CHAPTER III
THE MAN IN THE DOORWAY
I called at Messrs. Cleaver and Caxton's to ask what I should do withthe four five-pound notes which had arrived in the letter. Theindividual who had taken me to the hotel was the only person in theoffice. It seemed, from his own statement, that he was Mr. Cleaver,the senior partner. When he learned why I had come, he laughed.
"Do with them? Why, spend them, or throw them into the river, or givethem to me."
I hesitated. The truth is, the situation threatened to become toocomplicated. I had an uneasy consciousness that the something whichJames Southam was to hear of might be something to his exceedingdisadvantage. I had heard enough of that sort of thing of late. I didnot wish to stand in somebody else's shoes for the sake of hearingmore. I resolved to have some sort of understanding with Mr. Cleaver.
"Who is Duncan Rothwell? Is he the client for whom you are acting?"
Mr. Cleaver was occupying himself in tearing a piece of paper intotiny shreds with his fingers. He replied to my question with another."Why do you ask?"
"Because the signature attached to the letter which brought thebank-notes is Duncan Rothwell; and, as to my knowledge, I know noDuncan Rothwell, I should like to know who Duncan Rothwell is."
"Do you mind my looking at the letter?"
I did not mind. I let him look at it. He read it through.
"If you will take a hint from me, Mr. Southam, I think I should adviseyou to restrain your not unnatural curiosity, and wait for things totake their course."
"But, unless I am careful, I may find myself in a false position. Imay not be the required James Southam. In fact, I don't mind tellingyou that I don't believe I am. I am acquainted with no DuncanRothwell. His whole letter is double Dutch to me. There may be dozensof James Southams about."
"Recent inhabitants of Dulborough? I thought Dulborough was a merehamlet."
"So it is."
"How long did you live there?"
"I was born and bred in the place."
"Have you any relatives of your own name?"
"I have not a relative in the world."
"If, as you say, you were born and bred in such a place as Dulborough,I presume that you had some knowledge of the inhabitants?'
"I believe I knew something of every creature in all the countryside."
"And did you know anything of another James Southam?"
"That is the queer part of it. So far as I know, I was the onlySoutham thereabouts."
Mr. Cleaver laughed.
"According to your own statement, it appears that, to put it mildly,there is at least a possibility of your being the James Southam wehave been instructed to find. Frankly, Mr. Southam, we know verylittle more about the matter than you do yourself. We have simply beeninstructed to discover the present address of James Southam, at onetime of Dulborough, and we have done so."
"Is that the case?"
From their manner the day before I had suspected that Messrs. Cleaverand Caxton might be merely, as it were, lay figures, and that it wassomebody else who held the strings.
"There is something else I should like to mention: I wish to change myhotel." Mr. Cleaver stared.
"Change your hotel? Why? Isn't it good enough?"
"It is not that exactly. It is the domestic arrangements which are notto my taste."
"The domestic arrangements? What do you mean?"
I did not know how to explain; or rather, I did not know how much toexplain.
"What do you know of Mrs. Barnes's husband?"
"Really, Mr. Southam, your bump of curiosity appears to be fullydeveloped. What has Mrs. Barnes's husband to do with you--or with me?If you don't like your present quarters you are at perfect liberty tochange them;--only in that case you must become responsible for yourown expenditure." I turned to go. "One moment. If you intend to changeyour quarters, perhaps, under the circumstances, you will be so goodas to let us know where you propose to go."
"I will let you know if I do go. At any rate, until to-morrow I intendto remain where I am."
Whether it would have been better for me, considering the tragedywhich followed, never to have returned to Mrs. Barnes's house at all,is more than I can say. That particular tragedy might not havehappened, but, looking at the matter from a purely personal andselfish point of view, whether that would have been better for me, orworse, is another question altogether.
That night I went to a music-hall, changing one of Mr. Rothwell'snotes to enable me to do so. Afterwards I supped at a restaurant inthe Strand. Then I returned to the hotel to bed. I was more than halfafraid of being waylaid by Mrs. Barnes. But, to my relief, it was themaidservant who let me in. I saw and heard nothing of the landlady. Ispent the night in peace.
A telegram was brought me the next morning after breakfast. It wasshort and to the point--
"Shall be with you at twelve-thirty.--DUNCAN ROTHWELL."
As I perceived that it had been despatched from Derby station, Iconcluded that Mr. Rothwell had telegraphed while in the very act ofjourneying to town. Half-past twelve arrived, and no one, and nothingcame for me. About a quarter to one I went into the hall with somevague idea of seeing if some likely looking person might be comingdown the street. The hall was really nothing but a narrow passage. Thefront door was open. With his feet just inside the open doorway was aman lying face downwards on the floor. My first impulse was to beat aretreat, because I at once jumped to the conclusion that Mr. Barnes,or Mr. James Southam, or whatever the landlady's mysterious husband'sname might be, had returned to the bosom of his family, not onlyunpleasantly inclined, but drunk. A brief inspection from the otherend of the passage, however, made it sufficiently clear that, whoeverthe recumbent individual was, it was not the gentleman who had firstwaited on and then assaulted me.
I could see that he was, in every way, a larger man. His silk hat hadfallen sufficiently off his head to enable one to perceive that he wasbald. As I stood and watched him, I began to be conscious of acuriously unpleasant feeling. He lay so still; and in such anuncomfortable posture. He was a big, fat man; it struck me that hemust weigh some seventeen or eighteen stone. He had fallen flat uponhis stomach; his face was so close to the floor that he must havefound it difficult to breathe. His right arm was bent under him, in away which disagreeably suggested a broken limb. The man must surely besomething more than drunk. He must, I told myself, have fallen in afit.
With an indefinable feeling of repugnance, I advanced to give him aid.I bent over him. I laid my hand upon his shoulder; I withdrew it witha start. The man's coat was wet. I glanced at my own palm; it wascovered with some red pigment. Thoroughly aroused I sprang to my feet.
"Help! Mrs. Barnes!" I cried.
Mrs. Barnes and the maidservant came running up together.
"Mrs. Barnes," I said, still staring at the patch of red upon my hand,"I believe there has been murder done."
"Murder! Oh, my God! Do you think he did it?"
I looked at her. I knew what she meant, but I did not answer her, "Youhad better send for the police, and for a medical man."
It was the servant who retained sufficient presence of mind to catchat my suggestion.
"Doctor Granger lives across the road. I'll fetch him!"
She did fetch him. Luckily the doctor was at home. So soon as helearned what urgent need there was for his services, he came hurryingto render them. Presently a policeman came upon the scene. He wasfollowed by others. They kept the street clear, for some distance fromthe hotel, of the crowd which began rapidly to gather. The wholehouse, as it were, was taken in charge.