Читать книгу The Grays Manor Mystery - Aidan de Brune - Страница 8

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WHEN Dening returned, to his study he found Lorrimer again standing at the window, looking out at the dimly lit court. As he crossed the room to join the police officer he glanced at the desk. The knife still lay on the blood-stained handkerchief.

Lorrimer half turned at the sound-of the barrister's steps. There was a puzzled frown on his face. He looked towards the knife and nodded.

"Anything there?" Dening's eyes followed the man's glance.

"Not a thing. Of course we don't find fingerprints, nowadays. The detective-story writers have put the general public wise to that precaution, Still—"

He paused, turning again to the window.

"Good view of the court from here, Mr. Dening. See, from this window to where poor Symonds lay is a clear, straight line—and not so far. By the way, your man confirms what Mr. Gray said, that he was only here about ten minutes before you got home. You found him at this window?"

"Almost exactly where you are standing." Dening was puzzled. The chief inspector was speaking inconsequently.

"Notice that knife?" Lorrimer went to the desk, picked up the knife and returned to the window, handing the weapon to the barrister. "Dangerous sort of weapon; and used tonight in a dangerous way." He paused, then abruptly: "Mr. Gray wearing gloves when you entered this room?"

The barrister hesitated to reply. Had Reuben Gray been wearing, gloves when he had come, upon him in that room? He remembered that While he had stood on the landing a few minutes, before, Gray had taken gloves from his pocket. He had been pulling them on when he walked down the stairs.

"Let that pass. I don't want you to answer unless you're quite certain. But in the court I asked you if you had been followed while on your way home—and, you hesitated to answer. I am asking you that question, again, Mr. Dening."

The barrister nodded. He had intended to tell, Lorrimer of the shots fired at him in Temple Lane, when they were alone. Yet he would not mention the inquiry with which he had been entrusted that afternoon. He did not believe that had anything to do with, the shooting.

In a few words Dening repeated the account of his movements that evening, now including the incidents in Temple Lane. Lorrimer listened in silence.

"I thought there was something uncommon about it," he said when the barrister concluded. "You told a straight story—up to the time when speaking of entering the Temple. Then you hesitated and commenced, to pick your word's carefully. So you had the idea that the man who shot at you was Symonds?"

"That idea came to my mind when, we were down in the court—he was dressed very like the man I saw running down the lane; but the idea's absurd. There is no reason why Symonds should want to shoot me."

Yet even as he spoke some instinct warned Dening that he was not reasoning correctly. He was not taking into account the statement made by Sir John McNiven that afternoon. The man had stated that they had engaged Symonds to track down Matthew Ashcombe. But that had been before Ashcombe had attempted blackmail!

The men in the Altona Company's boardroom had stated that they had tried to trace Ashcombe out of curiosity; after the man had successfully accomplished certain work for them. Had that statement been true? Had not the first payments to Ashcombe been blackmail? The possibilities to theorise were endless. He was certain that only a fraction of the truth had been told him that afternoon.

Matthew Ashcombe had undertaken certain work for that group of men. Was the Matthew Ashcombe who had undertaken the work the Matthew Ashcombe who had attempted blackmail in a large manner? He had to consider that possibility. He had to remember that Symonds had been engaged to trace and expose Matthew Ashcombe. The registered mail trick was ingenious. Had Symonds solved that? Had temptation come to him when he had discovered how the trick had been worked. Had he duplicated the trick for his own benefit?

Had Symonds, potential blackmailer of the seven men, discovered that he, Dening, had been commissioned to uncover the blackmailer? Had he, the blackmailer, tried to shoot him in Temple Lane—the one sure way to silence the man whose investigations he feared? The theory was probable.

Yet he had known Edward Symonds well; he had had many dealings with him. He believed he had penetrated the man's character. He believed him honest—he had discovered no signs of criminal tendencies in him.

"No!" Dening turned to the Chief Inspector suddenly. "I was mistaken. I do not think Edward Symonds was the man who shot at me."

"Yet you have not a glimmer of an idea who the man was?"

"Not the slightest idea."

"We've got Gray to consider," Lorrimer mused. "He knows something about that knife; I saw that in his face while he looking at it. Hold a magnifying glass against a dark background, and it makes a fair mirror. Now, just what does he know? But we're getting ahead of things! Let's go back to Symonds."

"When you first told me your movements I though Symonds had followed you down here from the Strand. But the shooting at you in the lane alters that. If Symonds had been trailing you, he'd have seen you Stop and look around; he'd have seen you fall, when you started to run across the road. He'd have come down the lane at the double. He didn't. So we've got to find another theory."

Dening looked at the detective inquiringly.

"Symonds might have come down here after Gray." Lorrimer spoke thoughtfully. "He may even have come here with Gray; that's probable. Anyway Gray comes up here and Symonds waits for him. He doesn't take any particular care to conceal himself. Perhaps he thought you were at home and that Gray was engaged with you. Then, suddenly, you turn into the court. Symonds has just time to dodge into the shadows. You pass into this house and Symonds comes out into the open. He stands under the light standard, looking up at this window." The detective paused. "That's probable. Right under the light is one of the best places to watch from. The shadows from a light above strangely distort. It's almost impossible to recognise anyone standing under a light that way, especially if viewing that person from a height."

"What do you suggest Symonds was trailing Gray for?" asked Dening.

"Perhaps you can find a better answer to that question than I can," Lorrimer laughed slightly. "We'll take the stage as set. Symonds is in the court, watching these windows. Gray is up here, watching Symonds." Again the chief inspector paused. For quite a time he was silent.

"Gray knew that knife; perhaps he had it with him when he came here." The detective hesitated. "There's quite a number of people who are expert at knife throwing—people we don't suspect of that art. For one, I can throw a knife with considerable accuracy. For all I know you can throw a knife as well as I can."

Dening shook his head, smiling.

"Anyway, Symonds came out of his concealment when you entered the house. No doubt Gray saw you enter the court. A sudden rush of anger at Symonds came over him. He saw an opportunity and took it; knowing that within a couple of minutes you would be in the room and create for him a fine alibi. He slid the window open, threw the knife and then lowered the sash, tearing off his glove." Again the chief inspector paused. "Gray took his gloves out of his pocket and put them on when he went out of the door, didn't he?"

Involuntarily Dening nodded. The chief inspector had reasoned truly.

"There's one flaw in your argument, Lorrimer," he said after a pause. "Gray was up here and Symonds was in the court. That knife was plunged right up to the hilt in Symonds' breast. The distance was too far. A knife thrown that distance would only wound."

"Wrong again, Mr. Dening. You're forgetting the fall from this window to the court. Why, the acceleration of the fall, when the knife was thrown would more than compensate for the loss of muscular power. No, Mr. Dening, the case looks fairly complete against that young man. All I've got to do now is to establish a motive."

For some time the detective paced the room, deep in thought. At length his face cleared and he turned to the barrister.

"Mr. Gray said that he had recently engaged Symonds on an inquiry. Do you know what the inquiry was about?"

Dening hesitated. For the time he had no intention of telling Lorrimer of the commission he had accepted from Sir John McNiven and his associates. Later, perhaps, he would have had to take him into his confidence, but for the moment he must keep his own counsel. Still, he could answer the question.

"Reuben Gray told me that he had engaged Symonds to trace a certain Matthew Ashcombe. I believe Symonds failed—" He paused, staring at the chief inspector in amazement. "What do you know of Matthew Ashcombe, Lorrimer?"

"Damned little." The dark eyes of the police officer flashed. "But, I'm thinking that Sergeant Chambers would like to have a talk with that man." He waited a moment, then continued: "We raided the Blue Heaven night club a few evenings ago. Chambers was in charge of the raiding party. Put quite a little flutter up among the angels. Most of them stampeded. In searching the place Chambers found, in one of the curtained recesses, a letter. It was on the table and evidently the writer had left it there when he bolted, before the police charge.

"That letter wasn't addressed to any particular person. Just started Dear Sir.' Rather a strange letter. It was signed 'Matthew Ashcombe,' and across it lay a partially addressed envelope, addressed 'R. G——' A blot followed where the pen had been hastily dropped on it."

"Lorrimer, where is that letter?" Dening gasped eagerly.

"Interested? Well, it's down at the Yard. If you call, Chambers or I will give you a look at it. Not feeling tired?"

"How can anyone feel tired when you're on the go?" the barrister laughed. "What's on your mind now?"

"I like to keep going while the going's good." The chief inspector grinned. "What about a little walk up the Strand—to Kingsway? Symonds' offices are in Royston House. Perhaps there we may find the cause of his death?"