Inspector French's Greatest Case (3 page)

“Yes, I noticed that, sir,” French answered. “But I don't follow you. What is the mystery about that?”

“Why, the key, of course. To my certain knowledge there were only two keys in existence. One I keep on my ring, which is chained to my belt and never leaves me day nor night. There it is. The other is lodged with my bankers, where no one could possibly get at it. Now, where did the thief get the key that is now in the lock?”

“That is one of the things we have to find out,” French replied. “You may perhaps think it strange, but a point of that kind, which at first seems to deepen the mystery, often proves a blessing in disguise. It provides another point of attack, you understand, and frequently it narrows down the area of inquiry. You haven't touched the key, I hope?”

“No. I remembered what you said about finger prints.”

“Good. Now, gentlemen, if you will please sit down, I want to ask you a few questions. I'll take you first, Mr. Orchard. I have your name, and your address is Bloomsbury Square. Now tell me, is that your home?”

The young fellow answered the questions without hesitation, and French noted approvingly his direct glance and the evident candour with which he spoke. The Bloomsbury Square address, it appeared, was that of a boarding house, the clerk's home being in Somerset. He had left the office at about half-past five that afternoon, Mr. Gething being then almost ready to follow. Mr. Gething was usually the last out of the office. Orchard had noticed nothing unusual in his manner that day, though for the last two or three weeks he had seemed somewhat moody and depressed. Orchard had gone from the office to Liverpool Street, where he had caught the 5.52 to Ilford. There he had had supper with a friend, a man called Forrest, a clerk in a shipping office in Fenchurch Street he had left about 9.30, getting back to town a little before 10. The rain had stopped, and as he did not get as much exercise as he could have wished, he resolved to walk home from the station. Hatton Garden was but little out of his way, and as he approached it he remembered that he had left in his desk a book he had changed at the library at lunch time. He had decided to call in and get it, so as to read for a while before going to sleep. He had done so, and had found Mr. Gething's body, as he had already explained. The outer street door had been closed, and he had opened it with his latch key. Both the office doors were open, that between the landing and the outer office and that of Mr. Duke's room. The lights were on everywhere, except that in the outer office only the single central bulb was burning, the desk lamps being off. He had seen no one about the offices.

French, having complimented the young fellow on his clear statement, bade him good-night and sent him home. But as he passed out of the room he whispered to one of his men, who promptly nodded and also disappeared. French turned to Mr. Duke.

“That seems a straightforward young fellow,” he observed. “What is your opinion of him?”

“Absolutely straightforward.” The acting partner spoke with decision. “He has been with me for over four years, and I have always found him most conscientious and satisfactory. Indeed, I have been very fortunate in my whole staff. I think I could say the same of them all.”

“I congratulate you, Mr. Duke. Perhaps now you would tell me something about your firm and your various employees.”

Mr. Duke, though still extremely agitated, was controlling his emotion and answered in calm tones.

“The business is not a large one, and at the present time is virtually controlled by myself. Peabody, though not so old as I am, has been troubled by bad health and has more or less gone to pieces. He seldom comes to the office, and never undertakes any work. The junior partner, Sinnamond, is travelling in the East, and has been for some months. We carry on the usual trade of diamond merchants, and have a small branch establishment in Amsterdam. Indeed, I divide my own time almost equally between London and Amsterdam. We occupy only these two rooms which you have seen. Our staff in the outer office consists, or rather consisted, of five, a chief and confidential clerk, the poor man who has just been killed, a young man called Harrington, who is qualifying for a partnership, Orchard, a girl typist, and an office boy. Besides them, we employ an outside man, a traveller, a Dutchman named Vanderkemp. He attends sales and so on, and when not on the road, works in the Amsterdam branch.”

Inspector French noted all the information Mr. Duke could give about each of the persons mentioned.

“Now this Mr. Gething,” he resumed. “You say he has been with you for over twenty years, and that you had full confidence in him, but I must ask the question, Are you sure that your confidence was not misplaced? In other words, are you satisfied that he was not himself after your diamonds?”

Mr. Duke shook his head decisively.

“I am positive he was not,” he declared warmly and with something of indignation showing in his manner. “I should as soon accuse my own son, if I had one. No, I'd stake my life on it, Gething was no thief.”

“I'm glad to hear you say that, Mr. Duke,” the other returned smoothly. “Now, then, your office staff eliminated, tell me is there any one that you suspect?”

“Not a creature!” Mr. Duke was equally emphatic. “Not a single creature! I can't imagine any one who would have done such a thing. I wish I could.”

The Inspector hesitated.

“Of course, sir, you understand that if you were to mention a name it would not in any way bias me against that person. It would only mean that I should make inquiries. Don't think you would be getting any one into trouble.”

Mr. Duke smiled grimly.

“You needn't be afraid. If I had any suspicion I should be only too glad to tell you, but I have none.”

“When, sir, did you last see your late clerk?”

“About half-past four this evening. I left the office at that time, about an hour earlier than usual, because I had a business appointment for a quarter to five with Mr. Peters, of Lincoln's Inn, my solicitor.”

“And you did not return to the office?”

“No. I sat with Mr. Peters for about half an hour, then as my business was not finished and he wanted to square up for the night, we decided to dine together at my club in Gower Street. It was not worth while going back to my own office, so I went straight from Peters' to the club.

“And you did not notice anything peculiar about Mr. Gething?”

“Not specially on that night. He seemed absolutely as usual.”

“How do you mean, ‘not specially on that night?'”

“He had been, I thought, a little depressed for two or three weeks previously, as if he had some trouble on his mind. I asked when first I noticed it if there was anything wrong, but he murmured something about home troubles, about his wife not being so well—she is a chronic invalid. He was not communicative, and I did not press the matter. But he was no worse this afternoon than during the last fortnight.”

“I see. Now, what brought him back to the office to-night?”

Mr. Duke made a gesture of bewilderment.

“I have no idea,” he declared. “There was nothing! Nothing, at least, that I know of or can imagine. We were not specially busy, and as far as I can think, he was well up to date with his work.”

“Is there a postal delivery between half-past four and the time your office closes?”

“There is, and of course there might have been a telegram or a caller or a note delivered by hand. But suppose there had been something important enough to require immediate attention, Gething would never have taken action without consulting me. He had only to ring me up.”

“He knew where you were, then?”

“No, but he could have rung up my home. They knew there where I was, as when I had decided to dine at the club, I 'phoned home to say so.”

“But were you in your club all the evening? Excuse my pressing the matter, but I think it's important to make sure the man did not try to communicate with you.”

“I see your point. Yes, I stayed chatting with Mr. Peters until almost 9.30. Then, feeling tired from a long day's thought about business, I decided a little exercise would be pleasant, and I walked home. I reached my house a minute or two after ten.”

“That seems conclusive. All the same, sir, I think you should make sure when you reach home that no call was made.”

“I shall do so certainly, but my parlourmaid is very reliable in such matters, and I am certain she would have told me of any.”

Inspector French sat for a few seconds lost in thought, and then began on another point.

“You tell me that you had £33,000 worth of diamonds in the safe. Is not that an unusually large amount to keep in an office?”

“You are quite right, it is too large. I consider myself very much to blame, both for that and in the matter of the insurance. But I had not meant to keep the stones there long. Indeed, negotiations for the sale of the larger portion were actually in progress. On the other hand, it is due to myself to point out that the safe is of a very efficient modern pattern.”

“That is so, sir. Now can you tell me who, besides yourself, knew of the existence of those stones?”

“I'm afraid,” Mr. Duke admitted despondently, “there was no secret about it. Gething knew, of course. He was entirely in my confidence about such matters. Vanderkemp, my outdoor man, knew that I had made some heavy purchases recently, as he not only conducted the negotiations, but personally brought the stones to the office. Besides, there were letters about them, accessible to all the staff. I am afraid you may take it that every one in the office knew there was a lot of stuff there, though probably not the exact amount.”

“And the staff may have talked to outsiders. Young people will brag, especially if they are ‘keeping company,' as the Irish say.”

“I fear that is so,” Mr. Duke agreed, as if deprecating the singular habits of the young.

The Inspector changed his position uneasily, and his hand stole to his pipe. But he checked himself and resumed his questioning. He obtained from Mr. Duke a detailed list of the missing stones, then turned to a new point.

“About that thousand pounds in notes. I suppose you haven't got the numbers?”

“No, unfortunately. But the bank might know them.”

“We shall inquire. Now, Mr. Duke, about the key. That is another singular thing.”

“It is an amazing thing. I absolutely cannot understand where it came from. As I said, this one never leaves, nor has left, my personal possession, and the other, the
only
other one, is equally inaccessible in my bank.”

“You always personally opened or closed the safe?”

“Always, or at least it was done by my instructions and in my presence.”

“Oh, well, that is not quite the same thing, you know. Who has ever opened or closed it for you?”

“Gething; and not once or twice, but scores, I suppose I might say hundreds of times. But always in my presence.”

“I understand that, sir. Any one else besides Mr. Gething?”

Mr. Duke hesitated.

“No,” he said slowly, “no one else. He was the only one I trusted to that extent. And I had reason to trust him,” he added, with a touch of defiance.

“Of course, sir. I recognise that,” French answered smoothly. “I am only trying to get the facts clear in my mind. I take it, then, that the deceased gentleman was the only person, other than yourself, who ever handled your key? It was not within reach of any one in your house; your servants, for example?”

“No, I never let it lie about. Even at night I kept it attached to me.”

The Inspector rose from his chair.

“Well, sir,” he said politely, “I'm sorry to have kept you so long. Just let me take your finger prints to compare with those in the safe, and I have done. Shall I ring up for a taxi for you?”

Mr. Duke looked at his watch.

“Why, it is nearly one,” he exclaimed. “Yes, a taxi by all means, please.”

Though Inspector French had said that everything possible had been done that night, he did not follow Mr. Duke from the building. Instead, he returned to the inner office and set himself unhurriedly to make a further and more thorough examination of its contents.

He began with the key of the safe. Removing it by the shank with a pair of special pincers, he tested the handle for finger prints, but without success. Looking then at the other end, a slight roughness on one of the wards attracted his attention, and on scrutinising it with his lens, a series of fine parallel scratches was revealed on all the surfaces. “So that's it, is it?” he said to himself complacently. “Manufacturers don't leave keys of valuable safes half-finished. This one has been cut with a file, and probably”—he again scrutinised the workmanship—“by an amateur at that. And according to this man Duke, old Gething was the only one that had the handling of the key—that could have taken a wax impression. Well, well; we shall see.”

He locked the safe, dropped the key into his pocket, and turned to the fireplace, soliloquizing the while.

The fire had still been glowing red when the crime was discovered shortly after ten o'clock. That meant, of course, that it had been deliberately stoked up, because the fire in the outer office was cold and dead. Some one, therefore, had intended to spend a considerable time in the office. Who could it have been?

As far as French could see, no one but Gething. But if Gething were going to commit the robbery—a matter of perhaps ten minutes at the outside—he would not have required a fire. No, this looked as if there really was some business to be done, something that would take time to carry through. But then, if so, why had Gething not consulted Mr. Duke? French noted the point, to be considered further in the light of future discoveries.

But as to the identity of the person who had built up the fire there should be no doubt. Finger prints again! The coal shovel had a smooth, varnished wooden handle, admirably suited for records, and a short test with the white powder revealed thereon an excellent impression of a right thumb.