Читать книгу Sir Adam Disappeared - E. Phillips Oppenheim - Страница 7

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Martin Mowbray pushed his way through the remainder of the little crowd who were still loitering on the pavement, passed the two policemen who stood on guard at the doors and entered the bank. Captain Elmhurst was seated on the topmost step of the stairway leading down into the vault. He turned his head at Mowbray's approach.

"Any news at the club?" he asked.

"None."

"Not a word about Sir Adam?"

"Not a word. How about things here?"

"I have sent for the old man who looked after him," Elmhurst confided. "Seems Sir Adam wouldn't have a woman near the place except first thing in the morning to come and clear up after he had gone to the bank. This old fellow--Dyson, his name is--used to come at seven, make his tea and cook his breakfast and potter around until it was time to open the bank. Then he came back again at six-thirty, cooked the dinner, put his master to bed and cleared out again. He was messenger here once but now he is simply doorkeeper."

"Where did you find out all this?" Mowbray enquired.

"From Crawshay, the younger of the two clerks. He has just gone."

"Did he know anything about those stairs?"

"He knows about them all right but he is as dumb as a mute. The old man did seem to be able to put the fear of God into than all--Groome included."

One of the policemen knocked at the door of the parlour and made his appearance.

"The man named Dyson whom you sent for, sir," he reported.

A grizzled-haired, tired-looking man of apparently between fifty-five and sixty years of age, with the remains of a military carriage, came forward and saluted. His manner was respectful but he was very much on his guard.

"You have been acting as Sir Adam Blockton's servant, have you not?" Elmhurst asked as he pointed to one of the high-backed chairs.

"For anything I know I still am, sir."

"Of course. We are in a little trouble, however, and you must help us. Sir Adam is not to be found and something has happened down in this vault between his apartments and the bank which requires explanation. You understand that?"

"Yes, sir."

"You know, perhaps, that I am Chief of the Police for Norchester?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you understand that you must answer my questions."

"That I am not so sure about, sir," was the dogged reply.

Elmhurst's eyebrows went up. The man's manner was not ingratiating.

"Explain what you mean by that," he ordered.

"When I entered Sir Adam's service," Dyson went on, holding his cap in his hand and staring fixedly at it, "he offered me good wages and an easy job. I could scarcely believe my senses when I added things up. 'There is just one condition, Dyson,' he said, seeing I looked a bit dazed. 'You will never answer a single question about me, my habits or my surroundings.' I was not making a long job about that, sir. I said straight out that wild horses wouldn't draw a word from me. There's a many been curious and asked questions about Sir Adam. Not one answer have they ever had from me."

"That's all right, Dyson," the Chief Constable admitted, "but you see I represent the police and when I ask you a question it has to be answered. If you persist in your refusals I shall have to send you before a magistrate and you will be sent to prison."

"And to prison I'll go, sir," the man declared, "before I'll break my word."

"I hope," Captain Elmhurst remonstrated, "that you will reconsider that when you understand the circumstances. Sir Adam has disappeared."

"He'll be here at six-thirty to change for dinner, sir--which reminds me that I must be getting up into his room."

"Supposing he's not there at six-thirty?"

"For five-and-twenty years, sir, he's been ready on the tick, except for the few nights he has happened to be out of Norchester and they didn't amount to anything," Dyson told him. "He will be there to-night and if I had been answering questions about his doings I couldn't face him."

"Supposing you leave Sir Adam alone for a time, Elmhurst," the young lawyer suggested. "Surely Dyson cannot mind telling us where those stairs lead to and by whom they were used."

Dyson considered the matter.

"If you have the law on your side, sir, you will find that out in no time," he declared. "You don't find out from me, though."

Elmhurst smiled a little grimly.

"Why, you're becoming more reticent every moment, Dyson," he observed.

"You're a policeman and you have a right to ask any questions you choose, I imagine, sir," the man replied. "Sir Adam would never mind my telling you what time he took his meals, that he always changed for dinner, that he drank a half a bottle of wine or a measured whisky-and-soda and that he went to bed every night on the tick of ten. I've heard him tell other people those things but I have never heard him tell strangers about them stairs. No more shan't I."

"Looks to me," Captain Elmhurst warned him, "as though you want to come and pay us a visit at the Borough Gaol."

"When my turn comes and the law says so I shan't resist," was the stubborn reply, "but in Sir Adam's lifetime I am going to keep my word to him."

"How do you know that Sir Adam is alive?" Martin Mowbray asked quickly.

For a moment the man was taken by surprise. He recovered himself almost at once.

"There ain't anything ever likely to happen to him, sir," he declared. "Twenty-five years it is I've waited on him and never a dose of medicine has he needed or taken. He's had his wine and his nightcap regular, he's slept well through the night, he's drunk his tea in the morning and eaten his breakfast afterwards. A man who is in that state of health doesn't go off sudden-like."

"Not of his own accord," Captain Elmhurst commented softly.

Dyson's face became grimmer.

"You're not going to tell me, sir, that anyone has done him an injury," he said.

"We know just as much about it as everyone else concerned," the Chief Constable continued. "We know that Sir Adam was in the reading room of the club at ten minutes past one this afternoon, we know that at thirteen minutes past he was not in the room and not a soul has seen him since. We have searched the club premises in vain. It was almost impossible for him to leave the room without being seen by one of the other members. It was quite impossible for him to have left the club and yet he is not there. That is the mystery we are trying to solve, Dyson, and you don't seem much inclined to help us."

The man smiled.

"I'll help you with a bit of information if you're in earnest, Captain," he said, "and you, Mr. Mowbray--you being his lawyer. The old gentleman is having a bit of fun with you. He's that way inclined. I've known him at it more than once. If you will excuse me I'll be getting upstairs. Five minutes late is a thing he never would forget or forgive and I'm not taking any risks."

"I shall come with you," Captain Elmhurst announced. "So will Mr. Mowbray. We are even more anxious to meet Sir Adam than you."

"You can do as you like about that, gentlemen," Dyson replied. "It's not my place to interfere, if you insist. You can explain to Sir Adam--"

"Er--would not that be the nearest way?" Captain Elmhurst suggested, leaning over the trap door and waving his hand towards the screen opposite.

Dyson ignored him. He marched out of the bank and along the few yards of pavement. He produced a latchkey and opened the heavy front door just beyond the iron railings. For the moment he seemed to have forgotten his manners for he passed into the hall and mounted the oak stairs opposite without even a look over his shoulder. The two men followed him into a plainly furnished man's bedroom. It contained very little furniture but every piece was massive and Georgian. An open door led into the bathroom. The bedstead was a four-poster with beautifully carved pillars. The room was unoccupied but upon the counterpane of the bed was set out a soft-fronted shirt and plain dinner suit, and a pair of patent shoes stood on the floor. Dyson glanced at them as though to feel sure that nothing had been forgotten. Then he looked at the clock and without a word disappeared into the bathroom. In a moment or two they heard the water running. Captain Elmhurst compared the clock with his watch.

"Five-and-twenty past six," he said. "Well, we shan't have long to wait."

The water began to run into the bath. In a minute or two Dyson reappeared, having turned off the faucets. Mowbray was tapping gently against the panelled walls.

"I am not very good at internal architecture," he remarked, "but I should think that stairway must lead into this room."

"You will be able to ask Sir Adam himself in a minute or two, sir," the man replied.

Captain Elmhurst threw himself into an easy chair. Mowbray remained standing and watching the hands of the clock. The moment came. Half-past six struck. There was silence in the room--silence below. Martin Mowbray, who was a young man of imagination, found something curiously thrilling in the sight of the simple preparations which had been made, the changing expression on Dyson's face and the tense silence. No one spoke. Dyson walked to the window and looked out. He came back and standing near the door seemed to listen. He dragged an old chronometer from his waistcoat pocket and looked at it. Then he glanced at the small clock. Neither of the two intruders said a word. Five minutes passed--ten minutes--the three-quarters of the hour struck. Then Elmhurst broke the silence.

"Dyson," he said, "this is the first proof you have had of your master's disappearance, but perhaps this time you will believe us. We wish no harm to Sir Adam. We should be the last to induce you to risk a good place by breaking orders, but you see,--here is the confirmation of what we have been telling you. Something has happened to Sir Adam. He has been your master for a great many years. You must be just as anxious as we are to have the matter cleared up."

The man seemed somehow to have shrunk. He had lost his calm, almost dignified air of assurance. He walked once more to the window. He came back and moved the position of the black tie laid out upon the bed. When he looked up his face was drawn and haggard.

"All these years," he muttered half to himself, although he had turned towards the Chief Constable. "All these years and never a moment late."

"Something strange has happened without a doubt," Martin said kindly, "but it is by no means a certainty, Dyson, that it is anything serious. Your master may have decided to play a little trick upon us as you suggested and been taken ill or he may have received news which we have not been able to trace and been obliged to go away, but it is our duty to find him--Captain Elmhurst on behalf of the police, and myself because I am his lawyer. I believe it is yours, as his personal servant, to help us."

"What sort of questions did you wish to ask, sir?" Dyson enquired and his voice had entirely lost its belligerent note. It was the voice of an old and weakly man.

"We want to know about that staircase. We also wish to know whether it was possible for Sir Adam to have received a visitor some time this morning--it might even have been before the bank opened--a young man whom no one else saw."

Dyson moved across the room towards the panel next to the one which Mowbray had been tapping. He ran his fingers up and down the bevelled edge for a moment, paused and pressed. Then he stooped down and repeated the operation at the bottom of the oblong design. There was a little click. The panel slid open. Behind it was concealed a door with a Yale keyhole. Dyson unlocked it and pushed it open. The two men looked over his shoulder into the vault below.

"Sir Adam frequently made use of this means of reaching his office, gentlemen," he confided. "Mr. Groome was the only one who knew for certain about the entrance. The two young clerks might have guessed, but Sir Adam had tied up their tongues as he had done mine until now."

"And what about that visitor?" Mowbray asked.

"I know nothing about any visitor this morning," was the dogged answer. "When Sir Adam had finished his breakfast I laid out his evening clothes, cleared away his breakfast in the dining room, did a bit of tidying up--Mrs. Griggs being away--and took my place as usual in the bank until closing time. Sir Adam followed me about a quarter of an hour later. I was due to return here at a quarter past six. I arrived this evening at precisely that time. I--forgive me, gentlemen--I am not feeling well," the man faltered. "Twenty-five years! There are his clothes, the bath's ready--towels and soap all in their place--and Sir Adam is not here."

"We'll find him," Mowbray said kindly. "Sit down for a minute, Dyson. Tell us this--when you arrived this morning you came in by the entrance which we have just used?"

"Certainly, sir. I have the key for the front door."

"And when you left to go on duty into the bank, what did you do then?"

"I left by the same way, sir. I had to unlock the iron gates, throw open the doors and sit down on the bench."

"Which way did Sir Adam leave?"

"He left by the same door, sir. I helped him on with his overcoat--he always insisted upon wearing that although it is only a step or two--and brushed his hat before I went off."

"You had no indication that any visitor was expected this morning?"

"None, sir."

"There were no signs in the dining room or in this bedroom of Sir Adam having received any visitor last night?"

"No signs at all, sir. Only one chair had been occupied, only one whisky-and-soda drunk, only the ashes from Sir Adam's pipe in the tray."

"It seems rather purposeless, but I must ask you one more question, Dyson," Captain Elmhurst persisted. "Sir Adam seemed in his usual spirits last night, at any rate when you woke him this morning, when you dressed him? There were no farewell words or instructions when he left?"

"There was nothing different about Sir Adam," Dyson said firmly. "He was exactly the same as he has been every morning. It was impossible for him to have received a visitor without that person coming to the door of the bank house in the ordinary way. There was no one else, no one who knows how to deal with this other door but Mr. Groome, by guesswork, perhaps, and myself."

They closed up and left the place in silence. Seven o'clock was striking as they reached the street.

"I now suggest," Martin Mowbray said, "that we step across to the club to get one of Lawford's special strong Dry Martinis and then I'll come round with you to your show and hear what the doctor has decided."

"And perhaps more important still," Elmhurst put in, "to see if there was anything in that young man's effects which will help us to identify him."

"I'm with you," Mowbray agreed, passing his arm through his companion's, "but first of all our little visit to the club."