The Slave of Silence

by Fred M. White

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  Hot words rose to Field's lips, but he managed to swallow them just intime. He could have wished that the girl had not been quite sobusinesslike in her methods.

  "I suppose that can't be helped," he muttered. "Though it certainlygives the enemy a better start. I hope you have not destroyed theaddress of that lawyer?"

  "Oh, no," Violet cried. "It is in my old memorandum book. Perhaps youhad better take a copy of it for your own use. I have no doubt that myletter has been delivered at Wandsworth by this time, but as Mr.Sartoris is a cripple----"

  Field was not quite so sure on that point. Sartoris, it was true, was acripple, but then Field had not forgotten the black hansom and theexpedition by night to the _Royal Palace Hotel_. He felt that Sartoriswould not let the grass grow under his feet. From the memorandum book hecopied the address--which proved to be a street in Lincoln's Inn Fields.

  "Evidently a pretty good firm," Field muttered. "I'll go round there atonce and see Mr. George Fleming. But there is one thing, you will besilent as to all I have told you. We are on the verge of very importantdiscoveries, and a word at random might ruin everything."

  Violet Decie said that she perfectly well understood what she had to do.

  "Sartoris may try to see you again," Field continued. "If he does, donot answer him. Pretend that you are still ignorant; do nothing toarouse his suspicions. Perhaps it would have been better if I had toldyou nothing of this, but I fancy that I can trust you."

  "You can trust me implicitly," the girl said eagerly. "If it is to harmthat man----"

  She said no more, and Field perfectly understood what her feelings were.By no means displeased with his morning's work he started off in thedirection of Lincoln's Inn Fields. He was pleased to find that the firmof George Fleming & Co. occupied good offices, and that the clerkslooked as if they had been there a long time. It was just as well not tohave a pettifogging lawyer to deal with. Mr. Fleming was in, but he wasengaged for a little time. Perhaps the gentleman would state hisbusiness; but on the whole Field preferred to wait.

  He interested himself for some little time behind the broad page of the"Daily Telegraph," until at length an inner door marked "private" openedand a tall man with grey hair emerged, with a crooked figure dragging onhis arm. Field looked over the paper for a moment, and then ducked downagain as he saw Carl Sartoris. Evidently the cripple had lost no time.He was saying something now in a low and rasping voice to the lawyer.

  "My dear sir, there shall be no delay at all," the latter replied. "I ambound to confess that that deed has made all the difference. I alwaystold Sir Charles that that property was valuable. But he would neversee it, and if he had, where was the capital to work it? But why henever told me that he had made the thing over to you----"

  "Did he ever tell anybody anything that facilitated business?" Sartorislaughed. "I daresay he forgot all about it, poor fellow."

  Sartoris shuffled painfully out of the office with the help of thelawyer, and got into a cab. A moment later and Field was in the inneroffice with Mr. Fleming. He produced his card and laid it on the tableby the way of introduction.

  "This is the first time I have been honoured by a detective in all mylong experience," the lawyer said as he raised his eyebrows. "I hopethere is nothing wrong, sir?"

  "Not so far as any of your clients are concerned, sir," Field replied."As a matter of fact, I am the officer who has charge of theinvestigation into the strange case of Sir Charles Darryll. And I ampretty sure that the lame gentleman who has just gone out could tell youall about it if he chose. I mean Mr. Carl Sartoris."

  The lawyer again raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

  "I see you have no disposition to help me," Field proceeded. "But justnow Mr. Sartoris made a remark that gives me an opening. He came to youto-day with a deed which, unless I am greatly mistaken, purports to bean assignment of property from Sir Charles to Mr. Sartoris. And thatproperty is probably a ruby mine in Burmah."

  "So far you are quite correct," the lawyer said drily. "Pray proceed."

  "I must ask you to help me a little," Field cried. "Let me tell you thatCarl Sartoris was in the scheme to obtain possession of the body of SirCharles Darryll. He was the lame man who was in the black hansom. I havebeen in that fellow's house, and I have seen the body of Sir Charles,unless I am greatly mistaken."

  "Then, why don't you arrest that man?" the lawyer asked.

  "Because I want the whole covey at one bag," Field said coolly. "Now,sir, will you let me see the deed that Carl Sartoris brought hereto-day? Yesterday he did not know of your existence."

  "He has been going to write to me for a long time," Fleming said.

  "I am prepared to stake my reputation that Carl Sartoris never heardyour name till this morning," Field said coolly. "I can produce awitness to prove it if you like. My witness is Miss Violet Decie, onlydaughter of Lord Edward Decie of that ilk."

  The lawyer's dry, cautious manner seemed to be melting. He took up asheet of parchment and read it. It was a deed of some kind, in which thenames of Charles Darryll and Carl Sartoris figured very frequently.Field asked to be told the gist of it.

  "An assignment of mining rights," Fleming explained. "A place in Burmah.It was a dangerous place to get at some time ago, but things havechanged recently. At one time certain Burmese followed Sir Charles aboutand threatened his life unless he promised to let the thing drop. ButSir Charles had assigned all his interest for the sum of five hundredpounds paid to him by Mr. Carl Sartoris. Here is the signature."

  The deed looked regular enough. Field looked closely at the signature ofSir Charles.

  "Of course it would be easy to get the body of the deed written by aclerk," he said with a thoughtful air. "If there was anything wrongabout the thing, the false note would ring out in the signature. Are yousure that it is genuine?"

  "Quite," the lawyer said with conviction. "I'll show you some oldletters of poor Sir Charles if you like. The signature is a littlepeculiar in the respect that it has a long loop to the first l, and ashort loop to the second. That appears in every signature. Besides thereis that little flourish over the C. The flourish really forms theinitials 'C. D.' Can't you see that for yourself? Leave out ever solittle of the flourish, and the 'C. D.' disappears."

  Field was fain to be satisfied, though he was a little disappointed too.The pretty little theory that he had been building up in his mind hadbeen shattered.

  "I suppose I shall have to give way on that point," he said. "Only itstrikes me as strange that a man should have allowed this matter to liefor three years without making use of it. Unless, of course, SirCharles's death made all the difference. Allow me."

  Field's eyes began to gleam as they dwelt on the parchment. There was ared seal in the top left-hand corner, a red seal with silver paper letinto it and some small figures on the edge.

  "What do those figures represent?" he asked. "The figures 4. 4. '93, Imean."

  "The date," Fleming explained. "Those stamped skins are forwarded fromSomerset House to the various sub-offices, and they are dated on theday they go out. The date-figures are very small, and only the legal eyegives them any value at all."

  Field jumped up in a great state of excitement. He had made an importantdiscovery.

  "Then this is a forgery, after all," he cried. "4. 4. '93 means thefourth of April 1893, and the deed is dated three years ago. How are yougoing to get over that, sir? I take it, there are no mistakes in thedate?"

  Even the lawyer was forced out of his calm manner for the moment. Helooked very closely at the red stamp through his glasses. It was sometime before he spoke.

  "You are quite right," he said. "And as to there being a mistake in thedate, that is absolutely out of the question. You may be quite certainthat Somerset House makes no mistakes like that. It is mostextraordinary."

  "I don't see anything extraordinary about it," Field said coolly. "Thatrascal, clever as he is, has made a mistake. Not knowing anything oflegal matters in these mi
nor points, it has never occurred to him to seewhether these parchment stamps are dated or not. He simply bought a skinand got some engrossing clerk to make out the deed. Then he put in thedate, and there you are."

  "Stop a minute, Mr. Field," Mr. Fleming put in. "There is one littlepoint that you have overlooked. I am quite prepared to take my oath tothe fact that the signature is genuine."

  Field stared at the speaker. He could find no words for the moment. Hecould see that Fleming was in deadly earnest. The silence continued forsome time.

  "Well, I thought that I had got to the bottom of this business, but itseems to me that I am mistaken," Field admitted. "In the face of theevidence of forgery that I have just produced, your statement that thesignature is genuine fairly staggers me."

  "The deed purporting to have been executed three years ago has only beenexecuted a few days, or a few months at the outside," Fleming said."What I think is this--there must have been some reason why the deed wasdated back. Perhaps the old one was destroyed and this one copied fromthe other, and executed say a month or two ago. Would that not meet thecase? You see I am taking a legal view of it."

  "You are still sure of the signature?" Field asked.

  "Absolutely. On that head I do not hesitate for a moment. Whatever elsemay happen, I am positive that Sir Charles wrote that signature."

  Field scratched his head in a puzzled kind of way. It was some timebefore he began to see his way clear again. Then a happy thought came tohim.

  "If they are so particular at Somerset House, the fact may help us. Whenthose deed stamps are sold to the public, are the numbers taken, and allthat?"

  "So I understand. But what do you want to get at? Yes, I think you areright."

  "Anyway, I'm on the right track," Field cried. "If what I ask is a fact,then the people at the sub-office will be able to tell me the date thatparchment was sold. I see there is a number on the stamp. If I take thatto Somerset House----"

  Field spent half an hour at Somerset House, and then he took a cab toWandsworth. He stopped at the Inland Revenue Office there and sent inhis card. Giving a brief outline of what he wanted to the clerk, helaid down his slip of paper with the number of the stamp on it and thedate, and merely asked to know when that was sold and to whom.

  He watched the clerk vaguely as he turned over his book. It seemed along time before any definite result was arrived at. Then the clerklooked over his glasses.

  "I fancy I've got what you want," he said. "What is the number on yourpaper?"

  "44791," Field said, "and the date."

  "Never mind dates, that is quite immaterial, Mr. Field. You have us now.That stamped parchment was sold early this morning, just after theoffice was open--why, I must have sold it myself. Yes; there is nomistake."

  With a grim smile on his face, Field drove back to London. He began tosee his way clearer to the end of the mystery now.