Читать книгу The Man who was Two - Fred M. White - Страница 6

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It was all over a few minutes later and the prisoner was remanded for a week on the application of the police. A demand for bail was curtly refused, and then Sir Marston walked out of the dreary atmosphere of the courthouse infinitely glad to find himself in the open air once more. He lingered for a moment until Linnell emerged and stopped him for a few words regarding the case.

"I know that you are a busy man," he said, "but I shall be obliged if you can give me a minute. You understand, Mr. Linnell, that no expense is to be spared in this dreadful business. Please look to me for all that is necessary."

"I am quite at your disposal, Sir Marston," the lawyer said. "And I can assure you--"

"Quite so, quite so; in which case perhaps you will be so good as to come with me as far as the Athenaeum Club, where we can talk quietly over a biscuit and a glass of sherry."

Linnell would be delighted. He had an hour to spare which was quite at Sir Marston's disposal. Presently they were seated in the seclusion of the famous club, and the painter began to talk.

"I am deeply interested in this matter," he said. "I have known Raymond Mallison ever since he was a boy, and a finer character I have never met. You may say that it is purely prejudice on my part, but I cannot believe that he is guilty. Everything is against that theory, but there it is."

"My opinion also, Sir Marston," the lawyer murmured. "And I speak from a long experience of such cases. The old criminal lawyer can always tell. But, all the same, there is no disguising the fact that my client stands in deadly peril. Everything is against him--the witnesses are credible, and there can be no suggestion of animus so far as they I are concerned. And that business of the green spectacles is very suspicious. Crown counsel will make great play with that--they will say that it was a mark made in the struggle. I attach a lot of importance to that."

"Yes, I was afraid you would say that," Sir Marston went on, "though the explanation struck me as quite logical. Is it possible that young Mallison is concealing something? I mean, is he shielding somebody out of quixotic motives?"

"Possibly," the lawyer agreed. "But I might say the same thing about you. For instance, why did you ask me to put that question to the witness Marshall, who testified to the fact that he saw my client outside Rutland Inn? What possible connection can there be between the charge and a mere stranger called Marne, who seems to be a resident of the Argentine?"

"Really, I don't know," Sir Marston confessed frankly. "Only that a young friend of mine is acquainted with a man called Marne, who was dining at the Royal Windsor last night. It was a sort of second sight that prompted me to suggest the question. I have a presentiment that Marne could tell us a great deal. However, I will ask my young friend and let you know."

"But hasn't this man Marne left the country?" Linnell asked. "At any rate, that is my impression. We shall have to look a great deal nearer home than that. Meanwhile, I should like to go as far as Rutland Inn and examine the scene of the outrage. The police will put no obstacle in the way--I am too well in with them for that. And it you have the time to come along, Sir Marston--"

Manley wished for nothing better. It was impossible for him to think of anything else just now, and he jumped at Linnell's suggestion. Not that he expected to come upon anything startling, but the feeling that he was doing something had a soothing effect. So they came presently to the rather gloomy chambers in Rutland Inn, only to find that the place was deserted, save for Fisher, who informed them that his employer had been removed early that morning to a hospital where he could be properly looked after. He was still alive and might possibly recover, but could never be the same man again. Fisher went on to say that he was locking the place up and would have been gone a few minutes later. He raised no objection to his visitors seeing over the library where the outrage had taken place, and went off presently leaving Manley and his companion alone there.

For some time there was nothing to be seen in the least calculated to throw any light on the tragedy. Then from a mass of legal looking documents and papers on a large table Sir Marston picked up a photograph the sight of which brought him up all standing.

It was a cabinet picture of the man he had seen in the Royal Windsor the previous night--the man called Marne.

"Look at this," he said tensely. "This is Marne--the man alluded to by the witness Marshall. Surely this must have some bearing on the crime. This man crops up for all the world like King Charles's head in Mr. Dick's manifesto. You remember your Dickens, of course? But where is the sinister connection?"

"I am afraid that I cannot see any," the lawyer said. "Why should not Pennington be acquainted with a man called Marne? And why shouldn't you have seen him at the Royal Windsor last night? And if he was dining there, why he must have been in the hotel at the moment of the outrage on Mr. Pennington. Whereas my client was proved beyond a demonstration to have been practically on Mr. Pennington's threshold within a few minutes of the crime. Depend upon it this Marne trial will prove little better than a will o' the wisp."

Sir Marston shook his head, only half convinced.

"Perhaps you are right," he said, "but all the same I should like a note made of that photograph. Perhaps you will mention it to the authorities. By the way, I notice that the thing was taken at Buenos Aires. Not that it much matters."

Evidently there was nothing more to be gained here, and the searchers after truth parted a little later and went their different ways. Manley walked thoughtfully in the direction of Pont-street, where Peggy Ferriss was staying with Hetty Bond and her mother. Mrs. Bond, being a confirmed invalid, was not visible, but Hetty came into the drawing-room eager for the latest intelligence.

"The case is remanded for a week," Sir Marston explained. "I am afraid that it looks very black against Raymond, but everything is being done for him. How is Peggy?"

"Bearing up wonderfully," Hetty explained. "Very much distressed, of course, but splendid. She is asleep, and I think it would be a shame to disturb her. Have you seen Raymond?"

"I saw him this morning for quite a long time," Sir Marston replied. "He is quite well and cheerful with the exception of his eyes. He had an accident with his gymnastic apparatus, and got a nasty blow in the face. I am doing all I can for him, and have told the lawyer defending the case that no expense is to be spared. We will have the finest barrister at the Bar if it costs a thousand pounds. Oh, Raymond will come through it yet. There has either been an extraordinary mistake or Raymond is the victim of a dastardly plot to deprive him of his liberty. And I mean to get to the bottom of it if it costs me all the money I possess."

"Did Roy go with you?" Hetty asked. "He is so clever--"

"Yes, I know," Sir Marston said a little dryly, "but he is sometimes too clever. That inconsequent humour of his is very alluring, but sometimes it goes too far. It would certainly be out of place in a prison cell. I have no doubt that he is working out some ingenious theory of his own dexterously woven into that beloved film of his, but those high intellectual stunts are quite outside the region of practical politics. But when I see him at lunch-time I have no doubt that he will have found a solution."

But Roy Gilette's usual place at the luncheon table was empty when Sir Marston got back to the big house in Regent's Park, and he was compelled to take his midday meal alone--a thing that he disliked, especially just now, when he was filled with all those distracting thoughts. At such times Roy's breezy optimism acted as a fine mental tonic. Tea came at length, and with it Roy Gilette, in his very best form. He had apparently thrown off the alarm and horror created the night before by the arrest of Raymond Mallison, and was once more his clever, brilliant, humorous self.

"Hello, hello," he cried. "Upon my word, that was a nice trick you played me this morning. Why didn't you 'phone me to come along? I can't tell you yet how interested I am in this case, and why I feel convinced that it is in some way connected with my great film story. But it doesn't matter, I've just read all about it in the 'Evening News' early edition, and so I am pretty well au fait with what happened at the police court."

"I think you were just as well away," Sir Marston said. "Oh, by the way, I prompted one question that probably does not appear in the printed evidence. You remember one of those witnesses outside Rutland Inn said that he and his friend were waiting for somebody. I mean one of the men who positively identified poor Mallison, and what do you think he said, I mean the witness? He said they were waiting for a man called Marne who was about to go to Liverpool on his way back to the Argentine."

"What?" Gilette cried, jumping to his feet. "What? Here, give me a time-table. I must be off to Liverpool at once, and if I don't come back to-morrow I shall be on my way to the Argentine, too. Lord, what a story it's going to be."

He bounced out, leaving Manley dumb with astonishment.