Methylated Murder

by Methylated Murder (retail) (epub)

“Her very words, sir.”

  “A neat turn of English, Henry.”

  “Yes, sir,” Henry answered. “She was in a most excited state, and they were afraid of brain fever. She had to be kept quiet at all costs, and so I must understand how obvious it was that I could not be allowed to see her. Then the female asked me if I would like to leave my message with her. Of course, even if I did, she could not guarantee to give it to Mrs. Cant until there were genuine signs of improvement.”

  “I like that, Henry.”

  “Yes, sir, so did I. But I didn’t want to be outdone, so I said that she hadn’t better even mention I had called at all or Mrs. Cant might have a relapse.”

  “Splendid.”

  “She said perhaps that would be the best thing if I really didn’t mind. Of course I didn’t, and we parted on quite good terms.”

  “You didn’t suggest that you yourself gathered that Mrs. Cant was a bit queer in the head?”

  “No, I didn’t, sir. Would that have been wise?”

  “I’m not certain, Henry,” answered Harrison, “I’m worried about Mrs. Cant.”

  “I took the precaution of having a good look at the windows when I came away, sir,” said Henry. “But I saw no sign of anyone.”

  “She is too well guarded for that,” said Harrison. “For the time being she’s a prisoner, and I’m not quite certain what to do about it. If I could be sure they were only keeping her there, guarded by your female, I should not worry quite so much, but I would not like her to be certified, and I feel they are quite capable of it, if only to force my hand.”

  “They, sir?”

  “Well, it may only be ‘he,’ Henry, you’re quite right. Still, I think I shall have to ask you to work out some plan, for you’ve seen the wardress for yourself.”

  “Yes, sir,” answered Henry in the tone that he felt that evolving plans for imprisoned ladies was all in the day’s work.

  “And what about Eric?”

  “I gather he’s been in and out all the morning, sir. He left me a note to say he had raided the petty cash, and Who’s Who is open on his desk.”

  “He means business, then, Henry.”

  “He said he had an idea, sir.”

  At that moment Eric’s head appeared round the door, his red hair all a-ruffle with excitement.

  “I haven’t a minute to spare, sir,” he cried. “Can I borrow Henry?”

  Harrison laughed and nodded, while Henry made a wry face as he followed his junior out of the room. Through the door Harrison could hear the busy click of Henry’s typewriter and then the slamming of the front door. Ringing the bell for Henry, he was informed that Eric had undoubtedly been successful, but had had to go out again. He would not be long, and he prayed Henry not to give anything away to Harrison until his return.

  “Good work, sir,” said Henry.

  “Excellent,” answered Harrison. “What were you doing, Henry?”

  “Just copying the names on to the typewriter as he read them out to me,” was the reply. “Really, sir, I have no idea how he got them.”

  “Very well. You can start making the tea, and we’ll have a family party when Eric gets back.”

  The boy reappeared quite out of breath, but with the smile of triumph spread right across his face. Harrison solemnly invited his two assistants to be seated, and poured out tea for each of them. He himself lit a cigar, drank his tea, and then called upon Eric for his report.

  “Well, sir, the first thing I did was to call on Messrs. Bonnington, Cardew and Bonnington to spy out the land. I was lucky there because they employ a youth about my own age. Rather dull, sir, I must say, but that made it a bit easier. I summed him up directly he asked me what I wanted.”

  “And what did you want, Eric?” asked Harrison, feeling that the drama of Eric’s narrative would be satisfactorily heightened by a series of tactful questions.

  “I came from the firm of Holmes and Watson, sir,” said Eric.

  “An excellent name,” said Harrison.

  “He said he’s heard of the firm himself, sir. I explained that one of our clients named Moriarty had failed to appear at the time of his appointment and—here I looked mysterious, sir—by methods which he knew as well as I, we had discovered that he might have gone to Bonnington, Cardew and Bonnington by mistake. Now, the firm of Holmes and Watson had a great reputation for tact, and if our client had actually gone to them we should say no more about it, just cut our losses, so to speak. Solicitors like ourselves could afford to do that. But if he hadn’t, then we should follow him up and see why he had not kept the appointment.”

  “A well constructed story,” commented Harrison, pulling happily at his cigar.

  “It went down all right, sir,” said Eric, solemnly. “He said he’d go away and inquire. I said that surely he was capable of settling a little thing like that by himself. Why not get the appointment book and look back for a fortnight. That would settle everything. He was impressed again. Terribly simple he was, sir. So he went and got the appointment book and looked through the last fortnight and, strangely enough, the name of Moriarty did not appear there. That settled it, of course. I was full of thanks, and hoped we’d meet again. And off I went. But I had seen what the appointment book was like, sir.”

  “And what was it like, Eric?”

  “It was one of those very ordinary large diary affairs, sir, with thin blotting paper between every page, and on the front of it, in huge letters, was printed the name of the firm which publishes them. So back I came here, sir, collected some money and managed to buy one exactly like it. That wasn’t difficult because they’re very common, cheap sort of books. Then I borrowed your Who’s Who and copied out names from it into the various days. Good people, sir, but not too flashy. I passed over archbishops and that kind.”

  “Holmes and Watson did a good business, then?”

  “Oh, pretty good, sir, but I did not overdo it. Then I dashed back to Bonnington’s doorway and waited for the youth to come out to lunch and out he comes.”

  “Luck’s been with you, Eric. Suppose he had been the sort who eats sandwiches in the office?”

  “Quite honestly, sir, he didn’t look it. He struck me as if he liked a good tuck-in at a cheap place. And he did, sir. He went to a dreadfully dirty little shop and I followed him. I found a seat beside him and greeted him effusively. I had seen him going in and I had remembered hoping we’d meet again. So I had come in after him, if he didn’t mind. He was delighted. The place itself didn’t seem much, but he had discovered it and I would agree that the food was marvellous. His eyes grew quite bright at the thought, sir. He ordered a terrific plateful so I did the same. And I had to eat it, sir. He expected me to.”

  “All for the cause, Eric,” said Harrison.

  “As a matter of fact, sir, I must admit, it wasn’t at all bad, but there was so much of it. We got to talking, and I boasted a bit about Holmes and Watson, sir. I was certain no other firm did the business they did. I told you, sir, he wasn’t very quick in the uptake, and I suppose food made him still more dull, for he didn’t see the hint at all. He even said I was lucky to be with such a good firm.”

  Harrison laughed sympathetically.

  “So I grew quite insulting about Bonnington’s, sir. I told him it was hard luck having to work for cheap people like that. That roused him a bit but not much. It really was terribly hard going. I said they couldn’t have half the clients of a show like Holmes and Watson and he even took that fairly calmly. I said I’d go further, I’d be willing to bet on it. That got him, sir. He nearly jumped out of his seat when I said that. Quite excited he was. Bet, would I? Well, he was always game for a flutter.”

  “Your knowledge of human nature, Eric, makes me feel how ignorant I am,” said Harrison.

  “I didn’t think he’d jump so quickly, sir,” said Eric, modestly, “but I felt he might be that sort. I said I would give him five to one—half-a-crown to sixpence—on it. He laughed and said I was a fool, but I had suggested the
bet, not he, and he was going back to the office immediately to count the names since the beginning of the year and I could do the same. I agreed at first, and then I said I hoped he didn’t think I doubted his word, but half-a-crown was half-a-crown and I’d need some proof before parting with it. We ought to be able to check each other’s figures, somehow. Then he suggested, sir—his suggestion, not mine—that we should each go and get our appointment books and count them together at the eating place. I said it would be rather difficult for me, what about him?”

  “Admirable, Eric.”

  “He said that both his bosses took a long time for lunch and it would be easy enough.”

  “That’s interesting, Henry,” said Harrison, turning to him; “we mustn’t forget that.”

  “No, sir,” said Henry, dutifully, but with the air of being singularly unimpressed.

  “Go on, Eric,” said Harrison.

  “Well, sir, I said I would do my best, and dashed off here and got my work of art. He arrived back at the eating shop soon after me. He showed his book with an air of triumph, and I showed mine, too, not forgetting to say something about how alike they were. We agreed that all firms of solicitors were likely to use the same kind of book. Too easy, almost, sir. We counted the names most conscientiously, sir. It was a very serious business, and the result was that Holmes and Watson had very few names less than Bonnington’s, and I had lost half-a-crown.”

  “Out of the petty cash,” commented Henry, grimly.

  “But it was worth it, sir,” cried Eric. “For while I was paying him the appointment books got mixed up and he went off with mine and I came back here and called out all the names from his while Henry typed them out.”

  “Really marvellous strategy, Eric,” said Harrison.

  “But I haven’t quite finished, sir, you didn’t want Mr. Bonnington to smell a rat, did you, sir?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “I thought of that, too, sir, that’s why I dashed away again. I expected he would be pretty excited when he found out the mistake, but I guessed that he wouldn’t tell anybody straight off, and hope for the best. I stood on the pavement opposite to Bonnington’s and looked up. He must have been watching for me, for he was down the stairs in no time. I took the offensive and said I was nearly off my head when I discovered what had happened. He said he had been the same. He had thought of ringing me up, but he couldn’t find Holmes and Watson in the telephone book.”

  “That was a nasty one, Eric,” said Harrison.

  “Oh no, sir,” was the reply. “I explained that it was so long since old Mr. Watson had been dead that I often forgot the firm’s real name was Watson, Holmes and Watson. He swallowed it, sir.”

  Both Harrison and Henry laughed loudly.

  “And I can assume that Bonnington himself knows nothing about it?” Harrison asked, finally.

  “And not likely to, sir,” was Eric’s answer. “You can’t imagine he would confess to betting on their appointment book.” He paused and then dramatically handed a collection of typed sheets to Harrison. “These are Mr. Bonnington’s clients for the past year.”

  “Really splendid, Eric,” said Harrison, taking them. “I knew I could trust you with a job like that.”

  Eric turned crimson with delight, and went out of the room. Henry was following when Harrison called him back.

  “Good work, Henry,” he said.

  “Great,” said Henry; “Eric was first rate.”

  “And now, Henry,” went on Harrison, “you might ask me what I did with my morning.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Henry.

  “I spent it at Scotland Yard, discussing blackmail,” said Harrison.

  “Did they help, sir?” said Henry, loftily.

  “A certain amount,” was the reply, “people still don’t like telling the police about the little scandals in their lives, but it appears that there has been some increase of late. It’s difficult to be certain about it, even then, the victims being so shy. They said that if I was on a line like that they would be only too pleased for me to get on with it.”

  “Any more, sir?” asked Henry. “I feel you are keeping something special for the end.”

  “Well, Henry, I did gain a certain amount of information about methylated spirit, if you consider that important.”

  Chapter XII

  End Of The First Trial

  Harrison’s appearance at dinner the same night at the Fountain Club was greeted with friendly mockery. His bargain with Henry regarding the taking of meals had certainly only extended to lunch time. Once even, when asked if he were dining at the club, he had expressed surprise that it was likely to be open in the evening. When he was not forced to be absent through distant work, he dined with the utmost regularity with his sister at his home in Dulwich, and was only tempted forth, and even then very seldom, when they were together invited to a friend’s house. The good-natured banter which flowed round his head throughout the meal was excusable. There were many comments as to the impropriety of starting to “go wild” at his advanced age, and introductions were demanded to the charmer whom he would be meeting later in the evening. Finally Walter Peary came on the scene, and assumed surprise culminating in a fainting fit on seeing Harrison.

  “You’d better have your meal here,” said Harrison, indicating a vacant place beside him.

  “I shouldn’t enjoy a mouthful,” answered Peary. “The honour of having dinner with you would be too overpowering. No, let me have my food laid on the floor at your feet.”

  Even as he spoke, however, he settled down in the place Harrison had allotted him.

  “I shall never get over it,” he went on; “Clay Harrison condescending to dine in his own club. Lunch, maybe, but dine. Why, it’s historical. And with me, too.”

  “I stayed in town, Peary, specially to dine with you,” said Harrison, smiling.

  “It would ill become me, Signor Harrison,” answered Peary, solemnly, “to question the superb compliment you thus bestow upon me, but my legal training has taught me to look invariably for a motive. Especially in crime, sir. Now, I have an uncomfortable feeling that you are meditating a crime against my peace of mind.”

  “Maybe,” said Harrison.

  “A poor reply which I hope the Court will excuse,” said Peary. “But obviously not a denial. It is therefore important, at this point, that you should procure for me a glass of the Club’s best sherry to enable me to bear the strain you propose to put upon me.”

  The sherry was ordered and consumed and Peary had begun his dinner.

  “Don’t fidget, Harrison,” he commanded. “If you want a cigar, have one. You won’t spoil my meal. Lucky you don’t belong to the club I visited recently. A visitor, not knowing the rules, produced a pipe just an inch out of his pocket in the dining-room and was straightway thrown into the middle of Pall Mall. His host, by the way, was found dead next day in the library. He had been unable to survive the ignominy.”

  “Are you ready?” asked Harrison, lighting his cigar.

  “Quite.”

  “I shall be asking a good deal from you before the evening’s out,” warned Harrison.

  “Maybe,” said Peary.

  “First of all,” went on Harrison, “I want you to go through a list of names.”

  Harrison produced the sheets Henry had typed at Eric’s dictation and passed them to Peary.

  The latter looked through the lists carefully and Harrison silently puffed his cigar. Finally Peary looked across at him with an expression of surprise.

  “Well?” asked Harrison.

  “I don’t know what your list means,” said Peary, “but it’s an odd jumble. There are one or two names of women I recognise. Poor old Sybil Norton, for example, and Helen Fennel.”

  “Exactly. Something happened to both of them.”

  “What are you up to, Harrison?”

  “Has anything happened to any other woman on that list?”

  Peary looked back at the list and then whistled.
/>   “By jove,” he said, “Betty Craig.”

  Harrison looked at the list himself. “Yes,” he said, “quite early in the year.”

  “I don’t know what you’re up to Harrison,” said Peary, “but you certainly are mixing yourself up with some of society’s ugly incidents.”

  “Betty Craig?” said Harrison. “I don’t know the name. Tell me about her.”

  “She went off her head, poor kid, that’s all. You wouldn’t have heard of it. They kept it pretty quiet. She had led a pretty hectic life. One of the bright young things and all that some years ago. As a matter of fact, that’s what the specialists put it down to. She married after she was thirty and seemed tolerably happy. Suddenly she went quite looney. Thought the devil was after her and all that sort of thing. She got so bad they had to put her away. Definitely Freud and all that, according to her doctor.”

  If Henry could have seen his master at this moment he would have given a howl of excitement, for he would have understood the look on Harrison’s face, which showed that he had reached the turning point of another solution. Henry knew that expression so well that he felt almost sorry for any criminal when his master’s investigations had reached this particular point, for he knew that, barring the most astonishing of accidents, Harrison would now go ahead and wind his net surely and irrevocably around his quarry’s limbs. Peary did not realise all this, but he felt the atmosphere charged with excitement.

  “Come into the smoking-room for coffee,” said Harrison, “and let’s find a quiet corner. We must be alone for a bit.”

  In the smoking-room Peary most offensively refused the company of a number of club members who wished to gossip with him and Harrison, and was greeted with equally offensive comment, but their desire to be alone was genuinely respected, the only person at all near them being Hillyard, and he hovered uncomfortably, ready to flee at a word from Peary. “Don’t send him away,” said Harrison. “I may want him in a moment.”

  “Something big?” asked Peary.

  “Big enough to clear up the problem of Sybil Norton,” replied Harrison.

  “You don’t mean it?” cried Peary, excitedly.