CHAPTER VII
Crewe made a careful inspection of the house and the grounds. He tookmeasurements of the impressions left on the sill of the window which hadbeen forced and also of the foot-prints immediately beneath the window.He had a long conversation with Hill and questioned him regarding hismovements on the night of the murder. He also asked about the otherservants who were at Dellmere, and probed for information about SirHorace's domestic life and his friends. As he was talking to Hill,Police-Constable Flack came up to them with a card in his hand. Hilllooked at the card and exclaimed:
"Mr. Holymead? What does he want?"
"He asked if Miss Fewbanks was at home."
Hill took the card in to Miss Fewbanks, and on coming out went to thefront door and escorted Mr. Holymead to his young mistress. Crewe, as washis habit, looked closely at Holymead. The eminent K.C. was a tall man,nearly six feet in height, with a large, resolute, strongly-marked facewhich, when framed in a wig, was suggestive of the dignity and severityof the law. In years he was about fifty, and in his figure there was asuggestion of that rotundity which overtakes the man who has given upphysical exercise. He was correctly, if sombrely, dressed in darkclothes, and he wore a black tie--probably as a symbol of mourning forhis friend. His gloves were a delicate grey.
Crewe sought out Hill again and questioned him closely about therelations which had existed between Sir Horace Fewbanks and Mr. Holymead,whose enormous practice brought him in an income three times as large asthe dead judge's, and kept him constantly before the public. Hill wasable to supply the detective with some interesting information regardingthe visitor, and, in contrast to his manner when previously questioned atrandom by Crewe, concerning his young mistress's habits, seemed willing,if not actually anxious, to talk. He had heard from Sir Horace'shousekeeper that his late master and Mr. Holymead had been law studentstogether, and after they were called to the Bar they used to spend theirholidays together as long as they were single.
When they were married their wives became friends. Mrs. Holymead had diedfourteen years ago, but Mrs. Fewbanks--Sir Horace had not been a baronetwhile his wife was alive--had lived some years longer. Mr. Holymead hadmarried again. His second wife was a very beautiful young lady, if hemight make so bold as to say so, who had come from America. The butleradded deprecatingly that he had been told that both Sir Horace and Mr.Holymead had paid her some attention, and that she could have had eitherof them. She was different to English ladies, he added. She had more tosay for herself, and laughed and talked with the gentlemen just as if shewas one of themselves. Hill mentioned that she had been out to see MissFewbanks the previous day, but that Miss Fewbanks had not come up fromDellmere then, so she had seen Inspector Chippenfield instead.
While Crewe and the butler were talking a boy of about fourteen, with theshrewd face of a London arab, approached them with an air of mystery. Hecame down the hall with long cautious strides, and halted at each step asif he were stalking a band of Indians in a forest.
"Well, Joe, what is it?" asked Crewe, as he came to a halt infront of them.
"If you don't want me for half an hour, sir, I'd like to take a run upthe street. There is a real good picture house just been opened." The boyspoke eagerly, with his bright eyes fixed on Crewe.
"I may want you any minute, Joe," replied Crewe. "Don't go away."
The boy nodded his head, and turned away. As he went down the hall againto the front door he gave an imitation of a man walking with extendedarms across a plank spanning a chasm.
"Picture mad," commented Crewe, as he watched him.
"I didn't quite understand you, sir," replied the butler.
"Spends all his spare time in cinemas," said Crewe, "and when he is notthere he is acting picture dramas. His ambition in life is to be acinema actor."
Crewe engaged Police-Constable Flack in conversation while waiting forMr. Holymead to take his departure. Flack had so little professionalpride that he was pleased at meeting a gentleman who usurped thefunctions of a detective without having had any police training, and whocould beat the best of the Scotland Yard men like shelling peas, as heconfided to his wife that night. He was especially flattered at theinterest Crewe seemed to display in his long connection with the policeforce, and also in his private affairs. The constable was explaining withparental vanity the precocious cleverness of his youngest child, a girlof two, when Holymead made his appearance, and he became aware that Mr.Crewe's interest in children was at an end.
"Look at that man," said Crewe, in a sharp imperative tone to thepolice-constable, as the K.C. was walking down the path of the Italiangarden to the plantation. "You saw him come in?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you see any difference?"
"No, sir; he's the same man," said Flack, with stolid certainty.
"Anything about him that is different?" continued Crewe.
Police-Constable Flack looked at Crewe in some bewilderment. He was nota deductive expert, and, as he told his wife afterwards, he did not knowwhat the detective was "driving at." He took another long look atHolymead, who was then within a few yards of the plantation on his wayto the gates, and remarked, in a hesitating tone, as though to justifyhis failure:
"Well, you see, sir, when he was coming in it was the front view I saw,now I can only see his back."
But before he had finished speaking Crewe had left him and was followingthe K.C. Holymead had gone into the house without a walking-stick, andhad reappeared carrying one on his arm. Crewe admired the cool audacitywhich had prompted Holymead to go into a house where a murder had beencommitted to recover his stick under the very eyes of the police, and heimmediately formed the conclusion that the K.C. had come to the house torecover the stick for some urgent reason possibly not unconnected withthe crime. And it was apparent that Holymead was a shrewd judge of humannature, Crewe reflected, for he calculated that the rareness of thequality of observation, even in those who, like Flack, were supposed tokeep their eyes open, would permit him to do so unnoticed.
As Crewe went down the path he beckoned to the boy Joe, who at the momentwas acting the part of a comic dentist binding a recalcitrant patient toa chair, using an immense old-fashioned straight-backed chair which stoodin the hall, for his stage setting. Joe overtook his master as he enteredthe ornamental plantation in front of the house, and Crewe quicklywhispered his instructions, as the retreating figure of the K.C. threadedthe wood towards the gates.
"When I catch up level with him, Joe, you are to run into himaccidentally from behind, and knock his stick off his arm, so that itfalls near me. I will pick it up and return it to him. I must handle thestick--you understand? Do not wait to see how he takes it when you bumpinto him--get off round the corner at once and wait for me."
Crewe quickened his pace to overtake the man in front of him. He gave noglance backward at the boy, for he knew his instructions would be carriedout faithfully and intelligently. He allowed Holymead to reach the bigopen gates, and turn from the gravelled carriage drive into the privatestreet. Then he hurried after him and drew level with Holymead. As he didso there was a sound of running footsteps from behind, and then a shout.Joe had cleverly tripped and fallen heavily between the two men, bringingdown Holymead in his fall. The K.C.'s stick flew off his arm and boundedhalf a dozen yards away. Crewe stepped forward quickly, secured thestick, glanced quickly at the monogram engraved on it, and held it out toHolymead, who was brushing the dust off his clothes with vexatiousremarks about the clumsiness and impudence of street boys. For a momenthe seemed to hesitate about taking the stick.
"I believe this is yours," said Crewe politely.
"Ah--yes. Thank you," said the K.C., giving him a keen suspicious glance.