The Middle of Things

  CHAPTER XII

  THE GREY MARE INN

  The three men who heard this announcement were conscious that at thispoint the Ashton case entered upon an entirely new phase. Armitstead'smind was swept clean away from the episode in Paris, Viner's from therevelations at Marketstoke, Mr. Pawle suddenly realized that here, atlast, was something material and tangible which opened out all sorts ofpossibilities. And he voiced the thoughts of his two companions as heturned in amazement on the fat little man who sat complacently nursinghis umbrella.

  "What!" he exclaimed. "You mean to tell me that Ashton was walking aboutLondon with a diamond worth fifty thousand pounds in his pocket?Incredible!"

  "Don't see nothing so very incredible about it," retorted Mr. Van Hoeren."I could show you men what carries diamonds worth twice that much intheir pockets about the Garden."

  "That's business," said Mr. Pawle. "I've heard of such things--but youall know each other over there, I'm told. Ashton wasn't a diamondmerchant. God bless me--he was probably murdered for that stone!"

  "That's just what I come to you about, eh?" suggested Mr. Van Hoeren."You see 'tain't nothing if he show that diamond to me, and such as me;we don't think nothing of that--all in our way of business. But if hegets showing it to other people, in public places--what?"

  "Just so!" asserted Mr. Pawle. "Sheer tempting of Providence! I'm amazed!But--how did you get to know Mr. Ashton and to hear of this diamond? Didhe come to you?"

  "Called on me at my office," answered Mr. Van Hoeren laconically. "Pulledout the diamond and asked me what I thought it was worth. Well, Iintroduce him to some of the other boys in the Garden, see? He show themthe diamond too. We reckon it's worth what I say--fifty to sixtythousand. So!"

  "Did he want to sell it?" demanded Mr. Pawle.

  "Oh, well, yes--he wouldn't have minded," replied the diamond merchant."Wasn't particular about it, you know--rich man."

  "Did he tell you anything about it--how he got it, and so on?" asked Mr.Pawle. "Was there any history attached to it?"

  "Oh, nothing much," answered Mr. Van Hoeren. "He told me he'd had it someyears--got it in Australia, where he come from to London. Got it cheap,he did--lots of things like that in our business."

  "And carried it in his pocket!" exclaimed Mr. Pawle. He stared hard atMr. Van Hoeren, as if his mind was revolving some unpleasant idea. "Isuppose all the people you introduced him to are--all right?" he asked.

  "Oh, they're all right!" affirmed Mr. Van Hoeren, with a laugh. "Give myword for any of 'em, eh? But Ashton--if he pulls that diamond out toshow to anybody--out of the trade, you understand--well, then, there'slots of fellows in this town would settle him to get hold of it--what?"

  "I think you're right," said Mr. Pawle. He glanced at Viner. "This puts anew complexion on affairs," he remarked. "We shall have to let the policeknow of this. I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Van Hoeren. You won't mindgiving evidence about this if it's necessary?"

  "Don't mind nothing," said Mr. Van Hoeren. "Me and the other boys, wethink you ought to know about that diamond, see?"

  He went away, and Mr. Pawle turned to Viner and Armitstead.

  "I shouldn't wonder if we're getting at something like a real clue," hesaid. "It seems evident that Ashton was not very particular about showinghis diamond to people! If he'd show it--readily--to a lot of HattonGarden diamond merchants, who, after all, were strangers to him, how dowe know that he wouldn't show it to other men? The fact is, wealthy menlike that are often very careless about their possessions. Possibly adiamond worth fifty or sixty thousand pounds wasn't of so much importancein Ashton's eyes as it would have been in--well, in mine. And how do weknow that he didn't show the diamond to the man with the muffler, inParis, and that the fellow followed him here and murdered him for it?"

  "Possible!" said Armitstead.

  "Doesn't it strike you as strange, though," suggested Viner, "that thefirst news of this diamond comes from Van Hoeren? One would have thoughtthat Ashton would have mentioned it--and shown it--to Miss Wickham andMrs. Killenhall. Yet apparently--he never did."

  "Yes, that does seem odd," asserted Mr. Pawle. "But there seems to be noend of oddity in this case. And there's one thing that must be done atonce: we must have a full and thorough search and examination of allAshton's effects. His house must be thoroughly searched for papers and soon. Viner, I suppose you're going home? Do me the favour to call at MissWickham's, and tell her that I propose to come there at ten o'clocktomorrow morning, to go through Ashton's desk and his various belongingswith her--surely there must be something discoverable that will throwmore light on the matter. And in the meantime, Viner, don't say anythingto her about our journey to Marketstoke--leave that for a while."

  Viner went away from Crawle, Pawle, and Rattenbury's in companywith Armitstead. Outside, the Lancashire business man gave him ashrewd glance.

  "I very much doubt if that diamond has anything whatever to do withAshton's murder," he said. "From what I saw of him, he seemed to me tobe a very practical man, full of business aptitude and common sense, andI don't believe that he'd make a practice of walking about London with adiamond of that value in his pocket. It's all very well that he shouldhave it in his pocket when he went down to Hatton Garden--he had apurpose. But that he should always carry it--no, I don't credit that,Mr. Viner."

  "I can scarcely credit such a foolish thing myself," said Viner."But--where is the diamond?"

  "Perhaps you'll find it tomorrow," suggested Armitstead. "The man wouldbe sure to have some place in his house where he kept his valuables. Ishall be curious to hear."

  "Are you staying in town?" inquired Viner.

  "I shall be at the Hotel Cecil for a fortnight at least," answeredArmitstead. "And if I can be of any use to you or Mr. Pawle, you've onlyto ring me up there. You've no doubt yourself, I think, that theunfortunate fellow Hyde is innocent?"

  "None!" said Viner. "No doubt whatever! But--the police have a strongcase against him. And unless we can find the actual murderer, I'm afraidHyde's in a very dangerous position."

  "Well," said Armitstead, "in these cases, you never know what a suddenand unexpected turn of events may do. That man with the muffler is thechap you want to get hold of--I'm sure of that!"

  Viner went home and dined with his aunt and their two guests, Hyde'ssisters, whom he endeavoured to cheer up by saying that things weredeveloping as favourably as could be expected, and that he hoped tohave good news for them ere long. They were simple souls, patheticallygrateful for any scrap of sympathy and comfort, and he strove toappear more confident about the chances of clearing this unluckybrother than he really felt. It was his intention to go round toNumber Seven during the evening, to deliver Mr. Pawle's message toMiss Wickham, but before he rose from his own table, a message arrivedby Miss Wickham's parlour-maid--would Mr. Viner be kind enough tocome to the house at once?

  At this, Viner excused himself to his guests and hurried round to NumberSeven, to find Miss Wickham and Mrs. Killenhall, now in mourninggarments, in company with a little man whom Viner at once recognized as awell-known tradesman of Westbourne Grove--a florist and fruiterer namedBarleyfield, who was patronized by all the well-to-do folk of theneighbourhood. He smiled and bowed as Viner entered the room, and turnedto Miss Wickham as if suggesting that she should explain his presence.

  "Oh, Mr. Viner!" said Miss Wickham, "I'm so sorry to send for you sohurriedly, but Mr. Barleyfield came to tell us that he could give someinformation about Mr. Ashton, and as Mr. Pawle isn't available, and Idon't like to send for a police-inspector, I thought that you, perhaps--"

  "To be sure!" said Viner. "What is it, Mr. Barleyfield?"

  Mr. Barleyfield, who had obviously attired himself in his Sunday raimentfor the purposes of his call, and had further shown respect for theoccasion by wearing a black cravat, smiled as he looked from the twoladies to Viner.

  "Well, Mr. Viner," he answered, "I'll tell you what it is--it may help abit in clearing up things, for I understand there's a great deal o
fmystery about Mr. Ashton's death. Now, I'm told, sir, thatnobody--especially these good ladies--knows nothing about what thedeceased gentleman used to do with himself of an evening--as a rule. Justso. Well, you know, Mr. Viner, a tradesman like myself generally knows agood deal about the people of his neighbourhood. I knew Mr. Ashton verywell indeed--he was a good customer of mine, and sometimes he'd stop andhave a bit of chat with me. And I can tell you where he very often spentan hour or two of an evening."

  "Yes--where?" asked Viner.

  "At the Grey Mare Inn, sir," answered Barleyfield promptly. "I have oftenseen him there myself."

  "The Grey Mare Inn!" exclaimed Viner, while Mrs. Killenhall and MissWickham looked at each other wonderingly. "Where is that? It sounds likethe name of some village tavern."

  "Ah, but you don't know this part of London as I do, sir!" saidBarleyfield, with a knowing smile. "If you did, you'd know the Grey Marewell enough--it's an institution. It's a real old-fashioned place,between Westbourne Grove and Notting Hill--one of the very last of theold taverns, with a tea-garden behind it, and a bar-parlour of a verycomfortable sort, where various old fogies of the neighbourhood gather ofan evening and smoke churchwarden pipes and tell tales of the oldendays--I rather gathered from what I saw that it was the old atmospherethat attracted Mr. Ashton--made him think of bygone England, you know,Mr. Viner."

  "And you say he went there regularly?" asked Viner.

  "I've seen him there a great deal, sir, for I usually turn in there forhalf an hour or so, myself, of an evening, when business is over and I'vehad my supper," answered Barleyfield. "I should say that he went therefour or five nights a week."

  "And no doubt conversed with the people he met there?" suggested Viner.

  "He was a friendly, sociable man, sir," said Barleyfield. "Yes, he wasfond of a talk. But there was one man there that he seemed toassociate with--an elderly, superior gentleman whose name I don'tknow, though I'm familiar enough with his appearance. Him and Mr.Ashton I've often seen sitting in a particular corner, smoking theircigars, and talking together. And--if it's of any importance--I sawthem talking like that, at the Grey Mare, the very evening that--thatMr. Ashton died, Mr. Viner."

  "What time was that?" asked Viner.

  "About the usual time, sir--nine-thirty or so," replied Barleyfield. "Igenerally look in about that time--nine-thirty to ten."

  "Did you leave them talking there?" inquired Viner.

  "They were there when I left, sir, at a quarter past ten," answeredBarleyfield. "Talking in their usual corner."

  "And you say you don't know who this man is?"

  "I don't! I know him by sight--but he's a comparatively recent comer tothe Grey Mare. I've noticed him for a year or so--not longer."

  Viner glanced at the two ladies.

  "I suppose you never heard Mr. Ashton mention the Grey Mare?" he asked.

  "We never heard Mr. Ashton say anything about his movements," answeredMiss Wickham. "We used to wonder, sometimes, if he'd joined a club or ifhe had friends that we knew nothing about."

  "Well," said Viner, turning to the florist, "do you think you could takeme to the Grey Mare, Mr. Barleyfield?"

  "Nothing easier, sir--open to one and all!"

  "Then, if you've the time to spare, we'll go now," said Viner. He lingeredbehind a moment to tell Miss Wickham of Mr. Pawle's appointment for themorning, and then went away with Barleyfield in the Notting Hilldirection. "I suppose you've been at the Grey Mare since Mr. Ashton'sdeath?" he asked as they walked along.

  "Once or twice, sir," replied Barleyfield.

  "And you've no doubt heard the murder discussed?" suggested Viner.

  "I've heard it discussed hard enough, sir, there and elsewhere," repliedthe florist. "But at the Gray Mare itself, I don't think anybody knewthat this man who'd been murdered was the same as the grey-beardedgentleman who used to drop in there sometimes. They didn't when I waslast in, anyway. Perhaps this gentleman I've mentioned to you mightknow--Mr. Ashton might have told his name to him. But you know how it isin these places, Mr. Viner--people drop in, even regularly, andfellow-customers may have a bit of talk with them without having theleast idea who they are. Between you and me, sir, I came to theconclusion that Mr. Ashton was a man who liked to see a bit of what we'llcall informal, old-fashioned tavern life, and he hit on this place byaccident, in one of his walks round, and took to coming where he could beat his ease--amongst strangers."

  "No doubt," agreed Viner.

  He followed his guide through various squares and streets until they cameto the object of their pilgrimage--a four-square, old-fashioned house setback a little from the road, with a swinging sign in front, and a gardenat the side. Barleyfield led him through this garden to a side-door,whence they passed into a roomy, low-ceilinged parlour which remindedViner of old coaching prints--he would scarcely have believed it possiblethat such a pre-Victorian room could be found in London. There wereseveral men in it, and he nudged his companion's elbow.

  "Let us sit down in a quiet corner and have something to drink," he said."I just want to take a look at this place--and its frequenters."

  Barleyfield led him to a nook near the chimney-corner and beckoned toan aproned boy who hung about with a tray under his arm. But beforeViner could give an order, his companion touched his arm and motionedtowards the door.

  "Here's the gentleman Mr. Ashton used to talk to!" he whispered. "Thetall man--just coming in."