaps so, said Rolfe, but the possession of handkerchiefs of this kind is surely suspicious when taken in conjunction with her removal of the letters. I wish I could get hold of that infernal scoundrel hill again. I am convinced that he knows a great deal more about this murder than he has yet told us, and a great deal more about Mrs. Holymede and her letters. I've had his shop watch day and night since he disappeared, but he keeps close to his burrow and I've not been able to get on his track. I'd give up watching for him if I were you, said crew, as he flicked the ash of his cigar into the fireplace. You're not likely to find him now. As a matter of fact, he has left the country. He'll left the country, echoed Rolfe. I think you are mistaken there, Mr. Crew. He had no money. How could he get away? Crew selected another cigar from his case and lighted it before answering. The fact is, I advanced him the money, he said. Technically it's a loan, but I do not think any of it will be paid back. Rolfe stared hard at Crew to see if he was joking. What on earth made you do that? he demanded at length. He'll may be the actual murderer for all we know. Not at all, was the reply. Before I helped him to leave England, I satisfied myself that he had absolutely nothing to do with the murder. He does not know who shot Sir Horace Fubanks, though of course he still half-believes that it was Birchell. When I got in touch with him after his disappearance, he was in a pitiable state of fright. Waking or sleeping he couldn't get his mind off the gallows. There were two or three points on which I wanted his assistance in clearing up the Riversburg case, and I promised to get him out of the country if he would make a clean breast of things and tell me the truth as far as he knew it. He made a confession, a true one this time. I took it down, and I'll let you have a copy. There are a few interesting points on which it differs materially from the statement he made to the police when you and Chippenfield cornered him. What are they? asked Rolf. In the first place the burglary was his idea and not Birchell's, replied Crue. After the quarrel between Sir Horace and the girl fanning, he went out to her flat and suggested to Birchell that he should rob Riversburg. Hill's real object in arranging this burglary was to get possession of the letters which Mrs. Holymead subsequently removed, but he did not tell Birchell this. His plan was to go to Riversburg the morning after the burglary and then break open Sir Horace's desk and open the secret drawer before informing the police of the burglary. To the police and Sir Horace it would look as though the burglar had accidentally found the spring of the secret drawer. With these letters in his possession Hill intended to blackmail Sir Horace or Mrs. Holymead without disclosing himself in the transaction. When Sir Horace returned unexpectedly from Scotland on the 18th of August Hill had just removed the letters from the desk being afraid that when Birchell broke into the house he might find them accidentally. He was naturally in a state of alarm at Sir Horace's return. He tried to get an opportunity to put the letters back as Sir Horace might discover they had been removed. But Sir Horace dismissed him for the night before he could get such an opportunity. Then he went to Fanning's flat and told Birchell that Sir Horace had returned. Birchell was in favor of postponing the burglary, but Hill who had possession of the letters and did not know when he would get an opportunity to put them back urged Birchell to carry out the burglary. He assured Birchell that Sir Horace was a very sound sleeper and that there would be no risk in order to arouse Birchell's cupidity and to protect himself from the suspicions of Sir Horace regarding the letters. He told Birchell that he had seen a large sum of money in his possession when he returned and that this money would probably be hidden in the secret drawer of the desk until Sir Horace had an opportunity of banking it. He told Birchell to break open the desk and explain to him how to find the spring of the secret drawer. What a damned cunning scoundrel he is! exclaimed Rolf in unwilling admiration of the completeness of Hill's scheme. Don't you think Mr. Crue that after all he may be the actual murderer? That he told you a lot of lies just as he did to us? Holymead and his address to the jury made out a pretty strong case against him. No one knows better than Holymead that Hill did not commit the murder, said Crue. Hill is an incorrigible liar, but he has no nerve for murder. Did he put the letters back? asked Rolf. He told me that Mrs. Holymead stole them the day after the murder was discovered, but he is such a liar. I believe he spoke the truth in that case, said Crue. He told me he put the letters back in the secret drawer the night after the murder, when he went to Riversbrook to report himself to Chippenfield. He put them back because he was afraid that if the police found them in his possession they would think he had a hand in the murder. His idea was to remove them from the secret drawer after the excitement about the murder died down and then Blackmail Mrs. Holymead, but she acted with the skill and decision that robbed him of his chance to Blackmail her. How did you get hold of the cunning scoundrel? asked Rolf. I've had his wife's shop watch day and night, as I've said. I made sure he would try to communicate with her sooner or later, but he didn't. It was Joe who found him, said Crue. I knew you were watching Mrs. Hill's shop, so it was superfluous for me to set anybody to watch it. Besides, I didn't think Hill would visit his wife or attempt to communicate with her, for he would think that the police, if they wanted him, would be sure to watch the shop. I tried to consider what a man like Hill would do in the circumstances. He had no money, I knew that, and so far as I was able to ascertain, he had no friends who were likely to hide him. Without friends or money he could not go very far. Finally it occurred to me that he might be hiding somewhere in Riversbrook, either in that unfinished portion of the third floor or in one of the outbuildings. He knew the run of the rambling old place so well. Have you ever been over it carefully? No? Well, there are several good places in the upper stories where a man might conceal himself. I put Joe on the job, and after watching for several nights Joe got him. Hill had made a hiding-place in the loft above the garage. It appears that he subsisted on the stores that had been left in the house. He was able to make his way into the main building through one of the kitchen windows. He was on one of these foraging expeditions when Joe discovered him, emaciated, dirty, and half demented through terror of the gallows. So that is how you got him, said Rolf. I never thought of looking for him at Riversbrook. Sometimes I am inclined to agree with you that he had no nerve for murder. But an unpremeditated murder doesn't want much nerve. He might have done it in a moment of passion. Rolf was endearing to take advantage of crew's communicative mood, and to arrive by a process of elimination at the person against whom crew had accumulated his evidence. It was not Hill, said crew. The murder was committed in a moment of passion, and yet it was far from being unpremeditated. You are trying to mystify me, said Rolf despairingly. No, it is the case itself which has mystified you, replied crew. It has, was Rolf's candid confession. The more thought I give it, the more impossible it seems to see through it. Was Sir Horace killed before dusk, before the lights were turned on? If he was killed after dark, who turned out the lights? He was killed between ten and ten-thirty at night, said crew. The lights were turned out by the woman Birchel saw leaving the house about ten-thirty, but she was not the murderer, and she was not present in the room or even in the house when Sir Horace was shot. She arrived a few minutes too late to prevent the tragedy. Turning out the lights was an instinctive act due to her desire to hide the crime or rather to hide the murderer. How do you know all this, asked Rolf, who had been staring at crew with open-mouthed astonishment? That woman was not Mrs. Holymead, continued crew. I had a visit today from the woman who did these things, and as evidence of the truth of her story, she brought me the revolver and the handkerchief. What did she come to you for? asked Rolf, with breathless interest. What did she want? She came to me to make a full confession, said crew in even tones. A confession! exclaimed Rolf. She ought to have come to the police. Why didn't she come to us? Crew smiled at the puzzled and dignant detective. I think she came to me because she wanted to mislead me, he said. End of Chapter 24 Chapter 25 of The Hampstead Mystery This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Reading by Lars Rolander The Hampstead Mystery by John Watson and Arthur Rees Chapter 25 Joe Lever, worn out after nearly a week's work of watching the movement so Mr. Holymead had fallen asleep in an empty loft above a garage which overlooked Venice Hotel in Mayfair He had seen Mr. Holymead disappear into the hotel and he knew from the experience gained in his watch that the KC would spend the next couple of hours in dressing for dinner sitting down to that meal and smoking his cigar in the lounge So Joe had relaxed for the time being the new task which his master had set him and had flung himself on some straw in the loft to rest He did not intend to go to sleep but he was very tired and in a few minutes he was in a profound slumber In his sleep Joe dreamt that he had attained the summit of his ambition and was being paid a huge salary by an American film company to display himself in emotional dramas for the educational improvement of the British working classes In his dream he had to rescue the heroine from the clutches of the villains who had carried her off They had imprisoned her at the top of a skyscraper building and locked the lift But Joe climbed the fire escape and caught the beautiful girl in his arms The villains who were on the watch set fire to the building and when Joe attempted to climb out of the window with the heroine clinging round his neck the flames drove him back As he stood there the wind swept a sheet of flame towards Joe until it scorched his face The pain was so real that Joe opened his eyes and sprang up with a cry A man was standing over him A man past middle age, short and broad in figure was clean shaven face directed attention to his protruding jaw He was wearing a blue surged suit which had seen much use You are a sleeper, sunny, said the man grinning at Joe's alarm But when you wake, why you wake up properly? I'll say that for you, you nearly broke my pipe You woke up that sudden He made this remark with such a malicious grin that Joe, whose face was still smarting had no hesitation in connecting his sudden awakening with the hot bowl of the man's pipe It was a joke Joe had often seen played on drunken men in Islington public houses in his young days You've just left me alone, will you? He said, rubbing his cheek ruefully It's nothing to do with you whether I'm sound sleeper or not That's just where you're wrong, young fellow What's the reply? It's a lot to do with me Ain't your name Joe D'Lever? Joe nodded his head How did you find out, he asked Perhaps a friend of mine pointed you out to me Perhaps he did and perhaps he didn't, said Joe Anyway, what's your name? Mr. Kemp is my name, my boy And unless you're pretty civil I'll give you cause to remember it What have you got to do with me? Asked the boy in a ninja tone I've never done nothing to you You mind your peas and queues and me And you'll get along all right Said Mr. Kemp in a somewhat softer tone When you ask me what I've got to do with you My answer is I've got a lot to do with you For I am your guardian, so to speak Joe looked at Mr. Kemp with a gleam of comprehension His amazement He had some experience in his Islington days A strange phenomena produced by drink Rats, he retorted rudely I've never had a guardian and I don't want none What made you a guardian I'd like to know Your father did, was the reply Oh, him, said Joe In a tone which indicated pronounced antipathy to his parent Do you know him? Are you one of his sort? Now don't try to be insulting my boy Or I'll take you across my knee We won't say nothing about where your father is Because in high society Wormwood Scrubs isn't mentioned All we'll say is that he's been unfortunate Like many another man before him And that for the present he can't come and go as he likes But he has still got a father's heart, Joe And there are times when he worries about his family And about there being no one with them to keep an eye on them And see they grow up a credit to him He has been particularly worried about Joe, Joe So when Art was coming away he asked me to look you up Before I had time and let him know how you was getting on Seeing that no one of his family has gone near him For a matter of three years or so Though there is one regular visiting day each week I don't want to see him no more, said Joe He's no good That's a nice way for a boy to talk about his own father Said Mr. Kemp in a reproving tone I don't know what the young generation is coming to If you want to send him word about me You can tell him that I'm not going to be a thief, said Joe defiantly Now, said Mr. Kemp tauntingly You'd sooner be a narc Yes, I would, said the boy And that's what you are now, declared the man breathfully You're a narc for that fellow crew I know all about you I'm earning an honest living, said Joe As a narc, said Mr. Kemp with a sneer I'm earnest and honest living, said the boy dodgetly So much of his youth had been spent among the criminal classes That he still retained the feeling that there was an indelible stigma Attached to those individuals described as narcs How can anyone earn a respectable honest living By being a narc, asked Mr. Kemp contemptuously And more than that It's one of the best men that ever breathed that you are a spine on I'll have you know that he's a friend of mine That is to say, he's done things for me That I ain't likely to forget There's nothing I won't do for him If the chance comes my way I'll see that no harm happens to him through you And your Mr. Crew You've got to stop this here spying Stop it at once, do you understand? For if you don't, by God I'll deal with you So that you'll do no more spying in this world And I'll have you and your master know I'm a man, what means what he says Mr. Kemp shook his fist angrily at you As he moved away to the door of the loft After having delivered his menacing warning My last words to you is, stop it He said, as he turned to go down the stairs Half an hour later Mr. Kemp entered the lounge of Vernis Hotel As though in quest for someone Most of the hotel guests had finished their after-dinner coffee and liquors And the hall was comparatively empty But a few who remained raised their eyes in well-bred protest At the intrusion of a member of the lower orders Into the corridor of an exclusive hotel Mr. Kemp felt somewhat out of place And he stared about the luxuriously furnished lounge With a look in which Abe mingled with admiration Before he could advance further A livery porter of massive proportions came up to him And barred the way Now, now my man, said the porter hortily What do you think you are doing here? This ain't your place, you know You've made a mistake, out you go I want to see Mr. Hallamid, said Mr. Kemp in a gruff voice Vernis was such a high-class hotel That seedy-looking persons seldom dare to put a foot Within the palatial entrance The porter, unused to dealing with the obtrusive, impecunious type To which he believed Mr. Kemp to belong Made the mistake of trying to argue with him Want to see Mr. Hallamid, he repeated How do you know he's here? Who told you? What do you want to see him for? What's that got to do with you? retorted Mr. Kemp You don't think Mr. Hallamid would like me to discuss his business with the likes of you? That ain't what you're here for You go and tell Mr. Hallamid that someone wants to see him Tell him Mr. Kemp wants to see him Mr. Kemp drew himself up And buttoned the coat of his faded search-suit The porter, uncertain how to deal with the situation Looked around for help The manager of the hotel emerged from the booking office at that moment And the porter's appealing look was seen by him The manager approached He was faultlessly attired, suave in demeanor And walked with a noiseless step Despite his tendency to corpulence It was his daily task to wrestle with some of the many-fold difficulties Arising out of the eccentricities of human nature As exhibited by a constant stream of arriving and departing guests But though he approached the distressed porter With full confidence in his ability to deal with any situation His eyebrows arched in astonishment As he took in the full details of the intruder's attire What does this mean Hawkins? He exclaimed in a tone of disapproval The porter trembled at the implication that he had grievously failed in his duty By allowing such an individual as Mr. Kemp To get so far within the exclusive portals of Bernie's And in his nervousness he relaxed from the polish of the hotel's porter To his native cockney This air-party says he wants to see Mr. Holley mid-sir The manager went through the motion of washing a spotlessly clean pair of hands And then brought the palms together in a gentle clap He smiled pittingly at Hawkins And then looked condescendingly at Mr. Kemp Once to see Mr. Holley mid-sir He said, transferring his glance to the worried porter And didn't you tell him that Mr. Holley mid-sir has gone to the theatre And won't be back for some considerable time? That's a lie, said Mr. Kemp Who had acquired none of the art of dealing with his fellow men And was too uneducated to appreciate art in any form I've been watching over the other side of the street And I saw him passing a window not ten minutes ago I'm going to see him if I wait here all night I'll soon make myself comfortable in one of them big chairs He pointed to an empty chair beside a man in evening-dress Who was holding a conversation with a haughty-looking matron You tell Mr. Holley mid-Mr. Kemp wants to see him He said to the manager What name did you say? Asked the manager in a tone which seemed to express astonishment That the lower orders had names Mr. Kemp You tell him Mr. Kemp wants to see him on important business He walked towards the vacant chair and seated himself on it He dug his toes into the velvet-piled carpet With the air of a man who was trying to take anchor Fortunately the man on the adjoining chair and the haughty-matron Were so engrossed in their conversation that they did not notice That the air in their immediate vicinity was being polluted By the presence of a man in shabby clothes and heavy boots The manager dispatched the porter in search of Mr. Holley mid-Mr. Kemp And then went in pursuit of Mr. Kemp Will you come this way if you please Mr. Kemp? He said with a low bow He saw that Mr. Kemp was following him He headed the way into an unfrequentened corner of the smoking room Where with the information that Mr. Holley mid would come to him In a few moments he asked Mr. Kemp to be seated The manager withdrew a few yards And then took up a position which enabled him to guard the hotel guests From having their digestions interfered with By the contaminating spectacle of a seedy man To the manager's great relief Mr. Holley mid appeared Having been informed by the whole porter That a party who said his name was Kemp had asked to see him The manager hurried towards Mr. Holley mid And endeavored to explain and apologize But the KC assured him that there was nothing to apologize for He went over to the corner of the smoking room The visitor who had caused so much perturbation Was waiting for him Well Kemp, what do you want? There was nothing in his manner to indicate that He was put out by Mr. Kemp's appearance He spoke in quiet, even tones such as would seem to suggest That he was well acquainted with this visitor Can I speak to you on the quiet for a moment, sir? Mr. Holley mid looked round the room The manager had gone back to the booking office And Hawkins had vanished The few people who were in the room seemed occupied With their own affairs No one will overhear us if we speak quietly He said as he took a seat close to Kemp What is it? You watched and followed, sir? Said Kemp in a whisper Somebody has been watching this place for days past And whenever you go out you're followed By whom? asked Holley mid By a warmant of a boy, a slippery young imp Whose father's in jail for a long stretch I got hold of him this afternoon And told him what I'd do to him if he kept on with this game He's living in an old loft at the back of the hotel garage And he keeps a watch on you day and night I thought I'd better come here and tell you As you might know about him You did quite right, Kemp What's this boy like? An undersized, putty-faced brat with a big head He's about fourteen or fifteen, I should say Who is he? Do you know him? Lever is the name, sir To tell you the truth I don't know him as well as I know his father His father is a lifer for manslaughter I've known him both in and out of jail And when I was coming out four months ago Bob Lever, this year boy's father, asked me to look up his family And send him word about them I went to the address Bob told me in Islington But I found they had all gone The mother was dead and the kids, a girl and this air boy had cleared out The old you who had the second hand clothes shop Mr. Sleever used to keep Told me that the boy had gone off with that private detective crew More than two years ago So it looks to me as if he has turned dark And crew has put him on to watch you Can you describe this boy more closely? Well, sir, I don't know if I can say anything more about him Except that he has red hair and big bright eyes That are too large for his face I thought so, said Holomeed, as if speaking to himself It's the same boy What did you say, sir? Asked Kemp Nothing, Kemp, except that I think I've seen a boy Of this description hanging about the street near the hotel Holomeed rose to his feet as he spoke As an indication that the interview was at an end Kemp got up and looked at him anxiously I beg your pardon, sir, for coming here He said fumbling with the rim of his hat as he spoke I didn't know how you'd take it But I hope I've done right They didn't want to let me see you You did quite right, Kemp I'm very much obliged to you He was feeling in his pocket for silver But Kemp stalked him No, no, sir, I don't want to be paid anything I wanted to oblige you like I wanted to do you a good turn I'd do anything for you, sir You know I would Believe you would, Kemp Good night Good night, sir As Kemp passed down the hall He met the manager Who was obviously pleased to see such an unwelcome visitor Making his departure Kemp scolded at the manager As if he were a valued patron of the hotel And said, It seems to me that you don't know how to treat Papal properly when they come here End of Chapter 25 of The Hampstead Mystery by John Watson and Arthur Rhys Read by Lars Rolander Chapter 26 of The Hampstead Mystery This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer Please visit LibriVox.org Reading by Lars Rolander The Hampstead Mystery by John Watson and Arthur Rhys Chapter 26 It was the first occasion on which Mrs. Hollamied Had visited her husband's chambers in the Middle Temple Mr. Mattingford, who had been Mr. Hollamied's clerk For nearly twenty years, seemed to realize That the visit was important, though as a married man He knew that a meeting between husband and wife In town was usually so commonplace As to verge on boredom for the husband There were occasions when he had to meet Mrs. Mattingford, but these meetings Were generally for the purpose of handing over To the lady her weekly dress allowance Of ten shillings out of his salary So that she might attend the sales At the big drapery shops in the West End And inspect the windows containing expensive articles That she could not hope to buy Mr. Mattingford was an exceedingly thrifty man And his wife possessed some of the qualities Of a spent thrift Thus it came about that Mr. Mattingford Kept up the fiction that he had no savings And that each week's salary must seem through Till the next week Mrs. Mattingford knew that her husband Had saved money, and theoretically She would have given a great deal to know how much She repeatedly accused him of being a miser But this is a wifely denunciation Which in all classes of life is lightly made When the purchase of feminine finery Is under discussion Some men who resent it But Mr. Mattingford was not one of these Protests and prayers, abuse and cajolery Were alike powerless to win his consent To his wife's perpetual proposal That she should be allowed to draw her dress allowance For some months, or even some weeks ahead Mr. Mattingford had a horror of bad debts He endeavored to show his wife That the transaction she proposed Was unsound from a business point of view And reckless from a legal point of view She had no security to offer For the repayment of the advance Even if he were in a financial position To make the advance And he stoutly declared that he was not She might die at any moment And then he would be left with no means Of redress against her estate Because she had no estate Of course, if she first insured her life Out of her dress allowance And handed the policy to him It would constitute protection For the repayment of the advance In the event of her death But it was not any real protection In the event of her continuing to live For a newly executed policy Had no surrender value As his own legal advisor Mr. Mattingford strongly urged himself Not to consider his wife's proposal And such was his respect for the law And for those who had been brought up In a legal atmosphere That he had no hesitation in accepting the advice He was a little man of nearly 50 years With a very bald head And an extremely long moustache Which when waxed at the ends Made him look as fierce as a clipped poodle He knew Mrs. Hollamed From his having called frequently At his chief's house in Princess Gate On business matters And he admired her for her good looks But still more for her good taste In staying away from her husband's chambers There were some ladies, the wives of Barristers Who almost haunted their husband's chambers A practice of which Mr. Mattingford Strongly disapproved It seemed to him an insidious attempt On the part of an insidious sex To force the legal profession To throw open its doors to women As a man who had lived in the mouldy atmosphere Of precedent Mr. Mattingford hated the idea of change And to him the thought of a lady In wig and gown pleading in the law courts Indicated not merely changed But a revolution which might well usher In the end of the world So strict was he in keeping the precincts Of the law sacred from the violating Thread of women that he never allowed His wife to set foot in the Middle Temple Their meetings on those urgent occasions When Mrs. Mattingford came to town For a dress allowance in order To go bargain hunting Took place at one of the cheap Rooms in Fleet Street Although Mr. Mattingford was somewhat Flustered by the unexpected appearance Of Mrs. Hollamied He did not depart from the precedent To the extent of regarding her As entitled to any other treatment Than that accorded to clients Who called on business He asked her if she wanted to see Mr. Hollamied, placed a chair for her Then knocked differentially at his chief's door Went inside to announce Mrs. Hollamied to her husband And came out with the information That Mr. Hollamied would see her He held open the door Leading into his chief's private room And after Mrs. Hollamied had entered Closed it softly and firmly But the formal business manner Of Mr. Mattingford to his chief's wife Seemed to her friendly and cordial Compared with the strange greetings She received from her husband He motioned her to a chair And then got up from his own I rode to you to come and see me here Instead of going to the house to see you, he said Because I thought it would be better for both It would have given the servant Something to talk about I hope you don't mind She looked at him with a large dark eyes In which there was more than A suggestion of tears What she had read into his note When she received it was his determination Not to go to his home to see her For fear she would interpret that As his first step towards reconciliation What I wanted to speak to you about Is this detective crew Whom Mrs. Feubanks has employed In connection with her father's death He continued Her breath came quickly At this unwelcome information She noted that he had spoken Of Sir Horace's death and not his murder He began pacing backwards And forwards across the room As if with the purpose of avoiding Looking at her This man crew is a nuisance I might even say a danger I don't know what he has found out But I object to his ferreting Into my affairs He must be stopped She nodded her assent For she could not trust herself to speak Each time he turned his back on her As he crossed the room Her eyes followed him But as he faced her She turned her gaze on the floor There is no legal redress No legal means of dealing With this impertinent curiosity he went on He is within his rights In trying to find out all he can But if he is allowed to go on unchecked A thing may reach a disastrous stage I have no doubt that he knows That I was at Riversbrook the night That man was killed He was not long in getting on the track of that And the more mysterious my visit seems to him And the fact that I have not as close to the police That I went up to Riversbrook And saw Sir Horace on the night of the tragedy Is to his way of thinking very significant The more reason is there For suspecting me of complicity in the crime When he turned to cross the room Her eyes lingered on him And she glanced quickly at his face I don't want to dwell on matters That must pain you That must pain us both He said slowly But it is necessary that you should be made Acquainted with the danger That threatens me from this man I am anxious to avoid anything In the nature of a public scandal I am anxious quite as much If not more on your account than my own But if this wretched man is allowed To go on trying to build up a case against me And I must admit that he would probably Obtain circumstantial evidence of a kind Which would make some sort of a case For the prosecution There is grave danger of everything coming out If he went to the length of having me Arrested and charged with the crime There are bound to be some disclosures And the newspapers would make the most of them It is impossible to foresee the exact nature of them But I do not see how I could adopt Any line of defence Which would not hint at things That are best unrevealed You yourself might be so ill-advised As to tell the whole story in the end Of course I would try to prevent you And as far as the trial is concerned I think I could use means to prevent you But if the result was unfavourable And knowing what eccentric things juries do We must recognise the possibility Of an unfavourable verdict You might consider it advisable To disclose everything in the hope Of having the conviction quashed by an appeal For the first time since she had sat down He looked at her And as he caught her upward gaze He flushed I would tell everything if you were arrested She said in a low voice Ah, so I thought He said in a tone of disapproval The question now is What means can be adopted to prevent a catastrophe? I have thought earnestly about it And as you are almost as much concerned In preventing public disclosures as I am I decide to consult you before taking any definite course It is this man crew who is the danger And the question is How are we to stop him proceeding to extremes? One way is for me to see him And take him into my confidence To explain fully to him what happened He would not be satisfied with less than the full story If I kept anything back His suspicions would remain In fact, they would be strengthened I would have to explain to him Why and how I induced Sir Horace To return unexpectedly from Scotland On that fatal night And what took place at Riversbrook You will understand why I have hesitated to adopt that course I would not suggest it to you now Except that I see it would save you From the danger of something a great deal worse Of course it could save me From the annoyance of being suspected Of knowing something about the actual murder But it is your interests that come first in the matter It would be effective in putting an end to all our fears All my fears I would bind him to secrecy, of course I do not ask you to come to a decision immediately But I do ask you to think it over And let me know I have been extremely reluctant to put this proposal before you Because I should hate carrying it out Because I should hate telling this man of things Which are really no concern of anyone but ourselves But I cannot disguise for myself That it would remove a great danger I believe the secret would be safe with him I understand that in private life he's a gentleman And that I would be safe in taking his word of honour It would not be necessary for him to tell the police Still less to tell Miss Fewbanks Is there no other way? She asked Have you thought of any other way? Yes The only other way out that I have been able to find Is for me to see Miss Fewbanks And ask her to withdraw the case from crew I would not tell her everything I would not bring you into it at all But I could tell her that I had had an urgent matter To discuss with her father That he came from Scotland to discuss it with me And that after I left him he was murdered I would tell her that it was quite impossible for me To disclose what the business was about But that crew having learnt that I had seen her father That night was extremely suspicious I would ask her to accept my word of honour That I had no knowledge of who killed her father And to relieve me of the annoyance of the attentions of this man crew I think she would agree to that proposal That is the other way out And from something which has happened this morning I am inclined to think that it is the better and quicker course to pursue She was thinking so deeply that she did not reply At length she became conscious of a long silence It is very good of you to ask my opinion To consult with me at all It is you that have everything at stake I would like to do my best But I think if you gave me time Is there any great urgency? Two days at most is all I want I cannot give you two days He replied with a somber smile You must decide today at once Otherwise it will be too late She looked at him with parted lips and alarm in her eyes What do you mean? She breathed What have you hidden? Is the danger immediate? I think so For some days past my movements have been dodged By a boy in cruise employ Nearly a week ago I decided after the worry and anxiety of this This unhappy affair to go away for a short trip I thought a sea voyage to America and back Might do me good and fit me for my work again He sighed unconsciously and went on Crew has become acquainted with my intended departure And has placed his own interpretation on it He assumes that I am seeking safety in flight That I have no intention of coming back to England The result has been that the boy crew Had said to watch my movements Has been replaced by two men from Scotland Yard One watching these chambers from the front And the other from the rear He walked across to the window And glanced quickly through the curtain Yes, they are still here She sprang from her seat and followed him to the window Where are they? she gasped Show them to me There, do not move the curtain Or they will suspect we are watching them Look a little to the left by the lamppost The other you can catch a glimpse of If you look between those two trees What does it mean? Why are they waiting? she burst out Her face had gone very pale And her big dark eyes glared frightedly From the window to her husband Hush, I beg you not to lose your self-control It is essential neither of us should lose our heads He said warningly She regained command of herself with an effort And whispered rather than spoke with twitching lips What does the presence of these men mean? It means that crew has already communicated with Scotland Yard And that you will be arrested for his murder? Her trembling lips could hardly frame the words I think so It's almost certain But apparently the warrant is not yet issued Or those men would come here and arrest me But they are watching to prevent my escape If I thought of escaping We may yet have a few hours to arrange something But you must come to a prompt decision Tell me what to do and I will do it Oh, let me help you if I can What is the best thing to do? To see crew? No, I forbid you to see crew He said harshly If we decide on that course I will see him myself And you may be arrested the moment you go out of these chambers She returned Oh, no, no, that is not a good plan We have not the time I will go to Mabel Few Banks at once And beg her for all our sakes Not to allow this to go any further He shook his head You must not sacrifice yourself, he said That would be foolish I will not sacrifice myself I would tell her just what you have told me That her father came from Scotland To discuss an urgent matter with you And that he was murdered after you left I feel certain this man crew is going to extremes Without her knowledge or consent And that she will be the first to bury this awful thing When she learns that you have been implicated Is not this the best thing to do? It is, he reluctantly admitted But I do not wish you to be mixed up in it at all I am not mixing myself up in it I am too selfish for that But I swear to you If you do not let me do this I will confess everything I know Mabel Few Banks And I repeat She is not aware of what this man crew has done She would not Will not permit it I shall go down to Delmer at once Her face was pale And her eyes glittered as she looked at her husband But she spoke with unnatural self-possession With feverish energy She pulled on a glove she had taken off When she entered and buttoned it I will, I shall arrive in time In two hours, in three at most You will hear from me She passed out into the outer office Before her husband could reply And closed the door behind her Mr. Mattingford dashed to open the outer door of his room Leading into the main staircase He thought Mrs. Hollamy looked strange as she passed him And descended the stairs And he rubbed his hands cleavefully He came to the conclusion That she had come in for a check for fifty pounds As an advance of her dress allowance And that her request had been refused End of Chapter 26 of The Hamstered Mystery by Don Watson and Arthur Rees Read by Lorsch Rolander Chapter 27 She left her husband's chambers with her brain in a whirl Hardly knowing where she was going Until she found herself held up with a stream of pedestrians At the island intersection of Waterloo Bridge and the Strand She thought the policeman who was regulating the traffic Ied her curiously And, more with the object of evading his eye Than with any set plan in her mind She stepped into an empty taxi-cap Which was waiting to cross the street Where to, mum? asked the driver Where to? she repeated vacantly With an effort of will She concentrated her thoughts on the task in front of her And hastily added To Victoria, as quick as you can No, wait, driver, first take me to the nearest bookstore The taxi-cap took her to a bookstore in the Strand Where she got out and purchased a railway guide As the taxi-cap proceeded towards Victoria She hastily turned the pages to the trains for Delmere She had never been to Delmere But she had heard from Miss Fubanks That her father's place was reached From a station called Horledin On the main line to Winston And though there were many through trains Comparatively few stopped at Horledin But she was unused to timetables And found it difficult to grasp the information she required There was such a bewildering diversity of letters At the head of the lists of trains for that line And so many reference notes on different pages To be looked up before it was possible To ascertain with any degree of certainty That trains stopped at Horledin on weekdays That, in her shaken firm of mind With the necessity for hurry haunting her She became confused and failed to comprehend The perplexing figures She signalled to the driver to stop And handed him the book I cannot understand this timetable She said in an agitated way Would you find out for me please When the next train leaves Victoria for Horledin The driver consulted the timetable With a business like air The next train leaves at twelve forty He informed her After that there isn't another one Stopping till four or five Mrs. Holymead consulted her watch anxiously It's almost half past twelve now Can you catch the twelve forty She asked Driver looked dubious I'll try mum But it'll take some doing It depends on whether I get a clear run At Trafalx Square Try try she cried Catch it and I will double your fare She caught the train with a few seconds to spare She had a first class compartment to herself And as the train rushed out of London And the grimy environs of the metropolis Gradually gave place to green fields She endeavored to compose her mind And collect her thoughts for her Coming interview with the daughter of the murdered man But her mind was in such a distraught condition That she could think of no plan But to sacrifice herself in order to save her husband With cold hands pressed against her hot forehead She muttered again and again As if offering up an invocation That gained force by repetition I must save him I will tell her everything The train ran into Holadine shortly after two And Mrs. Holymead was the only passenger Who alighted at the lonely little wayside station Which stood in a small wood In a solitude as profound As though it had been in the American prairie Instead of in the heart of an English country The only sign of life was a dilapidated vehicle With an elderly man in charge Which stood outside the station yard all day Waiting for chance visitors Cab mom Exclaimed the driver of this vehicle With an ingratiating voice touching his hat No, thank you, replied Mrs. Holymead I'll walk Miss Few Banks was astonished When the parlor maid announced the arrival Of Mrs. Holymead She hurried into the drawing room To meet her visitor The warm greeting she offered her Was checked by her astonishment At the ill and mourn appearance of her beautiful friend Please, don't, said the visitor As she held up a warning hand to keep away A sisterly kiss She looked at Miss Few Banks With an air of a woman nerving herself For a desperate task And said quickly I have dreadful things to tell you You can never think of me again Except with loathing, with horror The impression Miss Few Banks received Was that her visitor had taken leave of her senses This impression was deepened By Mrs. Holymead's next remark I want you to save my husband There was an awkward pause While Mrs. Holymead waited for a reply And Miss Few Banks wondered What was the best thing to do Say you will save him Exclaimed Mrs. Holymead Do what you like with me But save him Don't you think, dear You would be better If you had a rest and a little sleep Said Miss Few Banks I am sure you could sleep if you tried Come upstairs And I'll make you so comfortable You think I'm mad Said the elder woman Would do God that I was Come, dear Said Miss Few Banks coaxingly She turned to the door And prepared to lead the way upstairs Sleep Exclaimed Mrs. Holymead bitterly I have not had a peaceful sleep Since your father was killed I have been haunted Day and night I cannot sleep I know it was a dreadful shock to you But you must not take it So much to heart You must see a doctor And do what he tells you Mr. Holymead should send you away At the mention of her husband's name Mrs. Holymead came back to the thought That had been foremost in her mind Will you save him? She exclaimed You know I will do anything I can For him answered the girl gently Her intention was to humor her visitor For she was quite sure That Mr. Holymead was in no danger Will you stop, Mr. Crew Mrs. Few Banks repeated the word in a tone That showed her interest had been awakened Stop him from what? Stop him from arresting my husband Do you mean to say that Mr. Crew Thinks Mr. Holymead had anything to do With the murder of my father? If I tell you everything Will you stop him? Oh, Mabel, darling For the sake of the past Before I came on to the scene To mourn the lives of both of them Will you save him? It is I, not he Who should pay the penalty Of this awful tragedy Will you save him? Tell me everything, said the girl firmly To the stricken wife There was a promise in the demand for light And in broken phrases She poured out her story of shame and sorrow With a feeling that everything was falling away from her The girl learned from her visitor's disconnected story That there had been a liaison With her murdered father and her friend Mr. Holymead had discovered it after Sir Horace Had gone to Scotland And husband and wife were away in the country He was at first distracted at finding That his lifelong friend had seduced his wife Then had made her promise not to see Or communicate with Sir Horace Until he had made up his mind What course of action to take Three days later he caught an evening train To London and told her he was not returning But would write to her It crossed her mind that he had gone To London to meet Sir Horace And in her distress at the thought Of what might happen when they met She consulted her cousin Gabrielle Who had always been in her confidence Gabrielle had offered to go to Riversbrook To see if Sir Horace had returned from Scotland Or was expected back Her train was delayed by an accident And when she arrived at Riversbrook It was after half past ten She arrived a few minutes too late To prevent the tragedy She found the front door open And the electric light burning in the hall She went up the staircase and in the library She found Sir Horace Who was lying on the floor at the point of death She tried to lift him into a sitting position But with a convulsive gasp He died in her arms She lay him down and then looked hurriedly Around the room with the object Of removing any evidence of how Or why the crime had been committed Her maimed thought being to save her friend From the shame of a public scandal She picked up a revolver Which was lying on the floor near Sir Horace Turned out the lights in the library And in the hall so that the house was in darkness And then closed the hall door After her as she went out But Mr. Crew had discovered In some way that Mr. Holymeade Had visited Sir Horace that night Only a week ago Gabrielle had gone to him And tried to put him off the track But it was no use The wretched woman made A pathetic appeal for her husband's life She deplored the sinfulness Which had resulted in the tragedy She took on herself The blame for it all She had sent one man to his death And her husband stood in peril Of a shameful death on the gallows But it was in the power of Mabel to save him On her knees she pleaded For his life She pleaded to be saved from the horror Of sending her husband to the gallows His father could have made his wishes known He too would plead For the life of the friend he had betrayed The door opened And the parlor made entered Ms. Few Banks stepped quickly across the room So that she should not witness the distress Of Mrs. Holymeade The servant handed her a card And waited for instructions Ms. Few Banks looked at the card In an agony of indecision Then she made up her mind firmly Show him into my study She returned to her visitor Who was sitting with her face buried in her hands Mr. Crew has just motored down She said I will save your husband if I can End of chapter 27 Chapter 28 Of the Hampstead Mystery This is a LibriVox recording Or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information Or to volunteer Please visit LibriVox.org Reading by Los Rolander The Hampstead Mystery By John Watson and Arthur Reese Chapter 28 She was conscious that The revelation that her father had been killed By Mr. Holymeade Was a less shock than the revelation That her father had dishonoured the great friendship Of his life To seeing his friend's wife Her father had been dead three months And her grief Had run its course The shock caused by the discovery That he had been murdered Had passed away And she had begun to accept his violent death As part of her own experience of life But the discovery That he had betrayed his best friend In a way That a pure-minded woman Regards us the most dishonourable way possible Was a fresh revelation To her human infamy The knowledge that her father Had been a man of immoral habits Was not new to her His predilection for fast women Had long ago made it impossible for her To live in the same house with him For more than a week at a time But that he had trampled In the mire the lifelong friendship Of an honourable man For the sake of an ignoble passion Revealed an unexpected death Of shame That Mr. Hollamed had killed him Seemed almost a natural result Of the situation It was not that she felt that a just Retribution had overtaken her father But rather that she was glad His shameful conduct Had come to an end As she thought of her dead father Dead these three months She gave a sigh of relief The wretched, guilty woman Who had shared with him The shame of his ignoble intrigue Had said that if her father Could make his wishes known He would plead for the life For the friend he had dishonoured But it was not her father's plea For the life of his friend That would have impressed her so much As a plea to bury the whole Unsavory scandal from the light She had promised to save Mr. Hollamed if she could But that promise had sprung less From the spirit of mercy Then from the desire to save A father's name from a scandal Which would hold him up to the public Of Loki She greeted crew with friendly warmth In spite of the feeling of oppression Caused by the consciousness Of the situation in front of her He did not sit down again After greeting her But stood with one hand Resting on an inlaid chess table With wonderful carved red And white Japanese chessmen Ranged on each side Which he had been examining When she entered the room I came down to make my report To you because I think My work is finished, he said You have found out To kill my father? She asked quietly Crew had sufficient personal pride To feel a little hurt When he saw the calm way In which he accepted the result Of his investigations Situating him on his success In a difficult task I think so, he said Before I tell you who it is You must prepare yourself For a great shock I know who it is, she said Mr. Hollamead There was no pretense About his astonishment How on earth did you find out? She smiled a little At such a revelation Of his appreciation Of his own cleverness In having probed the mystery I did not find it out, she said I had to be told And who told you, Miss Few Banks? He asked Has he confessed to you? How long have you known it? I have known it Only a few minutes, she said Will you tell me how you got On the track and all you have done? I'm greatly interested You have been wonderfully clever To find out I should never have guessed Mr. Hollamead Had anything to do with it I should never have thought it possible When you have finished I will tell you how I came to know The story is extremely simple And sordid The fact that the key Of the mystery had been In her hands only a few minutes Was a solace to crew As he detracted The story he had to tell Of patient investigations Extending over weeks He pieced together the story Of the tragedy as he had unraveled it Hill, he said Had conceived the idea Of blackmailing her father After he had discovered the existence Of some letters in a secret drawer Of Sir Horace's desk The fact that Sir Horace Had kept these letters Instead of destroying them With the use of a somewhat similar kind Showed that he was very much infatuated With a lady who wrote them The lady, a stoutless Ms. Feubanks had guessed, was Mrs. Hollamead, a lady With whom Sir Horace had been On very friendly terms Before she married Mr. Hollamead What became of the letters Asked Ms. Feubanks Have you got them? I think they are destroyed He said Ms. Hollamead removed them From the secret door the day after The discovery of the murder She removed them when the police Had charged of the house and Almost from under the eyes Of Inspector Chippenfield It was a daring plan and Well carried out Ms. Feubanks heaved a sigh of relief On learning the fate of the letters It had been her intention To endeavor to obtain them If they were in crew's possession To destroy them Crew explained that He was afraid to take the letters And then boldly blackmailed Sir Horace The butler conceived the plan Of getting Bertschild to break Into the house He did not take Bertschild into his Confidence with regard to the Blackmailing scheme But in order to induce Sir Horace To believe the burglar had stolen The letters he told Bertschild To force open the desk Or papers of value there But in order to prevent Bertschild Getting the letters If he should happen to stumble across The secret drawer He'll remove them the day before His plan must go to Riverbrook in the morning after the burglary And after leaving open the secret drawer Which had contained the letters To report the burglary to the police When Sir Horace came home Unexpectedly He'll had just removed the letters And had them in his possession He'll was greatly perturbed At his master's unexpected return And had to get an opportunity To replace the letters In the secret drawer But Sir Horace told him to go home As he was not wanted till the morning He'll went to the girls flat In Westminster And there saw Bertschild He told Bertschild That Sir Horace had returned unexpectedly But he urged Bertschild To carry out the burglary as arranged And assured him That as Sir Horace was a heavy sleeper There would be no risk If he waited until Sir Horace went to bed He'll's position Was that if the burglary was postponed Sir Horace might make the discovery That the letters had been stolen From the secret drawer In that case Sir Horace would immediately suspect Hill Who he knew was an ex-convict It was just possible That Sir Horace, before going to bed Would discover that the letters had been stolen That is, if he went to bed Before Bertschild got into the place But Hill had to take that risk It was the fact that the burglary Hill had arranged with Bertschild To place on the night Sir Horace was killed That had given rise to the false clues Which had misled the police Crew, as he himself modestly put it Was so fortunate as to get on the right Track from the start His suspicions were directed To Hallimede when he saw The letter carrying away a walking stick From Reversbrook after its visit Of condolence to Miss Feubanks Crew explained what tactics He had adopted to obtain A brief inspection of the stick In order to ascertain For his own satisfaction If it had belonged to Hallimede His suspicions against Hallimede Were strengthened When he discovered that the letter When driving to his hotel On the night of the tragedy Had thrown away a glove Which was the fellow of the one Found by the police in Sir Horace's library The next point to settle Was whether Hallimede had anything to do With your father's sudden return From Scotland, said Crew Continuing his story If that proved to be the case And if evidence could be obtained On which to justify the conclusion That these two old friends Had had a deadly quarrel The circumstantial evidence against Hallimede as the man who killed Your father was very strong I may say That before I went to Scotland I came across evidence Of the estrangement of Hallimede And his wife Do you remember when you And Mrs. Hallimede were leaving Court after the inquest That Mr. Hallimede came up And spoke to you He shook hands with you And was on the point of shaking hands With his wife, as if she were a lady He had met cautiously Then on the night of the murder The taxi cab driver at Hyde Park Corner drove him To his house at Princess Gate But was ordered to drive back And take him to Verni's hotel All this was interesting to me Doubly interesting in the light Of the fact that Sir Horace Had known Mrs. Hallimede before Her second marriage And had paid her every attention I went to Scotland And made inquiries at Craigley's Hall, where Sir Horace had been shooting My object was to endeavour To obtain a clue to the reason For his sudden journey to London The local police had made inquiries On this point on behalf Of Scotland Yard Unable to obtain any clue No telegram had been received by Sir Horace And he had sent none Of course he had received some letters He had told none of the other members Of the shooting party The object of his departure for London But he had declared his intention Of being back with them In less than a week It had occurred to me When the crime was discovered That his missing pocketbook Might not have been stolen By his murderer But might have been lost in Scotland I made inquiries in that direction And eventually found That the man who had attended To Sir Horace on the moors Had the pocketbook His story was that Sir Horace Had lost it the day before His departure for London He had taken off his coat Owing to the heat on the moor And the pocketbook had dropped out He ascertained his loss Before he left for London And told this man Saunders When he thought the pocketbook had dropped out Saunders was to look for it And if he found it Was to keep it until Sir Horace came back He did find it And after learning of your father's death Was tempted to keep it As it contained four or five pound notes Saunders is an ignorant man And can scarcely read He professed to know nothing Of the pocketbook When I questioned him But I became suspicious of him And laid a trap which he fell into Then he handed me the pocketbook Which he had hidden on the moor Under a stone In the pocketbook I found a letter from Hollymead Asking your father to come to London at once As there was to be two new Appointments to the court of appeal And that Sir Horace had An excellent chance of obtaining one If he came to London He produced his influence with the Chancellor and the Chief Justice Who were still in town The writer indicated that he was doing All that was possible in Sir Horace's Interests and that he would meet Sir Horace at Riversbrook At 9.30 on Wednesday night And let him know the exact position There is nothing suspicious In such a letter But my inquiries concerning New appointments to the court of Appeal suggest that the statements Are false. Now Let us consider the conduct Of Hollymead and his wife Since the night of the murder His course of action has not Been that of a man anxious to assist The police in the discovery of the murder Of his old friend. We have first Of all his secrecy regarding His visit to Riversbrook that night The fact of the visit Being established by the stick And the glove he left behind We have the estrangement of husband And wife. We have Mrs. Hollymead's Visit to Riversbrook on the morning That the first details of the crime Appeared in the newspapers Ostensibly she came to see you And pay her condolences But as she knew That you had been away in the country She ought to have telephone to learn If you had come up to London Instead of telephoning She went to Riversbrook direct And when she found you were not there She was admitted to the presence Of my old friend Inspector Chippenfield He is an excellent police officer But I do not think he is a match For a clever woman And Mrs. Hollymead Is such a fine looking woman That I feel sure Chippenfield Was so impressed by her appearance That he forgot he was a police Officer and remembered only That he was a man She managed to get him out of the Room long enough to enable her To open the secret drawer In Sir Horace's desk And remove the letters No doubt Sir Horace had shown her Where he kept them As their neat little hiding place Was an indication of the value He placed upon them She was under the impression That no one knew about the letters And her object in removing them Was to prevent the police Stumbling across them And so getting on the track Of her husband She knew about the letters And on the night of the murder Had them in his possession On the night after the murder While Inspector Chippenfield Was making investigations at Riversbrook He had managed to obtain the opportunity To put the letters back He naturally thought that if The police discovered some of Sir Horace's Private papers in his possession They would conclude that he had had Something to do with the murder The next point of any consequence Is Hollamied's defense of Bertil And the deliberate way In which he blackened your father's name While cross-examining Hill If we regard Hollamied's Conduct solely from the standpoint Of a barrister doing his best For his client His defense of Bertil is not so remarkable But we have to remember That your father and Hollamied had been lifelong friends His acceptance of The brief for the defense Was in itself remarkable The fee as I took the trouble To find out was not large Indeed for a man of Hollamied's Commanding eminence at the bar It might be called a small one And he should have returned The brief because the fee was Inadequate We have therefore Two things to consider His defense of the man charged With the murder of your father And his readiness to do The work without regard to The monetary side of it Much was said at the time In some of the papers about A barrister being a servant Of the court and compelled By the etiquette of the bar To place his services At the disposal of anyone Who needs them and is prepared To pay for them A great deal of nonsense has been Said and written on that subject A barrister can return a brief A course for private reasons He does not wish to have anything To do with the case It was Hollamied's duty to do His best to get Bertil off Whether he believed his client was Guilty or innocent Could Hollamied have done His best for Bertil If he had believed that Bertil was the murderer Of his lifelong friend Would he have trusted himself To do his best Hollamied knew that Bertil was innocent He knew who the guilty man was And knowing that Knowing that his action In defending the man charged With the murder of an old friend Would weigh with the jury He took up the case because he felt There was a moral obligation on him To get Bertil off His conduct of the defense During which he attacked The moral character of your father Was remarkable coming from him The friend of the dead man As the action Of defending counsel It was perfectly legitimate It gave rise to some discussion In purely legal circles Whether Hollamied did right or wrong In violating a long friendship In order to get his man off The academic point is Whether he ought to have Violated his personal feelings For an old friend Or violated his duty to his client By doing something less Than his best for him Apart from the circumstantial And inferential evidence Against Hollamied There is the fact that his wife Knows that he committed the crime Her acts point to that Her conduct throughout Springs from the desire to shield him Even the removal Of the letters from the secret drawer Was prompted more by the desire To save him than to save herself Their discovery would not have Been very serious for her But it would have put the police On her husband's track If I remember rightly She asked you to keep her in touch With all the developments Of the investigations of the police And myself You told me that she was Greatly interested in the fact That I did not believe Bertil was guilty And particularly anxious to know That I suspected anyone At Bertil's trial She did me the honour of watching Me very closely I was watching both her And her husband When she discovered through her Womanly intuition that I suspected Her husband, that I Was accumulating evidence against Him, she sent round her friend Mademoiselle Chiron With some interesting information For me An extremely clever young woman That, like all her country Women, she is wonderfully Sharp and quick With a natural aptitude for intrigue Of course The information she gave me Was intended to mislead me Intended to show me that Mr. Hollamed had nothing to do with A crime, but some of it Was extremely interesting When it dealt with actual facts And some of the facts were quite New to me For instance I had not previously known That a piece of a lady's handkerchief Was found clenched in your father's right hand After he was dead The police very kindly kept That information from me Had they told me about it I might have been inclined to suspect Mrs. Hollamed and to believe That her husband was trying to shield her His conduct would bear That interpretation Had happened to be guilty The police unconsciously Saved me from taking up that false Ascent I have detained you a long time In dealing with these points, Miss Few Banks, but I wanted To make everything clear I have all but Reached the end Let us take in chronological Order what happened on the night Of the tragedy. We have Your father's sudden return He was at Riversbrook When he arrived And having the secret letters in his Possession was greatly perturbed By the unexpected return Of Sir Horace He went to Doris Fanning's flat In Westminster to see Bert Schill In his absence, Hollamed Arrived It is probable that he took the tube From Hyde Park Corner to Hampstead And walked to Riversbrook He rang the bell Gated by your father And leaving his hat and stick In the hall stand as he had often Done before, the two men went Upstairs to the library There was an angry interview Hollamed accusing your father Of having wronged him and demanding Satisfaction My own opinion is that There was an irregular sort Of duel, each of them Fired one shot. It is quite Conceivable that Hollamed In spite of his mission, being that Of revenge, gave your father A fair chance for his life A man in Hollamed's Position would probably feel Indifferent whether he killed The man who had ruined his home Or was killed by him But whereas your father shot Missed by a few inches, Hollamed Inflicted a fatal wound When he saw your father Fall and realized what he had Done, the instinct of Preservation asserted itself He grabbed at the gloves he had taken off But in his hurry Dropped one on the floor He ran downstairs, took his hat From the hall stand, but left his stick Then he rushed out of the house Leaving the front door open He made his way back To Hamster Tube Station Got out at Hyde Park and took A cab to his hotel Within a few minutes of Hollamed's Departure from Riversbrook The French woman arrived She may have passed Hollamed In Tanton Gardens, or Hollamed When he saw her approaching May have hidden inside The gateway of a neighboring house She had come up from the country On learning that Hollamed had come To London. She caught the next train But unfortunately It was late on arriving at Victoria Owing to a slight accident To the engine. I take it that she was sent By Mrs. Hollamed to follow her husband If possible And see if he had any designs on Sir Horace She took a cab As far as the Spaniards in And then got out And walked to Riversbrook When she arrived at the house She found the front door open And the lights burning There was no answer to her ring And she entered the house And crept upstairs Opening the library door She saw your father lying on the floor She endeavoured to raise him To a sitting posture But it was too late to do anything for him With a convulsive movement He grasped at the handkerchief She was holding in one hand And a corner of it was torn off And remained in his hand When she saw He had breathed his last She laid him down on the floor Since she had been too late To prevent the crime The best thing in the interest of Mrs. Hollamed Was to remove traces of Hollamed's guilt She picked up the revolver Which she thought belonged to Hollamed Turned off the light in the room Went downstairs Turned off the light in the hall And closed the hall door as she went out She behaved with remarkable Courage and coolness But she overlooked the glove In the room of the tragedy And Hollamed's stick in the hall stand Later in the night We have Birchel's entry into the house His alarm at finding Your father had been killed And his return to the flat Where he was waiting for him When crew had finished He looked at the girl She had followed his statement With breathless interest You have been wonderfully clever She said It is perfectly marvellous Crew's eyes had Wondered to the inlaid chess table And the Japanese chessman Set in primrose on either side Mechanically he began To arrange a problem on the board His interest in the Famous murder mystery seemed to have Evaporated I was very fortunate He said absently in reply to Miss Few Banks Everything seemed to come right for me You made everything come right She replied I would not know how to thank you for giving So much of your time to unraveling The mystery It was fascinating while it lasted He replied His fingers still busy with the chessman Of course I'm pleased with my success But in a way I'm sorry The work has come to an end I thought that the knowledge That Hollamed was the guilty man Would come as a great shock to you But I'm glad You are able to take it so well A few minutes before you arrived I learned that it was Mr. Hollamed But what has been More of a shock to me, Mr. Crew Is the discovery that My father had ruined his home Oh, Mr. Crew It is terrible for me To have to hold my dead father Up to judgement But it is more terrible still To know that he was not faithful Even to his lifelong friendship With Mr. Hollamed Your nerves are Unstrung, he said You want rest and quiet You want a long sea voyage Yes I want to forget, she said But there are others Who want to forget too Cannot we bury the whole Thing in forgetfulness Crew's growing interest In the chessboard and his problem Suddenly vanished His eyes became Instantly riveted on her face In a keen questioning look What is it to me or you That Mr. Hollamed Should be publicly proved guilty Of this terrible thing She went on passionately Why drag into the light My father's conduct In order to make a day sensation For the newspapers For his sake, what better thing Could I do than let his memory rest Do you mean That Hollamed should be allowed To go free? he asked In astonishment Yes I'm extremely sorry He said slowly Won't you let it all drop? She pleaded I could not take upon myself The responsibility Of condoning such a crime The responsibility Of judging between your father And his murderer He said solemnly But even if I could It is too late To think of doing so There is already a warrant Out for Hollamed's arrest End of chapter 28 Of the hamstered mystery By John Watson and Arthur Rees Read by Lars Rolander