by John Rhode
After what he had learnt, it seemed to him unlikely that Knott’s absence from his office was voluntary. If he had left Torquay at seven-twenty in the morning, he should have reached London some time before noon. On arrival he would proceed direct to Chancery Lane or to his rooms in Crozier Court. Apparently, however, he had done neither of these things. He might have met with an accident of some kind, either in the train or after its arrival at Paddington. Jimmy telephoned to the station and was assured that the seven-twenty from Torquay on Friday morning had arrived without incident. Jimmy repeated his inquiries at the various London hospitals without effect. Nobody of the name of Knott or answering to the description given by the inspector had been admitted during the past week.
Jimmy’s next step was to report the matter to Hanslet. Since Knott was remotely connected with the Harleston case, it seemed the proper thing to do. But the superintendent was not much impressed. ‘He’ll turn up all right,’ he said. ‘But we want to know where he is, for we shall want him as a witness as soon as we bring Philip Harleston before the magistrates. You’d better run down to Torquay again, and see if you can find out anything about him there.’
So Jimmy paid a second visit to Mr Slater and was received with the latter’s habitual courtesy. He explained the purport of his visit. Mr Slater seemed very much perturbed.
‘Dear me,’ he said, ‘that’s very annoying. The business cannot carry on without Mr Knott’s personal supervision. Grant, the chief clerk, is a very good fellow, but he cannot be expected to take charge at a moment’s notice like this. Do you think that Mr Knott can have met with an accident, on his journey back to London?’
‘I can’t obtain any news of such a thing having happened,’ Jimmy replied. ‘You are sure that he left here by the seven-twenty train on Friday morning?’
‘Well, I didn’t see him off, of course,’ said Mr Slater. ‘I don’t get up so early as that nowadays. But that’s what he told Gavin he meant to do when they were chatting together on Thursday evening. He didn’t say anything about it to me. I expected him to catch the same train as he usually does—the ten-thirty.’
‘He had an appointment for three o’clock at the office on Friday. Perhaps that was the reason why he took the earlier train?’
‘It may have been. He told me about that appointment—in fact, he asked my advice about the line he should take. If he handled the matter properly, it should prove a source of considerable profit to the firm. I sincerely hope that it will be possible to postpone it until Mr Knott reappears.’
‘Mr Knott gave you no hint that he did not mean to return to the office on Friday?’
‘Certainly not,’ replied Mr Slater emphatically. ‘On the contrary, he told me how necessary it was that he should be there. I had suggested that he should stay the weekend with us as he sometimes does, but he explained that it was absolutely impossible. There was another reason which made it necessary for him to be back in London on Friday. He had a large sum of money with him which he had to hand over to one of his business friends before six o’clock.’
‘You mean that he had the money with him while he was here, Mr Slater?’ Jimmy asked.
‘Yes. The money was in notes of various denominations. He counted them in my presence while we were alone together. The total, to the best of my recollection, was £750. When he counted the notes he returned them to an envelope, which he put in his pocket.’
‘Have you any idea of the source of this money? Or of the person to whom it was to be paid?’
‘Very little. Mr Knott told me that it was a personal matter of his own and had nothing to do with the firm. I formed the impression that he had the opportunity of buying some shares or other upon exceptionally favourable terms. He definitely told me that the matter must be concluded by six o’clock on Friday afternoon. I saw him last at nine o’clock on Thursday evening. It is my habit to retire to bed at that hour. But I expected to see him again at breakfast on the following morning. However, Gavin told me that he had left by the seven-twenty.’
The fact that Knott was carrying a large sum of money with him when he disappeared seemed to Jimmy to put a new complexion on the situation. And so far, there was no evidence that he had actually left Torquay by the seven-twenty. Mr Slater had merely taken his son’s word for it. It was obvious that the matter required further investigation.
‘I wonder if I might have a few words with your son, Mr Slater,’ he asked.
‘Certainly,’ replied Mr Slater without hesitation. ‘He’s at work in the studio, I expect. You know your way. Perhaps you would like to go there and see him.’
Jimmy took advantage of this invitation. He went into the studio and found Gavin still at work before the easel. He turned his head as Jimmy entered the room.
‘Hullo, Inspector,’ he said ungraciously, ‘you here again?’
‘Yes,’ replied Jimmy shortly. ‘I’m trying to get news of Mr Knott. He hasn’t been seen since he was down here last Thursday.’
‘I thought there must be something up when they sent that telegram from the office,’ said Gavin easily. ‘What’s happened to him? Not done a bunk with the firm’s money, I hope.’
The mention of the word ‘money’ gave Jimmy his cue.
‘You were aware that he had a large sum of money with him when he was here?’ he asked quickly.
‘Not I,’ Gavin replied. ‘I know nothing whatever about high finance. That’s the Governor’s affair, not mine.’
He seemed impatient to end the conversation, for he turned back to the easel as though to resume his painting.
But Jimmy meant to get to the bottom of this affair. Already he had a vague suspicion, too utterly fantastic to be encouraged. He had taken a dislike to Gavin at first sight and he told himself that this must have something to do with it.
‘I’m afraid I shall have to trouble you a little longer, Mr Slater,’ he said coldly. ‘When did you last see Mr Knott?’
‘Why, when he went to bed on Thursday night, of course. You don’t suppose that I took the trouble to get up and shake his hand at seven o’clock in the morning, do you?’
‘What time did he go to bed?’
‘Oh, soon after eleven I think it was,’ replied Gavin impatiently. ‘We sat in here and drank whisky after dinner. The Governor always clears off at nine or soon after. Winifred wasn’t with us, she was out at a bridge party somewhere.’
‘So that you and Mr Knott were alone from soon after nine till soon after eleven?’
‘Yes, that’s right. Swapping yarns and drinking. Knott’s not a bad fellow. He’s usually got one or two amusing stories up his sleeve. I’m always glad to see him, so long as it’s not too often.’
‘When did he tell you that he meant to go back to London by the seven-twenty?’
‘Oh, while we were together here after dinner. He said that he’d forgotten to tell the Governor that he would have to go by that train and asked me if it would be all right. I offered to ring for the maid and tell her to call him early. But he said it didn’t matter. He didn’t want to disturb anybody. He knew his way about the house and could let himself out. As for breakfast, he could get that on the train.’
Jimmy considered this for a few moments. It was not, on the face of it, improbable. Knott was a frequent visitor to the house and could behave informally. He knew from experience that it took less than ten minutes to walk to the station. If he had left the house a few minutes after seven he would have been in plenty of time for his train. There was a chance then that he might have been seen.
‘What time in the morning do the servants get up?’ Jimmy asked abruptly.
The other shrugged his shoulders. ‘How should I know?’ he replied. ‘I don’t run the house. You’d better go and ask them. And, if you haven’t noticed it for yourself, I am bound to mention that I have a job of work to do.’ He turned his back on Jimmy as though to conclude the interview. Jimmy decided to take advantage of his discourteous invitation. He left the studio and set out to exp
lore the back premises.
His arrival there caused something of a flutter. He found the cook and housemaid sitting together over a cup of tea, and in a few words he explained the reason for his intrusion.
‘I’m awfully sorry to butt in like this,’ he said apologetically. ‘I only want to know if anybody saw Mr Knott leave the house on Friday morning.’
The two women glanced at one another sharply. The cook shook her head forebodingly.
‘There now, I always said that it wasn’t natural,’ she said.
‘What wasn’t natural?’ asked Jimmy politely.
‘Why, what Lizzie here told me she found after the gentleman had gone,’ replied the cook.
Lizzie was apparently the housemaid. But Jimmy was not to be drawn off at a tangent like this. If there was any mystery in Knott’s departure from the house, he wanted to get his facts in proper order.
‘Mr Knott is supposed to have caught the seven-twenty train to London on Friday morning,’ he said. ‘Did either of you see him leave the house by any chance?’
Both shook their heads and Lizzie replied. ‘He must have gone before I was up and about, sir, and that was a quarter to seven. I went to call him at eight o’clock, like I always do when he stays here, and I found—’
She stopped abruptly, as though afraid of divulging her information. But Jimmy encouraged her.
‘What did you find, Lizzie?’ he asked.
‘Why, that Mr Knott had got up and gone, sir,’ she replied stubbornly.
‘Come now, Lizzie,’ said Jimmy reprovingly. ‘It’s no use trying to hide anything from me. It might make things unpleasant for you, you know. What else did you find when you went to call Mr Knott at eight o’clock?’
Thus cautioned, Lizzie decided to make a clean breast of it.
‘Why, sir, I found a patch of blood as big as a saucer on his top sheet, sir,’ she replied in an awestruck voice.
‘Where is that sheet now?’ asked Jimmy quickly.
‘In the washing basket, sir, waiting for the laundry man who calls tomorrow.’
Jimmy thanked his stars that he had not delayed his visit to Torquay. Knott’s disappearance was becoming more sinister with every new point ascertained. ‘The bed had been slept in, I suppose?’ he asked.
‘Oh yes, sir,’ Lizzie replied. ‘And there was another funny thing about it. The pillow case had gone and I couldn’t find it anywhere.’
‘Have you found it since?’
‘No, sir, it’s clean gone. I told Mrs Slater about it and she said that it didn’t matter. Mr Knott must have taken it to wrap something up in. He’d be sure to post it back, she said.’
‘Mr Knott brought a suitcase with him when he came, I suppose?’
‘Oh yes, sir. He dressed for dinner on Thursday. But his things had all gone and the suitcase too, when I went into his room.’
Jimmy decided not to pursue his inquiries any further for the present. He asked Lizzie for the bloodstained sheet and when she had brought it he secured a sheet of brown paper and wrapped it up in a parcel. He then left the house, taking this with him, and proceeded to the local police station.
Here he found the superintendent, to whom he unfolded his story. ‘I don’t altogether like the look of it, sir,’ he said. ‘Nobody saw Knott leave that house. And the blood on this sheet, taken with the fact that the pillow case is missing, seems to me rather significant.’
The superintendent looked grave. ‘We know something about this Mr Gavin Slater,’ he said. ‘He’s made himself a nuisance to us more than once. Since he has been here he has made himself notorious. For instance, he’s got drunk in nearly every pub in the town, until there are very few places that will serve him. The trouble with him is that he gets violent when he’s in drink. Not long ago he created a disturbance in the main street and when the constable went up to see what was the matter he wanted to fight him. Master Gavin got so obstreperous that the man had no option but to bring him here. We put him in the cells for an hour or two, but we didn’t charge him, out of regard for his father, who is a most respectable person. Since then, I fancy, he takes his drink at home, and a very good thing too. As for this Mr Knott of yours, you’d better leave us to make a few inquiries.’
On the following morning Jimmy learnt the results of these inquiries. On the previous Friday there had only been six passengers by the seven-twenty train. Of these, not one of them in any way resembled the description of Knott. This, of course, was not conclusive, for, after such an interval, memories of the railway officials could not be relied upon implicitly.
The superintendent, whose name as Jimmy had learnt was Latham, was inclined to take a serious view of the matter.
‘I don’t like the look of things,’ he said. ‘Gavin Slater is capable of anything when he is drunk. He may be lame, but that doesn’t prevent him getting about as much as he wants to. And, as you may have noticed, he’s a pretty powerful sort of chap. The missing man, you say, had a large sum of money on him. I think we ought to make further inquiries as to what happened at Mr Slater’s house on Thursday night.’
Jimmy thought so, too. He and the superintendent went to the house and were admitted by Lizzie. It was Jimmy who had suggested that they should first interview Winifred Slater, and Lizzie told them that she was in the drawing-room writing letters. She showed no surprise when they were announced.
‘Oh, have you come again!’ she asked petulantly. ‘If you’re inquiring for Mr Knott, I’m afraid that I can tell you nothing whatever about him. I only saw him for a moment on Thursday evening. I went out very soon after he came.’
‘What time did you return?’ the superintendent asked.
‘Oh, soon after midnight,’ she replied. ‘Mr Knott had gone to bed by then.’
‘Did you find anybody waiting up for you?’
Her lips curled disdainfully. ‘Only my husband,’ she replied. ‘And he could hardly be described as waiting for me. He was fast asleep and snoring on the sofa in the studio.’
‘You will forgive my reverting to an unpleasant subject, Mrs Slater. It is common knowledge that your husband occasionally indulges rather too freely in alcohol. Do you think it probable that he had done so on Thursday evening?’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Since he was asleep it is difficult to say. But there was a broken tumbler on the floor and an empty decanter of whisky on a table close beside it. Anyway, I took the usual precautions.’
‘And what were those, if I may ask, Mrs Slater?’
‘Oh, I went up to our room and locked the door. I always do when Gavin’s like that. A bed is kept made up for him in his dressing-room, and he can sleep it off there.’
‘You heard or saw nothing more of your husband after you had gone upstairs?’
‘Nothing whatever. I didn’t see him again until he came down to breakfast next morning, looking very much the worse for wear.’
‘Were you surprised when Mr Knott did not put in an appearance at breakfast?’
‘Not particularly. Mr Knott’s comings and goings are no affair of mine. He only comes down to see my father on business. But I remember that my father asked where he was and Gavin told him that he had gone by the early train. My father seemed to think this natural and said something about his having an appointment in London.’
‘The housemaid drew your attention to the fact that the pillow case was missing from the bed in the room which Mr Knott had occupied?’
‘Yes, she did. But I should hardly suspect Mr Knott of stealing the household linen. He probably took it away with him for some reason and will eventually send it back.’
‘You saw that there was a patch of blood on the upper sheet?’
‘Yes, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. Mr Knott might have had an attack of nose-bleeding in the night.’
The superintendent and Jimmy left the room together. Lizzie had told them that Gavin was to be found in the studio. They went to seek him and found him extended on the sofa. A half-empty glass of whisky wa
s beside him and his appearance suggested that after Jimmy’s interview with him on the previous evening, he had imbibed with considerable freedom.
However, he sat up at the sound of their entrance and glared at them malevolently.
‘Hallo, two of you this time!’ he exclaimed. ‘This damned house is getting overrun with inquisitive policemen. What is it now?’
‘You and I have met before, Mr Slater,’ said the superintendent warningly. ‘We don’t want any nonsense, understand that. You will kindly answer the questions which we shall put to you. To begin with, we want you to recall the events of last Thursday evening. Yesterday, you told Inspector Waghorn that you and Mr Knott spent the evening in this room alone. Do you still adhere to that statement?’
‘What do you mean?’ replied Gavin belligerently. ‘Of course we did, since the Governor had gone to bed and Winifred was out.’
‘You talked together until about eleven o’clock, when Mr Knott went to bed? Is that correct?’
‘Yes, that’s right. I won’t swear to the time exactly but I think it was soon after eleven.’
‘You had a few drinks together before Mr Knott went to bed?’
‘Yes, one or two. But Knott is always a slow drinker. I don’t suppose he had more than a couple.’
‘And you finished the decanter after he had gone upstairs?’
‘I dare say. I don’t see what it’s got to do with you, anyhow. You can’t stop a man drinking as much as he likes in his own house.’
The superintendent did not allow himself to be put out. ‘The decanter was found empty in the morning, and one of the tumblers broken on the floor. I suggest that you drank more than was good for you that evening, Mr Slater.’
‘Well, what else was there to do?’ replied Gavin aggrievedly. ‘I couldn’t persuade Knott to sit up. He said he had to make an early start and wanted a good night’s rest, first. And I thought I’d better sit up and wait for Winifred. Rotten for the girl to come home and find nobody about.’