CHAPTER V
THE BRASS-BOUND CHEST
The police-sergeant had got off his bicycle at the same time that Ijumped from mine, and he was close behind me when Maisie and I met, and Iheard him give a sharp whistle at her news. And as for me, I wasdumbfounded, for though I had seen well enough that Mr. Gilverthwaite wasvery ill when I left him, I was certainly a long way from thinking himlike to die. Indeed, I was so astonished that all I could do was to standstaring at Maisie in the grey light which was just coming between themidnight and the morning. But the sergeant found his tongue more readily.
"I suppose he died in his bed, miss?" he asked softly. "Mr. Hugh heresaid he was ill; it would be a turn for the worse, no doubt, after Mr.Hugh left him?"
"He died suddenly just after eleven o'clock," answered Maisie; "and yourmother sought you at Mr. Lindsey's office, Hugh, and when she found youweren't there, she came down to our house, and I had to tell her thatyou'd come out this way on an errand for Mr. Gilverthwaite. And I toldher, too, what I wasn't so sure of myself, that there'd no harm come toyou of it, and that you'd be back soon after twelve, and I went down toyour house and waited with her; and when you didn't come, and didn'tcome, why, I got Tom here to get our bicycles out and we came to seekyou. And let's be getting back, for your mother's anxious about you, andthe man's death has upset her--he went all at once, she said, while shewas with him."
We all got on our bicycles again and set off homewards, and Chisholmwheeled alongside me and we dropped behind a little.
"This is a strange affair," said he, in a low voice; "and it's like to bemade stranger by this man's sudden death. I'd been looking to him to getnews of this other man. What do you know of Mr. Gilverthwaite, now?"
"Nothing!" said I.
"But he's lodged with you seven weeks?" said he.
"If you'd known him, sergeant," I answered, "you'd know that he was thissort of man--you'd know no more of him at the end of seven months thanyou would at the end of seven weeks, and no more at the end of sevenyears than at the end of seven months. We knew nothing, my mother and I,except that he was a decent, well-spoken man, free with his money andhaving plenty of it, and that his name was what he called it, and that hesaid he'd been a master mariner. But who he was, or where he came from, Iknow no more than you do."
"Well, he'll have papers, letters, something or other that'll throw somelight on matters, no doubt?" he suggested. "Can you say as to that?"
"I can tell you that he's got a chest in his chamber that's nigh as heavyas if it were made of solid lead," I answered. "And doubtless he'll havea key on him or about him that'll unlock it. But what might be in it, Ican't say, never having seen him open it at any time."
"Well," he said, "I'll have to bring the superintendent down, and we musttrouble your mother to let us take a look at this Mr. Gilverthwaite'seffects. Had he a doctor to him since he was taken ill?"
"Dr. Watson--this--I mean yesterday--afternoon," I answered.
"Then there'll be no inquest in his case," said the sergeant, "for thedoctor'll be able to certify. But there'll be a searching inquiry in thismurder affair, and as Gilverthwaite sent you to meet the man that's beenmurdered--"
"Wait a bit!" said I. "You don't know, and I don't, that the man who'sbeen murdered is the man I was sent to meet. The man I was to meet mayhave been the murderer; you don't know who the murdered man is. So you'dbetter put it this way: since Gilverthwaite sent me to meet some man atthe place where this murder's been committed--well?"
"That'll be one of your lawyer's quibbles," said he calmly. "My meaning'splain enough--we'll want to find out, if we can, who it was thatGilverthwaite sent you to meet. And--for what reason? And--where it wasthat the man was to wait for him? And I'll get the superintendent tocome down presently."
"Make it in, say, half an hour," said I. "This is a queer businessaltogether, sergeant, and I'm so much in it that I'm not going to dothings on my own responsibility. I'll call Mr. Lindsey up from his bed,and get him to come down to talk over what's to be done."
"Aye, you're in the right of it there," he said. "Mr. Lindsey'll know allthe law on such matters. Half an hour or so, then."
He made off to the county police-station, and Maisie and Tom and I wenton to our house, and were presently inside. My mother was so relieved atthe sight of me that she forbore to scold me at that time for going offon such an errand without telling her of my business; but she grew whiteas her cap when I told her of what I had chanced on, and she glanced atthe stair and shook her head.
"And indeed I wish that poor man had never come here, if it's this sortof dreadfulness follows him!" she said. "And though I was slow to sayit, Hugh, I always had a feeling of mystery about him. However, he'sgone now--and died that suddenly and quietly!--and we've laid him out inhis bed; and--and--what's to be done now?" she exclaimed. "We don't knowwho he is!"
"Don't trouble yourself, mother," said I. "You've done your duty by him.And now that you've seen I'm safe, I'm away to bring Mr. Lindsey down andhe'll tell us all that should be done."
I left Maisie and Tom Dunlop keeping my mother company and made haste toMr. Lindsey's house, and after a little trouble roused him out of his bedand got him down to me. It was nearly daylight by that time, and the greymorning was breaking over the sea and the river as he and I walked backthrough the empty streets--I telling him of all the events of the night,and he listening with an occasional word of surprise. He was not a nativeof our parts, but a Yorkshireman that had bought a practice in the townsome years before, and had gained a great character for shrewdness andability, and I knew that he was the very man to turn to in an affair ofthis sort.
"There's a lot more in this than's on the surface, Hugh, my lad," heremarked when I had made an end of my tale. "And it'll be a nice jobto find out all the meaning of it, and if the man that's been murderedwas the man Gilverthwaite sent you to meet, or if he's some other thatgot there before you, and was got rid of for some extraordinary reasonthat we know nothing about. But one thing's certain: we've got to getsome light on your late lodger. That's step number one--and a mostimportant one."
The superintendent of police, Mr. Murray, a big, bustling man, wasoutside our house with Chisholm when we got there, and after a word ortwo between us, we went in, and were presently upstairs inGilverthwaite's room. He lay there in his bed, the sheet drawn about himand a napkin over his face; and though the police took a look at him, Ikept away, being too much upset by the doings of the night to stand anymore just then. What I was anxious about was to get some inkling of whatall this meant, and I waited impatiently to see what Mr. Lindsey woulddo. He was looking about the room, and when the others turned away fromthe dead man he pointed to Gilverthwaite's clothes, that were laid tidilyfolded on a chair.
"The first thing to do is to search for his papers and his keys," hesaid. "Go carefully through his pockets, sergeant, and let's see whatthere is."
But there was as little in the way of papers there, as there had been inthe case of the murdered man. There were no letters. There was a map ofthe district, and under the names of several of the villages and placeson either side of the Tweed, between Berwick and Kelso, heavy marks inblue pencil had been made. I, who knew something of Gilverthwaite'shabits, took it that these were the places he had visited during hisseven weeks' stay with us. And folded in the map were scraps of newspapercuttings, every one of them about some antiquity or other in theneighbourhood, as if such things had an interest for him. And in anotherpocket was a guide-book, much thumbed, and between two of the leaves,slipped as if to mark a place, was a registered envelope.
"That'll be what he got yesterday afternoon!" I exclaimed. "I'm certainit was whatever there was in it that made him send me out last night, andmaybe the letter in it'll tell us something."
However, there was no letter in the envelope--there was nothing. But onthe envelope itself was a postmark, at which Chisholm instantly pointed.
"Peebles!" said he. "Yon man that you found murdered--his half-ticket'sf
or Peebles. There's something of a clue, anyway."
They went on searching the clothing, only to find money--plenty of it,notes in an old pocket-book, and gold in a wash-leather bag--and theman's watch and chain, and his pocket-knife and the like, and a bunch ofkeys. And with the keys in his hand Mr. Lindsey turned to the chest.
"If we're going to find anything that'll throw any light on the questionof this man's identity, it'll be in this box," he said. "I'll take theresponsibility of opening it, in Mrs. Moneylaws' interest, anyway. Liftit on to that table, and let's see if one of these keys'll fit the lock."
There was no difficulty about finding the key--there were but a few onthe bunch, and he hit on the right one straightaway, and we all crowdedround him as he threw back the heavy lid. There was a curious aromaticsmell came from within, a sort of mingling of cedar and camphor andspices--a smell that made you think of foreign parts and queer, far-offplaces. And it was indeed a strange collection of things and objects thatMr. Lindsey took out of the chest and set down on the table. There was anold cigar-box, tied about with twine, full to the brim with money--overtwo thousand pounds in bank-notes and gold, as we found on counting it uplater on,--and there were others filled with cigars, and yet others inwhich the man had packed all manner of curiosities such as three of us atany rate had never seen in our lives before. But Mr. Lindsey, who wassomething of a curiosity collector himself, nodded his head at the sightof some of them.
"Wherever else this man may have been in his roving life," he said,"here's one thing certain--he's spent a lot of time in Mexico and CentralAmerica. And--what was the name he told you to use as a password once youmet his man, Hugh--wasn't it Panama?"
"Panama!" I answered. "Just that--Panama."
"Well, and he's picked up lots of these things in those parts--Panama,Nicaragua, Mexico," he said. "And very interesting matters they are.But--you see, superintendent?--there's not a paper nor anything in thischest to tell us who this man is, nor where he came from when he camehere, nor where his relations are to be found, if he has any. There'sliterally nothing whatever of that sort."
The police officials nodded in silence.
"And so--there's where things are," concluded Mr. Lindsey. "You'vetwo dead men on your hands, and you know nothing whatever abouteither of them!"