Читать книгу The Man Called Gilray - Fred M. White - Страница 7

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The story of the tragedy of Ponder-avenue made the great sensation of the hour. It had all the attributes of what might be called a popular mystery, and on every side it was hemmed in by the most romantic surroundings. Here was a man, apparently wealthy and well connected, and obviously possessing considerable means, who had been done to death in this way by some person who apparently had no motive for such a crime. If it had been a mere vulgar case of robbery, then public attention would not have been gripped as it had been. Clearly the murderer was no ordinary type of criminal, not the class of man, for instance, who had found his way into the study on the off-chance of picking up something valuable. It was quite clear that nothing was missing, and quite clear, too, that the police were at their wit's end to give a plausible reason for the tragedy. Temple had made a prominent feature of the story, which was widely read and discussed at every breakfast table in London next morning. The inquest had been fixed for 10 o'clock, and an hour before that time the room was packed to suffocation. There were hundreds outside who could not get in. There were people there who knew the deceased by sight but not a soul who could give one atom of really useful information.

Meanwhile, Sparrow had not been idle. He had managed to get together some sort of evidence, but though the excited crowd followed every word with breathless interest, nothing was dropped in the course of a two hours' investigation which threw even the slightest light on the life-story of John Gilray. After the coroner had briefly opened the investigation, Sparrow proceeded to call his first witness. This was Mr. James Gilbert, the owner of the house in Ponder-avenue.

"I first came in contact with Mr. Gilray eighteen months ago," he said. "I was introduced to him through a house agent, and he informed me of his desire to take No. 2 Ponder-avenue on a three years' agreement. He made no demur at the rent I asked, and expressed his readiness to undertake the decoration of the house himself. I understood him to say that he was exceedingly particular about this. As he seemed to be a very desirable type of tenant, the agreement was drawn up. Mr. Gilray duly took possession of the house—"

By the coroner: "One moment, please. This strikes me as rather an important matter. I understand from Inspector Sparrow that he has been unable as yet to trace this unfortunate man as to his antecedents prior to his arrival at Ponder-avenue. He gave you some references, of course."

Witness: "No, he didn't, sir. Of course, the point was raised, but Mr. Gilray declined to give anything of the sort. I ventured to suggest that this course was most unusual, but the gentleman was quite firm, and declined to give way. In lieu of references he offered to pay me a year's rent annually in advance. I could see that he was a gentleman, and I understood him to say that he wished to have nothing whatever to do with his friends. At any rate, rightly or wrongly, I accepted the offer, and Mr. Gilray paid me the year's rent the day before he took possession. I may say that he paid a second year's rent six months ago."

By the Coroner: "Did he pay by cheque?"

Witness: "No, sir. He paid me in bank notes on both occasions. They were Bank of England notes, and quite clean. That is, I mean there was no bank stamps on them. I am quite positive of this, because I was naturally curious as to my mysterious tenant, and I looked to see. As a matter of fact, I have only seen Mr. Gilray twice since he entered into possession of the house."

Something like a murmur of disappointment followed as the witness sat down. Most of the audience had expected at any rate, that the landlord of Ponder-avenue would be able to tell them something as to the identity of the murdered man. But public curiosity was stimulated a moment or two later as the manager of a big local bank stepped forward. And again the onlookers were disappointed. The bank manager had very little to say. He had known Mr. Gilray slightly, because he had come to him occasionally to change notes into gold.

By the Coroner: "Were they large notes?"

Witness: "Invariably the same, sir. It was usually a Bank of England note for a hundred pounds."

By the Coroner: "Would this be frequently?"

Witness: "Well, roughly speaking, about once a month. For some reason or another, Mr. Gilray always asked to see me, and naturally I was always ready to oblige. More than once I suggested that he should open an account, but he would not hear of it. This was all the English money I changed for him."

The Coroner: "One moment. You say this is all the English money you have changed. Am I to understand that upon occasions you changed foreign money as well?"

Witness: "Yes. Perhaps fifty or sixty pounds worth every two months. The money generally came in the form of notes issued by an Austrian bank. No, I am afraid I cannot tell you anything definite. You see, in a town like London, we have an enormous amount of foreign money to change, and it would be impossible to remember whence it all comes."

The Coroner: "You keep no account of these foreign notes?"

Witness: "No, sir. It would entail far too much time and trouble. And, besides, nothing would be gained by it."

A few further questions to the witness elicited nothing more. It was just possible, he thought, that one of the hundred pound notes might be traced to the source from whence it came, but after all, it would be pure accident, and might take many months. The interested audience were more mystified than ever, as the bank manager resumed his seat. He was followed by a clerk in a Bakerloo station booking office, who had very little to say, but that little was more to the point than anything which had preceded it. It appeared that the witness knew Mr. Gilray very well by sight. He was in the habit of using his station at such times as he went up west. Most evenings he took a return ticket, and witness noticed that he was invariably in evening dress. But the most important part of the evidence lay in the statement that once a month the dead man took a return ticket to Westminster, almost invariably on a Thursday night, and that he as invariably came back on the Saturday.

The Coroner: "This was quite a regular thing."

Witness: "Yes, sir. After a time I looked forward to it as a matter of course. I always gave the gentleman the ticket myself. He took a first class return."

By the Coroner: "You never spoke to him, I suppose?"

Witness: "Oh, yes, sir, very often. He was a man with a certain dry humour, and I always found him very interesting indeed. He always struck me as being aristocratic and well bred."

"This is rather important," the Coroner said. "It is quite fair to assume that the unfortunate man was in the habit of going up West with a view to drawing money. Now I suppose it is impossible that you should be able to tell us on what date these return tickets were issued."

Witness: "On the contrary, sir, that's quite an easy matter. I could tell you that in the course of the day."

The Coroner: "I should like to know it. You will see my point, Inspector Sparrow. I want to prove, if possible, that within a day or so of Mr. Gilray's return from London he was in the habit of changing these bank notes."

"Quite so, sir," Inspector Sparrow replied. "But they might have come by post. If anybody sent these notes through the post, then the envelope would probably be registered."

"The postman might have given us a clue," suggested the Coroner.

"I have him subpoened, sir," the inspector said. "I thought it quite possible that he might have given us other information, which might be valuable."

Once more public interest stood on tip-toe, but the postman proved to be the most disappointing witness of the lot. He took the four daily deliveries on his round, which embraced Ponder-avenue, and he had done so for the last four years. And during the last eighteen months he could not call to mind a single instance in which he had delivered a letter at No. 2 Ponder-avenue which was addressed to Mr. Gilray.

The Coroner: "Surely you have forgotten? Eighteen months is a very long time."

Witness: "I am quite sure of my facts, sir. When Mr. Gilray first came into my district I used to notice him, because for a month or two he always seemed to be waiting for me to come along. He was either at the door or in the hall and he used to ask me if I had anything for him."

The Coroner: "He seemed to be expecting a letter?"

Witness: "Really I couldn't say, sir. He seemed to be very eager, and when I told him I hadn't got one he appeared relieved in some way. Just as if one's expecting bad news and it doesn't come. No sir this isn't imagination on my part. I haven't thought of this merely since I heard of the tragedy. I've thought so all along, in fact. I have mentioned it to my wife more than once. A postman sees a good many strange things."

The Coroner: "And you are positively certain that Mr. Gilray never received a single post letter during the time he lived in Ponder-avenue."

Witness: "I am prepared to swear to it sir."

The Coroner: "But you are absent occasionally."

Witness: "Sixteen days in two years. And never through illness. I had the curiosity to ask the man who took my place, and he never delivered a letter for Mr. Gilray."

The Coroner shook his head thoughtfully. It was very awkward to see how to proceed. Whichever way the inquiry turned something seemed to end in a blind alley. Usually in cases of this kind, some more or less curious person came forward who had found out something. And in this instance the more they had discovered the less they seemed to know. Again there must be many people in London whose one great anxiety is to conceal their identity, a matter much more easily managed in a crowded town than in a little country place where gossip is rampant.

"All this is very mysterious," the Coroner said. "Really, I don't see that we are getting any further with all these witnesses, Inspector. They make the investigation look hopeless."

Inspector Sparrow looked just a little uncomfortable. Nobody in court knew better than himself how utterly hopeless the case was at present.

"Most of them volunteered to come forward and give evidence, sir," he said. "And I don't think we are altogether wasting the time of the court."

The Coroner admitted the point. All his sympathy was with Sparrow. He had conducted too many of these investigations to be prejudiced.

"Well, I'll hear a little more," he said. "Personally, it seems to me far better to adjourn at this point for a few days so as to give you a fair chance. Was the deceased a healthy man?"

"On that point I can't say anything, sir," Sparrow responded.

"I daresay somebody knows," the Coroner went on. "The hall porter or some chemist in the neighbourhood from whom Mr. Gilray procured his drugs. There are very few of us indeed who from time to time have no need for drugs or a doctor."

Sparrow brightened just a little.

"I am obliged to you for the suggestion, sir," he said "Up to now no information on that hand has reached me. If Mr. Gilray was in the habit of consulting a doctor, the point might be of some assistance to us. Is there anything else, sir?"