Читать книгу The Grays Manor Mystery - Aidan de Brune - Страница 7

Table of Contents

THE entrance into the court of a group of uniformed constables and detectives stopped the questions on Lorrimer's lips. He went to meet his men and give the necessary instructions for the disposal of the body and the quest of the murderer. For a few moments he watched the doctor making his examination of the corpse, then, after exchanging a few words with him in an undertone, motioned to Dening and Gray.

"If you don't mind, Mr. Dening, we'll go to your chambers. There's nothing for me to do here, now; Sergeant Norris is taking charge. I'd like to ask you a few questions—you and Mr. Gray. About that knife." The last three words were added, almost as an afterthought.

Dening nodded and led the way across the court and up to his chambers. In the study, Lorrimer went directly to the windows looking out on to the court. From there he could see the little group about the dead man. For a moment he stood, pulling thoughtfully at his underlip, then turned to the two men. Dening pointed to the tray on the corner of the desk and the chief inspector nodded thankfully. He felt that he needed a drink.

"So both you gentlemen knew Ted Symonds," he said, after he had slaked his thirst. "And you didn't expect him to call on you tonight, Mr. Dening?"

"No," the barrister answered without hesitation. "Though to-morrow I should probably have looked him up." Both men looked at him, questioningly. Dening was about to make a statement, explaining his intentions, when he thought he saw a warning in the detective's eyes.

"Symonds did quite a lot of work for me, one way and another." He branched on away from what he had intended saying. "He had a large and very efficient staff; that's the reason I gave him my detail work." He laughed at the look of surprise on Reuben Gray's face. "Perhaps I'd better explain, mainly for Mr. Gray's benefit, that while I am known in legal circles as an investigator—a solver of problems—I really only take the facts that others assemble and form them into a connected story that will bear the test of legal trial."

Lorrimer nodded. Dening, in the legal world, occupied the position he, at the Yard, filled. No man could possibly delve into all the byways and false trails of an investigation. That was work for the rank and file. The expert was the man who could take a multitude of varying factors and co-ordinate them into a coherent and puncture-proof story.

"Then, at the moment, you were not interested in any inquiry in which Symonds had a part?" he asked.

"Not to Symonds' knowledge. If he had come here tonight, as you suggest, he was coming on his own business."

The chief inspector nodded; he turned to the younger man.

"And you, Mr. Gray?"

"I think I told you, Mr. Lorrimer; Symonds was recently employed by me on an inquiry." The young man spoke slowly. "The matter was completed and Mr. Symonds received a cheque for his fees and expenses." He paused a moment and then added, "The business I entrusted to Mr. Symonds was partly of a family nature. I should prefer not to state it, unless it is absolutely essential. I don't think it is."

"You say the inquiry was closed and Symonds' account settled?" Receiving Gray's nod of assent, the detective continued, "Then there is no reason, within your knowledge, why Symonds should be in Fern Court tonight?"

"Except the one you suggest yourself that he wished to consult Mr. Dening."

"You thought you recognised the knife the murderer used." Suddenly Lorrimer turned to the barrister. "You recognised the make of knife, Mr. Dening? You said that it was of Spanish manufacture?"

A few moments, and he lifted from the case a sufflator, blowing a cloud of fine white powder over the dark knife handle. Again be bent to examine it. A shake of his head and he turned the knife over gingerly, dusting the powder on the newly exposed surface of the handle.

As the knife turned Dening heard a little gasp. He looked up quickly. Gray's face was ashen white. He was staring at the weapon as if unable to believe his eyes. With an effort he steadied and turned to a side table on which lay his hat and stick.

"Want me any more, Mr. Lorrimer?" He spoke in his usual careless drawl; yet Dening noticed that the lines about his mouth were drawn and hard. "If not, I'll get going."

"Not tonight, Mr. Gray." The detective spoke without looking up. "I can find you—"

"At the Albany." Gray supplied the address. "Queer ending to our chat, Dening."

A slight beckoning movement of his head and Dening followed Gray to the door. It was not until the outer door of the chambers was reached that the young man spoke again.

"Dening, that knife's bound up in what we were discussing this afternoon." His voice was low and eager. "I couldn't say anything before that policeman, but—"

"What exactly do you mean, Gray?"

"That knife! I'll swear I've seen it before, and very recently."

"Be careful." Dening spoke lightly, yet every nerve was tensed. "That knife is a very common pattern. Lorrimer said he could find a dozen like it in London, alone."

"Not exactly like that one." Gray clutched the barrister's arm, drawing him out on the landing. "Dening, I saw that knife yesterday. No, I can't be mistaken. You saw it. Did you notice that flaw on one of the edges; a strange double-nick about an inch and a half from where the haft joins the blade. That's too distinctive to make a mistake over. I tell you I saw that knife, yesterday!"

"Where?" The young man's excitement had infected the barrister. "Gray, you've got to be certain!"

"Certain! I wish I was mistaken." The young man laughed bitterly. "I saw that knife on Anton Letoit's study table when I was with him yesterday afternoon. Man, I sat with it in my hands, playing with it while we talked." His voice ran high up the register. "I don't care what that policeman says; my fingerprints must be all over it—and he knows they're there!"