Читать книгу The Gunner - Edgar Wallace - Страница 6

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He rose and opened the door leading to the corridor.

"I shall want to see you again about this cheque, Mr Morell," he said.

"Why not see me now?" It was a challenge, but Luke Maddison could sense its insincerity.

"Mr Bird has come to see me on quite another matter," he said. "In due course we will interview him together." He closed the door on his visitor as The Sparrow was shown in through the other door. Mr Bird came heavily into the room and favoured every corner with a long scrutiny. He seemed disappointed—as though he expected to find something or somebody who was not present.

"Havin' a visitor, Mr Maddison? I thought I saw somebody come in whilst I was waiting in the street outside."

Luke nodded curtly. "Mr Danton Morell," he said. "Do you know him?"

The Sparrow smiled. "As one knows the Lord Mayor—from a distance. I'm humble. You never find me bargin' in on society. I've had one dress suit seventeen years an' wear it twice a year—once for the Police Dinner and once to give the moths a cold."

"Do you know anything about him?"

The Sparrow's wide smile grew wider. "His name an' address—an' that's as much as any policeman wants to know about anybody. Bad business, this young Leferre case, Mr Maddison. You don't want to appear in it, I suppose?"

Luke looked at him, startled. "I? How on earth do I come into it?"

Mr Bird coughed. "Well, you do and you don't," he said. "I happened to search the body an' the room. I found three loose cheques on the Northern and Southern Bank—that's where you keep your private account, ain't it? An' this—"

Very leisurely he took out a fat and worn leather case from his pocket, laid it flat on the desk and rummaged in the inside. After a while he found what he was looking for—two folded sheets of paper, evidently torn from a school exercise book.

He smoothed these flat and Luke saw a succession of signatures, one under the other—"Luke Maddison—Luke Maddison."

"Looks almost as though you'd been scribblin' absent-mindedly." The detective's shrewd eyes were on the young banker. "But at the same time I couldn't imagine a business man like you doin' anything so silly! If you'll excuse the liberty. I called at the Northern and Southern Bank yesterday afternoon, but they were reticent—'reticent' is a good word—an' referred me to you. But by an underhanded an' despicable trick I found that young Mr Leferre cashed a cheque the other day for eighteen thousand."

Luke broke in here. "Yes—I gave him a cheque for that amount."

The Sparrow was frankly sceptical. "Did you now? Maybe you'd like to show me the counterfoil of that cheque?" For a second Luke was taken aback.

"If there were any reason for doing so, I could," he said coldly, "but I see no reason."

Mr Bird was not abashed; he leaned his huge arms on the table, and when he spoke his voice was very serious.

"I've no right to ask—I'm not the sort of man who would attempt to pull a bluff on a gentleman like you. I'll put my cards on the table. That cheque was met in notes and I want to know where those notes went. There's a bird in London I want to catch. I've got one of the best little cages for him that was ever built, an' whilst it's empty so is my heart. If that cheque was a forgery it might get the deceased a bad name, but it would make it very easy for me to pull in a certain man for 'uttering'—I'll tell you the truth, Mr Maddison: I want that man's finger-prints so much that I wonder I don't knock him down in the street an' take 'em!"

Luke's eyes were averted: he gave no sign until the detective had finished. "I'm sorry I can't help you," he said. "The cheque was drawn by me and signed by me,"

Mr Bird rose with a sigh.

"You're too kind to the criminal classes, Mr Maddison," he said. "No wonder Gunner Haynes thinks you're a good feller—six months he got yesterday for bein' a suspected person. What a man! When I tried to pump him about your friend he wouldn't let on that he knew him even."

"Morell?" Luke was thrown off his guard, as he saw by The Sparrow's grin.

"That's the name. What's the use of talkin' at cross-purposes? He's the—"

"I know nothing about Morell." Luke was emphatic. "He was a friend of Rex—of Mr Leferre's. I'd rather not discuss him."

The Sparrow sighed again, gathered up the papers on which the unfortunate Rex had practised the signature, and stuffed them back in his pocket book.

"Nobody helps the police," he said dolefully. "All hands are against the natural guardians of the Children of the Poor...I'll be getting along." He offered a limp hand and went heavily out of the room. The door had hardly closed upon him before the telephone bell rang, and for the first time since the tragedy Luke heard the voice of the woman he loved.

"Will you see me tomorrow, Luke?" Her voice was very low.

"Now, if I may—darling, let me come to you now!" But her level voice denied him.

"Tomorrow—after this ghastly business. Luke, did Rex owe you any money?" The unexpectedness of the question threw him off his balance, and when Luke Maddison was flurried he was invariably incoherent, for the same reason as others are incoherent in the circumstances—he thought too quickly for speech.

"Yes—but it isn't worth discussing...he was heavily insured, you know, and I don't think the policy is invalidated..." He heard the quick breath and grew panic-stricken.

"I was thinking of you...that there was no need to worry about his affairs...he owes me nothing practically."

"Will you see me tomorrow?"

Before he could reply, he heard the click of the hook being depressed.