CHAPTER III
THE GREEN IMAGE
"Yes," said Gatton, "I was speaking no more than the truth when I toldthem that you had special information which I hoped you would place atmy disposal. Some of the particulars were given to me over the 'phone,you see, and I was glad to find you here when I arrived. I should haveconsulted you in any event, and principally about--that."
He pointed to an object which I held in my hand. It was a little greenenamel image; the crouching figure of a woman having a cat's head, apiece of Egyptian workmanship probably of the fourth century B.C.Considered in conjunction with the figure painted upon the crate, thepresence of this little image was so amazing a circumstance that fromthe moment when it had been placed in my hand I had stood staring atit almost dazedly.
The divisional surgeon had gone, and only the local officer remainedwith Gatton and myself in the building. Sir Marcus Coverly presentedall the frightful appearance of one who has died by asphyxia, andalthough of course there would be an autopsy, little doubt existedrespecting the mode of his death. The marks of violence found upon thebody could be accounted for by the fact that the crate had fallen adistance of thirty feet into the hold, and the surgeon was convincedthat the injuries to the body had all been received after death, deathhaving taken place in his opinion fully twelve hours before.
"You see," said Gatton, "when the crate broke several things whichpresumably were in Sir Marcus' pockets were found lying loose amongstthe wreckage. That cat-woman was one of them."
"Yet it may not have been in any of his pockets at all," said I.
"It _may_ not," agreed Gatton. "But that it was somewhere in the crateis beyond dispute, I think. Besides this is more than a coincidence."
And he pointed to the painted cat upon the lid of the packing-case. Ihad already told him of the episode at the Red House on the previousnight, and now:
"The fates are on our side," I said, "for at least we know where thecrate was despatched from."
"Quite so," agreed Gatton. "We should have got that from the carterlater, of course, but every minute saved in an affair such as this isworth considering. As a pressman you will probably disagree with me,but I propose to suppress these two pieces of evidence. Prematurepublication of clews too often handicaps us. Now, what _is_ thatfigure exactly?"
"It is a votive offering of a kind used in Ancient Egypt by pilgrimsto Bubastis. It is a genuine antique, and if you think the history ofsuch relics is likely to assist the investigation I can give you somefurther particulars this evening if you have time to call at myplace."
"I think," said Gatton, taking the figure from me and looking at itwith a singular expression on his face, "that the history of the thingis very important. The fact that a rough reproduction of a somewhatsimilar figure is painted upon the case cannot possibly be acoincidence."
I stared at him silently for a moment, then:
"You mean that the crate was specially designed to contain the body?"I asked.
"I am certainly of that opinion," declared Inspector Heath, the localofficer. "It is of just the right size and shape for the purpose."
Once more I began to examine the fragments stacked upon the floor, andthen I looked again at the several objects which lay beside the crate.They were the personal belongings of the dead baronet and the policehad carefully noted in which of his pockets each object had beenfound. He was in evening dress and a light top-coat had been packedinto the crate beside him. In this had been found a cigar-case and apair of gloves; a wallet containing L20 in Treasury notes and a numberof cards and personal papers had fallen out of the crate together withthe cat statuette. The face of his watch was broken. It had been inhis waistcoat pocket but it still ticked steadily on where it laythere beside its dead owner. A gold-mounted malacca cane also figuredamongst the relics of the gruesome crime; so that whatever had beenthe object of the murderer, that of robbery was out of the question.
"The next thing to do," said Gatton, "is to trace Sir Marcus'smovements from the time that he left home last night to the time thathe met his death. I am going out now to 'phone to the Yard. We oughtto have succeeded in tracing the carter who brought the crate herebefore the evening. I personally shall proceed to Sir Marcus's roomsand then to this Red House around which it seems to me that themystery centers."
He put the enamel figure into his pocket and taking up the brokenboard which bore the painted cat:
"You are carrying a top-coat," he said. "Hide this under it!"
He turned to Inspector Heath, nodding shortly.
"All right," he said, with a grim smile, "go out now and talk to thecrowd!"
Having issued certain telephonic instructions touching the carter whohad delivered the crate to the docks, and then imparting to therepresentatives of the press a guarded statement for publication,Inspector Gatton succeeded in wedging himself into my littletwo-seater and ere long we were lurching and bumping along theill-paved East-end streets.
The late Sir Marcus's London address, which had been unknown to me, wehad learned from his cards, and it was with the keenest anticipationof a notable discovery that I presently found myself with Gattonmounting the stairs to the chambers of the murdered baronet.
At the very moment of our arrival the door was opened and a man--quiteobviously a constable in plain clothes--came out. Behind him Iobserved one whom I took to be the late Sir Marcus's servant, apathetic and somewhat disheveled figure.
"Hello, Blythe!" said Gatton, "who instructed you to come here?"
"Sir Marcus's man--Morris--telephoned the Yard," was the reply, "as hecouldn't understand what had become of his master and I was sent alongto see him."
"Oh," said Gatton, "very good. Report to me in due course."
Blythe departed, and Gatton and I entered the hall. The man, Morris,closed the door, and led us into a small library. Beside the telephonestood a tray bearing decanter and glasses, and there was evidence thatMorris had partaken of a hurried breakfast consisting only of biscuitsand whisky and soda.
"I haven't been to bed all night, gentlemen," he began the moment thatwe entered the room. "Sir Marcus was a good master and if he wassleeping away from home he never failed to advise me, so that I kneweven before the dreadful news reached me that something was amiss."
He was quite unstrung and his voice was unsteady. The reputation ofthe late baronet had been one which I personally did not envy him, butwhatever his faults, and I knew they had been many, he had evidentlypossessed the redeeming virtue of being a good employer.
"A couple of hours' sleep would make a new man of you," said Gattonkindly. "I understand your feelings, but no amount of sorrow can mendmatters, unfortunately. Now, I don't want to worry you, but there areone or two points which I must ask you to clear up. In the first placedid you ever see this before?"
From his pocket he took out the little figure of Bast, thecat-goddess, and held it up before Morris.
The man stared at it with lack-luster eyes, scratching his unshavenchin; then he shook his head slowly.
"Never," he declared. "No, I am positive I never saw a figure likethat before."
"Then, secondly," continued Gatton, "was your master ever in Egypt?"
"Not that I am aware of; certainly not since I have been with him--sixyears on the thirty-first of this month."
"Ah," said Gatton. "Now, when did you last see Sir Marcus?"
"At half-past six last night, sir. He was dining at his club and thengoing to the New Avenue Theater. I booked a seat for him myself."
"He was going alone, then?"
"Yes."
Gatton glanced at me significantly and I experienced an uncomfortablethrill. In the inspector's glance I had read that he suspected thepresence of a woman in the case and at the mention of the New AvenueTheater it had instantly occurred to me that Isobel Merlin wasappearing there! Gatton turned again to Morris.
"Sir Marcus had not led you to suppose that there was any likelihoodof his _not_ returning last night?"
"No, sir;
that was why, knowing his regular custom, I became soalarmed when he failed to come back or to 'phone."
Gatton stared hard at the speaker and:
"It will be no breach of confidence on your part," he said, speakingslowly and deliberately, "for you to answer my next question. The bestservice you can do your late master now will be to help us toapprehend his murderer."
He paused a moment, then:
"Was Sir Marcus interested in some one engaged at the New AvenueTheater?" he asked.
Morris glanced from face to face in a pathetic, troubled fashion. Herubbed the stubble on his chin again and hesitated. Finally:
"I believe," he replied, "that there was a lady there who--"
He paused, swallowing, and:
"Yes," Gatton prompted, "who--?"
"Who--interested Sir Marcus; but I don't know her name nor anythingabout her," he declared. "I knew about--some of the others, but SirMarcus was--very reserved about this lady, which made me think--"
"Yes?"
"That he perhaps hadn't been so successful."
Morris ceased speaking and sat staring at a bookcase vacantly.
"Ah," murmured Gatton. Then, abruptly: "Did Sir Marcus ever visit anyone who lived in College Road?" he demanded.
Morris looked up wearily.
"College Road?" he repeated. "Where is that, sir?"
"It doesn't matter," said Gatton shortly, "if the name is unfamiliarto you. Had Sir Marcus a car?"
"Not latterly, sir."
"Any other servants?"
"No. As a bachelor he had no use for a large establishment, andFriars' Park remains in the possession of the late Sir Burnham'swidow."
"Sir Burnham? Sir Marcus's uncle?"
"Yes."
"What living relatives had Sir Marcus?"
"His aunt--Lady Burnham Coverly--with whom I believe he was on badterms. Her own son, who ought to have inherited the title, was dead,you see. I think she felt bitterly towards my master. The only otherrelative I ever heard of was Mr. Eric--Sir Marcus's second cousin--now_Sir_ Eric, of course."
I turned aside, glancing at some books which lay scattered on thetable. The wound was a new one and I suppose I was not man enough tohide the pain which mention of Eric Coverly still occasioned me.
"Were the cousins good friends?" continued the even, remorseless voiceof the inquisitor.
Morris looked up quickly.
"They were not, sir," he answered. "They never had been. But some fewmonths back a fresh quarrel arose and one night in this very room italmost came to blows."
"Indeed? What was the quarrel about?"
The old hesitancy claimed Morris again, but at last:
"Of course," he said, with visible embarrassment, "it was--a woman."
I felt my heart leaping wildly, but I managed to preserve an outwardshow of composure.
"What woman?" demanded Gatton.
"I don't know, sir."
"Do you mean it?"
A fierce note of challenge had come into the quiet voice, but Morrislooked up and met Gatton's searching stare unflinchingly.
"I swear it," he said. "I never was an eavesdropper."
"I suggest it was the same woman that Sir Marcus went to see lastnight?" Gatton continued.
The examination of Morris had reached a point at which I found myselfhard put to it to retain even a seeming of composure. All Gatton'squestions had been leading up to this suggestion, as I now perceivedclearly enough; and from the cousins' quarrel to Isobel, Eric's_fiancee_, who was engaged at the New Avenue Theater, was aninevitable step. But:
"Possibly, sir," was Morris's only answer.
Inspector Gatton stared hard at the man for a moment or so, then:
"Very well," he said. "Take my advice and turn in. There will be muchfor you to do presently, I am afraid. Who was Sir Marcus's solicitor?"
Morris gave the desired information in a tired, toneless voice, and wedeparted. Little did Gatton realize that his words were barbed, when,as we descended to the street, he said:
"I have a call to make at Scotland Yard next, after which my firstvisit will be to the stage-doorkeeper of the New Avenue Theater."
"Can I be of further assistance to you at the moment?" I asked,endeavoring to speak casually.
"Thanks, no. But I should welcome your company this afternoon at myexamination of the Red House. I understand that it is in yourneighborhood, so perhaps as you are also professionally interested inthe case, you might arrange to meet me there. Are you returning homenow or going to the _Planet_ office?"
"I think to the office," I replied. "In any event 'phone there makingan appointment and I will meet you at the Red House."