Inspector French's Greatest Case (24 page)

Next door was a man's dressing-room and bedroom. Here there was not the same litter, nor was the unoccupied bedroom adjoining other than tidy, but in the maids' room, which he next entered, it was evident there had been a recent clearing out. Here the wardrobe drawers were pulled out and the door of a hanging press in the wall was standing open. Papers and a few obviously worn-out garments littered the floor. But the room differed from Madame's in that everything of value had been taken.

French swore again. There seemed no doubt that he was late. Mrs. X, alias Mrs. Vane, had taken fright and fled. If so, what hint, he wondered, had she received of her danger?

He stood for a moment in the disordered room, thinking. Under these new circumstances, what was his proper course?

First, it was obvious that he must make absolutely sure that this Mrs. Vane was really the woman he sought. Next, he must learn if she had really gone, and, if so, why, and, if possible, where. If her departure was a flight, he must find out how or by whom she had been warned. Lastly, he must follow her to her hiding-place and arrest her.

But he must not end with Mrs. Vane. Her husband must also be found. If she was Mrs. X, the receiver of the stolen diamonds, possibly the murderer of old Gething, Mr. Vane must be in it too. It was inconceivable that he could have avoided becoming involved.

His first job must therefore be to make all the inquiries he could as to the mysterious occupants of Crewe Lodge. There were several obvious lines of research. First there was the house itself. People left the impress of their personalities on the houses they inhabited, and a careful search of this one must yield considerable information as to the pair. Next there were the servants. If they could be found, their testimony might prove invaluable. From the neighbours and local tradesmen and dealers he did not expect so much, but among them all some useful hints would surely be gleaned. Lastly, there were the house agents. They might or might not be able to help.

It was by this time nearly eleven, but he decided that his obvious duty was then and there to begin the search of the house, even if it meant an all-night job. He therefore called in Pye and Frankland, who were experienced in such work, leaving Constable Caldwell to patrol the grounds.

Then commenced an investigation of the most meticulous and thorough description. Taking the house room by room, the three men went over with the utmost care every piece of furniture, every book, every paper, every article of clothing. Hour after hour the search proceeded in spite of a growing weariness and hunger, and it was not until half-past six on the following morning that it was complete. Then in the growing daylight the three Yard men slipped out one by one on to the road, and joining forces round the corner, walked to the nearest tube station, and went to their several houses for breakfast. French rang up the Yard from the first exchange they came to, and arranged for a man to be sent to relieve Caldwell, who had been left in charge.

As French smoked his after-breakfast pipe before returning to the Yard, he jotted down in his note-book a list of the points which had struck him during the search. There was nothing that led him to either Mr. or Mrs. Vane, but there was a certain amount that was suggestive.

In the first place, it seemed evident that the departure of the lady had been sudden and unexpected. There was the evidence of the disordered bedrooms, of the used-looking sitting-room with the book evidently laid down where it could be picked up again without losing the place, of the ashes in the sitting-room fireplace and range, the used tea tray, and of the kitchen. There it appeared that cooking had been just about to begin, for a number of saucepans were on the range, and various kinds of food lay on the table as if ready for the saucepans. There was a good deal of food of various kinds about the kitchen and larder, and some wine and whisky in the dining-room sideboard. On the other hand, there was no evidence of any hurried departure on the part of the master of the house.

The date of the departure French thought he could roughly fix from the condition of the food. The milk, of which there was a bowl and two jugs, was sour, but not thick. Some fresh meat hanging in the larder was good. The bread was rather dry and hard. Some lettuces lying on a shelf in the scullery had gone limp. But some bunches of chrysanthemums standing in water in the sitting-room were quite fresh.

On the whole, he thought, the evidence pointed to a flight some four days earlier, and this view was supported by another piece of evidence on which he had come.

In the letter-box at the back of the hall door he had found a letter addressed “Mrs. Vane, Crewe Lodge, St. John's Wood Road.” The postmark showed that it had been posted in London on the 3rd. It had, therefore, been delivered on the evening of the 3rd or morning of the 4th. But this was the 8th. Therefore the lady had gone at least four days earlier.

The letter itself had considerably intrigued him. It was simply a list of certain sales and purchases of stock, covering a large number of transactions, and running into some thousands of pounds in value. The items were not dated, and there was no accompanying letter nor any intimation of the sender. It was clear that some one was engaged in complicated financial operations, but there was nothing to indicate his or her identity.

That the Vanes were at least comfortably off seemed certain from the general appointments of the house. The furniture and fittings were heavy and expensive. The sitting-room was small, as has been stated, but French reckoned that the carpet would not have been bought for less than £120. Madame's dresses were of rich silks, and while no actual jewellery had been left behind, there were costly ornaments and personal knick-knacks. Moreover, the half-empty box of cigars in the smoking-room contained Corona Coronas. There was, however, no garage and no car, but it was obvious that a car might have been kept at some neighbouring establishment. Altogether it looked as if the couple had been living at the rate of two or three thousand a year. But this was a matter that could easily be tested, as the name of Mrs. Vane's bank was among her papers.

One other point struck the Inspector as curious. Neither the master nor the mistress of the house seemed to have literary tastes. There were a number of well-bound “standard works” in a bookcase in the smoking room, but it was evident from their condition that they were there purely as part of the decorative scheme. Of actually read books in the smoking-room there were none. In the sitting-room were a number of the lighter type of novels, together with a number in French and Spanish with extremely lurid and compromising jackets. But among these, as out of place as an Elijah at a feast of Baal, lay a new copy of
The Concise Oxford Dictionary.

There were several old bills in Madame's inlaid davenport, but save for the names of firms with whom the lady had recently been dealing, French had learned nothing from them. In the sitting-room also was an excellent cabinet photograph of a lady who seemed to him the original of Mrs. Root's steamer snapshot, and this he had slipped into his jacket pocket.

Having completed his notes, he knocked the ashes out of his pipe and set out upon the business of the day. Returning to St. John's Wood Road, he interviewed Esler, the constable who had been sent to relieve Caldwell, and learned that no one had as yet approached the house. Then he began to call at the adjoining houses and nearer shops. At each he stated that he was looking for Mrs. Vane, but that her house was shut up, and asked if any one could tell him how he might find her.

Aware that in a great city neighbours might live beside each other for years without ever meeting, he did not hope for much result, and at the first two houses at which he called he did not get any. But at the third he had an unexpected stroke of luck. The maid who opened the door seemed to know something about the Vane household. But she was suspicious, and on French's putting his usual questions, showed evident unwillingness to give away information. Keeping any suggestion of eagerness out of his manner, French went on conversationally:

“I wanted to see Mrs. Vane about a question of the ownership of a field in the country near Canterbury, where she used to live. I represent Messrs. Hill & Lewesham, the solicitors of Lincoln's Inn, and we want some information about the boundaries of her father's place. It's not exactly important, but it would be worth five shillings to me to get in touch with her, and if you could see your way to help me, you'd have very fairly earned it.”

The girl seemed impressed. She glanced back into the hall, came out into the porch, and drawing the door to after her, spoke rather hurriedly.

“I don't know much about it,” she explained, “but I'll tell you what I can,” and she went on to say that on the previous Friday, that was five days earlier, Mrs. Vane had got a cable that her husband in New York had met with a serious accident and was dying, and for her to go at once. She had packed hurriedly and driven off to catch the boat train for Liverpool, closing the house. As to Mr. Vane himself, the girl knew nothing. She seemed to consider him a negligible part of the establishment. He was but seldom at home, and even then was rarely to be seen.

French asked her how it came that she knew so much about the family, and she explained that she and Mrs. Vane's housemaid had become acquainted over her young gentleman's model aeroplane, which had flown over the dividing wall into the grounds of Crewe Lodge, and which had been ignominiously handed back by the girl in question. As a result of the incident an acquaintance had grown up between the two, in the course of which much information as to their respective employers had been exchanged. On that Friday evening Mrs. Vane's maid had called the narrator to the wall by means of a certain signal which they had devised, and had hurriedly told her of her mistress's sudden call to America, and also that the house was being closed and the services of herself and the cook dispensed with. “She's in a most terrible fluster to catch the boat train,” the girl had said, “and we have to be out before her so that she may lock up the house.” The girl had breathlessly bid her friend good-bye and had vanished.

Though French was delighted to have learned these facts, they were not in themselves all that he could have wished. The story of the husband in New York might be true, in which case a good deal of the theory he had been building up would fall to the ground. It would, however, be an easy matter to find out whether the lady really did sail on the date in question. He turned back to the servant.

“I should like very much to find that friend of yours,” he said. “Could you give me her name and address?”

Her name, it appeared, was Susan Scott, but her address was not known. For a moment French was at a loss, then by judicious questions he elicited the facts that Miss Scott spoke like a Londoner, and that she probably patronised one of the several registry offices to be found in the region surrounding the Edgware Road.

“Now there is just one other thing,” he added. “Can you tell me the name of the landlord or agents of Crewe Lodge?”

The girl was sorry she couldn't.

“Then of this house?” French persisted. “As they are close together, the two places may belong to the same man.”

The girl did not know that either, but she said that her master would know, and that he had not yet gone out. French asked for an interview, and on stating his identity, received the information that the agents for both houses were Messrs. Findlater & Hynd, of Cupples Street, behind the Haymarket.

Thinking he had got all the information he could, French paid over his five shillings to the maid and took his departure.

The next item on his programme was a visit to Mr. Williams, and twenty minutes later he pushed open the door of the office in Cockspur Street. Mr. Williams greeted him with what with him took the place of enthusiasm.

“Good-day, Inspector,” he exclaimed, “I'm glad to see you. You bring me some good news, I hope?”

French sat down and drew from his pocket the cabinet photograph of Mrs. Vane which he had found in that lady's sitting-room.

“I don't know, Mr. Williams,” he answered quietly, “whether that will be news to you or not.”

Mr. Williams's eyes flashed with excitement as he saw the portrait.

“Bless my soul!” he cried. “Have you found her at last? Mrs. Root!”

“That's what I wanted to ask you. Are you sure it is Mrs. Root?”

“Sure? Absolutely positive. At least, that's the woman who got my three thousand pounds, whatever her name may be. Have you found her?”

“Well no,” French admitted. “I've not found her yet. But I'm in hopes.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Unfortunately, there's not much to tell. I've got information to the effect that this woman, the original of the photograph, left for New York last Friday. I don't know if it's true. If it is, the American police will get her on the ship.”

Mr. Williams pressed for details, but French was reticent. However, before leaving he promised to let the other know the result of his further inquiries.

From Cockspur Street it was but a short distance to the office of the house agents, Messrs. Findlater & Hynd. Here French saw Mr. Hynd, and learned that the firm were agents for Crewe Lodge. But beyond this fact he learned little of interest and nothing helpful. The house had been taken five years previously by Mrs. Vane, though Mr. Vane had signed the lease. They were very desirable tenants, paying their rent promptly and not demanding continual repairs.

“One more call before lunch,” French thought, and a few minutes later he turned into the office of the White Star line. Here, though it did not exactly surprise him, he received some information which gave him considerably to think, and incidentally reassured him that at last he was on the right track. No steamer, either of the White Star or of any other line, had left Liverpool for America before the previous Saturday afternoon, and there was no boat train from Euston on the Friday night.