A Mysterious Disappearance by Louis Tracy (read a book .txt) đ
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âThen why have you told me all these things that tell so heavily against him?â
âIn order that, this time at least, you may feel that the production of a pair of handcuffs does not satisfactorily settle the entire business.â
âI promise there shall be no more arrests until this affair is much more decided than it is at present.â
âGood. I shall make a detective of you after my own heart in time.â
âYet I cannot help being surprised at the very strange fact that his own sister should seem to suspect him!â
âAh! Now you have struck the true line. Why did she have that fear? There I am with you entirely. Let us ascertain that and I promise you an important development. Mrs. Hillmer and Mensmore are both concerned in the disappearance of Lady Dyke, yet neither knew that she had disappeared, and both are deeply upset by it, for Mrs. Hillmer flies off to warn her brother, and the brother posts back to London the moment it comes to his ears through her. There, you see, we have a key which may unlock many doors. For Heavenâs sake let it not be battered out of shape the instant it reaches our hands.â
But Mr. White was quite humble. âAs I have told you,â he said, âI have done with the battering process.â
âI am sure of it. And now listen to the most remarkable fact that has yet come to light. Lady Dykeâs body was taken from Raleigh Mansions to Putney in a four-wheeler. The cabman was forthwith locked up by the police and clapped into prison for three months. He was released yesterday, and will be here within the next quarter of an hour.â
The detectiveâs hair nearly rose on end at this statement.
âLook here, Mr. Bruce!â he cried, âhave you any more startlers up your sleeve, or is that the finish?â
âThat is the last shot in my locker.â
âIâm jolly glad! I half expected the next thing you would say was that you did the job yourself.â
âIt wouldnât be the first time you thought that; eh, my friend?â
White positively blushed.
âOh! thatâs chaff,â he said. âBut why the dickens did the police lock up this cabmanâthe only witness we could lay our hands upon? Why, I myself questioned every cabman in the vicinity several times.â
âBecause he got drunk on the proceeds of the journey, and subsequently thought he was Phaeton driving the chariot of the sun. But, there, he will tell you himself. I met him yesterday morning outside Holloway Jail, and persuaded him to come here to-night, provided he has not gone on the spree again with disastrous results.â
The entrance of Smithâobviously relieved to see his master and the âtecâ on such good termsâto announce the arrival of âMr. William Marsh,â settled any doubts as to the cabmanâs intentions, and his appearance established the fact of his sobriety. Three months âhardâ had made the cab-driver a new man.
Recognition was mutual between him and Mr. White.
âHello, Foxey,â cried the latter. âItâs you, is it?â
âMe it is, guvânor; but I didnât know there was to be a âcopâ hereââthis with a suspicious glance at Bruce and a backward movement towards the door.
âDo not be alarmed,â said the barrister; âthis gentlemanâs presence implies no trouble for you. We want you to help us, and if you do so willingly I will make up that lost fiver you received for driving two people to Putney the night you were arrested.â
The poor old cabman became very confused on hearing this staggering remark. Up to that moment he regarded Bruce as the agent for a charitable association, and there was no harm, he told his âmissus,â in trying to âknock him for a bit.â
He stood nervously fumbling with his hat, but did not answer. White knew how to deal with him.
âSit down, Foxey, and have a drink. You need one to cheer you up. Answer this gentlemanâs questions. He means you no harm.â
âHonor bright?â
âHonor bright.â
âWell, I donât mind if I do. No soda, thank you, sir. Just a small drop of water. Ah, thatâs better stuff ân they keep in Holloway.â
Thus fortified, Marsh had no hesitation in telling them what he knew. Substantially, his story was identical with the version given to Bruce by the ticket collector.
âCan you describe the gentleman?â said the barrister.
âNo, sir. He was just like any other swell. Tall and well-dressed, and talked in the âaw-âaw style. It might haâ been yerself for all I could tell.â
âDo you think it was I?â
Foxey scratched his head.
âNo, pârâaps it wasnât, now I come to recâllect. He âad a moustache, and you âavenât. Begginâ yer pardon, sir, but you âave a bit of the cut of a parson or a hactor, anâ this chap wasnât neitherâjust an every-day sort of toff.â
âCould you swear to him if you saw him?â
âThat I couldnât, sir. I am a rare âand at langwidge, but I couldnât manage that.â
âWhy?â
âBecause that night, sir, I were as full as a tick when I started. Lord love you, it must âave poured out of me afterwards when I started fightinâ coppers. Mr. White, âe knows, I ainât no fightinâ man as a rule.â
âAnd the lady? Did you see her?â
âNo, sir. Leastways, I seed a bundle which I took to be a lydy, but her face was covered up with a shawl, and she was lyinâ âeavy in âis arms as though she was mortal bad. He tellâd me she was sick.â
âDid he? Anything else?â
âNo, sir.â
âAre you sure it was a shawl?â
A vacuous smile spread over Foxeyâs countenance as he answered, âI ainât sure of anythink that âappened that night.â
âBut were you not surprised when a man hired your cab under such peculiar circumstances, and paid you such a high fare?â
âWe four-wheelers are surprised at nothink, sir. You donât know all wot goes on in kebs. Why, once crossinâ Waterloo Bridgeââ
âNever mind Waterloo Bridge, Foxey,â put in the detective. âKeep your wits fixed on as much as you can remember of November 6.â
âWhere did he tell you to drive to?â went on Bruce.
âJust Putney. I was to drive myâardest. I recollect wantinâ to pull up at the Three Bells, but âe put âis âead out anâ said, âGo on, driver. I am awfully late already.â So on I went.â
âWhere did you stop?â
âI donât know no more than the child unborn. By that time the drink was yeastinâ up in me. The fare kept me on the road âe wanted by shoutinâ. When we pulled up, âe carries âer into a lane. There was a big âouse there. I know that all right. After a bit âe comes back and tips me a fiver. With that I whips up the old âoss and gets back to the Three Bells. You know the rest, as the girl said when she axed the Bench toââ
âYes, we know the rest,â interrupted Bruce, âbut I fear you are not able to help us much.â
âThis isnât a five-punâ job, eh, guvânor?â said Foxey anxiously.
âHardly at present. We shall see. Can you say exactly where you drew up your cab when the lady was carried into it?â
âSure as death,â replied the cabman, in the hope that his information might yet be valuable. âIt was outside Raleigh Mansions, Sloane Square.â
âWe know thatââ
âIt seems to me, sir, as ye know as much about the business as I do,â broke in Marsh.
âWere you in the Square or in Sloane Street?â
âIn Sloane Street, of course. Right away from the Square.â
âNot so very far away, surely.â
Foxey was doubtful. His memory was hazy, and he feared lest he should be mistaken. âNo, no,â he said quickly, ânot far, but still well in the street.â
âWere there many people about?â
âYou could âardly tell, sir; it was that foggy and nasty. If the lydy âad bin dead nobody would âave noticed âer that night.â
âDid any one besides yourself see the gentleman carrying the lady into the cab?â
âI think not. I donât remember anybody passinâ at the time.â
âDid the gentleman keep your cab waiting long at the kerb before he brought the lady out?â
âIt might âaâ bin a minute or two?â
âNo longer?â
âWell, sir, itâs âard for me to say, especially after beinâ away for a change of âealth, so to speak.â
âDid not the lady speak or move in any manner?â
âNot so far as I know, sir.â
âAnd do you mean to tell me that, although you had been drinking, you were not astonished at the whole business?â
âI never axes my fares any questions âcept when they says âBy the hour.â Then I wants to know a bit.â
âYes; but this carrying of a lady out of a house in such fashionâdid not this strike you as strange?â
âStrange, bless your âeart, sir. You ought to see me cartinâ âem off from the Daffodil Club after a big nightâthree and four in one keb, all blind, paralytic.â
âNo doubt; but this was not the Daffodil Club at daybreak. It was a respectable neighborhood at seven oâclock, or thereabouts, on a winterâs evening.â
âIt ainât my fault,â said Foxey doggedly. âWot was wrong with the lydy? Was it a habduction?â
âThe lady was deadâmurdered, we believe.â
The cabmanâs face grew livid with anxiety.
âOh, crikey, Mr. White,â he cried, addressing the detective, âI knew nothink about it.â
âNo one says you did, Foxey,â was the reply. âDonât be frightened. We just want you to help us as far as you can, and not to get skeered and lose your wits.â
Thus reassured, Marsh mopped his head and said solemnly:
âI will do wot lies in my power, gentlemen both, but I wish I âadnât bin so blamed drunk that night.â
âYou say you would not recognize your fare if you saw him,â continued Bruce. âCould you tell us, if you were shown a certain person, that he was not the man? You might not be sure of the right man, but you might be sure regarding the wrong one.â
âYes, sir. It wasnât you, and it wasnât Mr. White, and it wasnât a lot of other people I know. I think if I saw the man who really got into my keb, I would be able to swear that âe was like him, at any rate.â
âAll right. That will do for the present. Leave us your address, so that we may find you again if necessary. Here is a sovereign for you.â
When Marsh had gone, Bruce turned to the detective.
âWell,â he said, âif Mensmore were here now, I suppose you would want to lock him up.â
âNo,â admitted White sadly; âthe more I learn about this affair the more mixed it becomes. Still, I donât deny but I shall be glad to have Mensmoreâs explanation of his movements at that time. And so will you, Mr. Bruce.â
CHAPTER XXII A WILFUL MURDERBruce sent a telegram to Mrs. Hillmer at Paris. âMatters satisfactorily arranged pending your arrival,â he wired, and early on Monday morning he received a reply:
âDue Charing Cross 7.30 P.M. Will drive straight to your chambers with my brother.
âGwendoline Hillmer.â
He forwarded the message with a note to the detective, asking him to be present.
About one oâclock Corbett turned up.
âGuess I slept well last night after the excitement,â he said, with a pleasant smile. âYou seemed to skeer those chaps more with a few words, Mr. Bruce, than I did with a revolver.â
âThe English police are not so much afraid of revolvers as they are of making mistakes,â was the answer.
âNow, is that so? On our side they wouldnât have stopped to argy. Both of âem would have drawn on me at once.â
âThen I am glad, for everybodyâs sake, Mr. Corbett, that the affair happened in London.â
âWhy, sure. But tell me. Has my friend Mensmore been getting himself into trouble?â
âNot so much as it looks. Others appear to have involved him
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