Mrs. Vanderstein's jewels

by Mrs. Charles Bryce

  CHAPTER XVII

  Mr. Ennidge was a short, middle-aged man, with grey hair, and amild, benignant eye, which gazed at you vaguely through gold-rimmedspectacles. Mr. Pring, his partner, tall, thin, nervous and excitable,was the very antithesis of him, and that is possibly why they got on sowell together. While Mr. Pring was always able to display enthusiasm inregard to the properties he had to dispose of, to the people who wereinquiring for houses, and was never at a loss when it was necessary toexplain that what the intending client took for geese were really swans,he was apt to relapse into gloom when called upon to deal with would-besellers, or those who had houses to let and were disappointed with therent obtainable, or the failure of Ennidge and Pring to procure them atenant at any price. He was then only too likely, if left to himself, todisclose his plain and truthful opinion as to their property. This wasseldom productive of good results, for, as a rule, the transference ofthe property in question to the books of another agent followed theseoutbursts; and, Ennidge and Pring's business being a small one, theycould not afford to lose customers.

  It was in such cases, however, that Mr. Ennidge was seen at his best. Itwas he who, with friendly smile and hopeful, encouraging word, cheeredthe downhearted householder and sent him away with confidence restored,convinced once more that a tenant would shortly be forthcoming to whomthe absence of a bath-room, of a back door, of gas or hot water laid on,and the presence of blackened ceilings, wallpaper hanging in strips, anddirt-encrusted paint, would if anything prove a veritable inducement toclinch a bargain most satisfactory to the landlord.

  Mr. Pring had already left the office when Gimblet arrived on thescene, and in another quarter of an hour he would have found it whollydeserted. He gave his card to the only clerk of the establishment, whotook it in to the little inner room, where he was immediately receivedby the smiling Mr. Ennidge; and to him he quickly stated his business.

  "There can be no possible objection to my giving you all the informationin my power with regard to the gentleman who has taken 13 ScholefieldAvenue," said the house agent, "and since you cannot get an answer atthe house I will send down my clerk with the key to let you in andassist, if necessary, in explaining matters to the tenant, if he shouldbe discovered to be there after all. A very eccentric gentleman, Ifancy, and something of a recluse. I could not, of course, take it onmyself to use the spare key, which the owner happens to have left withus, at the request of a less well-known and responsible person thanyourself, if I may say so, Mr. Gimblet; but since the capture of theforgers at the Great Continental last year, your name, sir, has beenin every one's mouth; and you will allow me to add that I am, althoughhitherto unknown, one of your most fervent admirers."

  Thus was it ever Mr. Ennidge's pleasant way to oil the wheels ofintercourse with his fellows.

  "The name of the tenant of No. 13," he continued, "is Mr. West, Mr.Henry West. He has taken the house for a month with the option oftaking it on for a year or longer; and I fancy he must be a man ofmeans, as the offer which he made appears to be an unusually highone--unnecessarily so, I may say, between you and me, Mr. Gimblet; butin the interests of our client, the owner of the lease, I need hardlytell you we did not quarrel with him on that account!"

  "What aged man is he?" inquired Gimblet.

  "I really can hardly tell you," replied Mr. Ennidge. "The fact is that Imyself have not yet seen him. Both I and my partner happened to be outwhen Mr. West came to the office, and he made all the arrangements withour clerk. Perhaps you would like him to come in?"

  "I should be glad to ask him a few questions," said Gimblet.

  Mr. Ennidge put his head into the outer office.

  "Tremmels," he called, with his hand on the door. "Just come in here amoment."

  The clerk appeared, a white-faced young Londoner, showing very plainlythe effects of an indoor life and long, hot hours spent upon an officestool; he moved languidly, as if every step were an exertion almost toogreat to repeat, and stood before Gimblet in a drooping attitude offatigue.

  "Mr. Gimblet wants to hear about the tenant of No. 13 ScholefieldAvenue," Mr. Ennidge told him.

  The clerk straightened himself with a perceptible effort, and staredfixedly at Gimblet, who had long since become accustomed to the interestthe mention of his name commonly aroused. No doubt this youth knew thedetective by repute; but he had an expression of such wooden stupidity,and withal looked so terribly ill and exhausted, that Gimblet wonderedif he would be able to extract much sense from him.

  "It was you," he said, "who let the house to Mr. West?"

  "Yes," said the clerk. "He came in one day last week."

  "Friday," interposed Mr. Ennidge.

  "Yes, he came in here last Friday morning, and said he'd been over No.13 Scholefield Avenue, having seen the board 'To Let' in front of thehouse," replied the clerk. "The owners, Mr. and Mrs. Mill, had onlygone away that morning, and Mr. West was shown over by a servant whohad been left behind to clear up and follow by a later train. He toldme he required a furnished house for a year. He said he was very fondof solitude; that he had lived in India all his life and didn't careto meet strangers, but wanted a house with a garden, where he couldbe private, so to speak. He said he thought Scholefield Avenue wouldsuit him admirably, but that he wished to take it for a month firstto see how he liked it, and to have the option of taking it on. I wasuncertain whether Mr. Mill would be agreeable to such an arrangement,and suggested waiting till we could communicate with the owner, but hewouldn't hear of that; said he wished to go in immediately, and wouldtake some other house he'd seen unless he could clinch the matter thenand there. He made an offer of fifteen guineas a week for the firstmonth, and eight for the rest of the year if he should decide to takeit on. This is such a very high price for this part of London that Ifelt sure Mr. Ennidge or Mr. Pring, if they had been here, would nothave let it escape, but would have hit the iron while it was hot, if youtake my meaning; and as I was aware that Mr. Mill had left an absolutediscretion to the firm with regard to letting the house, and that hewas very anxious to do so as quickly as possible, I didn't hesitate anylonger, but agreed to Mr. West's conditions.

  "He said that he wished to have possession of the house from midday ofMonday last; told me to get a charwoman in on Monday morning, in caseany cleaning up remained to be done, and that he wished me to meet himat the house on Monday for the purpose of going over the inventory.Then he took out a pocket book, which seemed to be stuffed full of banknotes, paid me thirty guineas, the rent for half the first month, andasked me to get the agreement for him to sign. I got him two agreementforms such as we use, as a rule, when letting furnished houses, and hesigned them both and put one in his pocket."

  "Perhaps Mr. Gimblet would like to glance at our copy," said Mr.Ennidge, diving into a drawer. "Here it is," and he handed a paper tothe detective, who turned it over thoughtfully. There was nothing onit beyond the ordinary printed clauses setting forth the terms of thecontract. At the end the tenant had signed his name, "Henry West,"in large, sprawling characters, the strokes of which seemed a trifleuncertain, as if the hand that held the pen had not been absolutelysteady. Below, in a neat business-like writing, was the clerk'ssignature: "A. W. Tremmels, for Messrs. Ennidge and Pring."

  Gimblet put it in his pocket. "I may keep it for the present, Isuppose?" he asked Mr. Ennidge, who looked rather as if he would haveliked to object, but on the whole decided not to.

  "Can you describe what Mr. West looked like?" Gimblet asked the clerk."But perhaps you had better tell me that on the way to the house. Mr.Ennidge has promised to send you down with me. One thing, however,before we start: I should like to see the inventory, if I may."

  "By all means," Mr. Ennidge replied. "Just get it, Tremmels, and the keytoo. You know where they are kept," and as the clerk went into the outeroffice he turned again to Gimblet.

  "If you would like me to come myself?" he suggested.

  "Oh no, thanks," Gimblet answered, "do not trouble to come. As the clerkis the only one
who met Mr. West, I think he will really be more usefulto me. I suppose he can stand a walk down to Scholefield Avenue? Helooks dreadfully ill, poor chap; what's wrong with him? Consumptive?"

  "He is ill, I'm afraid," said Mr. Ennidge regretfully, "but it will dohim good to get a walk and a breath of fresh air. The hot weather we hadlast week was very trying; Tremmels certainly looks very bad since theheat. I have told him to take a holiday to-morrow," he added kindly,"a day in the country will be the best thing for him, and there is notvery much to be done in the office at this time of the year. Business isvery slack, Mr. Gimblet. I daresay, now, yours keeps your nose to thegrindstone, at one season as much as another?"

  "Well, yes," said Gimblet. "I'm afraid the criminal classes aren't veryregular in their holiday-making. It's very inconsiderate of them, butI'm afraid they're a selfish lot."

  The house agent's ever-present smile broadened, and at that momentyoung Tremmels made his reappearance with the inventory. In an instantGimblet's keen nose had told him that with the clerk there now enteredthe room a pervading smell of brandy, and his quick eye noted a tinge ofcolour in the pale cheek of the young man, which had previously not beenvisible there. "O-ho," he said to himself, "so that's the trouble, isit?" Then, with a word of thanks to Mr. Ennidge, Gimblet led the way outinto the street, and turned his steps towards Scholefield Avenue.

  "Now then," he said to his companion as they hurried along, "about thisMr. West. What is he like?"

  "He's an elderly, rather horsey-looking gentleman, and odd in hismanner," said the clerk. "What I mean to say is, he has a very pleasantway of talking, and yet somehow he doesn't talk like an ordinarygentleman might. Seems rather fond of what I may term the habit of usingbad language."

  "What does he look like?"

  "He isn't what you'd call a tall man; not that I should call him shorteither; and thin, very thin. Don't know if I make myself clear?"

  "Perfectly," said Gimblet patiently, "would you know him again?"

  "Oh yes. He's a very uncommon sort to meet about. I'd know him anywhere.He's got a leather coloured face, which looks as if he'd been out in thesun more than a few weeks, and a funny little bit of a pointed beard onhis chin. Tell you what he looks like," said Tremmels, with more show ofanimation than he had so far exhibited, "he looks more like an Americanthan he does an Indian; and, come to think of it, he's got a nasty sortof voice, same as they have, but not very strong."

  "Anything else you can remember about him?" Gimblet asked. He waslistening with intense interest.

  "Well, he has got a way of standing with his legs apart, and gettingup on his tiptoes; and then down he lets himself go with a jerk, ifI make myself plain. His wool is a bit grey and is commencing to getbaldish on the top. He seems to dislike seeing strangers or making newacquaintances, as you may say. He gave me to understand that he's ascholar, and going in for reading and what not when he's settled inScholefield Avenue; says his health's bad too, but I shouldn't wonderif it was more likely something else. More this sort of thing." Theclerk made an upward movement with his right arm and hand, of which, asGimblet was walking on his other side, the significance was lost on him.

  "I beg your pardon?" he inquired doubtfully.

  "Granted," said Tremmels; "what I mean is, if you understand me, Ishouldn't be surprised if anyone was to tell me that he takes a drop toomuch. Rather rosy about the beak, I thought, and when he left the officeI watched him go down the street till he was nearly out of sight, whenwhat should he do but nip across into the private bar of the _Lion andCrown_."

  "Ah," said Gimblet, "I observed a certain shakiness in the signatureof the lease." In his own mind he was thinking that it was more thanprobable that the clerk had accompanied Mr. West to the _Lion andCrown_. "Did you notice anything else?"

  "I don't know that I did," said Tremmels thoughtfully. "He wore ordinarysort of clothes. Gent's lounge suit with a large check pattern, brownboots, and a very genteel diamond pin in the centre of his tie.Altogether quite the gentleman, and very civil-spoken and pleasant whennot swearing. He told me that he wouldn't want any coals ordered in,as his cooking would be done chiefly on the gas stove with which thekitchen of No. 13 is fitted. There is every convenience, as you maysay," concluded the clerk.

  As Gimblet pondered over what he had heard, and reflected that thepowers of observation that his companion showed were greater than he hadgiven him credit for, they drew near to Scholefield Avenue and passedbeneath its lines of branching plane trees to the gate of Mr. Mill'shouse. Higgs was at his post before it and reported that nothing hadstirred during the detective's absence. Sir Gregory came from the backof the house in the company of Mr. Brampton, who had joined him there.The artist was plainly excited.

  "Your friend tells me," he said, as he came up to Gimblet's side, "thatyou think that the two ladies of whose disappearance the papers are sofull--Mrs. Vanderstein and her companion--came to this house on thenight that they vanished. It will be the greatest favour if you willallow me to witness your methods of investigating this affair."

  "By all means," said Gimblet ungraciously, "why shouldn't the wholestreet come? I think it is very probable that it will do so, since SirGregory Aberhyn Jones appears to be perfectly incapable of keeping hisown counsel, no matter whether the safety of his friends is endangeredor not." So saying he turned and held out his hand for the key of thehouse to the clerk, who, panting and gasping after his walk, now leantagainst the door as if no longer able to support himself unaided.

  Sir Gregory and the artist, off whom Gimblet's right and left shotshad glanced with a sting but produced no permanent wounds, fell backsilenced for the moment, though unflinchingly determined to see anythingthere was to be seen. The quick, searching eyes of Brampton rested onthe clerk, and he took in his woeful condition with the rapidity of histrade.

  "That young fellow ought to be in bed," he said, in a low voice, in SirGregory's ear, "but I suppose, like the rest of us, he won't be able totear himself away from this exciting spot."

  They followed Gimblet, who had opened the door and passed through itinto the hall. He looked round him in despair.

  "Really, gentleman," he cried, "you must stay at the door for thepresent. If this house has anything to tell, it will never do so afteryou have trampled all traces from the very floors with your innumerablefeet. I will just see if there is anyone here; and, if not, you cancome in after I have begun my thorough examination, as long as you keepout of my way and do as I tell you. Otherwise I warn you, Sir Gregory,that you will ruin every chance of success."

  "He talks as if we were centipedes," murmured Brampton.

  Sir Gregory motioned him to silence, and they remained obediently inthe doorway while the detective and Higgs ran over the house, openingall the doors and glancing into the rooms to see if there were anyonein them. Whatever secret might lurk beneath that roof, for the momentat least there was no visible human occupant to divulge it; and, if hewas to arrive at any answer to the problem of what had taken place onMonday night after the arrival of the ladies, it was clear to Gimbletthat he must do so with no help other than the dumb aid he might receivefrom the inanimate objects still within the walls, or even from the verywalls themselves.

  As soon as he had completed the first hurried general survey, thedetective began a systematic examination of the house, starting with thehall and passage of the ground floor. The other men had to move awayfrom the steps while he was here, as their figures crowding in the opendoorway blocked the light, and he wanted all he could get. There was noelectric light. In Scholefield Avenue, Brampton told Sir Gregory, allthe houses were dependent on gas for their illumination. Gimblet kneltdown and examined the carpet of the hall on his hands and knees. Hetook a small magnifying lens from his pocket, and applied it to certainspots, which he lingered over longer than the rest of the floor; at thefoot of the stairs he picked up a small object from under the corner ofthe mat; he held it to the light for a moment between finger and thumb,and then put it carefully away in a little box
like a pill-box, whichhe also produced from his pocket. Then he stood up, and examined thefurniture with the same patient deliberation. Presently he spoke to theclerk, who was standing before the door, a little apart from the others.

  "Have you got that inventory?" he asked. "Just read out the contents ofthe hall."

  Tremmels came up the steps and opened the book he carried.

  "Two oak chairs, one oak table, one mirror, one mat," he read. "Oneumbrella stand; two chairs on landing, eight engravings in frames."

  "Wait a bit," interposed the detective, "we haven't got there yet."

  He went to the door, and called to Sir Gregory and Brampton.

  "I've finished the hall," he said. "If you want to come in, you can, aslong as you stay behind me and don't bother me with talking."

  Then he turned back to his search, and began to subject each tread ofthe staircase to the same minute examination as the hall had received.From time to time he added another tiny object to the one he had alreadyplaced in the pill-box; four or five were deposited there before theyreached the first floor.

  In this way the party ascended, a step at a time, till Brampton'scuriosity began to succumb to the boredom of such ineffably slow,crawling, snail-like progress.

  "I think I'll not inflict my presence any longer, Mr. Gimblet," said he,"it is time I dressed for dinner, or my wife will have to wait for me."

  Receiving no answer from Gimblet, who was now absolutely absorbed in hiswork, he whispered to Sir Gregory that he would come back after dinner,and retired from the scene, escorted to the door by Higgs, who let himout and shut it behind him before he returned to his post at the foot ofthe staircase.

  At the top of the house Gimblet straightened himself and turned to SirGregory and the clerk, who were on the stairs a few steps below him.

  Sir Gregory, who was nearly choking with pent-up questions, seized theopportunity.

  "Have you found anything?" he cried, and Tremmels, though he saidnothing, was a living echo of the words, as he strained forward behindSir Gregory to catch the reply.

  "Nothing definite as yet," said Gimblet, "but I may say it appears tome probable that, if Mrs. Vanderstein did come here on Monday night,she did not stay in the house long. I should say she went no higher,at all events, than the drawing-room floor." And he proceeded to theexamination of the rooms working his way downwards.

  The bedrooms yielded no harvest; they wore the dismal look of unoccupiedrooms and had apparently not been entered since, having been swept andcleaned with great thoroughness, they had been left ready for the use ofthe tenant. None of the beds were made, there was no water in the jugs,there was absolutely no indication of so much as one of them having beenused since the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Mill. Gimblet did not spendso long over them as he had over the staircase, but it was past eighto'clock when at length he came out of the last one and descended to thefirst floor.

  "I can always try upstairs again if there is nothing conclusive here,"he said to Sir Gregory, as they went down.

  With his hand on the knob of the drawing-room door he paused an instant,looking with more sympathy than he had lately shown at the anxious faceof the old soldier. A feeling crept over him that it would not be goodfor Sir Gregory to enter this room; it was a vague impalpable feeling,which he could not explain; and in a moment it had passed. He opened thedoor and went into the drawing-room, leaving the baronet, in obedienceto instructions received, faithfully standing on the landing, the whiteface of the clerk showing over his shoulder, framed in the square of thedoorway against the dusky shadows beyond.