The Middle Temple Murder J. S. Fletcher (the reading strategies book .txt) đ
- Author: J. S. Fletcher
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Mr. and Mrs. Walters received this announcement with proper surprise and horror, and the landlord suggested a little refreshment to his visitors. Spargo and Breton declined, on the ground that they had work to do during the afternoon; Rathbury accepted it, evidently as a matter of course.
âMy respects,â he said, lifting his glass. âWell, now, perhaps youâll just tell me what you know of this man? I may as well tell you, Mr. and Mrs. Walters, that he was found dead in Middle Temple Lane this morning, at a quarter to three; that there wasnât anything on him but his clothes and a scrap of paper which bore this gentlemanâs name and address; that this gentleman knows nothing whatever of him, and that I traced him here because he bought a cap at a West End hatterâs yesterday, and had it sent to your hotel.â
âYes,â said Mrs. Walters quickly, âthatâs so. And he went out in that cap last night. Wellâ âwe donât know much about him. As I said, he came in here about a quarter past twelve yesterday morning, and booked Number 20. He had a porter with him that brought a trunk and a bagâ âtheyâre in 20 now, of course. He told me that he had stayed at this house over twenty years ago, on his way to Australiaâ âthat, of course, was long before we took it. And he signed his name in the book as John Marbury.â
âWeâll look at that, if you please,â said Rathbury.
Walters fetched in the register and turned the leaf to the previous dayâs entries. They all bent over the dead manâs writing.
âââJohn Marbury, Coolumbidgee, New South Wales,âââ said Rathbury. âAhâ ânow I was wondering if that writing would be the same as that on the scrap of paper, Mr. Breton. But, you see, it isnâtâ âitâs quite different.â
âQuite different,â said Breton. He, too, was regarding the handwriting with great interest. And Rathbury noticed his keen inspection of it, and asked another question.
âEver seen that writing before?â he suggested.
âNever,â answered Breton. âAnd yetâ âthereâs something very familiar about it.â
âThen the probability is that you have seen it before,â remarked Rathbury. âWellâ ânow weâll hear a little more about Marburyâs doings here. Just tell me all you know, Mr. and Mrs. Walters.â
âMy wife knows most,â said Walters. âI scarcely saw the manâ âI donât remember speaking with him.â
âNo,â said Mrs. Walters. âYou didnâtâ âyou werenât much in his way. Well,â she continued, âI showed him up to his room. He talked a bitâ âsaid heâd just landed at Southampton from Melbourne.â
âDid he mention his ship?â asked Rathbury. âBut if he didnât, it doesnât matter, for we can find out.â
âI believe the nameâs on his things,â answered the landlady. âThere are some labels of that sort. Well, he asked for a chop to be cooked for him at once, as he was going out. He had his chop, and he went out at exactly one oâclock, saying to me that he expected heâd get lost, as he didnât know London well at any time, and shouldnât know it at all now. He went outside thereâ âI saw himâ âlooked about him and walked off towards Blackfriars way. During the afternoon the cap you spoke of came for himâ âfrom Fiskieâs. So, of course, I judged heâd been Piccadilly way. But he himself never came in until ten oâclock. And then he brought a gentleman with him.â
âAye?â said Rathbury. âA gentleman, now? Did you see him?â
âJust,â replied the landlady. âThey went straight up to 20, and I just caught a mere glimpse of the gentleman as they turned up the stairs. A tall, well-built gentleman, with a grey beard, very well dressed as far as I could see, with a top hat and a white silk muffler round his throat, and carrying an umbrella.â
âAnd they went to Marburyâs room?â said Rathbury. âWhat then?â
âWell, then, Mr. Marbury rang for some whiskey and soda,â continued Mrs. Walters. âHe was particular to have a decanter of whiskey: that, and a syphon of soda were taken up there. I heard nothing more until nearly midnight; then the hall-porter told me that the gentleman in 20 had gone out, and had asked him if there was a night-porterâ âas, of course, there is. He went out at half-past eleven.â
âAnd the other gentleman?â asked Rathbury.
âThe other gentleman,â answered the landlady, âwent out with him. The hall-porter said they turned towards the station. And that was the last anybody in this house saw of Mr. Marbury. He certainly never came back.â
âThat,â observed Rathbury with a quiet smile, âthat is quite certain, maâam? Wellâ âI suppose weâd better see this Number 20 room, and have a look at what he left there.â
âEverything,â said Mrs. Walters, âis just as he left it. Nothingâs been touched.â
It seemed to two of the visitors that there was little to touch. On the dressing-table lay a few ordinary articles of toiletâ ânone of them of any quality or value: the dead man had evidently been satisfied with the plain necessities of life. An overcoat hung from a peg: Rathbury, without ceremony, went through its pockets; just as unceremoniously he proceeded to examine trunk and bag, and finding both unlocked, he laid out on the bed every article they contained and examined each separately and carefully. And he found nothing whereby he could gather any clue to the dead ownerâs identity.
âThere you are!â he said, making an end of his task. âYou see, itâs just the same with these things as with the clothes he had on him. There are no papersâ âthereâs nothing to tell who he was, what he was after, where heâd come fromâ âthough that we may find out in other ways. But itâs not often that a man travels without some clue to his identity. Beyond the fact that some of this linen was, you see, bought in Melbourne, we know nothing of him. Yet he must have had papers and money on him. Did you see anything of his money, now, maâam?â he asked, suddenly turning to Mrs. Walters. âDid he pull out his
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