Читать книгу The House on the Island - Arthur Gask - Страница 7

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THAT same evening, a few minutes before 5 o'clock, the two detectives, Carter and Stone, followed at a respectful distance by a quietly dressed man, who exhibited all over him the unmistakable stamp of 'gentleman's servant,' entered the palatial vestibule of the Elite Service Bureau in South Audley-street, and enquired of the uniformed attendant for the proprietor.

"Appointment at five," said the lanky detective curtly. "Name of Carter."

"Take a seat, gentlemen, will you please," replied the attendant, "and I'll inform Mr. Channing at once."

The detectives seated themselves upon a rich tapestry-covered divan, but their companion was content to remain standing a short distance away. There were a few other callers waiting, and they eyed the newcomers interestedly.

"Whew!" whistled Stone, looking round at the beautiful decorating and smart furnishings of the place. "What a swanky show! They must make some money here to keep up all this. Nothing cheap about, anywhere."

"The swellest registry office in London," grunted Carter. "They cater only for the aristocracy and the big county families, and they charge like hell. Run by an ex-service man and a bit of an aristocrat, too, himself, they say." His eyes in turn wandered round. "Yes, and by gosh, he's got some taste."

Stone chuckled suddenly. "But look at that young devil," he whispered, pointing to their silent companion, "he was born in some pantry, I'll swear, and he's been kept all his life polishing forks and spoons. Did you ever see anything like him now, and the way he looks the part?"

"He's an actor, Charlie," sighed Stone, "and he beats you and me there. We've no one to come up to him in the Yard."

The attendant re-appeared. "This way, please, gentlemen," he said. "Mr. Channing will see you at once," and the detectives, now closely followed by their sedate companion, were conducted along a thickly carpeted passage to a large room.

A man was seated before a big desk of many pigeon-holes, but he rose at once when his visitors were announced. He was good-looking and of an aristocratic appearance. He had a strong, reliant face, with big, calm, grey eyes. He was about forty years of age, and he held himself like a soldier.

The two detectives, with no ceremony, advanced briskly to the desk, but their companion, who had apparently now lost all his recent alertness, remained standing deferentially by the door. An acute observer, however, would have noticed that he had unobtrusively made quite sure that the door was securely closed behind him.

"Mr. Channing?" asked Carter, and the man at the desk inclined his head gravely.

"At your service, gentlemen. What can I——" he began, and then his eyes stared wonderingly behind Carter. His lips parted, a wave of surprise seemed to surge over his face, and then he suddenly darted forward with outstretched hand.

"Quartermaster," he exclaimed delightedly, "how do you do, Charlie Stone?" He laughed merrily. "Now don't say you've forgotten me. You haven't, surely?"

"Good Lord! No, Major," gasped the big detective, and his voice trembled. "But fancy you're being here," and they gripped hands together, as if they would never leave go.

"Never seen you since that day before Amiens," went on Stone huskily. "You remember that time, sir?"

"Bless your heart, yes," laughed the grey-eyed man. "We were in that dugout, and you gave me a bottle of beer."

"No, no," laughed back Stone, "only half, Sir, if you recollect. We shared the bottle together."

"Ah! so we did, Quartermaster," said the ex-major, and then his face was suddenly very solemn, "and we both nearly went West directly after!"

"And it would have been 'quite'—not 'nearly,' Sir," said Stone with equal seriousness, "if you hadn't been so ready with your pistol." He nodded his head gravely. "Four, with four shots wasn't bad, you know. You were on the mark every time."

The grey-eyed man laughed again. "And as my memory serves me, Quartermaster, you were pretty handy too, with that bayonet you picked up. You didn't give the other three much chance, now did you?"

They talked on animatedly for a couple of minutes or so, with both of them, apparently, quite oblivious of their surroundings, but then Mr. Channing stopped suddenly in the middle of a sentence and turned apologetically to the other detective.

"Forgive us, Mr. Carter," he said, smiling. "We are old comrades-in-arms, you see, and such a rush of memories stirred through me when I recognised him just now." He beamed once more on Stone, and then resuming his seat, his voice became at once cold and matter-of-fact. "But now to business, gentlemen, what can I do for you?"

Carter came at once to the point. "You are sending down a butler to Dr. Shillington, of Oakley Court, to-morrow," he said, sharply. "Are you not?"

"A temporary one," Mr. Channing replied, "until the permanent one I have selected for the post is free." He frowned. "But how do you come to know it?"

Carter ignored his question. "And are you aware," he asked, "exactly under what circumstances this unexpected need for a temporary butler has arisen?"

Mr. Channing nodded. "Yes, Dr. Shillington informed me that his butler had died very suddenly last night."

Carter sniffed. "Yes, very suddenly," he remarked drily. He looked the ex-major straight in the face. "The man was murdered, sir."

"Good God!" ejaculated Mr. Channing. "And why didn't the doctor tell me?"

"But haven't you seen this evening's paper, then?" asked the detective.

"No," was the reply, "not yet. I don't get one generally until I leave the office."

Carter spoke in a quick, decisive tone. "Yes, Mr. Channing," he went on, "the butler was murdered last night, and it is that, that brings us here. We are concerned now with the discovery of the murderer, and with that object in view we want to substitute one of our own men for the butler you are sending down to Oakley Court to-morrow."

"Oh!" commented Mr. Channing, "if that be all, it should easily be arranged. We have only to get Dr. Shillington's permission, and then I am completely in your hands," and he stretched towards the telephone upon his desk.

"But one moment, please," exclaimed Carter hastily, and his jaws went together in a snap. "Dr. Shillington is the last man on earth that should know what we are doing."

Mr. Channing frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean," said Carter quietly, "that the identity of the man who goes down to the asylum must be kept from the doctor at all costs."

Mr. Channing looked puzzled. "I don't understand," he said. "Will you please explain?"

The detective's voice was very stern. "It's like this, Mr. Channing," he said. "Murder has been done in that house and we have formed very definite suspicions about someone. We are pretty sure we are on the right track, but in order to verify our suspicion we want to get one of our men into the house so that he can carry out certain investigations, unknown to any of the inmates. Now we learnt by chance that you are sending a temporary butler down for three weeks." Carter smiled persuasively, "and we thought it would give us the very opportunity that we wanted."

The handsome face of the proprietor of the Elite Service Bureau was quite expressionless. "And so, as I understand it, Mr. Carter," he said very quietly, "you suggest that I shall take a fee from Dr. Shillington for furnishing him with a servant suitable to his requirements, and—" a note of scorn crept into his voice, "and plant a spy into his household, instead." He shook his head indignantly. "No, sir. It can't be done. It's against all my principles. That's not the way in which I conduct this bureau."

"But, Mr. Channing," said Carter sternly, "you don't understand——"

"Put all the cards on the table, Elias," broke in Stone abruptly. "The major's as white as they make 'em, and we can trust him all the way. Half confidences are no good here."

For just a moment Carter hesitated, but then apparently realising that there was no help for it, he did as his colleague had suggested and frankly put the Service Bureau proprietor in possession of all that had happened that day.

Mr. Channing seemed at first inclined to hold to his indignation, but as the recital wore on, the hard look on his features relaxed, and in the end he was regarding the detective with amiability again.

"My word," he exclaimed when Carter had finished, "but what a charge to bring against Dr. Shillington, with the position that he holds in his profession. He is easily the foremost mental specialist in the kingdom, and although I admit I've never liked the man, there can be no doubt as to his importance in the medical world."

"He's mad probably." said Carter. "They say you can always pick out an asylum doctor from among any number of his brethren. From living so much among crook people, they get mental themselves."

Mr. Channing looked thoughtful.

"Well, I suppose I shall have to agree," he said reluctantly, "although I very much dislike the part you are making me play," he smiled again at Stone, "and I think, if it were not for my old quartermaster here, I really should even now refuse."

"But you're not compromising yourself dishonorably in any way," smiled back Stone, "for if Dr. Shillington is guilty you've rendered a distinct public service, and, if he's innocent,"—the big man shrugged his shoulders—"well, you're helping us to clear him of a very serious charge."

"And in the latter case," added Carter, "we promise you he shall never know that you have intervened. He will never learn who the temporary butler was."

"But, look here, gentlemen," said Mr. Channing, and he frowned, "if under your importunities I am willing to throw my own private honor into the melting pot, please understand that I am not willing at any cost to belittle the reputation of this service bureau of mine." He smiled drily. "So I tell you, frankly, that the man whom you select to go down to Dr. Shillington's must be an efficient one and fully capable of carrying out all his duties or else—he does not go down at all." He spoke most emphatically. "One thing I always do guarantee to my clients and that is—capacity. So I'll have no clumsy amateur, please, with false whiskers representing the bureau. The doctor is a shrewd man and would fire any bungler at once, and then I should have done violence to all my principles and injured my business without any compensating results whatsoever."

"Oh! you needn't worry there, Mr. Channing," said Carter confidently. "This man we've brought here with us will do you credit, I promise you, and you can put him through his paces now."

"Hum!" muttered Mr. Channing, and for the first time since his visitors had arrived he bent his gaze reflectively across the long room towards the man who was standing by the door. "So that's he, is it?" he said very quietly. "Well, I must say, he doesn't look too intelligent. He doesn't appear to me to have much kick."

"I've not known him yet 12 hours, sir," sighed Carter mournfully, "but I'd exchange my brain for his, any day. He's most extraordinary."

Mr. Channing beckoned with his hand and the man who had been standing so quietly by the door, came deferentially forward. The service bureau proprietor took careful stock of him for a long moment, and the inspection was apparently satisfactory.

"So you are a gentleman's servant?" he snapped. "You're a butler, already?"

"Yes, sir," replied the man with great respect.

"Know all your duties?" asked Mr. Channing. "Understand pantry-work and cellar-work, beside waiting on table? Can valet as well?"

"Yes, sir," replied the man.

"Where was your last place?"

"In Sydney, New South Wales, with the Chief Commissioner of Police."

"Ah! An Australian. Then how long have you been in England?"

"A fortnight since yesterday, sir."

Mr. Channing frowned. "Then who over here can speak for your efficiency?"

Carter broke in quickly. "We'll stand for his character, Mr. Channing," he said. "He's well known to headquarters here."

"But his capacity, Mr. Carter?" said Mr. Channing with irritation. "I must know something about that."

"Sir," interrupted the man himself very gravely, "I should not be offering myself if I were not quite capable, for I am aware it is a dangerous house I am going into and that I am running considerable risk. I do not forget how the last butler met his death, and if our suspicions are correct, then the slightest slip on my part and I may come to the same end."

"So, so," said Mr. Channing with a suspicion of sarcasm in his voice, "then you have dabbled in crime work, too."

"Yes, sir," replied the man.

Mr. Channing stared hard for quite a long time, and then he rapped out—

"Well, what's your name, anyhow?"

"William Wilkin——" began the man, but Carter broke in sharply.

"No, no," he said sternly, and he addressed himself direct to Mr. Channing, "that's not his name. It's Gilbert Larose."

The ex-major sat up with a jerk, his eyes opened wide, and he stared wonderingly at the shabby-looking man in black. Then for the second time that evening he stepped impulsively forward and held out his hand.

"Gilbert Larose, the detective, of New South Wales!" he exclaimed, and his face was now all wreathed in smiles. "Delighted to meet you, I'm sure. I know a lot about and of the marvellous things you've done. I was in Sydney four years ago, just after you'd caught the Botanical Gardens murderer, and everyone was talking about you then." He turned reproachfully to Carter—"But why didn't you tell me at once who he was and I'd have accepted him as a matter of course, without demur. His reputation in Australia is so good that I could not have refused."

"But we never knew that you were likely to have heard of him," frowned Carter. "He was a fairy tale to me even before yesterday."

"Well, we'll get everything ship-shape now," said Mr. Channing briskly, "without any further delay. Sit down, please, Mr. Larose, and I'll tell you about the man whose place you will be taking to-morrow. There are several things it will be necessary for you to know."

And so it came to pass that Gilbert Larose caught the Colchester express at Liverpool-street next day, to embark, had he only known it, upon one of the most dangerous expeditions of his adventurous career.