Читать книгу The Solution of a Mystery - J. S. Fletcher - Страница 7

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I went to this interview with Mr Radford feeling more uncomfortable than I had ever felt in all my previous experience of uncomfortable things—and that, in my walk of life, is saying a good deal. I knew the Mayor for a hard-working, sober, serious man; a model husband and father, as far as I knew; certainly a model citizen. And I knew that though there was little doubt that he had already had a good deal to trouble him in relation to his only son, the suggestion that that son had had something to do with the murder and robbery of Maidment would be terrible in the extreme. Moreover, there was the lad’s mother to think of—and his sister. Still, it had got to be done.

I found Mr Radford in the Mayor’s Parlour. He had been very busy all that day, his clerk told me while I waited to see him, and he himself looked at me with some show of impatience when I entered.

‘Can’t give you very long, Henderson,’ he said, motioning me to a chair by his desk. ‘Several important committees this afternoon. What can I do for you?’

I went straight to the point.

‘Mr Mayor,’ I said, ‘you have, of course, heard of the murder of Maidment, the rent-collector, which, we believe, occurred last night in Hagsdene Wood?’

‘Heard of it, yes,’ he answered. ‘But that’s outside the borough—it’s in your sphere. The borough police don’t come in.’

‘Just so, Mr Mayor,’ I agreed. ‘But that’s not quite the question. What we are concerned about—borough as well as county police—is who is the murderer. That, of course, is the question!’

He looked at me narrowly.

‘Any clue—any idea—any information?’ he asked sharply.

‘Yes!’ I said. ‘I’m sorry to say.’

‘Why sorry?’ he interrupted.

‘That will appear,’ I answered. ‘But may I explain matters? Maidment had gone to Hagsdene Park last night to collect the rents there. He collected them. I have investigated the circumstances of all the payments. One tenant, Mr Collingwood, paid Maidment his month’s rent, six pounds, in gold. Amongst the six sovereigns which he handed to Maidment there was one which was marked.’

‘Marked!’ he exclaimed. ‘A marked sovereign?’

‘A sovereign, Mr Mayor, which had a small hole drilled through it,’ I replied. ‘A very small hole, such as would take the link of a thin watch-chain. But—there it was!’

‘Is Collingwood certain of that?’ he asked.

‘Absolutely certain!’ I answered.

‘He’d swear to it?’

‘He would swear to it!’

Mr Radford got up and walked about the room: he appeared to be thinking hard. Suddenly he faced round on me.

‘What about the rest of the money collected by Maidment?’ he asked. ‘I know something about that property. He’d probably collect a hundred pounds or so last night.’

‘About a hundred and twelve pounds, Mr Mayor,’ I replied. ‘I reckoned it all up, from the information given me by the tenants.’

‘He was robbed of it, of course,’ he went on. ‘Any trace of it?’

‘A certain amount was in the form of cheques,’ I said. ‘Some of it was paid in banknotes. As regards the gold, I may as well come to the point. I have traced the perforated sovereign.’

He was still walking about the room, still, evidently, deep in thought, but at that he wheeled quickly round and stood staring at me as if incredulous.

‘You’ve—traced—the perforated sovereign?’ he exclaimed. ‘Already!’

‘Already, Mr Mayor—though not by any work on the part of me or my men,’ I replied. ‘Accidentally! The sovereign in question was paid to Fardale, the bookmaker, at half-past ten this morning. It is now in my possession.’

He stopped from his pacing up and down and, standing on the hearthrug before his fire, looked hard at me. It seemed a long time before he spoke—and though I am no weakling I could hear my heart thumping like a sledge-hammer.

‘Who paid it to Fardale?’ he asked at length. ‘Who?’

I drew a long breath.

‘Mr Mayor,’ I said, ‘this is the most painful thing I have ever had to do in the whole course of my experience. But I’m obliged to do it. Mr Mayor, the marked sovereign was paid to Fardale by your son!’

I was scarcely prepared for what followed. Mr Radford was a man of sallow, almost dark, complexion; he was also, as far as I had known him, of calm, composed temperament. But now his face turned white, white to the lips; his lips drew back, showing his teeth: I saw his hands move and his fingers stretch themselves out like the claws of some bird of prey; for an instant I thought he was going to spring at me. Then his voice came, hoarsely.

‘That’s a lie—a damned lie!’ he snarled. ‘A lie!’

‘No, sir!’ I said. ‘It’s the truth. Fardale is an honest man—and Collingwood has identified the coin. There is no doubt of the truth of what I have told you, Mr Mayor; your son paid the marked sovereign to Fardale this morning.’

‘Why should my son pay money to Fardale?’ he demanded. ‘A low-down bookmaker!’

‘Your son, sir, has been in the habit of betting with Fardale for some time,’ I replied. ‘He owed Fardale fifty-one pounds. Last week Fardale told him that unless he paid the full amount by eleven o’clock this morning, the 18th, he should tell you of the matter and should refuse to do any further business with him. This morning, at half-past ten, your son called on Fardale and paid the money in notes and gold. I have them both—gold and notes—just as Fardale received them.’

‘Why did Fardale come to you?’ he demanded. ‘How did he know——?’

‘Fardale met Collingwood at the Black Bull, Mr Mayor—they are friends,’ I replied. ‘Collingwood told him of the marked sovereign. Fardale immediately remembered your son’s payment, and that the money given him lay in a certain pocket, untouched—it was the only money he had received this morning. He at once examined the gold and found the sovereign in question. Collingwood identified it there and then. So—they came to me, as they were bound to do.’

He was once more walking up and down, thinking, I could see, harder than ever.

Suddenly he again twisted round on me and clapped his hands together.

‘Come to the point!’ he said. ‘Are you accusing my son, Richard Radford, of the murder and robbery of this fellow? Speak out!’

‘I shall have to ask Mr Richard to explain his possession of the marked sovereign, Mr Mayor,’ I replied.

‘I’ll soon knock whatever theories you’ve got on the head!’ he retorted angrily. ‘If my son had murdered and robbed Maidment he’d have had to be here—that is to say, in Hagsdene Wood—last night. Well, I, as his father, happen to know he wasn’t, and couldn’t have been. My son wasn’t within thirty miles of Ullathwaite last night, from six o’clock onward, till breakfast—or, rather, office time this morning. So there you are!’ he concluded triumphantly. ‘Alibi, eh?—case of alibi!’

‘Where was your son, Mr Mayor?’ I asked quietly.

‘Well, I can tell you that, too!’ he said, defiantly. ‘I’m under no obligation to, but I will. My son, as his mother and sister can tell you, left home yesterday evening at six o’clock, to visit and spend the night at his friend Mr Verrill’s at Lowsthorpe. And Lowsthorpe’s thirty-three miles from Ullathwaite. He went off there on his bicycle, and he didn’t come back until just before ten o’clock this morning, when he went straight to the office. He was there when I reached the office at ten o’clock.’

‘Do you know if he went out at half-past ten, Mr Mayor?’ I inquired.

‘Can’t say—I went out myself, to come here, at a quarter past,’ he answered. ‘But at any rate he wasn’t in Ullathwaite last night.’

I waited a moment. Then I got up.

‘Mr Mayor,’ I said, ‘I may as well tell you more. Your son was in Ullathwaite last night! He was in Hagsdene Wood at ten o’clock. And Maidment, according to the doctors, was probably killed about half-past ten. This is the truth!’

His face went white again as he faced me.

‘In Hagsdene Wood? At ten o’clock—last night?’ he said. ‘Who—who says so?’

‘Two credible witnesses, who know him well,’ I answered. ‘He came there with his bicycle, hid it between the outer hedgerow and some shrubs, and then walked into the wood in the direction of Hebb’s cottage.’

‘Of Hebb’s cottage?’ he repeated. ‘At—ten o’clock?’

‘About ten o’clock, Mr Mayor,’ I assented. ‘Maidment’s body was found within a short distance of Hebb’s garden.’

He stared at me in silence for a minute or two.

‘No!’ he said. ‘It’s a lie! He was at Verrill’s, at Lowsthorpe.’

I looked round. There was a telephone on the Mayor’s desk, and a telephone directory lying close by.

‘Mr Mayor,’ I said, ‘we will soon settle that point. If your son was at Lowsthorpe from, say, eight o’clock last night until, say, eight this morning, he certainly couldn’t be in Ullathwaite! May I use your telephone a moment? Is Mr Verrill on the telephone?’

‘I happen to know that he is,’ he replied. ‘You can use it.’

I turned up Verrill’s number—he was a gentleman-farmer at Lowsthorpe—and rang him up. And in a few minutes I put back the receiver and turned to Mr Radford.

‘Mr Mayor,’ I said, ‘Mr Verrill replies that so far from your son visiting him last night, he has not even seen him for two months!’

Once more he turned deadly pale—and this time he made no answer. I went on—I felt that the time had come for plain speaking.

‘Even if your son had been at Mr Verrill’s last night,’ I said, ‘I should want to hear his explanation of his possession of the marked sovereign. Now, Mr Mayor, I must see Mr Richard Radford at once! Where is he?’

He stood for a while, again staring and staring. Then he suddenly moved across to his desk and picked up the transmitter.

‘Is Mr Richard in the office?’ he asked. ‘Yes? Tell him to come across to me—at the Mayor’s Parlour—at once.’