A Bid for Fortune · Part II · Chapter 2 3 (2/3)

“Why, I mean that the ends are bound up in this way⁠—look for yourself. Now not one landsman in a hundred seizes a rope’s end. This line was taken from some ship in the harbour, and⁠—By Jove! here’s another discovery!”

“What now?” he cried, being by this time almost as excited as I was myself.

“Why, look here,” I said, holding the middle of the rope up to the light, so that we could get a better view of it. “Not very many hours ago this rope was running through a block, and that block was rather an uncommon one.”

“How do you know that it was an uncommon one?”

“Because it has been newly painted, and what’s funnier still, painted green, of all other colours. Look at this streak of paint along the line; see how it’s smudged. Now let’s review the case as we walk along.”

So saying, with the Marquis between us, we set off down the street, hoping to be able to pick up an early cab.

“First and foremost,” I said, “remember old Draper’s talk of the South Seas⁠—remember the collection of curios he possessed. Probably he owns a schooner, and it’s more than probable that this line and this bit of canvas came from it.”

“I see what you’re driving at,” said the Inspector. “It’s worth considering. Directly I get to the office I will set men to work to try and find this mysterious gentleman. You would know him again, my lord?”

“I should know him anywhere,” was Beckenham’s immediate reply.

“And have you any idea at all where this house, to which he conducted you, is located?”

“None at all. I only know that it was about halfway down a street of which all the houses, save the one at the corner⁠—which was a grocer’s shop⁠—were one-storeyed villas.”

“Nothing a little more definite, I suppose?”

“Stay! I remember that there was an empty house with broken windows almost opposite, and that on either side of the steps leading up to the front door were two stone eagles with outstretched wings. The head of one of the eagles⁠—the left, I think⁠—was missing.”

The Inspector noted these things in his pocketbook, and just as he had finished we picked up a cab and called it to the sidewalk. When we had got in and given the driver Mr. Wetherell’s address, I said to the Inspector:

“What are you going to do first?”

“Put some men on to find Mr. Draper, and some more to find an island schooner with her blocks newly painted green.”

“You won’t be long in letting us know what you discover, will you?” I said. “Remember how anxious we are.”

“You may count on my coming to you at once with any news I may procure,” he answered.

A few moments later we drew up at Mr. Wetherell’s door. Bidding the Inspector goodbye we went up the steps and rang the bell. By the time the cab was out in the street again we were in the house making our way, behind the butler, to Mr. Wetherell’s study.

The old gentleman had not gone to bed, but sat just as I had left him so many hours before. As soon as we were announced he rose to receive us.

“Thank God, Mr. Hatteras, you have come back!” he said. “I have been in a perfect fever waiting for you. What have you to report?”

“Not very much, I’m afraid,” I answered. “But first let me have the pleasure of introducing the real Marquis of Beckenham to you, whom we have had the good fortune to find and rescue.”

Mr. Wetherell bowed gravely and held out his hand.

“My lord,” he said, “I am thankful that you have been discovered. I look upon it as one step towards the recovery of my poor girl. I hope now that both you and Mr. Hatteras will take up your abode with me during the remainder of your stay in the colony. You have had a scurvy welcome to New South Wales. We must see if we can’t make up to you for it. But you look thoroughly worn out; I expect you would like to go to bed.”

He rang the bell, and when his butler appeared, gave him some instructions about preparing rooms for us.

Ten minutes later the man returned and stated that our rooms were ready, whereupon Mr. Wetherell himself conducted Beckenham to the apartment assigned to him. When he returned to me, he asked if I would not like to retire too, but I would not hear of it. I could not have slept a wink, so great was my anxiety. Seeing this, he seated himself and listened attentively while I gave him an outline of Beckenham’s story. I had hardly finished before I heard a carriage roll up to the door. There was a ring at the bell, and presently the butler, who, like ourselves, had not dreamt of going to bed, though his master had repeatedly urged him to do so, entered and announced the Inspector.

Wetherell hobbled across to receive him with an anxious face.

“Have you any better tidings for me?” he asked.

“Not very much, I’m afraid, sir,” the Inspector said, shaking his head. “The best I have to tell you is that your carriage and horse have been found in the yard of an empty house off Pitt Street.”

“Have you been able to discover any clue as to who put them there?”

“Not one! The horse was found out of the shafts tied to the wall. There was not a soul about the place.”

Wetherell sat down again and covered his face with his hands. At that instant the telephone bell in the corner of the room rang sharply. I jumped up and went across to it. Placing the receivers to my ears, I heard a small voice say, “Is that Mr. Wetherell’s house, Potts Point?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Who is speaking?”

“Mr. Hatteras. Mr. Wetherell, however, is in the room. Who are you?”

“Detective officer. Will you tell Mr. Wetherell that Mr. Draper’s house has been discovered?”

I communicated the message to Mr. Wetherell, and then the Inspector joined me at the instrument and spoke.

“Where is the house?” he enquired.

“83, Charlemagne Street⁠—north side.”

“Very good. Inspector Murdkin speaking. Let plain clothes men be stationed at either end of the street, and tell them to be on the look out for Draper, and to wait for me. I’ll start for the house at once.”

“Very good, sir.”

He rang off and then turned to me.

“Are you too tired to come with me, Mr. Hatteras?” he enquired.

“Of course not,” I answered. “Let us go at once.”

“God bless you!” said Wetherell. “I hope you may catch the fellow.”

Bidding him goodbye, we went downstairs again, and jumped into the cab, which was directed to the street in question.

Though it was a good distance from our starting-point, in less than half an hour we had pulled up at the corner. As the cab stopped, a tall man, dressed in blue serge, who had been standing near the lamppost, came forward and touched his hat.

“Good morning, Williams,” said the Inspector. “Any sign of our man?”

“Not one, sir. He hasn’t come down the street since I’ve been here.”

“Very good. Now come along and we’ll pay the house a visit.”

So saying he told the cabman to follow us slowly, and we proceeded down the street. About halfway along he stopped and pointed to a house on the opposite side.

“That is the house his lordship mentioned, with the broken windows, and this is where Mr. Draper dwells, if I am not much mistaken⁠—see the eagles are on either side of the steps, just as described.”

It was exactly as Beckenham had told us, even to the extent of the headless eagle on the left of the walk. It was a pretty little place, and evidently still occupied, as a maid was busily engaged cleaning the steps.

Pushing open the gate, the Inspector entered the little garden and accosted the girl.

“Good morning,” he said politely. “Pray, is your master at home?”

“Yes, sir; he’s at breakfast just now.”

“Well, would you mind telling him that two gentlemen would like to see him?”

“Yes, sir.”

The girl rose to her feet, and, wiping her hands on her apron, led the way into the house. We followed close behind her. Then, asking us to wait a moment where we were, she knocked at a door on the right and opening it, disappeared within.

“Now,” said the Inspector, “our man will probably appear, and we shall have him nicely.”

The Inspector had scarcely spoken before the door opened again, and a man came out. To our surprise, however, he was very tall and stout, with a round, jovial face, and a decided air of being satisfied with himself and the world in general.

“To what do I owe the honour of this visit?” he said, looking at the Inspector.

“I am an Inspector of Police, as you see,” answered my companion, “and we are looking for a man named Draper, who yesterday was in possession of this house.”

“I am afraid you have made some little mistake,” returned the other.

“I am the occupier of this house, and have been for some months past. No Mr. Draper has anything at all to do with it.”

The Inspector’s face was a study for perfect bewilderment. Nor could mine have been much behind it. The Marquis had given such a minute description of the dwelling opposite and the two stone birds on the steps, that there could be no room for doubt that this was the house. And yet it was physically impossible that this man could be Draper; and, if it were the place where Beckenham had been drugged, why were the weapons, etc., he had described not in the hall?

“I cannot understand it at all,” said the Inspector, turning to me. “This is the house, and yet where are the things with which it ought to be furnished?”

“You have a description of the furniture, then?” said the owner. “That is good, for it will enable me to prove to you even more clearly that you are mistaken. Pray come and see my sitting-rooms for yourselves.”

He led the way into the apartment from which he had been summoned, and we followed him. It was small and nicely furnished, but not a South-Sea curio or native weapon was to be seen in it. Then we followed him to the corresponding room at the back of the house. This was upholstered in the latest fashion; but again there was no sign of what Beckenham had led us to expect we should find. We were completely nonplussed.

“I am afraid we have troubled you without cause,” said the Inspector, as we passed out into the hall again.

“Don’t mention it,” the owner answered; “I find my compensation in the knowledge that I am not involved in any police unpleasantness.”

“By the way,” said the Inspector suddenly, “have you any idea who your neighbours may be?”

“Oh, dear, yes!” the man replied. “On my right I have a frigidly respectable widow of Low Church tendencies. On my left, the Chief Teller of the Bank of New Holland. Both very worthy members of society, and not at all the sort of people to be criminally inclined.”

“In that case we can only apologize for our intrusion and wish you good morning.”

“Pray don’t apologise. I should have been glad to have assisted you. Good morning.”

We went down the steps again and out into the street. As we passed through the gate, the Inspector stopped and examined a mark on the right hand post. Then he stooped and picked up what looked like a pebble. Having done so we resumed our walk.

“What on earth can be the meaning of it all?” I asked. “Can his lordship have made a mistake?”

“No, I think not. We have been cleverly duped, that’s all.”

“What makes you think so?”

“I didn’t think so until we passed through the gate on our way out. Now I’m certain of it. Come across the street.”

I followed him across the road to a small plain-looking house, with a neatly-curtained bow window and a brass plate on the front door. From the latter I discovered that the proprietress of the place was a dressmaker, but I was completely at a loss to understand why we were visiting her.

As soon as the door was opened the Inspector asked if Miss Tiffins were at home, and, on being told that she was, enquired if we might see her. The maid went away to find out, and presently returned and begged us to follow her. We did so down a small passage towards the door of the room which contained the bow window.

Miss Tiffins was a lady of uncertain age, with a prim, precise manner, and corkscrew curls. She seemed at a loss to understand our errand, but bade us be seated, and then asked in what way she could be of service to us.

“In the first place, madam,” said the Inspector, “let me tell you that I am an officer of police. A serious crime has been perpetrated, and I have reason to believe that it may be in your power to give us a clue to the persons who committed it.”

“You frighten me, sir,” replied the lady. “I cannot at all see in what way I can help you. I lead a life of the greatest quietness. How, therefore, can I know anything of such people?”

“I do not wish to imply that you do know anything of them. I only want you to carry your memory back as far as yesterday, and to answer me the few simple questions I may ask you.”

“I will answer them to the best of my ability.”

“Well, in the first place, may I ask if you remember seeing a brougham drive up to that house opposite about midday yesterday?”

“No, I cannot say that I do,” the old lady replied after a moment’s consideration.

“Do you remember seeing a number of men leave the house during the afternoon?”

“No. If they came out I did not notice them.”

“Now, think for one moment, if you please, and tell me what vehicles, if any, you remember seeing stop there.”

“Let me try to remember. There was Judge’s baker’s cart, about three, the milk about five, and a furniture van about half-past six.”

“That’s just what I want to know. And have you any recollection whose furniture van it was?”

“Yes. I remember reading the name as it turned round. Goddard & James, George Street. I wondered if the tenant was going to move.”

The Inspector rose, and I followed his example.

“I am exceedingly obliged to you, Miss Tiffins. You have helped me materially.”

“I am glad of that,” she answered; “but I trust I shall not be wanted to give evidence in court. I really could not do it.”

“You need have no fear on that score,” the Inspector answered. “Good day.”

“Good day.”

When we had left the house the Inspector turned to me and said: “It was a great piece of luck finding a dressmaker opposite. Commend me to ladies of that profession for knowing what goes on in the street. Now we will visit Messrs. Goddard & James and see who hired the things. Meantime, Williams” (here he called the plainclothes constable to him), “you had better remain here and watch that house. If the man we saw comes out, follow him, and let me know where he goes.”

“Very good, sir,” the constable replied, and we left him to his vigil.

Then, hailing a passing cab, we jumped into it and directed the driver to convey us to George Street. By this time it was getting on for midday, and we were both worn out. But I was in such a nervous state that I could not remain inactive. Phyllis had been in Nikola’s hands nearly fourteen hours, and so far we had not obtained one single definite piece of information as to her whereabouts.

Arriving at the shop of Messrs. Goddard & James, we went inside and asked to see the chief partner. An assistant immediately conveyed us to an office at the rear of the building, where we found an elderly gentleman writing at a desk. He looked up as we entered, and then, seeing the Inspector’s uniform, rose and asked our business.

“The day before yesterday,” began my companion, “you supplied a gentleman with a number of South-Sea weapons and curios on hire did you not?”

“I remember doing so⁠—yes,” was the old gentleman’s answer.

“What about it?”

“Only I should be glad if you would favour me with a description of the person who called upon you about them⁠—or a glimpse of his letter, if he wrote.”

“He called and saw me personally.”

“Ah! That is good. Now would you be so kind as to describe him?”

“Well, in the first place, he was very tall and rather handsome he had, if I remember rightly, a long brown moustache, and was decidedly well dressed.”

“That doesn’t tell us very much, does it? Was he alone?”

“No. He had with him, when he came into the office, an individual whose face singularly enough remains fixed in my memory⁠—indeed I cannot get it out of my head.”

Instantly I became all excitement.