VI
AT SCOTLAND YARD
Matters of vital importance to some people whom already we have met, andto others whom thus far we have not met, were transacted in a lofty andrather bleak looking room at Scotland Yard between the hours of nine andten A. M.; that is, later in the morning of the fateful day whose adventwe have heard acclaimed from the Tower of Westminster.
The room, which was lighted by a large French window opening upon abalcony, commanded an excellent view of the Thames Embankment. The floorwas polished to a degree of brightness, almost painful. The distemperedwalls, save for a severe and solitary etching of a former Commissioner,were nude in all their unloveliness. A heavy deal table (upon whichrested a blotting-pad, a pewter ink-pot, several newspapers and twopens) together with three deal chairs, built rather as monuments ofdurability than as examples of art, constituted the only furniture, ifwe except an electric lamp with a green glass shade, above the table.
This was the room of Detective-Inspector Dunbar; and Detective-InspectorDunbar, at the hour of our entrance, will be found seated in the chair,placed behind the table, his elbows resting upon the blotting-pad.
At ten minutes past nine, exactly, the door opened, and a thick-set,florid man, buttoned up in a fawn colored raincoat and wearing a bowlerhat of obsolete build, entered. He possessed a black mustache, a breezy,bustling manner, and humorous blue eyes; furthermore, when he tookoff his hat, he revealed the possession of a head of very bristly,upstanding, black hair. This was Detective-Sergeant Sowerby, and thesame who was engaged in examining a newspaper in the study of HenryLeroux when Dr. Cumberly and his daughter had paid their second visit tothat scene of an unhappy soul's dismissal.
"Well?" said Dunbar, glancing up at his subordinate, inquiringly.
"I have done all the cab depots," reported Sergeant Sowerby, "and a goodmany of the private owners; but so far the man seen by Mr. Exel has notturned up."
"The word will be passed round now, though," said Dunbar, "and we shallprobably have him here during the day."
"I hope so," said the other good-humoredly, seating himself upon one ofthe two chairs ranged beside the wall. "If he doesn't show up."...
"Well?" jerked Dunbar--"if he doesn't?"
"It will look very black against Leroux."
Dunbar drummed upon the blotting-pad with the fingers of his left hand.
"It beats anything of the kind that has ever come my way," he confessed."You get pretty cautious at weighing people up, in this business; but Icertainly don't think--mind you, I go no further--but I certainlydon't think Mr. Henry Leroux would willingly kill a fly; yet there iscircumstantial evidence enough to hang him."
Sergeant Sowerby nodded, gazing speculatively at the floor.
"I wonder," he said, slowly, "why the girl--Miss Cumberly--hesitatedabout telling us the woman's name?"
"I am not wondering about that at all," replied Dunbar, bluntly. "Shemust meet thousands in the same way. The wonder to me is that sheremembered at all. I am open to bet half-a-crown that YOU couldn'tremember the name of every woman you happened to have pointed out to youat an Arts Ball?"
"Maybe not," agreed Sowerby; "she's a smart girl, I'll allow. I see youhave last night's papers there?"
"I have," replied Dunbar; "and I'm wondering"...
"If there's any connection?"
"Well," continued the inspector, "it looks on the face of it as thoughthe news of her husband's death had something to do with Mrs. Vernon'spresence at Leroux's flat. It's not a natural thing for a woman, on theevening of her husband's death, to rush straight away to another man'splace"...
"It's strange we couldn't find her clothes"...
"It's not strange at all! You're simply obsessed with the idea that thiswas a love intrigue! Think, man! the most abandoned woman wouldn't runto keep an appointment with a lover at a time like that! And remembershe had the news in her pocket! She came to that flat dressed--orundressed--just as we found her; I'm sure of it. And a point like thatsometimes means the difference between hanging and acquittal."
Sergeant Sowerby digested these words, composing his jovial countenancein an expression of unnatural profundity. Then:--
"THE point to my mind," he said, "is the one raised by Mr. Hilton. Bygum! didn't Dr. Cumberly tell him off!"
"Dr. Cumberly," replied Dunbar, "is entitled to his opinion, that theinjection in the woman's shoulder was at least eight hours old; whilstMr. Hilton is equally entitled to maintain that it was less than ONEhour old. Neither of them can hope to prove his case."
"If either of them could?"...
"It might make a difference to the evidence--but I'm not sure."
"What time is your appointment?"
"Ten o'clock," replied Dunbar. "I am meeting Mr. Debnam--the late Mr.Vernon's solicitor. There is something in it. Damme! I am sure of it!"
"Something in what?"
"The fact that Mr. Vernon died yesterday evening, and that his wife wasmurdered at midnight."
"What have you told the press?"
"As little as possible, but you will see that the early editions willall be screaming for the arrest of Soames."
"I shouldn't wonder. He would be a useful man to have; but he's probablyout of London now."
"I think not. He's more likely to wait for instructions from hisprincipal."
"His principal?"
"Certainly. You don't think Soames did the murder, do you?"
"No; but he's obviously an accessory."
"I'm not so sure even of that."
"Then why did he bolt?"
"Because he had a guilty conscience."
"Yes," agreed Sowerby; "it does turn out that way sometimes. At anyrate, Stringer is after him, but he's got next to nothing to go upon.Has any reply been received from Mrs. Leroux in Paris?"
"No," answered Dunbar, frowning thoughtfully. "Her husband's wire wouldreach her first thing this morning; I am expecting to hear of a reply atany moment."
"They're a funny couple, altogether," said Sowerby. "I can't imaginemyself standing for Mrs. Sowerby spending her week-ends in Paris. Askingfor trouble, I call it!"
"It does seem a daft arrangement," agreed Dunbar; "but then, as you say,they're a funny couple."
"I never saw such a bundle of nerves in all my life!"...
"Leroux?"
Sowerby nodded.
"I suppose," he said, "it's the artistic temperament! If Mrs. Lerouxhas got it, too, I don't wonder that they get fed up with one another'scompany."
"That's about the secret of it. And now, I shall be glad, Sowerby, ifyou will be after that taxi-man again. Report at one o'clock. I shall behere."
With his hand on the door-knob: "By the way," said Sowerby, "who theblazes is Mr. King?"
Inspector Dunbar looked up.
"Mr. King," he replied slowly, "is the solution of the mystery."