CHAPTER XXV
THROUGH THE TELEPHONE
Events had crowded so thick and fast upon Viner during the last dayor two, that he went to the telephone fully expecting to hear of somenew development. But he was scarcely prepared for his solicitor'sfirst words.
"Viner!" said Felpham, whose voice betrayed his excitement. "Is that manCave still with you?"
"No!" answered Viner. "Why?"
"Listen carefully," responded Felpham. "In spite of all he asserts, andhis long tale this morning at the police-court, I believe he's a rankimpostor! I've just had another talk with Hyde."
"Well?" demanded Viner.
"Hyde," answered Felpham, "persists that he's not mistaken. He swearsthat the man is Nugent Starr. He says there's no doubt of it! And he'stold me of another actor, a man named George Bellingham, who's nowsomewhere in London, who can positively identify him as Starr. I'm goingto find Bellingham this afternoon--there's some deep-laid plot in allthis, and that fellow had been cleverly coached in the event of his beingunexpectedly tackled.... Viner!"
"Well--I'm listening carefully," replied Viner.
"Where's this man gone?" demanded Felpham.
"To his hotel, I should think," answered Viner. "He left here justbefore one."
"Listen!" said Felpham. "Do you think it would be wise to post NewScotland Yard on to him--detectives, you know?"
Viner considered swiftly. In the rush of events he had forgottenthat Carless had already given instructions for the watching of thepseudo Mr. Cave.
"Why not find this man Bellingham first?" he suggested. "If he can prove,positively, that the fellow is Nugent Starr, you'd have somethingdefinite to work on. Where can Bellingham be found?"
"Hyde's given me the address of a theatrical agent in Bedford Streetwho's likely to know of his whereabouts," replied Felpham. "I'm goingover there at once. Hyde saw Bellingham in town three weeks ago."
"Let me know at once," said Viner. "If you find Bellingham, take him tothe Belfield Hotel and contrive to show him the man. Call me up later."
He went away from his telephone and sought Miss Penkridge, whom he foundin her room, arraying herself for out of doors.
"Here's a new development!" he exclaimed, shutting the door on them."Felpham's just telephoned to say that Hyde persists that the man whocalls himself Cave is Nugent Starr! In that case, he won't--"
Miss Penkridge interrupted her nephew with a sniff.
"My dear Richard," she said, with a note of contemptuous impatience, "ina case like this, you don't know who's who or who isn't who! It wouldn'tsurprise me in the slightest if the man turns out to be Nugent Starr."
"How did he come by such a straight tale, then?" asked Viner doubtfully.
"Carefully prepared--in case of need," declared Miss Penkridge as shetied her bonnet-strings with a decisive tug. "The whole thing's a plant!"
"That's what Felpham says," remarked Viner. "But--where are you going?"he broke off as Miss Penkridge, seizing an umbrella, started for thedoor. "Lunch is just going in."
"My lunch can wait--I've had a biscuit and a glass of sherry," assertedMiss Penkridge. "I'm going round to Bigglesforth the stationer's, tofollow up that clue I suggested just now. I dare say I can do a bit ofdetective work as well as another, and in my opinion, Richard, there's notime to be lost. I have been blessed and endowed," continued MissPenkridge, as she laid hold of the door-handle, "with exceedingly acuteperceptions, and I saw something when I made that suggestion which I'mquite sure none of you men, with all your brains, saw!"
"What?" demanded Viner.
"I saw that my suggestion wasn't at all pleasing to the man who callshimself Cave!" exclaimed Miss Penkridge. "It was only a flash of his eye,a sudden droop at the corners of his lips--but I saw! And I saw somethingelse, too--that he got away as quickly as ever he could after I'd madethat suggestion."
Viner looked at his aunt with amused wonder. He thought she was undulysuspicious, and Miss Penkridge guessed his thoughts.
"You'll see," she said as she opened the door.
"There are going to be strange revelations, Richard Viner, my boy! Yousaid at the beginning of this that you'd suddenly got plunged into themiddle of things--well, in my opinion, we're now coming to the end ofthings, and I'm going to do my bit to bring it about."
With that Miss Penkridge sailed away, her step determined and her headhigh, and Viner, pondering many matters, went downstairs to entertain hisvisitors, the unlucky Hyde's sisters, with stories of the morning'sproceedings and hopes of their brother's speedy acquittal. The poorladies were of that temperament which makes its possessors clutch eagerlyat any straw of hope floating on the sea of trouble, and they listenedeagerly to all that their host could tell.
"Langton has an excellent memory!" declared the elder Miss Hyde. "Don'tyou remember, sister, what a quantity of poetical pieces he knew by heartwhen he was quite a child?"
"Before he was seven years of age!" said the younger sister. "And at tenhe could recite the whole of the trial scene from 'The Merchant ofVenice.' Oh, yes, he always had a marvellous memory! If Langton says heremembers this man in America, dear Mr. Viner, I am sure Langton will beright, and that this is the man. But what a very dreadful person to uttersuch terrible falsehoods!"
"And on oath!" said the elder Miss Hyde, solemnly. "On oath, sister!"
"Sad!" murmured the younger lady. "Most sad! We find London life verydisturbing, dear Mr. Viner, after our quiet country existence."
"There are certainly some disturbing elements in it," admitted Viner.
Just then came another interruption; for the second time since his returnfrom the police-court, he was summoned to the telephone. To his greatsurprise, the voice that hailed him was Mrs. Killenhall's.
"Is that Mr. Viner?" the voice demanded in its usual brisk, clear tones.
"Yes," answered Viner. "Is that Mrs. Killenhall?"
"Yes!" came the prompt reply. "Mr. Viner, can you be so very kind? MissWickham and I have come down to the City on some business connectedwith Mr. Ashton, and we do so want somebody's help. Can you run down atonce and join us? So sorry to trouble you, but we really do want agentleman here."
"Certainly!" responded Viner. "I'll come to you at once. But where areyou?"
"Come to 23 Mirrapore Street, off Whitechapel Road," answered Mrs.Killenhall. "There is some one here who knew Mr. Ashton, and Ishould like you to see him. Can you come at once? And have you theaddress right?"
"A moment--repeat it, please," replied Viner, pulling out a memorandumbook. He noted the address and spoke again: "I'll be there in half anhour, Mrs. Killenhall," he said. "Sooner, if it's possible."
"Thank you so much," responded Mrs. Killenhall's steady voice. "So goodof you--good-bye for the present, then."
"Good-bye," said Viner. He hurried away into the hall, snatched up ahat, and letting himself out of the house, ran to the nearest cab-standand beckoned to a chauffeur who often took him about. "I want to getalong to Mirrapore Street, Whitechapel Road," he said, as he sprang intothe car. "Do you know whereabouts it is?"
The chauffeur knitted his brows and shook his head.
"There's a sight of small streets running off Whitechapel Road, bothsides, sir," he answered. "It'll be one of them--I'll find it. MirraporeStreet? Right, sir."
"Get there as quickly as possible," said Viner. "The quicker the better."
It was not until he had gone a good half of his journey that Viner beganto wonder whatever it was that had taken Miss Wickham and her chaperondown to the far boundaries of the City--or, indeed, farther. Mrs.Killenhall had said the City, but Viner knew his London well enough toknow that Whitechapel Road lies without the City confines. She had said,too, that a man who knew Mr. Ashton was there with her and MissWickham--what man, wondered Viner, and what doing in a district like thattoward which he was speeding?
The chauffeur did the run to Whitechapel Road in unusually good time; itwas little more than two o'clock when the car passed the parish church.But the man had
gone from one end of the road to the other, from the endof High Street to the beginning of Mile End Road, without success, whenhe stopped and looked in at his passenger.
"Can't see no street of that name on either side, Mr. Viner," he said."Have you got it right, sir?"
"That's the name given me," answered Viner. He pointed to a policemanslowly patrolling the side walk. "Ask him," he said. "He'll know."
The policeman, duly questioned, seemed surprised at first; thenrecollection evidently awoke in him.
"Mirrypoor Street?" he said. "Oh, yes! Second to your left, third to theright--nice sort o' street for a car like yours to go into, too!"
Viner overheard this and put his head out of the window.
"Why?" he demanded.
The policeman, quick to recognize a superior person, touched his helmetand stepped off the curb toward his questioner.
"Pretty low quarter down there, sir," he said, with a significant glancein the direction concerned. "If you've business that way, I should adviseyou to look after yourself--some queer places down those streets, sir."
"Thanks," responded Viner with a grim smile. "Go on, driver, as quick asyou can, and stop at the corner of the street."
The car swung out of Whitechapel Road into a long, dismal street, theshabbiness of which increased the further the main thoroughfare was leftbehind; and Viner, looking right and left, saw that the small streetsrunning off that which he was traversing were still more dismal, stillmore shabby. Suddenly the car twisted to the right and stopped, and Vinerwas aware of a long, narrow street, more gloomy than the rest, whereinvarious doubtful-looking individuals moved about, and groups of poorlyclad children played in the gutters.
"All right," he said as he got down from the car, and the chauffeur madea grimace at the unlovely vista. "Look here--I don't want you to waithere. Go back to Whitechapel Road and hang about the end of the streetwe've just come down. I'll come back there to you."
"Not afraid of going down here alone, then, sir?" asked the chauffeur."It's a bit as that policeman said."
"I'm all right," repeated Viner. "You go back and wait. I may be sometime. I mayn't be long."
He turned away down the street--and in spite of his declaration, he feltthat this was certainly the most doubtful place he had ever been in.There were evil and sinister faces on the sidewalks; evil and sinistereyes looking out of dirty windows; here and there a silent-footed figurewent by him in the gloom of the December day with the soft step of a wildanimal; here and there, men leaning against the wall, glared suspiciouslyat him or fixed rapacious eyes on his good clothes. There were shops inthis street such as Viner had never seen the like of--shops whereincoarse, dreadful looking food was exposed for sale; and there werepublic-houses from which came the odour of cheap gin and bad beer andrank tobacco; an atmosphere of fried fish and something far worse hungheavily above the dirty pavements, and at every step he took Viner askedhimself the same question--what on earth could Miss Wickham and Mrs.Killenhall be doing in this wretched neighbourhood?
Suddenly he came to the house he wanted--Number 23. It was just likeall the other houses, of sombre grey brick, except for the fact thatit looked somewhat cleaner than the rest, was furnished with blindsand curtains, and in the front downstairs window had a lower wireblind, on which was worked in tarnished gilt letters, the word_Surgery_. On the door was a brass plate, also tarnished, across whichran three lines in black:
"Dr. Martincole.Attendance: 3 to 6 p. m.Saturdays. 5 to 9.30 p. m."
Before Viner took the bell in hand, he glanced at the houses whichflanked this East-end surgery. One was a poor-looking, meanly equippedchemist's shop; the other a second-hand clothing establishment. Andcomforting himself with the thought that if need arose the apparentlyfairly respectable proprietors of these places might reasonably be calledupon for assistance, he rang the bell of Number 23 and awaited theopening of the door with considerable curiosity.
The door was opened by Mrs. Killenhall herself, and Viner's quick eyefailed to notice anything in her air or manner that denoted uneasiness.She smiled and motioned him to enter, shutting the door after him as hestepped into the narrow entrance hall.
"So very good of you to come, Mr. Viner, and so quickly," she said. "Youfound your way all right?"
"Yes, but I'm a good deal surprised to find you and Miss Wickham in thisneighbourhood," answered Viner. "This is a queer place, Mrs.Killenhall. I hope--"
"Oh, we're all right!" said Mrs. Killenhall, with a reassuring smile. "Itis certainly a queer neighbourhood, but Dr. Martincole is an old friendof mine, and we're safe enough under his roof. He'll be here in a fewminutes, and then--"
"This man who knew Mr. Ashton?" interrupted Viner. "Where is he?"
"Dr. Martincole will bring him in," said Mrs. Killenhall, "Come upstairs,Mr. Viner."
Viner noticed that the house through which he was led was very quiet, andlarger than he should have guessed at from the street frontage. From whathe could see, it was well furnished, but dark and gloomy; gloomy, too,was a back room, high up the stairs, into which Mrs. Killenhall presentlyshowed him. There, looking somewhat anxious, sat Miss Wickham, alone.
"Here's Mr. Viner," said Mrs. Killenhall. "I'll tell Dr. Martincolehe's come."
She motioned Viner to a chair and went out. But the next instant Vinerswung quickly round. As the door closed, he had heard the unmistakableclick of a patent lock.