Simon

by J. Storer Clouston

  XXII

  MR. CARRINGTON AND THE FISCAL

  The card handed in to Mr. Simon Rattar contained merely the name "Mr. F.T. Carrington" and the address "Sports Club." Simon gazed at itcautiously and in silence for the better part of a minute, and when heglanced up at his head clerk to tell him that Mr. Carrington might beadmitted, Mr. Ison was struck by the curious glint in his eye. It seemedto him to indicate that the fiscal was very wide awake at that moment;it struck him also that Mr. Rattar was not altogether surprised by theappearance of this visitor.

  The agreeable stranger began by explaining very frankly that he thoughtof renting a place for next season where he could secure good fishingand a little shooting, and wondered if any of the properties Mr. Rattarwas agent for would suit him. Simon grunted and waited for this overtureto develop.

  "What about Keldale House?" the sporting visitor suggested. "That's theplace where the murder was committed, isn't it?" and then he laughed."Your eye betrays you, Mr. Rattar!" said he.

  The lawyer seemed to start ever so slightly.

  "Indeed?" he murmured.

  "Look here," said Carrington with a candid smile, "let's put our cardson the table. You know my business?"

  "Are you a detective?" asked the lawyer.

  Mr. Carrington smiled and nodded.

  "I am; or rather I prefer to call myself a private enquiry agent. Peopleexpect so much of a detective, don't they?"

  Simon grunted, but made no other comment.

  "In a case like this," continued Carrington, "when one is called inweeks too late and the household broom and scrubbing brush and gardenrake have removed most of the possible clues, and witnesses'recollections have developed into picturesque legends, it is better torouse as few expectations as possible, since it is probably impossibleto find anything out. However, in the capacity of a mere enquiry agent Ihave come to pick up anything I can. May I smoke?"

  He asked in his usual easy-going voice and with his usual candid smile,and then his eye was arrested by an inscription printed in capitalletters, and hung in a handsome frame upon the office wall. It ran:

  "MY THREE RULES OF LIFE,

  "1. I DO NOT SMOKE. 2. I LAY BY A THIRD OF MY INCOME. 3. I NEVER RIDE WHEN I CAN WALK."

  Beneath these precepts appeared the lithographed signature of an eminentphilanthropist, but it seemed reasonable to assume that they also formedthe guiding maxims of Mr. Simon Rattar.

  His visitor politely apologised for his question.

  "I had not noticed this warning," said he.

  "Smoke if you like. My clients sometimes do. I don't myself," said thelawyer.

  His visitor thanked him, placed a cigarette in his amber holder, lit it,and let his eyes follow the smoke upwards.

  Mr. Rattar, on his part, seemed in his closest, most taciturn humour.His grunt and his nod had, in fact, seldom formed a greater proportionof his conversation. He made no further comment at all now, but waitedin silence for his visitor to proceed.

  "Well," resumed Carrington, "the simple facts of the case are these. Ihave been engaged through a certain firm of London lawyers, whose name Iam not permitted to mention, on behalf of a person whose name I don'tknow."

  At this a flash of keen interest showed for an instant in Simon's eye;and then it became as cold as ever again.

  "Indeed?" said he.

  "I am allowed to incur expense," continued the other, "up to a certainfigure, which is so handsome that it gives me practically a free hand,so far as that is concerned. On the other hand, the arrangement entailscertain difficulties which I daresay you, Mr. Rattar, as a lawyer, andespecially as a Procurator Fiscal accustomed to investigate cases ofcrime, will readily understand."

  "Quite so; quite so," agreed Mr. Rattar, who seemed to be distinctlyrelaxing already from his guarded attitude.

  "I arrived last night, put up at the Kings Arms--where I gatheredbeforehand that the local gossip could best be collected, and in thecourse of the evening I collected enough to hang at least two people;and in the course of a few more evenings I shall probably have enough tohang half a dozen--if one can believe, say, a twentieth of what onehears. This morning I strolled out to Keldale House and had a look at itfrom the road, and I learned that it was a large mansion standing amongtrees. That's all I have been able to do so far."

  "Nothing more than that?"

  Mr. Carrington seemed to have a singularly short memory.

  "I think that's the lot," said he. "And what is more, it seems to me thesum total of all I am likely to do without a little assistance fromsomebody in possession of rather more authentic facts than my friendMiss Peterkin and her visitors."

  "I quite understand," said the lawyer; and it was plain that hisinterest was now thoroughly enlisted.

  "Well," continued Mr. Carrington, "I thought things over, and rightly orwrongly, I came to this decision. My employer, whoever he is, has madeit an absolute condition that his name is not to be known. His reasonsmay have been the best imaginable, but it obviously made it impossiblefor me to get any information out of _him_. For my own reasons I alwaysprefer to make my enquiries in these cases in the guise of anunsuspected outsider, whenever it is possible; and it happens to beparticularly possible in this case, since nobody here knows me fromAdam. But I must get facts--as distinguished from the Kings Arms'gossip, and how was I to get them without giving myself away? That wasthe problem, and I soon realised that it was insoluble. I saw I mustconfide in somebody, and so I came to the decision to confide in you."

  Simon nodded and made a sound that seemed to indicate distinctly hisopinion that Mr. Carrington had come to a sensible decision.

  "You were the obvious person for several reasons," resumed Carrington."In the first place you could pretty safely be regarded as abovesuspicion yourself--if you will pardon my associating even the wordsuspicion with a Procurator Fiscal." He smiled his most agreeable smileand the Fiscal allowed his features to relax sympathetically. "In thesecond place you know more about the case than anybody else. And in thethird place, I gather that you are--if I may say so, a gentleman ofunusual discretion."

  Again he smiled pleasantly, and again Mr. Rattar's features relaxed.

  "Finally," added Carrington, "I thought it long odds that you wereeither actually my employer or acting for him, and therefore I shouldbe giving nothing away by telling you my business. And when I mentionedKeldale House and the murder I saw that I was right!"

  He laughed, and Simon permitted himself to smile. Yet his answer was ascautious as ever.

  "Well, Mr. Carrington?" said he.

  "Well," said Carrington, "if you actually are my employer and we bothlay our cards on the table, there's much to be gained, and--if I may sayso--really nothing to be lost. I won't give you away if you won't giveme."

  The lawyer's nod seemed to imply emphatic assent, and the other went on:

  "I'll keep you informed of everything I'm doing and anything I mayhappen to discover, and you can give me very valuable information as towhat precisely is known already. Otherwise, of course, one could hardlyexchange confidences so freely. Frankly then, you engaged me to comedown here?"

  Even then Simon's caution seemed to linger for an instant. The next heanswered briefly but decidedly:

  "Yes."

  "Very well, now to business. I got a certain amount of literature on thecase before I left town, and Miss Peterkin gave me some very valuableadditions in the shape of the accounts in the local papers. Are thereany facts known to you or the police beyond those I have read?"

  Simon considered the question and then shook his head.

  "None that I can think of, and I fear the local police will be able toadd no information that can assist you."

  "They are the usual not too intelligent country bobbies, I suppose?"

  "Quite so," said Simon.

  "In that case," asked Mr. Carrington, still in his easy voice, but witha quick turn of his eyeglass towards the lawyer, "why was
no outsideassistance called in at once?"

  For a moment Simon Rattar's satisfaction with his visitor seemed to bediminished. He seemed, in fact, a little disconcerted, and his replyagain became little more than a grunt.

  "Quite satisfied with them," seemed to be the reading of his answer.

  "Well," said Carrington, "no doubt you knew best, Mr. Rattar."

  His eyes thoughtfully followed the smoke of his cigarette upwards for amoment, and then he said:

  "That being so, my first step had better be to visit Keldale House andsee whether it is still possible to find any small point the localprofessionals have overlooked."

  Mr. Rattar seemed to disapprove of this.

  "Nothing to discover," said he. "And they will know what you have comeabout."

  Mr. Carrington smiled.

  "I think, Mr. Rattar, that, on the whole, my appearance provokes nogreat amount of suspicion."

  "Your appearance, no," admitted Simon, "but--"

  "Well, if I go to Keldale armed with a card of introduction from you, tomake enquiry about the shootings, I think I can undertake to turn theconversation on to other matters without exciting suspicion."

  "Conversation with whom?" enquired the lawyer sceptically.

  "I had thought of Mr. Bisset, the butler."

  "Oh--" began Mr. Rattar with a note of surprise, and then pulled himselfup.

  "Yes," smiled Mr. Carrington, "I have picked up a little about thehousehold. My friends of last night were exceedingly communicative--verygossipy indeed. I rather gather that omniscience is Mr. Bisset's foible,and that he is not averse from conversation."

  The look in Simon's eye seemed to indicate that his respect for thiseasy-going young man was increasing; though whether his liking for himwas also increased thereby was not so manifest. His reply was again amere grunt.

  "Well, that can easily be arranged," said Carrington, "and it isobviously the first thing to do."

  He blew a ring of smoke from his lips, skilfully sent a second ring inchase of it, and then turning his monocle again on the lawyer, enquired(though not in a tone that seemed to indicate any very acute interest inthe question):

  "Who do you think yourself murdered Sir Reginald Cromarty?"