I
Everard Myatt--or Catherton Hunt--was lost again. Martin Hewitt had beenwholly successful, for he had recovered Mr. Bell's missing bonds; butthe police caught neither of the conspirators. Investigation atHenning's lodgings showed that careful preparations must have been madefor an immediate flight if it should become necessary, and the flighthad taken place. The man in the hospital, who had been knocked down incarrying from one to the other the extraordinary message that Hewittdeciphered, remained insensible for a few days, and could not bequestioned till some time later still. Then he professed to haveforgotten all about the message on which he was going when he met hisaccident, and the medical men in attendance informed the police that itwas quite possible that the fellow's statement was true. He said that he_did_ carry messages sometimes, when he could get a job, but he couldremember nothing of the message of the key, nor of who had sent him, norwhere he was to go. Nevertheless, the police, although they professedto accept his statement, kept a wary eye on him after his discharge fromthe hospital, for they had a very great suspicion that he knew more thanhe chose to tell. But nothing more was heard of the accomplices tillanother case of Martin Hewitt's brought the news, and that in a mannerstrange enough.
The matter began, as so many matters of Hewitt's did, with the receiptof a telegram, followed immediately by another. For the first havingbeen handed in at a country office not very long before eight theprevious evening, it was not delivered at Hewitt's office till themorning, in accordance with the ancient manners and customs observed inthe telegraphic system of this country. It had been despatched fromThrockham, in Middlesex, and it was simply a very urgently wordedrequest to Hewitt to come at once, signed "Claire Peytral." The secondtelegram, which came even as Hewitt was reading the first, on hisarrival at his office, ran thus:--
/# "Did you receive telegram? See newspapers. Matter life or death. Would come personally but cannot leave mother. Pray answer.--Peytral."#/
The answer went instantly that Hewitt would come by the next train, forhe had seen the morning paper and from that knew the urgency of thecase. But a consultation of the railway guide showed that trains toThrockham were fewer than one might suppose, considering the proximityof the village to London, and that the next would leave in about an hourand a quarter; so that I saw Hewitt before he started. He came up to myrooms, in fact, as I was beginning to breakfast.
"See here," he said, "I am sent for in the Throckham case. Have you seenthe report?"
As a leader writer, I had little business with the news side of mypaper, and indeed I had no more than a vague recollection of some suchheading as: "Tragedy in a barn," in one evening paper of the day before,and "Murder at Throckham" in another. So I could claim no very exactknowledge of the affair.
"Here you have a paper, I see," Hewitt said, reaching for it. "Perhapstheir report is fuller than that in mine." He gave me his own newspaperand began searching in the other. "No," he said presently, "much thesame. News agency report to both papers, no doubt."
The report which I read ran as follows:--
/# "Singular Tragedy.--An extraordinary occurrence is reported from Throckham, a small village within fifteen miles of London, involving a tragic fatality that has led to a charge of murder. On Thursday evening an old barn, for some time disused, was discovered to be on fire, and it was only by extraordinary exertions on the part of the villagers that the fire was extinguished. Upon an examination of the place yesterday morning the body of Mr. Victor Peytral, a gentleman who had lived in the neighbourhood for some time, and who had been missing since shortly before the discovery of the fire, was found in the ruins. The body was burnt almost beyond recognition, but not so much as to conceal the fact that the unfortunate gentleman had not perished in the fire, but had been the victim of foul play. The throat was very deeply cut, and there can be no doubt that the murderer must have fired the barn with the object of destroying all traces of the crime. The police have arrested Mr. Percy Bowmore, a frequent visitor at the house of the deceased."#/
"My telegram," said Hewitt, "is plainly from a relative of this Mr.Peytral who is dead--perhaps a daughter, since she speaks of beingunable to leave her mother. In that case, probably an only child, sincethere is no other to leave."
"Unless the others are too young," I suggested.
"Just so," Hewitt replied. "Well, Brett," he added, "to-day isSaturday."
Saturday was, of course, my "off" day, and I understood Hewitt to hintthat if I pleased I might accompany him to Throckham. "Saturday it is,"I said, "and I have no engagements. Would you care for me to come?"
"As you please, of course. I can guess very little of the case as yet,naturally, beyond what I have read in the paper; but the subtle sense ofmy experience tells me that there is all the chance of an interestingcase in this. That's _your_ temptation. As for myself, I don't mindadmitting that--especially in these country cases, where the resourcesof civilisation are not always close at hand--I'm never loth to have afriend with me who isn't too proud to be made use of. That's _my_temptation!"
No persuasion was needed, and in due time we set out together.
The Red Triangle Page 11