CHAPTER XIII
AMBLER APPLEYARD
Fullaway laid the telegram down on his table and looked from it to thedetective.
"Shot dead--High Street--this morning?" he said wonderingly. "Why!--thatmeans, of course, in broad daylight--in a busy street, I suppose? Andyet--no clue. How could a man be shot dead under such circumstanceswithout the murderer being seen and followed?"
"You don't know Hull very well," remarked Allerdyke, who had been pullinghis moustache and frowning over the telegram, "else you'd know how thatcould be done easy enough in High Street. High Street," he went on,turning to the detective, "is the oldest street in the town. It's the oldmerchant street. Half of it--lower end--is more or less in ruins. Thereare old houses there which aren't tenanted. Back of these houses arecourts and alleys and queer entries, leading on one side to the river,and on the other to side streets. A man could be lured into one of thoseplaces and put out of the way easily and quietly enough. Or he could beshot by anybody lurking in one of those houses, and the murderer could begot away unobserved with the greatest ease. That's probably what'shappened--I know that street as well as I know my own house--I'm notsurprised by that! What I'm surprised about is to hear that Lydenberg hasbeen shot at all. And the question is--is his murder of a piece with allthe rest of this damnable mystery, or is it clean apart from it?Understand, Fullaway?"
"I'm thinking," answered the American. "It takes a lot of thinking, too."
"You see," continued Allerdyke, turning to Blindway again, "we're allin a hole--in a regular fog. We know naught! literally naught. ThisLydenberg was a foreigner--Swede, Norwegian, Dane, or something. Weknow nothing of him, except that he said he'd come to Hull on business.He may have been shot for all sorts of reasons--private, political. Wedon't know. But--mark me!--if his murder's connected with the others,if it's all of a piece with my cousin's murder, and that French girl's,why then--"
He paused, shaking his head emphatically, and the other two, impressed byhis earnestness, waited until he spoke again.
"Then," he continued at last, after a space of silence, during which heseemed to be reflecting with added strenuousness--"then, by Heaven! we'reup against something that's going to take it out of us before we get atthe truth. That's a dead certainty. If this is all conspiracy, it's a big'un--a colossal thing! What say, Fullaway?"
"I should say you're right," replied Fullaway. "I've been trying tofigure things up while you talked, though I gave you both ears. It looksas if this Lydenberg had been shot in order to keep his tongue quietforever. Maybe he knew something, and was likely to split. What are yourpeople going to do about this?" he asked turning to the detective. "Isuppose you'll go down to Hull at once?"
"I shan't," answered Blindway. "I've enough to do here. One of our menhas already gone--he's on his way. We shall have to wait for news. I'minclined to agree with Mr. Allerdyke--it's a big thing, a very big thing.If Mr. Allerdyke's cousin was really murdered, and if the Frenchwoman'sdeath arose out of that, and now Lydenberg's, there's a clevercombination at work. And--where's the least clue to it?"
Allerdyke helped himself to a fresh cigar out of a box which lay onFullaway's table, lighted it, and smoked in silence for a minute or two.The other men, feeling instinctively that he was thinking, waited.
"Look you here!" he exclaimed suddenly. "Clue? Yes, that's what we want.Where's that clue likely to be found? Why, in this, and this only--whoknew, person or persons, that my cousin was bringing those jewels fromthe Princess Nastirsevitch to this country? Get to know that, and itnarrows the field, d'ye see?"
"There's the question of Miss Lennard's jewels, too," remarked Fullaway.
"That may be--perhaps was--a side-issue," said Allerdyke. "It may havecome into the big scheme as an after-thought. But, anyway, that's whatwe want--a first clue. And I don't see how that's to be got at untilthis Princess arrives here. You see, she may have talked, she may havelet it out in confidence--to somebody who abused her confidence. What iscertain is that somebody must have got to know of this proposed dealbetween the Princess and your man, Fullaway, and have laid plansaccordingly to rob the Princess's messenger--my cousin James. D'ye see,the deal was known of at two ends--to you here, to this Princess,through James, over there, in Russia. Now, then, where did the secretget out? Did it get out there, or here?"
"Not here, of course!" answered Fullaway, with emphasis. "That's deadsure. Over there, of a certainty. The robbery was engineered from there."
"Then, in that case, there's naught to do but wait the arrival of thePrincess," said Allerdyke. "And you say she'll be here to-morrow night.In the meantime no doubt you police gentlemen'll get more news about thislast affair at Hull, and perhaps Miss Lennard'll find those referencesabout the Frenchwoman, and maybe we shall mop things up bit by bit--formopped up they'll have to be, or my name isn't what it is! Fullaway," hewent on, rising from his chair, "I'll have to leave you--yon man o'mine'll be arriving from Yorkshire with my things before long, and I mustgo down to the hotel office and make arrangements about him. See youlater--at dinner to-night, here, eh?"
He lounged away through the outer office, giving the smart lady secretarya keen glance as he passed her and getting an equally scrutinizing, ifswift, look in return.
"Clever!" mused Allerdyke as he closed the door behind him. "Deucedclever, that young woman. Um--well, it's a pretty coil, to be sure!"
He went down to the office, made full and precise arrangements aboutGaffney, who was to be given a room close to his own, left someinstructions as to what was to be done with him on arrival, and then,hands in pockets, strolled out into Aldwych and walked towards theStrand, his eyes bent on the ground as if he strove to find in those hardpavements some solution of all these difficulties. And suddenly he liftedhis head and muttered a few emphatic words half aloud, regardless ofwhoever might overhear them.
"I wish to Heaven I'd a right good, hard-headed Yorkshireman to talkto!" he said. "A chap with some gumption about him! These Cockneys andAmericans are all very well in their way, but--"
Then he pulled himself up sharply. An idea, a name, had flashed into hismental field of vision as if sent in answer to his prayer. And stillregardless of bystanders he slapped his thigh delightedly.
"Ambler Appleyard!" he exclaimed. "The very man! Here, you!"
The last two words were addressed to a taxi-cab driver whose car stood atthe head of the line by the Gaiety Theatre. Allerdyke crossed from thepavement and jumped in.
"Run down to this end of Gresham Street," he said. "Go quick as you can."
He wondered as he sped along the crowded London streets why he had notthought of Ambler Appleyard before. Ambler Appleyard was the manager ofhis own London warehouse, a smart, clever, pushing young Bradford manwho had been in charge of the London business of Allerdyke andPartners, Limited, for the last three years. He had come to London withhis brains already sharpened--three years of business life in theMetropolis had made them all the sharper. Allerdyke rubbed his handswith satisfaction. Exchange of confidence with a fellow-Yorkshiremanwas the very thing he wanted.
He got out of his cab at the Aldersgate end of Gresham Street, and walkedquickly along until he came to a highly polished brass plate on which hisown name was deeply engraven. Running up a few steps into a warehousestored with neat packages of dress goods, he encountered a couple ofwarehousemen engaged in sorting and classifying a consignment of fabricsjust arrived from Bradford. Allerdyke, whose visits to his Londonwarehouse were fairly frequent, and usually without notice, noddedaffably to both and walked across the floor to an inner office. He openedthe door without ceremony, closed it carefully behind him, and steppingforward to the occupant of the room, who sat busily writing at a desk,with his back to the entrant, and continued to write without moving orlooking round, gave him a resounding smack on the shoulder.
"The very man I want, Ambler, my lad!" he said. "Sit up!"
Ambler Appleyard raised his head, slowly twisted in his revolving chair,and looked quietly at his emp
loyer. And Allerdyke, dropping into aneasy-chair by the fireplace, over which hung a fine steel engraving ofhimself, flanked by photographs of the Bradford mills and the Bradfordwarehouse, looked at his London manager, secretly admiring the shrewdnessand self-possession evidenced in the young man's face. Appleyard wascertainly no beauty; his outstanding features were sandy-coloured hair,freckled cheeks, a snub nose, and a decidedly wide mouth; moreover, hisears, unusually large, stood out from the sides of his head in veryprominent fashion, and gave a beholder the impression that they wereperpetually stretched to attention. But he was the owner of a well-shapedforehead, a pair of steady and honest blue eyes, and a firmly cut squarechin, and his entire atmosphere conveyed the idea of capacity, resource,and energy. It pleased Allerdyke, too, to see that the young man wasattentive to his own personal appearance--his well-cut garments bore theundoubted stamp of the Savile Row tailor; the silk hat which covered hiscrop of sandy hair was the latest thing in Sackville Street headgear;from top to toe he was the smart man-about-town. And that was the sortof man Marshall Allerdyke liked to have about him, and to see as heads ofhis departments--not fops, nor dandies, but men who knew the commercialvalue of good appearance and smart finish.
"I didn't know you were in town, Mr. Allerdyke," said the London managerquietly. "Still, one never knows where you are these days."
"I've scarcely known that myself, my lad, these last seventy-two hours,"replied Allerdyke. "You mightn't think it, but at this time yesterday Iwas going full tilt up to Edinburgh. I want to tell you about that,Ambler--I want some advice. But business first--aught new?"
"I've brought that South American contract off," replied Appleyard."Fixed it this morning."
"Good!" said Allerdyke. "What's it run to, like?"
"Seventy-five thousand," answered Appleyard. "Nice bit of profit on that,Mr. Allerdyke."
"Good--good!" repeated Allerdyke. "Aught else?"
"Naught--at present. Naught out of the usual, anyway," said the manager.
He took off his hat, laid aside the papers he had been busy with onAllerdyke's entrance, and twisted his chair round to the hearth. "Thisadvice, then?" he asked quietly. "I'm free now."
"Aye!" said Allerdyke. He sat reflecting for a moment, and then turned tohis manager with a sudden question.
"Have you heard all this about my cousin James?" he asked with sharpdirectness.
Appleyard lifted a couple of newspapers from his desk.
"No more than what's in these," he answered. "One tells of his suddendeath at Hull; the other begins to hint that there was something queerabout it."
"Queer!" exclaimed Allerdyke. "Aye, and more than queer, my lad. OurJames was murdered! Now, then, Ambler, I've come here to tell you all thestory--you must listen to every detail. I know your brains--keep 'emfixed on what I'm going to tell; hear it all; weigh it up, and then tellme what you make of it; for I'm damned if I can make either head or tail,back, side, or front of the whole thing--so far. Happen you can see a bitof light. Listen, now."
Allerdyke, from long training in business habits, was a good teller of aplain and straightforward tale: Appleyard, for the same reason, was agood listener. So one man talked, in low, earnest tones, checking offhis points as he made them, taking care that he emphasized the principalitems of his news and dwelt lightly on the connecting links, and theother listened in silence, keeping a concentrated attention and storingaway the facts in his memory as they were duly marshalled before him.For a good hour one brain gave out, and the other took in, and withoutwaste of words.
It came to an end at last, and master looked at man.
"Well?" said Allerdyke, after a silence that was full of meaning--"well?"
"Take some thinking about," answered Appleyard tersely. "It's a bigthing--a devilish clever thing, too. There's one fact strikes me at once,though. The news about the Nastirsevitch jewels leaked out somewhere, Mr.Allerdyke. That's certain. Either here in London, or over there inRussia, it leaked out. Now until this Princess comes you've no means ofknowing if the leakage was over yonder. But there's one thing you doknow now--at this very minute. There were three people here in Englandwho knew that the jewels were on the way from Russia, in Mr. JamesAllerdyke's charge. Those three were this man Fullaway, his ladysecretary, and Delkin, the Chicago millionaire! Now, then, Mr.Allerdyke--how much, or what, do you know about any one of 'em?"