CHAPTER V
THE INTERRUPTED SUPPER
I arrived at the Red House before Inspector Gatton. A constable was onduty at the gate and as I came up and paused he regarded me ratherdoubtfully until I told him that I had an appointment with Gatton. Istared up the drive towards the house. It was not, apparently, a veryold building, presenting some of the worst features of themid-Victorian period, and from whence it derived its name I could notconjecture unless from the fact that the greater part of the facadewas overgrown with some kind of red creeper.
The half-moon formed by the crescent-shaped carriage-way and the wallbordering the road was filled with rather unkempt shrubbery, laurelsand rhododendrons for the most part, from amid which arose several bigtrees. In the blaze of the afternoon sun the place looked commonplaceenough with estate agents' bills pasted in the dirty windows, and itwas difficult to conceive that it had been the scene of the mysteriouscrime of which at that hour all London was talking and which later wasto form a subject of debate throughout the civilized world.
Gatton joined me within a few minutes of my arrival. He wasaccompanied by Constable Bolton with whom I had first visited the RedHouse. Bolton was now in plain clothes, and he had thatfish-out-of-water appearance which characterizes the constable inmufti. Indeed he looked rather dazed, and on arriving before the househe removed his bowler and mopped his red face with a largehandkerchief, nodding to me as he did so.
"Good afternoon, sir; it was lucky you came along with me last night.I thought it was a funny go and I was right, it seems."
"Quite right," said Gatton shortly, "and now here are the keys whichyou returned to the depot this morning."
From his pocket the Inspector produced a steel ring bearing a largeand a small key which I recognized as that which had hung from thelock of the garage door on the previous night.
We walked along to the garage and Inspector Gatton placed the key inthe lock; then turning to Bolton:
"Now," he directed, "show us exactly what you did."
Bolton replaced his bowler, which hitherto he had carried in his hand,hesitated for a moment, and then unlocked the door.
"Of course I had my lantern with me last night," he explained, "andthis gentleman and myself stood looking in for a moment."
"Mr. Addison has already described to me exactly what he saw," saidGatton. "Show us what you did after Mr. Addison left you."
Bolton, with a far-away look in his eyes betokening an effort ofretrospection, withdrew the key from the lock and entered the garage,Gatton and I following. There was a sky window to light the place, sothat when Bolton reclosed the door we could see well enough. Hismovements were as follows: Relocking the door from the inside, hewalked slowly along to a smaller door at the opposite end and with theother key attached to the ring unfastened it.
"Wait a moment," said Gatton. "Did you look about you at all beforeopening this door?"
"Only long enough to find where it was, sir. Just about as long as Ishowed you."
"All right. Go on, then."
We followed Bolton out into a very narrow hedge-bordered path,evidently a tradesman's entrance, and he turned and locked the doorbehind him. Slipping the keys into his pocket, he tramped stolidly outto the main road whereon we emerged immediately beside the garage.
"Ah," murmured Gatton. "Now give me the keys," and as the man did so:"Throughout all this time did you see or hear anything of an unusualnature?"
Bolton removed his bowler once more. I had gathered by this time thathe regarded fresh air as an aid to reflection.
"Well, sir," he replied in a puzzled way, "that first door--"
"Well," said Gatton, as the man hesitated.
"It seemed to open more easily just now than it did last night. Thereseemed to be a sort of hitch before when it was about half-way open."
"Perhaps the crate was in the way?" suggested Gatton. "Except for theabsence of the crate do you notice anything different, anythingmissing, or anything there now that was not there before?"
Bolton shook his head.
"No," he answered; "it looks just the same to me--except, as I say,that the door seemed to open more easily."
"H'm," muttered Gatton; "and you carried the keys in your pocket untilyou went off duty?"
"Yes, sir."
"All right. You can go now."
Bolton touched his bowler and departed, and Gatton turned to me with agrim smile.
"We'll just step inside again," he said, "so as not to attract anyundue attention."
He again unlocked the garage door and closed it as we entered.
"Now," said he, "before we go any further what was your idea inkeeping back the fact that one of the missing links in the chain ofevidence was already in your possession?"
"No doubt," I said rather guiltily, "you refer to the fact of myacquaintance with Miss Isobel Merlin?"
"I do!" said Gatton, "and to the fact that you nipped in ahead of meand interviewed this important witness before I had even heard of herexistence." He continued to smile, but the thoroughness andunflinching pursuit of duty which were the outstanding features ofthe man, underlay his tone of badinage. "I want to say," he continued,"that for your cooperation, which has been very useful to me on manyoccasions, I am always grateful, but if in return I give youfacilities which no other pressman has, I don't expect you to abusethem."
"Really, Inspector," I replied, "you go almost too far. I have donenothing to prejudice your case nor could I possibly have known untilmy interview this morning with Miss Merlin, that it was she in whomthe late Sir Marcus was interested."
"H'm," said Gatton, but still rather dubiously, his frank, wide-openeyes regarding me in that naive manner which was so deceptive.
"All that I learned," I continued, "is unequivocally at your disposal.Finally I may tell you--and I would confess it to few men--that MissMerlin is a very old friend and might have been something more if Ihad not been a fool."
"Oh!" said Gatton, and his expression underwent a subtle change--"Oh!That's rather awkward; in fact"--he frowned perplexedly--"it's damnedawkward!"
"What do you mean?" I demanded.
"Well," said he, "I don't know what account Miss Merlin gave to you ofher relations with Sir Marcus--"
"Relations!" I said hotly, "the man was a mere acquaintance; shehadn't even seen him, except from the stage, for some months past."
"Oh," replied Gatton, "is that so?" He looked at me very queerly. "Itdoesn't seem to dovetail with the evidence of the stage-doorkeeper."
I felt myself changing color, and:
"What, then, does the stage-doorkeeper assert?" I asked.
Gatton continued to look at me in that perplexed way, and believingthat I detected the trend of his reflections:
"Look here, Inspector," I said, "let us understand one another.Whatever may be the evidence of stage-doorkeepers and others, upon onepoint you can be assured. Miss Merlin had nothing whatever to do withthis horrible crime. The idea is unthinkable. So confident am I ofthis, that you can be perfectly open with me and I give you my word ofhonor that I shall be equally frank with you. The truth of the mattercannot possibly injure her in the end and I am as anxious to discoverit as you are."
Gatton suddenly extended his hand, and:
"Good!" he said. "We understand one another, but how is Miss Merlingoing to explain this?"
He drew a note-book from his pocket, turned over several leaves, andthen:
"On no fewer than six occasions," he said, "I have approximate dateshere, Sir Marcus sent his card to Miss Merlin's dressing-room."
"I know," I interrupted him; "he persecuted her, but she never sawhim."
"Wait a minute. Last night"--Gatton glanced at me sharply--"Marie,the maid, came down after Sir Marcus's card had been sent to thedressing-room and talked for several minutes to the late baronet, justby the doorkeeper's box, but out of earshot. That was at ten o'clock.At eleven, that is after the performance, Sir Marcus returned, andagain Marie came down to see him. They went out
into the streettogether and Sir Marcus entered a cab which was waiting and drove off.Miss Merlin left a quarter of an hour later."
Our glances met and a silence of some moments' duration fell betweenus; then:
"You suggest," I said, "that Miss Merlin had arranged a rendezvouswith him and to save appearances had joined him there later?"
"Well"--Gatton raised his eyebrows--"what do _you_ suggest?"
I found myself temporarily at a loss for words, but:
"Knowing nothing of this," I explained, "naturally I was not in aposition to tax Miss Merlin with it. Possibly you have done so. Whatis her explanation?"
"I have not seen her," confessed Gatton; "I arrived at her flat tenminutes after she had gone out--with you."
"You saw Marie?"
"Unfortunately Marie was also out, but I saw an old charwoman whoattends daily, I understand, and it was from her that I learned ofyour visit."
"Marie," I said, "may be able to throw some light on the matter."
"I don't doubt it!" replied Gatton grimly. "Meanwhile we havesufficient evidence to show that Sir Marcus drove from the New AvenueTheater to this house."
"He may not have driven here at all," I interrupted; "he may havedriven somewhere else and performed the latter part of his journeyhere--"
"In the crate!" cried Gatton. "Yes, you are right; his body mayactually have been inside the crate at the time that you and Boltonarrived here last night; for that would be fully an hour after SirMarcus left the stage-door."
"But who can have rung up the police station last night?" I cried,"and what can have been the object of this unknown person?"
"That we have to find out," said Gatton quietly; "undoubtedly itformed part of a scheme planned with extraordinary cunning; it was notan accident or an oversight, I mean. The men who are assisting mehaven't been idle, for we have already learned some most amazing factsabout the case. I haven't yet visited the house myself, but I havehere the report of one of my assistants who has done so; also I havethe keys. The garage I will inspect more carefully later on."
He glanced quickly about the place before we left it, then, leavingthe door locked behind us, we walked along to the gate before whichthe constable stood on duty, and from thence proceeded up the drive tothe front entrance. There was a deep porch supported by pillars anddensely overgrown with creeper. I noted, too, a heavy and unhealthyodor as of decaying leaves, and observed that a perfect carpet ofthese lay on the path. In the shade of the big trees it wascomparatively cool, but the heavy malarious smell did not please meand I imagined that it must have repelled more than one would-belessee.
As we approached the porch I saw that the windows of the roomsimmediately left and right of it had been stripped of the agent'sbills, for I could see where fragments of paper still adhered to theglass. There were no bills in the porch either; but when Gatton openedthe front door I uttered an exclamation of surprise.
We stood in a small lounge-hall. There was a staircase on the left andthree doors opened on to the hall. But although the Red House waspalpably unoccupied, the hall was furnished! There were some rugs uponthe polished floor, a heavy bronze club-fender in front of the grate,several chairs against the walls and a large palm in a Chinese pot.
"Why," I exclaimed, "the place is furnished and the stairs arecarpeted too!"
"Yes," said Gatton, looking keenly about him, "but according to reportif you will step upstairs you will get a surprise."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, suppose we go and see."
Gatton led the way and I followed up the stairs as far as the firstlanding. Here I paused in amazement. For at this point all attempts atfurnishing ceased. The landing was quite bare and so were the stairsabove it! Seeing my expression of incredulous surprise:
"Yes," said Gatton, smiling, "it's a strange arrangement, isn't it?"
We descended again to the furnished hall.
"Look here," continued my companion.
He unlocked a door on the left, having tried several keys from thebunch which he carried without success, but finally discovering theright one.
A long rectangular room was revealed, evidently intended for adining-room. It was empty and unfurnished, odds and ends of newspaperand other rubbish lying here and there upon the floor. My astonishmentwas momentarily increasing. A second door, that in the center, Gattonopened, revealing another empty room, but:
"I have reserved this one for the last," he said: "you will find thatit is unlocked."
He pointed to the third door, that on the right, and as he evidentlyintended me to open it, I stepped forward, turned the handle andentered a small square room, exquisitely furnished.
A heavy Persian carpet was spread upon the floor and the windows weredraped with some kind of brightly colored Madras. Tastefully-framedwater-colors hung upon the wall. There was a quaint cabinet in theroom, too; a low cushioned settee and two armchairs. In the center wasa table upon which stood a lamp with a large mosaic shade. Twohigh-backed chairs were set to the table--and the table was laid forsupper! A bottle of wine stood in an ice-pail, in which the ice hadlong since melted, and a tempting cold repast was spread. The tablewas decorated with a bowl of perfect white roses. The silver was good;the napery was snowy.
Like a fool I stood gaping at the spectacle, until, noting thedirection of Gatton's glance, I turned my attention to the mantelpieceupon which a clock was ticking with a dull and solemn note.
Standing beside the clock, in a curious carved frame, was a largephotograph of Isobel!