Читать книгу The House on the Island - Arthur Gask - Страница 6

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THE car was driven swiftly out of the grounds, but directly it was round the corner and out of sight of the lodge gates, at a sign from Carter, it was turned a little way up a side lane and pulled up to one side of the road.

"We'll get out," he said, "and have a talk. You wait here," he went on to the driver, "and keep your eyes skinned as to what cars pass coming from the asylum way. I don't expect you'll see anyone, but, at any rate, look out for that fat doctor chap, and if he passes give us a whistle. Understand?"

They moved off for about a hundred yards, and then sat down on a bank under a tree.

"Now, then," said Carter, "what are we going to do? For if there's any truth in what we suspect now, it's no good trying to pick up any clues here outside."

"Waste of time," grunted Stone. "Shillington's in it up to the neck." He eyed Larose good-humoredly. "You're smart, young chap. You tumbled to it, first."

"Yes, you're an acquisition, Mr. Larose," agreed Carter cordially. "You're a bit quicker in your strike than we are, but mind you," and he frowned slightly, "if you hit out always as quickly as you did this morning, I'm not certain your blows will always be as true. Slow and sure is our motto over here. Now isn't it, Charlie?"

"Slow be damned," growled Stone, "if you see a dial before you, punch it, is what I say." He frowned heavily. "Now what's going to be our next move? We must decide quickly."

"Well," said Larose gently, "subject to your approval, I'd like to be that temporary butler he's engaging."

"But how?" asked Carter sharply.

"We'll find out from the village here," replied Larose, "as to where he made his call—it was to a registry office, of course—and then you'll go there and get me taken on or else we'll bribe that butler to-morrow, or kidnap him if he's not bribeable, and then I'll take his place."

The two older men looked fixedly at one another, and then a slow grin spread across their faces.

"But, good gracious man," said Carter, after a moment, "the police don't do things like that over here. We can't kidnap respectable citizens, and we don't bribe people either."

"We haven't the money for one thing," supplemented Stone sadly, "we're too badly paid. Besides, we police are fairly decent as a force—" he lowered his voice to a stage whisper—"except for Carter, here."

Larose hastened to put himself right.

"Oh! of course," he said getting rather red, "you'll know best what to do, but still I thought this business was so serious that any means would justify the end." He spoke with great earnestness. "You see, although I hardly dare to say it, I believe we're treading now very near the kingdom of the Iron Man."

"So do I," added Stone impulsively, with all traces of his levity gone. "That wretched butler stumbled on some discovery and he died so that this discovery might not become known." He shook his head frowningly. "I've been in the police for over five and twenty years now, and I tell you," his eyes swept over the bleak and marshy countryside, "this damned place fairly reeks of crime."

"Well, how could you arrange for me to take that butler's place?" urged Larose persuasively. "You could go to the registry office people, couldn't you?"

"Yes, we could do that, certainly," admitted Carter slowly. He looked at the Australian doubtfully. "But you're not a butler or a valet, are you?"

"Both," replied Larose promptly, and he added with a smile, "I was two months once in the employ of an American millionaire when he was visiting Sydney, and he never dreamed I was in the C.I.D." He laughed reminiscently. "He wanted to take me away with him when he left Australia, too."

Carter took out his watch and then rose instantly to his feet.

"Well, we'll go into Colchester at once, now," he said, "and try and follow up that clue about the house decorator's men. I don't know the firm you mentioned, but we'll soon find them. We'll call at the post office here though first."

Pulling up at the village post office, it was Stone, being nearest to the door, who went in.

"Police," he said to the girl in charge and he showed her his card. "No, don't be frightened, I'm always nice to anyone with a pretty face." He smiled in a fatherly manner. "Now all I want to ask you is, how many trunk calls did you put through yesterday?"

"Five," replied the girl after a moment's thought.

"Got the numbers?" asked the detective. "Well, give them to me." He glanced at the paper the girl found for him. "Not much good," he said. "Nothing here. Good morning," and he turned to go out, but then stopped suddenly. "Oh, I forgot, any trunk calls to-day?"

"Yes," was the reply, "one for London. Marylebone 3075. Just now, from the asylum."

The detective sighed. "No good either." He glanced sharply at the girl. "Been on duty all the time today?"

"Yes, sir, I take all the calls."

"Good girl," said the detective smiling, and he waved his hand. "Good luck! Good-bye."

He jumped back in the car. "Marylebone 3075, young man," he said, "and don't you forget it. Jot it down."

Half an hour later and having left the big police car in the station yard at Colchester, the three detectives made their way on foot to the building and decorating firm of Smith & Rattery.

Passing a small jeweller's and optician's shop in the main street, Larose caught sight of some aluminium field glasses in the window.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed, pointing out the glasses to his companions, "they're the very spit of the ones the butler had. Let's go and see if he bought his here."

They went into the shop and at Larose's request a pair of the glasses was taken from the window.

"No," said the detective, after a moment's inspection. "I'm afraid they're not powerful enough for what I want."

"But, of course, sir," replied the proprietor of the shop, "you realise that they are quite inexpensive. You can hardly expect much for thirty shillings. They are only a job line, but they're good value for the money."

"Oh, yes," smiled Larose affably, "they're cheap, right enough," and then he added. "I think you sold one to a man I know at Great Oakley. A Mr. Jakes, if you remember him."

The shop man nodded his head. "Quite well," he replied. "Dr. Shillington's butler, you mean. I've known him for many years. We attend to the clocks at the asylum." He seemed apologetic. "Of course, as I say again, these glasses are not high-class ones, but—" and he smiled, "they would answer Mr. Jake's purpose. He said he only wanted them for just about a mile."

They left the shop and then Larose whistled. "Now that makes things much easier," he exclaimed. "Only a mile! Great Scot! I must get that situation."

They were at Smith & Rattery's in another hundred yards. It was quite a fair-sized establishment in a side street just off the main one, and it was faced in front by a large shop, in the window of which were displayed a selection of baths, basins, fireplaces and other articles appertaining to the building trade.

"Let's walk by first," said Larose quickly. "I want to see what it's like outside. Go slowly, please."

They walked by as the Australian suggested, and then when turning to retrace their steps, Stone asked curiously, "What the devil was that for now? One builder's shop is much the same as another, isn't it?"

"But I wanted to see if it was a lockup one," replied Larose, "and it is."

"Well, we'll go in now," he said. "We've a lot to do, and we mustn't waste time."

But Larose suddenly laid his hand upon the detective's arm.

"Look here," he said hurriedly, "is it absolutely necessary, do you think, that we take these men into our confidence? They may mean to act quite all right with us, but they may be indiscreet and give the whole thing away." He spoke with great earnestness. "You see, we're risking everything, letting them know anything at all."

Carter regarded him with a frown. "But what else can we do, young man," he said, "if we are to get the information that we want?"

"Well, I thought—" replied Larose, and he hesitated, "I thought perhaps I might be able to act on my own without troubling anybody." He inclined his head in the direction of the builders' shop. "That's only a lockup place, you know, and I could get in to-night and go through the books. They're certain to keep proper wages lists, a big firm like that."

"But how get in?" asked Carter aghast. "Break in, do you mean?"

"Well, not exactly," replied Larose, looking slightly embarrassed, "but you see, I'm rather handy with a bit of wire, and as there's a skylight over the shop, I notice, I shouldn't have much difficulty in getting in. I could——"

"Thank you, young man," interrupted Carter, sharply, "but that's not our way over here." He smiled grimly "I don't doubt your capacity for a moment, but——" he shook his head, "we can't let you do that," and he started to walk back in the direction of the shop.

Stone winked at Larose. "You're a nice prize-packet," he whispered, and then he buttoned up his coat tightly and pretended to look alarmed. "Now I hope you haven't taken a fancy to my watch, by any chance, thinking it may keep better time than yours." He nodded his head vigorously. "Well, if I miss it I shall know where it's gone."

But Larose did not laugh; he sighed instead. "You're slow over here," was his only comment.

The three detectives advanced into the shop and enquired for the head of the firm.

"This way," said an assistant, and he led them to a comfortably furnished office at the back of the shop.

"Mr. Rattery," he called out, "gentlemen, to see you," and with no further ceremony he ushered them into the office and closed the door behind them. A stout man immediately rose up from a desk and at once came forward. He was bright and happy looking. He had a round face with a good fresh complexion and big blue eyes. His expression was open and frank.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" he asked respectfully.

"You're one of the heads of the firm?" queried Carter, sharply.

The stout man bowed. "I am the head." He smiled. "Mr. Smith's been dead many years. I'm the firm."

Carter handed him his card. "Well, we're from Scotland Yard," he said; and then, to soften down the shock he saw he was undoubtedly giving, he smiled affably and added, "We've come on a very confidential mission, Mr. Rattery, and to ask a great favor of you."

The builder looked nervous. "From Scotland Yard!" he ejaculated. He shook his head. "I've no idea why you've come." He motioned towards some chairs. "But please sit down, gentlemen."

"Now, Mr. Rattery," said Carter very solemnly when they were all seated, "we're trusting you a lot in coming here, for we're putting you in possession of information that, as yet, no one in all England knows, except we three. You understand?"

"I'm honored," said Mr. Rattery, recovering a little, "I'm honored, I'm sure."

"And we're nothing to do with the Essex police," went on Carter. "We're headquarters' men, and we've come direct from London, here."

"Oh!" said Mr. Rattery, and he opened his blue eyes very wide. "It's something grave, then."

"Yes, the trouble is this," said Carter, and he lowered his voice to quiet and confidential tones. "We're on the special investigation of those crimes that have been occurring recently about here. The robberies and murders at those country houses—at Layham Hall, for instance, at the Manor House in Sudbury, and at White Notley Towers."

"I know them all," said the stout builder, now very pale in the face, "I've been doing work there, at every one of those places."

"Of course you have," smiled Carter, "and that's why we've come to you. That's the very reason why we're here now. You see, it's like this, Mr. Rattery," and he raised his hand to emphasise his point. "When these houses were robbed they were done so by wretches who knew exactly how to find their way about. They were gone through by robbers who knew all the situations of every room, who knew every staircase and every corridor, who were acquainted as to how the doors and windows opened and also as to where the alarms were set. In brief, these men must have been supplied with plans somehow, and what we think——" the detective's voice grew very stern, "what we have reason to believe is, that it was one of your men who furnished them with these plans."

The builder looked frightened.

"But I can't believe," he said shakily, "that any of my employees would act like that. I'm so particular whom I employ and I've never had any complaints before." A note of pride crept into his voice. "I have had a very large connection in the district for many years, and I work for some of the best people in the shire."

"We know you do," said Carter warmly, "and we know the respect, too, in which your firm is held, but still——" and he smiled sadly, "I'm afraid a black sheep must have crept somehow into your flock." His voice became brisk and matter of fact. "Well, Mr. Rattery, what we want of you is this. Now, you employ a good many men, don't you?"

"From fifty to a hundred in the busy times," replied the builder, "but I haven't so many on my books just now."

"Well, can you tell us," said the detective, "can you give us the names of any men who worked at all those three houses I mentioned? At Layham Hall, in Sudbury, and at White Notley Towers."

"Certainly, I can," replied the builder, "if indeed any of my men happened to have been sent to all of those places in turn which, for my sake, I hope not, and which I think also is wholly improbable, for I had a great rush of work in the early months of the year," and he rose from his chair and took down a big ledger from off a shelf.

He began looking from one page to another in the book, and there was complete silence in the room.

Larose hardly breathed. His theory was about to be put to the test, and if it were found wanting he would be toppling from his little pedestal at once. He watched the builder's face with anxious eyes.

For a few moments Mr. Rattery looked quite undisturbed; he was smiling, even, with a confident air. But suddenly he frowned; then it was obvious that he was uneasy, and finally his jaw dropped and he gave a great sigh.

"Well, I'm sorry to say you're right to begin with," he said. "Two of the same men were on all those three jobs. Tom Rutley and Fred Duke." He smiled wanly. "But one of them's quite impossible at all events. Old Tom's worked for us for over thirty years, and I would stake my life on his honesty. He's a most respectable family man."

"Tell us where he lives, then," said Carter, "and we'll make some enquiries on our own. But about this other man, Duke—what of him?"

"He's a good workman," replied the builder slowly, "and very intelligent, and I've been employing him now, on and off, for over a year. He's about thirty, and a single man, I believe."

"Well, we must have a look at them both," said Carter. "Are they working for you now?"

The builder gave a quiet laugh. "Yes," he replied, "and funnily enough, they're both working together close here at the present moment." He looked at his watch. "Yes, if you go to the Mid-Essex bank just opposite the Cups Hotel, you'll find them both on the outside of the building there. They're painters, and you can't mix them up." He smiled. "Rutley's stout like me, and Duke is a slight dark man, quiet and rather refined looking."

The detectives rose up to go, and then Carter said very solemnly—-

"But we can depend on you, Mr. Rattery, can't we? Not a word even to your wife, you promise?"

The builder nodded. "Quite all right, sir," he said quietly. "No one shall get a word out of me."

"But I distrust that man," remarked Larose when they were out in the street. "I wish you had let me do as I wanted to, and find out in my own."

Carter turned on him in a flash. "Distrust him!" he snarled. "Well, you're not much of a judge of character then. Why, one look at the man and you can see he's as open as the day."

"That's just what I meant," replied Larose meekly. "He won't be able to look this Duke in the face now, and if Duke's got an uneasy conscience, he'll see there's something up at once."

Carter snorted, but made no comment. Stone chuckled, and on the quiet gave the Australian a dig in the ribs.

They were at the Bank in a very few minutes, and there right enough they saw the two men, painting. The latter were suspended in a cradle from the coping of the roof, but as the cradle was not far off from the ground, the detectives could take in everything about them quite easily. The street was the main one in the town and wide, and full of people, so there was no danger of their quarry noticing them as they watched.

They picked out Duke at once. He was slim and wiry-looking, and was smoking a cigarette. He had big brown eyes, and as he plied his brush, they roved interestedly from side to side upon the passers by on the pavement beneath him.

"He doesn't miss much," growled Stone, "and he's got the restless look of a man who knows he's got to step carefully wherever he goes."

"He's a painter," remarked Carter drily, "and as he often has to work at heights, that would naturally make him careful, wouldn't it?"

"Now don't you be jealous, Elias," said Stone reprovingly, "because the idea came to me before it did to you." He grinned at Larose. "We're all in co. on this job, remember."

They watched the two men at their work for a minute or so and then Stone said suddenly:—

"Now, I've got another brain-wave and I'm going to try it out. You two get to the other side of the road and keep an eye on our friends from there. I'm going up the street a bit but I'll be back in two shakes and you'll see what I mean," and taking it for granted that they would follow his directions, he left them at once and moved off among the pedestrians.

"Better do what he says," grunted Carter, "as I told you he's got more sense than you'd think and there's probably something in what he's going to do," and they crossed the road and took up their station just in front of 'The Cups' Hotel.

With a better point of view of the whole street now, they saw Stone go up to a policeman about a hundred yards away. A short colloquy followed and then the big detective rejoined them, looking as if he were very amused about something.

"Smart chap, that constable," he grinned. "He recognised me almost before I made myself known, and he took his instruction without any explanations, like a lamb. Now you watch. He's going to walk three times past that bank in as many minutes and I bet you, friend Duke never takes his eyes off him once. If he's a crook, he'll know the police are his natural enemies and he'll be interested in any one of them, at any time, accordingly, and he won't be able to keep himself from showing it."

And three minutes later Charlie Stone rubbed his hands together and chuckled.

"There—wasn't I right?" he said. "The beggar never took his eyes off him once after he'd caught sight of him. And did you notice he dropped his cigarette even, in his excitement when Robert went by the third time."

"If I had that man," commented Carter solemnly, "for ten minutes to myself, I'd turn him inside out and see down to the very bottom of his soul. He's got a weak chin and——" the lanky detective squared his jaws together "by Gad! I've half a mind to try."

"No, no, Elias," objected Stone hastily, "not yet. We must be deeper in it before we show our hands. He might be harder to deal with than you think, for if he's a member of this gang, you can bet your life that they wouldn't be trusting their skins to a man who was too much of a fool. Besides, if he has got a weak chin, which I grant you, he's not got a bad facial angle, and he's got good eyes. No it'd be too much of a gamble to tackle him straight away now. We must shadow him first."

"Well," said Carter grudgingly, "we know where he lives, and we'll put Stevens on him before night." He thought for a moment. "Yes, Stevens would be best. He's been in the building line himself, once."

They returned to the police station and picking up their car, five minutes later were proceeding at a rapid pace towards London.