Death on the Highway

by Death on the Highway (retail) (epub)

  “Quite right, he comes into it, too. As I was saying, I have collected a few facts and I want time to see if they all fit in with what you have told me. I’m not suggesting they won’t but I must be certain. Also, I’ve got to see what my young journalist makes of it all.”

  “He will believe what you tell him,” said Mrs. Crewe, quietly.

  “I’m not sure,” answered Harrison.

  “You must make sure,” said Mrs. Crewe, and her tone was decisive.

  “Then I must tell him the truth,” said Harrison, with equal decision.

  “I think we know each other well enough, Mr. Harrison, not to beat about the bush,” said Mrs. Crewe, calmly. “I have given you the facts and the matter is finished. You have done marvels to make me confess all I have done to you. To my mind, your investigation is finished.”

  Harrison was silent while he watched, out of the tail of his eye, Mallison leave the table at which he was sitting with Henry and Garfitt and indulge in an earnest conversation with the head porter at his desk by the door.

  “Those are your terms, Mrs. Crewe?” asked Harrison at last.

  “Call them what you like,” she answered, emphatically. “Your work is finished and you make your arrangements to go tonight.”

  “Splendid,” said Harrison.

  “If not—”

  “If not?” repeated Harrison.

  “We are all going to the Casino tonight and I shall be honoured if you will join us there. Of course, with the bodyguard. You might even bring your very foolish friend, Miss Rich.”

  “I appreciate the invitation,” answered Harrison.

  “You asked for time to think it over,” said Mrs. Crewe, with a tinge of venom in her voice. “I am giving it to you. I shall not expect you at the Casino tonight, but if you should come don’t forget that three is an unlucky number. Twice you have had a hint about meddling. The first was harmless. So was the second, but not necessarily so. I needn’t labour the point.”

  Harrison rose to join his friends. “I am going to think it over,” he said. “And I suggest, Mrs. Crewe, that you do the same.”

  Mrs. Crewe gave him a piercing look and then rose herself and, in the most gracious manner, gave him her hand and said goodbye. She bowed across the lounge to the others who had risen when they saw Harrison start to move. They collected Mallison from the hall porter and the four sallied off in the direction of the villa. Mallison hinted vaguely that drinks were procurable at Madame’s, but Harrison insisted that conversation would be less public if they returned to Mrs. Mallison’s drawing-room.

  “Meaning you have something to tell us,” said Garfitt.

  “Mrs. Crewe has told me all I wanted to know,” answered Harrison; “I want a little more proof, that is all.”

  “Very kind of Mrs. Crewe, I’m sure,” said Garfitt.

  “She hardly intended it in that way,” answered Harrison.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Harrison,” said Mallison, “but you were right.”

  “The hall porter told you something,” said Harrison.

  “Yes, Hooker’s gone.”

  “Good lord,” exclaimed Garfitt.

  “He didn’t sleep in the hotel last night,” said Mallison, “and he sent a message that he had to go off suddenly to Paris. He made arrangements with his kind friends, the Crewes, to pay his bill and all the etceteras, I expect the porter got some of them. Archie Crewe was to pack up his things and send them on to him.”

  “Pretty thorough,” said Harrison; “and pretty serious too. I suppose they’ve got his money.”

  “May I ask some questions?” queried Garfitt.

  “Emphatically no,” replied Harrison. “We’re not going to say a word until we get back to the villa. Still I’m willing to give you something to think about. I have been looking for a man with two special qualities. First, he is superstitious. Second, he has a scar on the palm of one of his hands. Do you think Mr. Archie Crewe fits the bill?”

  Chapter XX

  The Ivory Five Again

  The men were greeted warmly by Mrs. Mallison and Miss Rich on their arrival at the villa, and all of them were anxious to hear Harrison’s explanation of developments. It was, therefore, with almost unseemly haste that he was escorted into the drawing-room and settled in an armchair which, so quickly do human beings invent a tradition, was already regarded as his personal property. Had he permitted, willing hands would have snatched his cigar-case from his pocket and accommodated him with necessary cigar and match.

  He was indeed allowed to get his cigar properly alight before Garfitt burst forth, “Now for it, my lord.”

  “I don’t want to disappoint you,” said Harrison. “It isn’t quite what Mrs. Crewe said which counts. It’s what she intended to convey and what we decided she might be likely to do. We agreed that the invitation to the hotel was part of a plan. Obviously she wanted to tell me something. And don’t forget, every little move counts at present. We’ve left everything to her so we can’t afford to miss—or misunderstand—anything.”

  “What does the story of her daughter and you and the hotel mean then?” asked Garfitt.

  “Of course it’s quite true,” said Harrison, “I’ve heard enough about that indiscretion from Henry already.”

  “Oh no, sir,” protested Henry.

  “But it’s not quite true in her way,” continued Harrison. “Mrs. Crewe believes in trying every method against her enemies. No plan is too obvious or too hackneyed even if there seems a chance of success, and she loses nothing by failure. The idea of the seemingly innocent young maiden inviting the foolish gentleman alone to her room at night and sudden discovery leading to blackmail is one of the oldest in the world. Still Mrs. Crewe must have thought it was so old that it might be trying again—”

  “My news-editor sometimes thinks that about news,” said Garfitt.

  “It’s not a bad idea,” said Harrison; “especially as I expect she hoped that there was just a chance of my not thinking she would try anything as obvious as that. In a way, she was right, for I had walked head over heels into her pretty little trap over Miss Netta.”

  “You mean to say you fell for her?” asked Mallison.

  “Precisely,” answered Harrison. “I am afraid I have been so used to dealing with women of quite another type in the cases I have investigated that, for a time, I was quite taken in by Miss Netta’s femininity and innocent charm, but it was the bedroom trick which gave the whole thing away. Mrs. Crewe, however, was rather elaborate in her explanation. That was the most important point about it. I felt that such attention to detail must be one of her besetting sins. I think I was right.”

  “Meaning that, when she got you alone, she gave you still more details?” said Garfitt.

  “That is so,” said Harrison, and he proceeded to recount the story of Archie, Jules and the boots, which Mrs. Crewe had told him over the tea table. They all listened with absorbed attention, a flattering audience frightened of missing a word. Harrison’s tone was low, but had he told the whole story in a whisper it would have been clearly heard by them all so still was the atmosphere of the room. It came quite as a shock to them all when Harrison stopped and said, “And what do you make of it?”

  “It is so neat that it might be true,” said Garfitt.

  “I agree,” added Mallison.

  “And the ladies,” said Harrison, “what do they think?”

  “It’s just the kind of story you read in the newspapers,” said Yvette Mallison.

  “It doesn’t seem to fit in with my idea of Archie Crewe,” said May Rich.

  “Good,” said Harrison, “nor with mine. But Henry’s got the solution to it, I’m certain. What do you say, Henry?”

  “What I can’t understand, sir,” answered Henry, “is that the man named Jules should take the trouble to jump off a train and get back to Toulon and then be hit on the head and get thrown in the harbour.”

  “Henry’s right,” said Mallison.

  “Of course he is,”
said Harrison; “that’s where her story breaks down. If we had known nothing about Jules, her story might hold water but with that knowledge it is obviously untrue. Therefore we want to know why she went into such elaborate detail to discover a plausible story. She knew that one of the clues I was following was the gardener’s boots and the story does, to a certain extent, explain them away. But then we have to assume that the unknown tramp was a tramp in fact, and that he was as unknown to the Crewes as he was to everyone else. And we felt certain that wasn’t the case!”

  “I agree,” said Garfitt. “The more one thinks of it the more unlikely it appears. I’m afraid the Daily Flight can’t accept it.”

  “Mrs. Crewe, who was much impressed by your intelligence, Garfitt, by the way, said you would accept it if I did.”

  “I thank the lady for her kind words even if I don’t like the story,” said Garfitt. “But if you say I’ve got to believe it, Harrison, I’ll do my best.”

  “All I want you to do is to use that intelligence of yours,” said Harrison. “Tell me why Mrs. Crewe invented that story.”

  “Another pious hope gone wrong,” said Garfitt.

  “That’s hardly good enough,” answered Harrison. “Jules wasn’t the main character in it.”

  “Archie Crewe,” hazarded Mallison.

  “We have seen her attention to detail over Netta Crewe,” said Harrison. “Now she’s doing the same for Archie. Nothing was further from Miss Netta’s mind than to try and entrap Clay Harrison in her bedroom. What’s the next step? Nothing was further from Archie Crewe’s mind than to—” he paused. “Can’t any of you answer it?”

  They all waited patiently.

  “Than to murder an unknown tramp,” said Harrison, decisively.

  “Good lord,” said Garfitt.

  “That’s the logic of it, at any rate,” said Harrison. “And that’s why it was important to remember her attention to detail. In each case she was justifying somebody. Instead of leaving well alone, she had to bring in Archie Crewe and justify him with a liberal coating of whitewash. She may have thought I was working in that direction. I was. Archie Crewe has fitted into the story at every development. It would have been a good idea for her to work out a series of events which would explain any connection Archie Crewe might have had with the crime. Indeed, she went further in mixing him up with it than one might have expected. But I am certain that wasn’t what she intended. She was telling a positive story, not denying the case I might be likely to put forward.”

  “That’s fair enough,” said Garfitt. “You’ve got the old lady’s method taped all right.”

  “So all you have to do is to lay Master Crewe by the heels,” said Mallison.

  “Just a moment,” said Harrison. “We haven’t nearly proved our case against him yet. We’re on the right road, that’s all. But we haven’t finished with Mrs. Crewe’s story yet. We must look all round it, for it is the turning point of the whole business. She had another object in view. She didn’t ask me to go and see her just to produce these two pleasant pieces of fiction. She had another object in view. The story of Archie Crewe is her way of warning me off the course.”

  “Please explain,” said May Rich.

  “That is her story and that is the story she is going to stick to,” answered Harrison. “If I’m wise I’m to stick to it too. That explains her reference to you, Garfitt; to her mind the best thing I can do is to persuade you to accept it. Then we can all go home—in safety.”

  “Pretty tame,” commented Garfitt.

  “It was her suggestion, not mine,” said Harrison. “But it was quite definite. Her attitude was that I should accept it or take the consequences.”

  “What are the consequences, Mr. Harrison?” asked Yvette Mallison, fearfully.

  “I really don’t know,” was the reply. “That’s what I want to find out. I told you I was going to leave things to Mrs. Crewe. The solution of the case rests with her, and she had to make all the fresh moves. She’s made the first one today and we’ve got appreciably further forward. The next one is to be at the Casino tonight.”

  “The Casino?” asked Miss Rich.

  “Yes, she’s given me time to think things over and, if I don’t decide to go straight home, she has asked us all to go to the Casino tonight.”

  “It’s like putting your head into the lion’s mouth,” said Yvette Mallison.

  “I hardly think so,” said Harrison. “She’s asked the ladies as well. So I think we can assume it is another step she is taking, and that the actual display of fireworks isn’t timed to go off yet.”

  “I think it’s wonderful, Mr. Harrison,” said May Rich, with a look of undisguised admiration in her eyes which a younger man might have well envied, “the way you are working out Mrs. Crewe’s methods. May we come to the Casino? I do want to see what happens next.”

  “And you’re not frightened of her?” asked Harrison.

  “I shall feel absolutely safe with you about,” was the heartfelt answer.

  “I think you might include Bob Mallison and Henry,” said Garfitt sorrowfully, “and perhaps myself.”

  “The gang must stick together,” said Harrison. “I don’t think there’s much risk, so we might as well all go.”

  “It is a gala night at the Casino,” said Yvette.

  “How gay,” said Garfitt.

  “Tonight is a nautical night,” said Mallison. “Each of us is presented with a paper matelot’s hat—it suits Yvette extremely well. The band are dressed as sailors and we throw paper streamers—”

  “A very nautical habit,” commented Garfitt.

  “And,” added Mallison, “it costs double the usual price to go in. That’s the most important point.”

  “Of course,” said Harrison. “Then it’s settled that we all go directly after dinner.”

  The company then broke up, and when they assembled for dinner the case of the murdered tramp was rigidly excluded from the conversation. Garfitt was in his best form, and entertained them with odd experiences from his reporting career, quite forgetting his pose of superficial flippancy, while Mallison dug into a variegated past and produced intimate stories of the early struggles of popular stage favourites. The time passed pleasantly and quickly, but Henry notice that his master’s attention was not entirely devoted to his companions.

  Indeed to Harrison, Mrs. Crewe’s shadow was over everything. He felt he had the woman’s measure, but it was like working in a darkened room wherein Mrs. Crewe, from time to time, flicked on an electric torch and it was up to him, during the short time in which the light was available, to see and pigeonhole in his mind every object in the particular room which was temporarily visible. The first flashes had been small and helpful in their way, but he was certain there was much more to come. He wondered if he would be able to see everything it was necessary to see when the moment arrived. Mrs. Crewe was intelligent and thought she knew her man. Could he make certain that this very knowledge should be his means of trapping her? It was a pretty duel and the odds were fairly equal. Yet this waiting for somebody else to do something, with only a glimmer of an idea what that something might be, was trying to the nerves, and Harrison felt he would be mighty glad when he could again have something definite to work on.

  It was a lovely Mediterranean evening as they left the villa and walked together down the lane to the main road which led to the Sport Hotel, Madame’s and incidentally to the Casino—for the amusements of La Plage were usefully situated within a stone’s throw of one another. At any other time Harrison would have thought it a sin to spend such a night within doors, but the appointment at the Casino had to be kept.

  Having paid the modest fee at the door, for even double tariff was not a real strain on the pocket, they were each gravely presented, as Mallison had foretold, with a paper matelot’s hat, “Ready for any nautical excesses,” according to Garfitt, and were then ushered into the Casino.

  It was a singularly bare and uninteresting structure, mainly roof and
iron girders. “More like a drill hall,” said Henry, “than anything else.” On one side was an orchestra, dressed unconvincingly as gondoliers, beside them being a small platform and then a wilderness of tables and chairs. The centre of the hall was left clear for the dancers, while the other side was entirely devoted to tables and chairs.

  Mallison secured a large table and they all settled down, Harrison seeing no sign of Mrs. Crewe and her party. There were a few dancers on the floor and the orchestra was working away with barbaric beat, playing those melodies which have stereotyped themselves for civilised dancing throughout the world. The costumes of the dancers were cheerfully varied. Some were in evening clothes, others in lounge dress, and the more dashing element in beach pyjamas. Despite the somewhat unattractive surroundings, Harrison soon realised that the atmosphere was one of genuine enjoyment. An infectious gaiety hovered over the place and he mentally congratulated the French, for they formed the majority of those present, for being able to extract such unalloyed pleasure from these simple surroundings.

  Garfitt invited Miss Rich to shake a wandering foot—of course with Clay Harrison’s permission, and Mallison and his wife soon followed suit.

  “Sorry you’re left out, Henry,” said Harrison.

  “I’d rather be with you, sir,” said Henry; “I know how serious it is.”

  “Good,” answered Harrison; “you’re a great comfort to have about the house, Henry.” He turned his eyes to the door. “Here they come.”

  As he spoke, Mrs. Crewe appeared, the perfect specimen of benevolent old lady, solicitously attended by Archie and Netta. They were not so exclusively devoted to her, however, that they had not time to shepherd a young woman with them as young, pretty-looking, with the very fair hair and complexion of the Scandinavian countries.

  “Drina Esberg,” said Harrison.

  “Well guarded, sir,” commented Henry.

  The table at which Harrison and Henry were sitting was on the side facing the orchestra, while Mrs. Crewe was ushered to one very near the little platform on the other side. The party settled themselves down as the music stopped at the end of a dance and Garfitt and Miss Rich and the Mallisons rejoined the pair.