The Rayner-Slade Amalgamation

  CHAPTER X

  THE SECOND MURDER

  It had been very evident to Allerdyke that ever since Fullaway hadmentioned the matter of the missing maid, Celia Lennard had become avictim to doubt, suspicion, and uncertainty. Her colour came and went;her eyes began to show signs of tears; her voice shook. And now, at theAmerican's direct question, she wrung her hands with an almostdespairing gesture.

  "But I can't!" she exclaimed. "I don't know her address--how should I?It's somewhere in London--Bloomsbury, I think--but even then I don't knowif that's where her mother lives, to whom she said she was going. I didknow her address--I mean I remembered it for a while, at the time Iengaged her--a year ago, but I've forgotten it. Oh! do you really thinkshe's robbed me, or helped to rob me?"

  "Never mind opinions," answered Fullaway curtly. "They're no good. Isthis the maid you brought with you once or twice when you called at myoffice some time ago, over the Pinkie Pell deal?"

  "Yes--yes, the same!" she answered.

  "A Frenchwoman?" said Fullaway.

  "Yes--Lisette. Of course she went with me to your office--that was eightor nine months ago, and I've had her a year. And I had excellenttestimonials with her, too. Oh, I can't think that--"

  "Can't you make an effort to remember her address?" urged Fullaway."What can we do until we know that?"

  Celia drew her fine eyebrows together in a palpable effort to think.

  "I've got it somewhere," she said at last. "I must have itsomewhere--most likely in an address-book at my flat--I should be sure toput it down at the time."

  "Who is there at your flat?" asked Fullaway.

  "My housekeeper and a maid," answered Celia. "They're always there,whether I'm at home or not. But they couldn't get at what you want--allmy papers and things are locked up--and in a hopeless state ofconfusion, too."

  Fullaway pushed aside his plate.

  "Then there's only one thing to be done," he said, with an accent offinality. "We must go up to town at once."

  Allerdyke, still quietly eating his supper, looked up.

  "That's just what I was going to suggest," he said. "There's no good tobe done hanging about here. Let's get on to the scene of operations. IfMiss Lennard's maid has stolen her jewels, she's probably had some handin the theft from my cousin. We must find her. Now, then, let me come in.I'll look up the train, settle up with these hotel folk, and we'll beoff. You give your attention to your packing, Miss Lennard, and leave therest to me--you won't mind travelling the night?"

  Celia shook her head.

  "I don't mind travelling all night for half a dozen nights if I can trackmy lost property," she said lugubriously. "You're dead sure it's no usestopping here?--that the robbery didn't take place here?"

  "Sure!" answered Fullaway. "We must get off. That French damsel's got tobe found--somehow."

  The supper-party came to an end--the prima donna and her temporary maidbegan to bustle with garments and trunks, the two men attended to allother necessary matters, and at two o'clock in the morning the three spedout of Edinburgh for the South, each secretly wondering what was going tocome of their journey. Allerdyke, preparing to go to sleep in thecompartment which he and Fullaway occupied by themselves, dropped onegrim remark to his companion as he settled himself.

  "Seems like a wild-goose chase this, my lad, but it's one we've got to gothrough with! What'll the next stage be?"

  The next stage was an arrival in London in the middle of a lovely Maymorning, a swift drive to Celia Lennard's flat in Bedford Court Mansions,the hurried rummaging of its owner amongst an extraordinary mass ofpapers, books, and documents, and the ultimate discovery of the Frenchmaid's address. Celia held it up with a sigh of vast relief, whichchanged into a groan of despairing doubt.

  "There it is!" she exclaimed. "Lisette Beaurepaire, 911 Bernard Street,Bloomsbury--I knew it was Bloomsbury. That's where she lived when Iengaged her, anyhow--but then her sick mother mayn't live there! The manwho met her at Hull, who said he was her brother, didn't say where themother lived, except that it was in London."

  "We must go to Bernard Street, anyway, at once," said Fullaway. "We mayget some information there."

  But such information as they got on the door-step of 911 Bernard Streetwas scanty and useless. The house was a typical Bloomsbury lodging-place,let off in floors and rooms. Its proprietor, summoned from aneighbouring house, recollected, with considerable difficulty and afterconsultation of a penny pocket-book, that he had certainly let atop-floor room to a young Frenchwoman about a year ago, but he had nevercaught her name properly, and simply had her noted down as Mamselle. Shehad paid her rent regularly, and had remained in the house fiveweeks--that was all he knew about her. Had he ever seen her since? Notthat he knew of--in fact, he shouldn't know her if he saw her--they wereall pretty much alike, these young Frenchwomen. Did he know where shecame from to his house--where she went from his house? Not he! he knew nomore than what he had just told.

  "What now?" asked Allerdyke as the three searchers paced dejectedly upthe street. "This is doing no good--it's worse than the Hull affair.However, there's one thing suggests itself to me. Didn't you say," hewent on, turning to Celia, "that you had some very good testimonials withthis young woman? If so, and you've still got them, we might trace her inthat way."

  "I had some, and I may have them still, but you saw just now what anawful mess all my letters and papers are in," replied Celia, almosttearfully. "I always do get things like that into hopeless confusion--Inever know what to destroy and what to keep, and they accumulate so. Itwould take hours upon hours to look for those letters, and in themeantime--"

  "In the meantime," remarked Fullaway as he signalled to a taxi-cab,"there's only one thing to be done. We must go to the police. Get in,both of you, and let's make haste to New Scotland Yard."

  Once more Allerdyke received an impression of the American's usefulnessand practical acquaintance with things. Fullaway seemed to know exactlywhat to do, whom to approach, how to go about the business in hand;within a few minutes all three were closeted with a high official of theCriminal Investigation Department, a man who might have been a barrister,a medical specialist, or a scientist of distinction, and who maintainedan unmoved countenance and a perfect silence while Fullaway unfolded thestory. He and Allerdyke had held a brief consultation as they drove fromBloomsbury to Whitehall, and they had decided that as things had nowreached a critical stage it would be best to tell the authoritieseverything. Therefore the American narrated the entire sequence of eventsas they related not only to Mademoiselle de Longarde's loss but to thedeath of James Allerdyke and the disappearance of the Nastirsevitchvaluables. And the official heard, and made mental notes, soakingeverything into some proper cell of his brain, and he said nothing untilFullaway had come to an end, and at that end he turned to Celia Lennard.

  "You can, of course, describe your maid?" he asked.

  "Certainly!" answered Celia. "To every detail."

  "Do so, if you please," continued the official, producing a pile ofpapers from a drawer and turning them over until he came to one which hedrew from the rest.

  "A Frenchwoman," said Celia. "Aged, I should say, about twenty-six. Tall.Slender--but not thin. Of a very good figure. Black hair--a quantity ofit. Black eyes--very penetrating. Fresh colour. Not exactly pretty, butattractive--in the real Parisian way--she is a Parisian. Dressed--whenshe left me at Hull--in a black tailor-made coat and skirt, and carryinga travelling coat of black, lined with fur--one I gave her in Russia."

  "Her luggage?" asked the official.

  "She had a suit-case: a medium-sized one."

  "Large enough, I presume, to conceal the jewel-box your friend has toldme about just now?"

  "Oh, yes--certainly!"

  The official put his papers back in the drawer and turned to his visitorswith a business-like look which finally settled itself on Celia's face.

  "You must be prepared to hear some serious news," he said. "I mean aboutthis woman. I have no doubt from what you
have just told me that I knowwhere she is."

  "Where?" demanded Celia excitedly. "You know? Where, then?"

  "Lying in the mortuary at Paddington," answered the official quietly.

  In spite of Celia's strong nerves she half rose in her seat--only to dropback with a sharp exclamation.

  "Dead! Probably murdered. And I should say," continued the official,with a glance at the two men, "murdered in the same way as the gentlemanyou have told me of was murdered at Hull--by some subtle, strange, andsecret poison."

  No one spoke for a minute or two. When the silence was broken it was byAllerdyke.

  "I should like to know about this," he said in a hard, keen voice. "I'mgetting about sick of delay in this affair of my cousin's, and if thismurder of the young woman is all of a piece with his, why, then, thesooner we all get to work the better. I'm not going to spare time,labour, nor expense in running that lot down, d'you understand? Money'snaught to me--I'm willing--"

  "We are already at work, Mr. Allerdyke," said the official, interruptinghim quietly. "We've been at work in the affair of the young woman fortwenty-four hours, and although you didn't know of it, we've heard of theaffair of your cousin at Hull, and the two cases are so similar that whenyou came in I was wondering if there was any connection between them.Now, as regards the young woman. You may or may not be aware that inEastbourne Terrace, Paddington, a street of houses which runs alongsidethe departure platform of the Great Western Railway, there are a numberof small private hotels, which are largely used by railway passengers. Toone of these hotels, about nine o'clock on the evening of May 13th (justabout twenty-four hours after you, Miss Lennard, landed at Hull), therecame a man and a woman, who represented themselves as brother and sister,and took two rooms for the night. The woman answers the description ofyour maid--as to the man, I will give you a description of him later.These two, who had for luggage such a medium-sized suit-case as that MissLennard has spoken of, partook of some supper and retired. There wasnothing noticeable about them--they seemed to be quiet, respectablepeople--foreigners who spoke English very well. Nothing was heard of themuntil next morning at eight o'clock, when the man rang his bell and askedfor tea to be brought up for both. This was done--he took it in at hisdoor, and was seen to hand a cup in at his sister's door, close by. Anhour later he came downstairs and gave instructions that his sister wasnot to be disturbed--she was tired and wanted to rest, he said, and shewould ring when she wanted attendance. He then booked the two rooms againfor the succeeding night, and, going into the coffee-room, ate a verygood breakfast, taking his time over it. That done, he lounged about alittle, smoking, and eventually crossed the road towards thestation--since when he has not been seen. The day passed on--the womanneither rang her bell nor came down. When evening arrived, as the man hadnot returned, and no response could be got to repeated knocks at thedoor, the landlady opened it with a master-key, and entered the room. Shefound the woman dead--and according to the medical evidence she had beendead since ten or eleven o'clock in the morning. Then, of course, thepolice were called in. There was nothing in the room or in the suit-caseto establish or suggest identity. The body was removed, and an autopsyhas been held. And the conclusion of the medical men is that this womanhas been secretly and subtly poisoned."

  Here the official paused, rang a bell, and remained silent until aquiet-looking, middle-aged man who might have been a highly respectablebutler entered the room: then he turned again to his visitors.

  "I want you, Miss Lennard, to accompany this man--one of my officers--tothe mortuary, to see if you can identify the body I have told you of.Perhaps you gentlemen will accompany Miss Lennard? Then," he continued,rising, "if you will all return here, we will go into this matterfurther, and see if we can throw more light on it."

  Allerdyke's next impressions were of a swift drive across London to aquiet retreat in Paddington, where, in a red-brick building set amidsttrees, official-faced men conducted him and his two companions into asort of annex, one side of which was covered with sheet glass. On theother side of that glass he became aware of a still figure, shrouded andarranged in formal lines, of a white face, set amidst dark hair ... thenas in a dream he heard Celia Lennard's frightened whisper--

  "That's she--that's Lisette! Oh, for God's sake, take me out!"