Читать книгу The Solution of a Mystery - J. S. Fletcher - Страница 5

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I went back to my rooms at Mrs Marriner’s after this, to get my breakfast and to think things over before going into the town. It seemed to me that certain things were obvious. Maidment had been murdered for the money he had on him. Could the murderer be traced through that money? Now I had made particular inquiries among the tenants at Hagsdene Park as to how they paid their rents the previous evening—I mean, in what form. As I have already said, some had paid by cheque, some in notes, some in gold. Well, as to the cheques, the murderer would certainly destroy them as being of no use to him. As to the banknotes, it would be difficult to trace them, for of all the people who had paid Maidment in that way not a single one had taken the precaution to note down the numbers of the notes with which they had parted. As to the gold, how could any man distinguish one coin and another? But ... there was the sovereign through which a hole had been drilled. If we could trace that ...

It is unnecessary to enter into the details of the work we did that morning in our efforts to come across some trace of the murderer. I set all my men to work, of course—uniformed and plain-clothes men. A thorough examination of the surroundings of the scene of the murder was made—we got some impressions of footprints, but they were so many and varied (for the paths through that wood were a good deal used) that I felt them to be of no value. Investigation showed nothing unusual in Maidment’s doings the day of his death. He had been at his office or about the town all day; he had gone to his lodgings—he was a single man, and not a native of Ullathwaite—at the end of the afternoon, and after having his usual tea-supper, or high tea, had set off for Hagsdene Park. All this was unilluminative. Inquiries among the lodging-houses and at the casual ward of the workhouse failed to reveal the presence in the town of any undesirable or suspicious characters. And at noon I was still without any direct clue as to the identity of the murderer.

Then came a startling revelation. Just before one o’clock, when, after a strenuous morning’s work, I was about leaving my office for lunch at the Black Bull, Ullathwaite’s principal hotel, Collingwood, the man whom I had seen at Hagsdene Park earlier in the day and who had told me about the debased sovereign, called, bringing with him a man whom I knew by sight as one Fardale, a bookmaker. There was an air of mystery, mingled with concern, about both which I was quick to perceive.

‘Can we have a word or two with you—in private—Mr Superintendent?’ asked Collingwood. ‘It’s—about this morning’s affair.’

I took them into my private room and closed the door. Even then Collingwood dropped his voice to something like a whisper, as men do when they want to be very confidential.

‘You know Mr Fardale?’ he began. ‘Know who and what he is, anyway. Mr Fardale’s a friend of mine. We often meet at the Black Bull—met there just now. Of course, we’ve been talking about the murder. Everybody’s talking about it. I told Mr Fardale about paying my month’s rent to Maidment last night, and about that sovereign that I told you of this morning; the sovereign with a hole drilled through it.’

‘Yes?’ I said, wondering what was to come. ‘Yes?’

Collingwood turned in his chair, nodding at Fardale, who so far had sat staring stolidly at me.

‘He’s got it!’ he said. ‘Fardale!’

I turned to Fardale. Without a word he plunged a hand into his right-hand hip-pocket and, drawing out a quantity of gold coins, picked out one and passed it to me. There it was—a sovereign of the reign of Queen Victoria, with a small hole drilled through it just under the rim, above the head of the figure. I held it out to Collingwood.

‘Are you sure that’s the coin you spoke to me of as having paid to Maidment last night?’ I asked. ‘Dead sure?’

‘I’m so sure, Mr Superintendent, that I’m willing to take my oath on it!’ he answered with emphasis. ‘It is the coin!’

Once more I turned to Fardale.

‘Where did you get this coin, Mr Fardale?’ I asked. ‘You’ll tell me, of course?’

Fardale shifted uneasily in his chair. He was evidently much disturbed.

‘I’m in a very difficult position, Mr Superintendent,’ he said. ‘A very unpleasant position! You know what I am—a bookmaker. Well, I’ve my clients to consider. I’ve clients in this town and neighbourhood whose identity you’d never suspect—they’d never come to me again if they thought I let their names out. You understand, sir?’

‘I understand quite well, Mr Fardale,’ I replied. ‘But—this is a case of murder.’

‘Aye, I know that!’ he assented. ‘If it hadn’t been, I’d never have told Collingwood what I did, nor come here with him. Well!—I suppose I must speak. I’ve had that coin, Mr Superintendent, since half-past ten this morning. It was paid to me by young Radford—Dick Radford!’

For the life I could not repress an exclamation.

‘Good God!’ I said. ‘The Mayor’s son?’

‘That’s it!’ he answered. ‘The Mayor’s son. Only son.’

I had been standing until then: now I sat down at my desk.

‘You’ll explain matters, Mr Fardale?’ I said. ‘You see how serious this is?’

‘I know,’ he replied. ‘Yes, I’ll tell all I can, now. This lad has been betting with me—and no doubt with others—for a year or more. He’s a bit shifty. When he wins he wants his money there and then, but when he loses he’s not so keen about putting accounts straight. And lately he’s been owing me about fifty pounds. I’ve had to dun him for it. Last week I just got sick of him, and I gave him an ultimatum. I told him that if he didn’t pay me my fifty pounds by eleven o’clock to-day (I was giving him a full week in which to raise it) I should tell his father about the affair and refuse all further business with him himself. And I let him see that I meant what I said!’

‘Well?’ I asked as he paused. ‘And——’

‘And at half-past ten this morning he came to me,’ continued Fardale. ‘He handed me the fifty pounds. Forty-five pounds of it was in five-pound notes—nine of ’em. I’ve got ’em here. Six pounds was in gold—the precise amount owing was fifty-one pounds. Now, to assure you on the point, I put the banknotes in this pocket—left-hand hip—and the gold in this—right-hand hip. That fifty-one pounds is the only money I’ve received from anybody this morning. As soon as Collingwood told me, at the Black Bull, about the marked sovereign, I pulled out the six pounds in gold which Dick Radford had given me and examined each coin. I found the sovereign you’ve now got in your hand. And—that’s all I know. I’m sorry to have to tell all this—but, as you say, it’s murder!’

I sat for a moment in silence, staring at the coin. I was thinking. I knew Dick Radford as a rather rackety, wild young fellow, but I should never have thought him capable of murder.

‘You’ll leave this marked sovereign with me, Mr Fardale?’ I said at last. ‘You perceive its importance?’

‘I’ll do more than that, sir,’ he answered, drawing out banknotes from one pocket and gold from the other. ‘I’ll hand all this over to you. That’s the exact amount, and in the identical notes and coins, that Dick Radford handed to me. And ... what’ll come next, Mr Superintendent?’

But to that question I made no answer, and the two men went away.