To judge from Mr. Higgins's appearance, they had gone wool-gathering. He literally gasped beneath the volley which Dick had poured upon him, at the end of which he was sitting in his chair in a state of helpless collapse. Dick had turned the tables upon him with a vengeance.
"Now, what have you got to say?" he asked, triumphantly.
"Quartern o' rum," gasped Mr. Higgins.
"When we've finished our confab you shall have it, and another one or two on the top of it as we go along. Lord bless you, Mr. Higgins, I'm not an ill-natured chap, if you take me easy, and I have the credit of generally being freehanded when I'm not interfered with. Pull yourself together, and listen to what more I've got to say. What we want to do-the secret service, the detectives, the Criminal Investigation Department, and all of us-is to keep this matter as quiet as possible till the thieves and murderers are nabbed. We're working on the strict q.t., and we've got something up our sleeve, I can tell you. And I'll tell you something more. If any outsider interferes with our game by blabbing about ropes and grapnels it will be the worst day's work he has ever done, and he'll live to rue it. We'll wipe him out, that's what we'll do. We'll have no mercy on him."
This was the finishing stroke. Mr. Higgins lay helpless at the foot of the conqueror.
"I made a mistake," he whined. "Quartern o' rum."
"You would sell your own mother for drink, I believe."
"No, no," protested Mr. Higgins, feebly, "not so bad as that, not so bad as that. Good for my liver. Keeps me alive."
"A nice state your liver must be in," said Dick, laughing. "I think we understand each other. Take up the paste pot, and carry it steady. You shall be paid for your day's work. Tenpence an hour, so look sharp."
Mr. Higgins, completely subdued, had his fourth quartern at the bar, and shortly afterwards the British public had the privilege of seeing Dick Remington stick up the murder bills, assisted by an old man in skull cap and list slippers, in that stage of palsy from his recent experiences that his course was marked by a dribble of paste spilt from the pot he carried in his trembling hands. At every fresh stoppage a crowd gathered, arguing, disputing, airing theories. These chiefly consisted of conjectures as to who the murderer was, how the murder had been committed, how many were in it, who the man was who had been seen by Dr. Pye coming out of the house in Catchpole Square at three in the morning, whether he was the same man who had imposed upon Lady Wharton, how the blood-stained marks of footsteps on the floor were to be accounted for, whether there was any chance of the jewels being recovered, and so on, and so on. At one place there was a conversation of a different nature.
"What I find fault with in that there bill," said an onlooker, a man with a forbidding face, dressed in corduroy, "is that no pardon is offered to any accomplice as didn't actually commit that there murder. Where's the indoocement to peach on a pal, that's what I want to know?"
"A white-livered skunk I'd call him whatever his name might be," remarked a second speaker. "Honour among thieves, that's what I say."
"Oh, come," said a third, "let's draw the line somewhere."
"It's what they put in the bills," grumbled the man in corduroy, offering no comment on these expressions of opinion, "and I don't see no mention of it in that there blooming bill."
"It's what they put in the Government bills," said the second man, "but this ain't a Government bill. It's a reward of £500 offered by a private individual."
"A private individual!" sneered the first speaker. "You don't call Mr. Reginald Boyd a private individual in this here case, do you? He's a interested party, that's what he is. What I say is-and anybody can take it up as likes-where's the indoocement to peach on a pal?"
"Well, don't take it to heart, mate," said another. At which there was a general laugh. "Do you know how it runs in the Government bills?"
"No, I don't; but I know it's alias there, and allus should be there."
"I can give you the words, if you wish to hear them," said a quiet onlooker, who, meditatively rubbing his chin, was watching the crowd and the billsticker.
Dick repressed a start. It was the voice of Detective Lambert, with whom he was acquainted. He turned and accosted the officer, who put his finger to his lips, thus indicating that they were not to address each other by name.
"Good morning," said Dick.
"Good morning," said Lambert. "I did not know you were in this line of business."
"Anything to turn an honest penny, said Dick, cheerfully.
"Give us the words, mate," said the man in corduroy.
"They run in this way. 'And the Secretary of State for the Home Department will advise the grant of her Majesty's gracious Pardon to any accomplice not being the person who actually committed the murder, who shall give such evidence as shall lead to a like result.'"
"You seem to be well up in it, guv'nor."
"Fairly well. I did a turn in a Government printing office once."
"Then you could inform us, perhaps, as a matter of general interest," said an elderly man, "whether the accomplice, who would be Queen's evidence-"
"Yes, Queen's evidence."
"Would get the reward as well as the pardon?"
"In course he would," said the man in corduroy, answering for Lambert. "That's the beauty of it. Only wish I was an accomplice in this here blooming murder, with them words in that there bill orfered by the Government. I'd touch, mates, pretty quick, that's what I'd do. But as it stands, where's the indoocement? It ain't 'arf a bill without the indoocement."
This insistence of the implied merit attaching to an act of treachery did not seem to meet with the approval of many in the crowd, who edged away, with distrustful looks at the speaker. Dick also walked off, and Detective Lambert walked by his side awhile, Mr. Higgins shambling humbly in the rear.
"A bold move," remarked Lambert.
"A proper move," said Dick. "Anything new stirring?"
Lambert rubbed his chin for two or three moments without replying, and few persons would have supposed that he was paying much visual attention to the man at his side or the man in the rear; but Dick knew better. He knew that detective Lambert was one of the shrewdest and the most observant officers in the service, and that nothing escaped his attention.
"Five hundred pounds is a good round sum," he said.
"It is," said Dick. "Why not earn it?" Lambert gave him a curious look, surprised, for one brief moment, out of himself. "If it was a Government reward," continued Dick, who also had his eyes about him, "there wouldn't be a chance for you, for the words would run, 'the above reward will be paid to any person (other than a person belonging to a police force in the United Kingdom) who shall give such information,' etc. Now, this reward doesn't apply in this way. The reward will be willingly and gladly paid to any person, whether he belongs to the police or not. Is it worth considering?"
"Yes," said Lambert, thoughtfully, "it is worth considering. You asked me whether there's any thing new stirring. Well-" But he paused suddenly, as if he were about to say too much. "One of these days, perhaps, there will be a case in the papers that, for daring and mystery, will beat even the Mystery of Catchpole Square."
"Can't imagine one," said Dick. "It wouldn't be fair to ask if there's any connection between the two cases." He paused; Lambert was silent; Dick turned the subject. "What do you think of my new apprentice? A modern species of Ganymede, carrying the pastepot instead of the wine cup. Nothing like novelty in these days; people run crazy after it. Only you must keep it well advertised; everything depends upon that. Drop your advertisements, and youth grows wrinkled in an hour. Now, what we're aiming at in this mystery" – he flourished his paste brush-"is that, until we get at its heart, people shan't forget it. We'll keep it before them morning, noon, and night. No hole-in-the-corner business. Step up, old man." This to Mr. Higgins, who came shambling forward, his features twitching twenty to the dozen. With the eyes of so sharp an officer as Lambert upon him Dick was not stupid enough to dream of keeping the old man in the background. He knew that any such attempt would end in Lambert's finding means of making himself thoroughly acquainted with Mr. Higgins's business and character before the day was out, so he took the bull by the horns, and introduced his companion by name, giving also his trade and address. "There's a specimen of an honest tradesman for you. Queer sort of assistant for me to pick up?"
"There's no denying it," said Lambert.
"There's a little story attached to the way Mr. Higgins and I struck up a friendship. What's the best thing in life worth living for, old man?"
"Quartern o' rum," replied Mr. Higgins. The answer seemed to be jerked out of him by force of magnetism.
Dick laughed; Lambert made a movement of departure.
"Are you off?" asked Dick.
"Off I am. Take care of yourself."
"I'll try to."
Dr. Pye's countenance during his late interview with Dr. Vinsen was not more inscrutable than that of Detective Lambert. The trained habit of concealing one's thoughts is part of the stock in trade of more than one class of men, and shrewd as Dick was he would have found it beyond his power to divine what was passing in Lambert's mind as he strolled leisurely away, but a quiet smile on the younger man's lips denoted that he was not dissatisfied with the problem he had presented to the detective. "I've given him something to puzzle over," was Dick's thought, "and I'm a Dutchman if I haven't thrown him off the scent in regard to my friend Higgins."
"There's a man for you," he said, as he gazed admiringly after the vanishing figure of the detective. "Have you the pleasure of knowing the gentleman?"
"Can't say as I have," was the answer.
"That's the famous Detective Lambert, who gave evidence at the inquest. And what a ferret he is! Search France and England through, and you won't meet his match. He had his eye on you, I noticed." Mr. Higgins shivered. "If ever you get into his clutches look out for snakes. It's a pleasure to work with a man like that. He and I are on the same lay."
Another hour's steady work, and the last bill was pasted on the walls and the last quartern of rum disposed of. Then he reckoned up what was due to Mr. Higgins, paid and dismissed him, and repeated his caution about looking out for snakes if it should be his bad fortune to fall into the clutches of the famous detective.
"I've about settled your hash," mused Dick, as he saw Mr. Higgins plunge into the nearest beershop. "But how do I stand with Lambert? That's a different pair of shoes. What did he mean about another case of mystery? I thought he was going to let it out, but he pulled himself up short. Never mind, Dick. You've had a narrow squeak to-day, and you've got out of it with flying colours. Go ahead, my lad, and stick at nothing."
Had Detective Lambert followed Dick to the neighbourhood of Covent Garden and overheard what passed between him and certain well known tradesmen therein he would have had another problem to solve, in addition to those which were already occupying his attention.
CHAPTER XLVI
"THE LITTLE BUSY BEE'S" REPORT OF THE CONTINUATION OF THE INQUEST
The inquiry into the death of Mr. Samuel Boyd was resumed at the Coroner's Court in Bishop Street this morning before Mr. John Kent. Long before eleven o'clock the usual crowd of persons had gathered round the doors, but so numerous had been the application for seats from privileged and influential quarters that very few of the general public succeeded in gaining admittance. Intense as has been the interest evinced in this extraordinary case, the startling and unexpected revelations made by witnesses who have voluntarily come forward to give evidence have raised it to a level reached by no other murder mystery in our remembrance. It would be idle to deny that the evidence of the last witness examined yesterday has given a significant turn to the proceedings.
So far as we have been able to ascertain, the police have obtained no clue to the man who personated Samuel Boyd and who so successfully imposed upon Lady Wharton in Bournemouth. We understand that it is the intention of her ladyship's advisers to offer a substantial reward for the recovery of her jewels, and a list of them, with detailed descriptions, has been sent to every pawnbroker in the kingdom. To this course we ourselves see no objection, although we are aware that many of the Scotland Yard officials are strongly of the opinion that the offer of a reward in such cases only serves to put the guilty parties more carefully on their guard. For the same reason they may object to the bills that are now being posted in London offering rewards for the discovery and conviction of the murderer or murderers, and for the discovery of Abel Death, of whom no news whatever is as yet forthcoming. The bills are appropriately headed "In the Cause of Justice," and it is to be hoped that they will assist the cause of justice. We make no comment upon the circumstance that Mr. Reginald Boyd, at whose instance this step has been taken, has made himself responsible for the payment of £500 in the one case and £200 in the other. The argument that it will stimulate persons to recall apparently insignificant details in connection with the movements of the guilty parties, and to make them public, is sound, for important results have been known to spring from the revelation of details which in ordinary circumstances would be considered too trivial to mention. In the course of the next few days further developments may be expected.
It was understood that this morning's proceedings would be opened with the examination of Mrs. Abel Death, but before she was called Mr. Reginald Boyd rose and addressed the Coroner.
Mr. Reginald Boyd: "I ask permission to say a few words."
The Coroner: "You have already been examined, Mr. Boyd, and I am desirous not to subject the jury to the inconvenience arising from an inquiry unduly protracted."
Mr. Reginald Boyd: "I can assure you, Mr. Coroner, and you, gentlemen of the jury, that I do not wish to waste your time, but you must see that what has transpired in the course of this inquiry affects me most deeply. In common justice I ask to be heard."
The Juror: "Let us hear what Mr. Reginald Boyd has to say."
The Coroner: "I am in your hands, gentlemen."
Mr. Reginald Boyd: "After the evidence given by Dr. Pye-or rather I should say, after the statement he has made affecting myself-my desire is to declare even more positively than I did yesterday that I reached my lodgings on Friday night within a few minutes of midnight, that I went to bed, and did not arise from it for a week in consequence of my illness. I fear that it is not in my power to offer corroborative evidence. My landlady and her servant went to bed, I understand, between ten and eleven o'clock, and have no recollection of hearing anybody come into the house after they retired. It is my misfortune, also, that I was the only lodger in the house. I let myself in with my latchkey. I have no remembrance of meeting with anyone nor of speaking to anyone, but I can swear to the time because I looked at my watch, and wound it up in my bedroom."
The Coroner: "Very well. Perhaps you had better not say anything more."
Mr. Reginald Boyd: "Why not, Mr. Coroner? I desire it to be widely known that I court the fullest and most searching inquiry. I cannot avoid seeing that Dr. Pye's statement that the man he saw bore a striking resemblance to myself throws a grave suspicion upon me. I do not impugn his evidence, but I contend that it is only fair that equal consideration should be given to my statement as to his. I will endeavour to make myself clearer. I affirm upon my oath that I was in my bed within a few minutes of midnight, and did not leave it again. Dr. Pye affirms that three hours afterwards he saw a person resembling me leave my father's house in a suspicious manner. To the truth of my statement I can bring forward no witnesses. Can Dr. Pye bring forward any witnesses to the truth of his? If uncorroborated evidence given by me is open to doubt, so should uncorroborated evidence given by him be viewed. A man's honour-to say nothing of a son's innocence or guilt of so awful a crime as the murder of his father-is not to be judged by a stranger's unsupported word. In the sacred name of justice I protest against it."
These words, spoken with manliness and deep emotion, made a marked impression upon the audience, which was deepened when they turned to the glowing face of the witness's wife. A murmur of sympathy ran through the Court.
The Juror (referring to his notes): "But in your account of the incidents of that night you informed us that you could not depend upon your memory. Quoting your own words: 'I was deeply agitated, and my mind was in confusion. The fever from which I immediately afterwards suffered, and which kept me to my bed several days, may have been upon me then.' Do you adhere to that?"
Mr. Reginald Boyd: "I do. In describing my condition my endeavour was to speak the honest truth, and to offer no excuse which could not be accepted by an impartial mind, nor to take advantage of any. But that does not affect my distinct recollection as to the time I wound up my watch in my bedroom."
The Juror: "We must not, however, lose sight of the fact that no suspicion attaches to Dr. Pye, and that it is not his veracity that is here in question."
Mr. Reginald Boyd (with warmth): "Is that a fair remark from one of the jury?"
The Coroner: "It is a most improper remark, and should not have been made in open Court. Call Mrs. Abel Death."
CHAPTER XLVII
"THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" CONTINUES ITS REPORT OF THE INQUEST
The public are by this time acquainted with much of the evidence Mrs. Death had to offer. After narrating the circumstances of her husband's dismissal from the service of Mr. Samuel Boyd, and of his going late at night to Mr. Boyd's house in Catchpole Square to beg to be taken back, the examination proceeded as follows:
"What salary did your husband receive from Mr. Boyd?"
"Twenty-two shillings a-week, with deductions for imaginary faults."
"Did he work long hours?"
"From nine in the morning till eight at night. Occasionally he worked overtime, but was never paid anything extra."
"He was not happy in his situation?"
"How could he be, sir, with such a master?"
"They had frequent disagreements?"
"I'm sorry to say they had; but it wasn't my husband's fault."
"Did he ask Mr. Boyd for a loan of ten pounds?"
"Yes, sir."
"He hoped it would be granted?"
"We fully expected it, sir."
"The refusal to grant the loan must have been a great disappointment to your husband?"
"It almost broke his heart, sir."
"May that not have exasperated him, and caused him to speak words to Mr. Boyd which might have been construed into a threat?"
"I am sure that could not have happened. My husband was most particular in telling me everything that passed between them, and he didn't use a threatening word. He did ask Mr. Boyd if he believed in God, and Mr. Boyd said no, he didn't."
"Then there was bad blood between them when they parted?"
"I suppose there was, sir."
"To what do you attribute Mr. Boyd's unexpected refusal to lend the money?"
"To Mr. Reginald's visit in the afternoon. It made his father furious."
"Now, as to the object of Mr. Reginald Boyd's visit in the afternoon. Was it to obtain money from his father?"
"That was what my husband believed."
"And was this the object of his second visit late at night?"
"My husband said of course it must be that, but that he wouldn't get a penny out of the old man."
"After your husband's dismissal, are you aware whether he and Mr. Reginald Boyd met?"
"They couldn't have met, sir, or my husband would have told me."
"No doubt you have heard many of the theories that have been advanced to account for his absence from his home?"
"Well, sir, I have. Some say-the wretches! – that he murdered Mr. Boyd, and has run off with the money. Some say that he has made away with himself, but it isn't possible he could have thought of such a thing. I was a bit afraid of it the last night I saw him when he started up to go to Catchpole Square, but he saw what was in my mind, and he said, 'Don't you think that of me. You've got trouble enough to bear; I'm not going to bring more upon you. I'll do my duty, and fight on to the bitter end.' And that's what he would have done."
"Have you any idea at all as to the cause of his absence?"
"Yes, sir. Foul play."
"Did he have any enemies?"
"Not to my knowledge, sir. He wasn't of a quarrelsome disposition."
"Were there any money transactions between him and Mr. Reginald Boyd?"
"Not exactly transactions, sir. Once, when we had sickness at home, Mr. Reginald saw that my husband was worried, and he asked him if he was in any trouble. Hearing what it was, and that we were frightened to send for a doctor because of the expense, he gave my husband two sovereigns. We thought it was a loan, but afterwards, when we offered to pay it off at a shilling a week, Mr. Reginald said it was only a friendly little present, and that he would be vexed if we didn't look upon it as such. I remember my husband saying, 'I wish I was working for Mr. Reginald instead of for his father.' We were very grateful to him, and I always looked upon him as a model young gentleman till old Mr. Boyd was murdered, and then-"
"Why do you pause? Go on."
"No, sir, I won't. It wouldn't be fair."
The Juror: "But we should like to hear, Mrs. Death?"
"I'm not going to say anything more about it, sir, unless you force me to it. Every man ought to have his chance."
The Juror (to the Coroner): "I think, Mr. Coroner, the witness should be directed to finish the sentence."
The Coroner (to Mrs. Death): "You would rather not say what is in your mind?"
Mrs. Death: "I would rather not, sir."
"Then I shall not ask you to disclose it."
The Juror: "But, Mr. Coroner-"
The Coroner: "I am conducting this inquiry, and I have given my decision." (To the witness). "How long did you remain up on Friday night after your husband went to make a last appeal to his employer?"
"I did not go to bed at all that night. I waited for him till nearly two in the morning, and then I went to Catchpole Square, on the chance that Mr. Samuel Boyd would be able to give me some information of him. I knocked at the door, and hung about the Square a goodish bit, but I couldn't get anyone to answer me. Then I came home again, and waited and waited."
"You went from your house at two in the morning?"
"About that time, sir."
"How long did it take you to reach Catchpole Square?"
"It was a dark night, and I should think it took me half an hour or so."
"So that you would be in front of Mr. Boyd's house at about half past two?"
"Yes, sir."
"You knocked more than once?"
"Several times, sir."
"And waited between each fresh summons for an answer?"
"For the answer that never came, sir."
"And after that, you hung about the Square. Can you say for how long a time?"
"I can't speak with certainty, but I should say I must have been there altogether quite an hour."
"That brings us to half past three?"
"Yes, sir."
The Juror: "I see your point, Mr. Coroner, but the witness did not probably possess a watch."
The Coroner: "Have you a watch or a clock in your rooms?"
"No, sir."
"Then your statement as to the time is mere guesswork?"
"No, sir. When I was in Catchpole Square I heard a church clock strike three."
The Coroner (to a constable): "Do you know if there is an officer in Court who lives near Catchpole Square?"
The Constable: "I do myself, sir."
The Coroner: "Is there a church close by that tolls the hour?"
The Constable: "Yes, sir, Saint Michael's Church."
The Coroner: "It can be heard in Catchpole Square?"
The Constable: "Quite plainly, sir."
The Coroner: "Thank you." (To Mrs. Death). "You heard the hour strike when you had been some time in the Square?"
"I must have been there half an hour."
"And you remained some time afterwards?"
"For as long again."
"Are you certain that the church clock struck three?"
"I am, sir. I counted the strokes."
"You did not move out of the Square?"
"No, sir."
"During the whole time you were there was the door of Mr. Samuel Boyd's house opened?"
"No, sir."
"You did not see any man come from the house, and linger on the threshold of the door?"
"No, sir."
"At about that hour of three did you observe a sudden flash of light from an opposite house?"
"No, sir, it was quite dark all the time I was there."
"You are quite positive?"
"Quite positive, sir."
While these questions were asked and answered the spectators in Court, many of whom had been present while Dr. Pye was giving his evidence yesterday, held their breath, as it were, and an expression of intense relief was observable in the countenances of Mr. Reginald Boyd and his wife and her parents.
The Juror: "Do you think, Mr. Coroner, that the evidence on the point of time is reliable?"
The Coroner: "As reliable as the evidence of witnesses on other points."
The Juror: "It is uncorroborated."
The Coroner: "So is the evidence of Dr. Pye, as Mr. Reginald Boyd remarked."
The Juror: "So is Mr. Reginald Boyd's evidence."
The Coroner: "Exactly." (To Mrs. Death.) "I have no further questions to ask you."