CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MISS BAYLIS
Next day, a little before noon, Spargo found himself in one of thosepretentious yet dismal Bayswater squares, which are almost entirelygiven up to the trade, calling, or occupation of the lodging andboarding-house keeper. They are very pretentious, those squares, withtheir many-storied houses, their stuccoed frontages, and theirpilastered and balconied doorways; innocent country folk, coming intothem from the neighbouring station of Paddington, take them to be theresidences of the dukes and earls who, of course, live nowhere else butin London. They are further encouraged in this belief by the fact thatyoung male persons in evening dress are often seen at the doorways inmore or less elegant attitudes. These, of course, are taken by thecountry folk to be young lords enjoying the air of Bayswater, butothers, more knowing, are aware that they are Swiss or German waiterswhose linen might be cleaner.
Spargo gauged the character of the house at which he called as soon asthe door was opened to him. There was the usual smell of eggs andbacon, of fish and chops; the usual mixed and ancient collection ofovercoats, wraps, and sticks in the hall; the usual sort of parlourmaidto answer the bell. And presently, in answer to his enquiries, therewas the usual type of landlady confronting him, a more than middle-agedperson who desired to look younger, and made attempts in the way offalse hair, teeth, and a little rouge, and who wore that somewhat airand smile which in its wearer--under these circumstances--always meansthat she is considering whether you will be able to cheat her orwhether she will be able to see you.
"You wish to see Miss Baylis?" said this person, examining Spargoclosely. "Miss Baylis does not often see anybody."
"I hope," said Spargo politely, "that Miss Baylis is not an invalid?"
"No, she's not an invalid," replied the landlady; "but she's not asyoung as she was, and she's an objection to strangers. Is it anything Ican tell her?"
"No," said Spargo. "But you can, if you please, take her a message fromme. Will you kindly give her my card, and tell her that I wish to askher a question about John Maitland of Market Milcaster, and that Ishould be much obliged if she would give me a few minutes."
"Perhaps you will sit down," said the landlady. She led Spargo into aroom which opened out upon a garden; in it two or three old ladies,evidently inmates, were sitting. The landlady left Spargo to sit withthem and to amuse himself by watching them knit or sew or read thepapers, and he wondered if they always did these things every day, andif they would go on doing them until a day would come when they woulddo them no more, and he was beginning to feel very dreary when the dooropened and a woman entered whom Spargo, after one sharp glance at her,decided to be a person who was undoubtedly out of the common. And asshe slowly walked across the room towards him he let his first glancelengthen into a look of steady inspection.
The woman whom Spargo thus narrowly inspected was of very remarkableappearance. She was almost masculine; she stood nearly six feet inheight; she was of a masculine gait and tread, and spare, muscular, andathletic. What at once struck Spargo about her face was the strangecontrast between her dark eyes and her white hair; the hair, worn inabundant coils round a well-shaped head, was of the most snowywhiteness; the eyes of a real coal-blackness, as were also the eyebrowsabove them. The features were well-cut and of a striking firmness; thejaw square and determined. And Spargo's first thought on taking allthis in was that Miss Baylis seemed to have been fitted by Nature to bea prison wardress, or the matron of a hospital, or the governess of anunruly girl, and he began to wonder if he would ever manage to extractanything out of those firmly-locked lips.
Miss Baylis, on her part, looked Spargo over as if she was half-mindedto order him to instant execution. And Spargo was so impressed by herthat he made a profound bow and found a difficulty in finding histongue.
"Mr. Spargo?" she said in a deep voice which seemed peculiarly suitedto her. "Of, I see, the _Watchman_? You wish to speak to me?"
Spargo again bowed in silence. She signed him to the window near whichthey were standing.
"Open the casement, if you please," she commanded him. "We will walk inthe garden. This is not private."
Spargo obediently obeyed her orders; she swept through the openedwindow and he followed her. It was not until they had reached thebottom of the garden that she spoke again.
"I understand that you desire to ask me some question about JohnMaitland, of Market Milcaster?" she said. "Before you put it. I mustask you a question. Do you wish any reply I may give you forpublication?"
"Not without your permission," replied Spargo. "I should not think ofpublishing anything you may tell me except with your expresspermission."
She looked at him gloomily, seemed to gather an impression of his goodfaith, and nodded her head.
"In that case," she said, "what do you want to ask?"
"I have lately had reason for making certain enquiries about JohnMaitland," answered Spargo. "I suppose you read the newspapers andpossibly the _Watchman_, Miss Baylis?"
But Miss Baylis shook her head.
"I read no newspapers," she said. "I have no interest in the affairs ofthe world. I have work which occupies all my time: I give my wholedevotion to it."
"Then you have not recently heard of what is known as the Marburycase--a case of a man who was found murdered?" asked Spargo.
"I have not," she answered. "I am not likely to hear such things."
Spargo suddenly realized that the power of the Press is not quite asgreat nor as far-reaching as very young journalists hold it to be, andthat there actually are, even in London, people who can live quitecheerfully without a newspaper. He concealed his astonishment and wenton.
"Well," he said, "I believe that the murdered man, known to the policeas John Marbury, was, in reality, your brother-in-law, John Maitland.In fact, Miss Baylis, I'm absolutely certain of it!"
He made this declaration with some emphasis, and looked at his sterncompanion to see how she was impressed. But Miss Baylis showed no signof being impressed.
"I can quite believe that, Mr. Spargo," she said coldly. "It is nosurprise to me that John Maitland should come to such an end. He was athoroughly bad and unprincipled man, who brought the most terribledisgrace on those who were, unfortunately, connected with him. He waslikely to die a bad man's death."
"I may ask you a few questions about him?" suggested Spargo in his mostinsinuating manner.
"You may, so long as you do not drag my name into the papers," shereplied. "But pray, how do you know that I have the sad shame of beingJohn Maitland's sister-in-law?"
"I found that out at Market Milcaster," said Spargo. "The photographertold me--Cooper."
"Ah!" she exclaimed.
"The questions I want to ask are very simple," said Spargo. "But youranswers may materially help me. You remember Maitland going to prison,of course?"
Miss Baylis laughed--a laugh of scorn.
"Could I ever forget it?" she exclaimed.
"Did you ever visit him in prison?" asked Spargo.
"Visit him in prison!" she said indignantly. "Visits in prison are tobe paid to those who deserve them, who are repentant; not to scoundrelswho are hardened in their sin!"
"All right. Did you ever see him after he left prison?"
"I saw him, for he forced himself upon me--I could not help myself. Hewas in my presence before I was aware that he had even been released."
"What did he come for?" asked Spargo.
"To ask for his son--who had been in my charge," she replied.
"That's a thing I want to know about," said Spargo. "Do you know what acertain lot of people in Market Milcaster say to this day, MissBaylis?--they say that you were in at the game with Maitland; that youhad a lot of the money placed in your charge; that when Maitland wentto prison, you took the child away, first to Brighton, thenabroad--disappeared with him--and that you made a home ready forMaitland when he came out. That's what's said by some people in MarketMilcaster."
Miss Baylis's stern lips curled.
"People in Market Milcaster!" she exclaimed. "All the people I everknew in Market Milcaster had about as many brains between them as thatcat on the wall there. As for making a home for John Maitland, I wouldhave seen him die in the gutter, of absolute want, before I would havegiven him a crust of dry bread!"
"You appear to have a terrible dislike of this man," observed Spargo,astonished at her vehemence.
"I had--and I have," she answered. "He tricked my sister into amarriage with him when he knew that she would rather have married anhonest man who worshipped her; he treated her with quiet, infernalcruelty; he robbed her and me of the small fortunes our father leftus."
"Ah!" said Spargo. "Well, so you say Maitland came to you, when he cameout of prison, to ask for his boy. Did he take the boy?"
"No--the boy was dead."
"Dead, eh? Then I suppose Maitland did not stop long with you?"
Miss Baylis laughed her scornful laugh.
"I showed him the door!" she said.
"Well, did he tell you that he was going to Australia?" enquiredSpargo.
"I should not have listened to anything that he told me, Mr. Spargo,"she answered.
"Then, in short," said Spargo, "you never heard of him again?"
"I never heard of him again," she declared passionately, "and I onlyhope that what you tell me is true, and that Marbury really wasMaitland!"
The Middle Temple Murder Page 23