Back Aa

Charing Cross Mystery

<h3> CHAPTER XV </h3> <h4> REVELATIONS </h4> The late afternoon edition of the evening papers were just out when Hetherwick and Matherfield reached Victoria. Matherfield snatched one up; a moment later he thrust it before Hetherwick, pointing to some big black capitals. "Good God!" he exclaimed. "Look at that!" Hetherwick looked, and gasped his astonishment at what he read. MURDER OF ROBERT HANNAFORD. FIVE THOUSAND POUNDS REWARD. Hetherwick turned on his companion with a look that was both questioning and surprised. "This is probably—no, certainly!—what Penteney referred to when he told Baseverie to look in the newspapers!" he said. "That was yesterday; it must have been in last night's papers, and this morning's. I saw neither." "Wait!" said Matherfield. He hurried back to the bookstall and returned with an armful of papers, turning the topmost over as he came. "It's here—and here!" he continued. "Let's get a quiet corner somewhere and look this thing carefully over!" "Come into a waiting-room, then," said Hetherwick. "Odd!" he muttered, as they turned away. "Who should offer a reward—like that, too!—who isn't concerned in the case?" "How do we know who isn't concerned in the case?" exclaimed Matherfield. "Somebody evidently is!—somebody who can not only afford to offer five thousand pounds, but isn't afraid to spend no end in advertising. Look at that—and that—and that," he went on, turning over his purchases rapidly. "It's in every paper in London!" "Let's read it carefully," said Hetherwick. He spread out one of the newspapers on the waiting-room table and muttered the wording of the advertisement while Matherfield looked over his shoulder. "Mysterious, very!" he concluded. "What's it mean?" But Matherfield was re-reading the advertisement. Whereas Robert Hannaford, formerly Superintendent of Police at Sellithwaite, Yorkshire, died suddenly in an Underground Railway train, near Charing Cross (Embankment) Station about 1.15 a.m. on March 19th last, and expert medical investigation has proved that he was poisoned, and there is evidence to warrant the belief that the poison was administered by some person or persons with intent to cause his death, this is to give notice that the above-mentioned sum of Five Thousand Pounds will be paid to anyone first giving information which will lead to the arrest and conviction of the person or persons concerned in administering the said poison and that such information should be given to the undersigned, who will pay the said reward in accordance with the above-stated conditions. PENTENEY, BLENKINSOP & PENTENEY, Solicitors. April 22nd, 1920. 853, Lincoln's Inn Fields, London, W.C. Matherfield pointed to the names of the signatories. "Penteney," he remarked. "That's the name of the man Miss Hannaford mentioned as having given Baseverie his dismissal." "Of course—Major Penteney," said Hetherwick. "Probably a junior partner in the firm. I know their names, but not much about them." "I thought he was a soldier," said Matherfield. "Major, she called him." "Very likely a Territorial officer," replied Hetherwick. "Anyway, it's very plain what this is, Matherfield, considering all we know. This advertisement has been issued on behalf of Lady Riversreade. Penteney, Blenkinsop & Penteney are no doubt her solicitors. But—why?" "Aye, why?" exclaimed Matherfield. "That's just what beats me! What interest has she in Hannaford's murder? Why should she want to bring his murderer to justice? If his granddaughter had offered, say, a hundred pounds for information, I could understand it—she's his flesh and blood. But Lady Riversreade! Why, if she's really the woman who was once Mrs. Whittingham, you'd have thought she'd have been rather glad that Hannaford was out of the way! And, after all, this mayn't come from her." "I'm absolutely certain it does," asserted Hetherwick. "Putting everything together, what other conclusion can we come to? It comes from Lady Riversreade—and her adviser—Major Penteney, and it's something to do with that man Baseverie. But—what?" "It ought to be looked into," muttered Matherfield. "They've never approached us on the matter. It's a purely voluntary offer on their part. They've left the police clean out." "Well, I make a suggestion," said Hetherwick. "I think you and I had better call at Penteney's to-morrow morning. We can tell them something—perhaps they'll tell us something. Anyway, it's a foolish thing to divide forces; we'd far better unite in a common effort." "Um!" replied Matherfield doubtfully. "But these lawyer chaps—they've generally got something up their sleeves—some card that they want to play at their own moment. However, we can try 'em." "Meet me at the south-east corner of Lincoln's Inn Fields at half-past ten to-morrow morning," said Hetherwick. "Penteney's offices are close by. We'll go together—and ask them straight out what this advertisement means." "All right—but if they won't tell?" suggested Matherfield. "Then, in that case, we'll introduce Lady Riversreade's name, and ask them if Lady Riversreade of Riversreade Court and Mrs. Whittingham, formerly of Sellithwaite, are one and the same person," replied Hetherwick. "Come! I think we can show them that we already know a good deal." "We have certainly a card or two to play," admitted Matherfield. "All right, Mr. Hetherwick! To-morrow morning, then, as you suggest." He was waiting at the appointed place when Hetherwick hurried up next morning. Hetherwick immediately turned him down the lower side of the Fields. "I've found out something about these people we're going to see," he said. "My clerk, Mapperley, told me a bit; he's a sort of walking encyclopædia. Old, highly respectable firm this. Penteney, senior, is retired; the firm is now really Blenkinsop & Penteney, junior. And Penteney, junior, is the Major Penteney who takes such an interest in Lady Riversreade's Home—and in Lady Riversreade. As I suggested last night, he was a Territorial officer—so now he's back at his own job. Now then, Matherfield, let's arrange our plan of campaign. You, of course, have your official credentials—I'm a deeply interested person, the man who chanced to witness Hannaford's death. I think you'd better be spokesman." "Well, you'll come in when wanted?" suggested Matherfield. "You're better used to lawyers than I am, being one yourself." "I fear my acquaintance with solicitors is, so far, extremely limited, Matherfield," replied Hetherwick with a laugh. "I have seen a brief!—but only occasionally. However, here we are at 853, and a solid and sombre old house it is." The two callers had to wait for some time before any apparent notice was taken of their cards by the persons to whom they had been sent in. Matherfield was beginning to chafe when, at last, an elderly clerk conducted them up to an inner room wherein one cold-eyed, immobile-faced man sat at a desk, while another, scarcely less stern in appearance, in whom Hetherwick immediately recognised the Major Penteney pointed out by Rhona, stood, hands in pockets, on the hearthrug. Each stared silently at the two callers; the man at the desk pointed to chairs on either side of his fortress. He looked at Matherfield. "Yes?" he asked. "Mr. Blenkinsop, I presume?" began Matherfield, with a polite bow to the desk. "And Mr. Penteney?" with another to the hearthrug. "Just so," agreed Blenkinsop. "Precisely! Yes?" "You have my card, gentlemen, and so you know who I am," continued Matherfield. "The police——" "A moment," interrupted Blenkinsop. He picked up Hetherwick's card and glanced from it to its presenter. "Mr. Guy Hetherwick," he remarked. "Does Mr. Hetherwick also call on behalf of the police? Because," he added, with a dry smile, "I think I've seen Mr. Hetherwick in wig and gown." "I am the man who was present at Robert Hannaford's death," said Hetherwick. "If you are conversant with the case——" "Quite!—every detail!" said Blenkinsop. "Then you know what I saw, and what evidence I gave at the inquest," continued Hetherwick. "I have followed up the case ever since—and that's why I am here." "Not as amicus curiæ, then?" remarked Blenkinsop with a still dryer smile. "You're not a disinterested adviser. I see! And Mr. Matherfield—why is he here?" "I was saying, Mr. Blenkinsop, that the police have seen the advertisement signed by your firm, offering five thousand pounds reward—etcetera," answered Matherfield. "Now, I have this Hannaford case in hand, and I can assure you I've done a lot of work at it. So, in his way, has Mr. Hetherwick. We're convinced that Hannaford was murdered by poison, and that whoever poisoned him also poisoned the man Granett at the same time. Now, as either you or some person—a client, I suppose—behind you is so much concerned in bringing Hannaford's murderer to justice as to offer a big sum for necessary information, we think you must know a great deal, and I suggest to you, gentlemen, that you ought to place your knowledge at our disposal. I hope my suggestion is welcome, gentlemen." Blenkinsop drummed the blotting-pad before him with the tips of his fingers, and his face became more inscrutable than ever. As for Penteney, he maintained the same attitude which he had preserved ever since the visitors entered the room, lounging against the mantelpiece, hands in pockets, and his eyes alternately fixed on either Hetherwick or Matherfield. There was a brief silence; at last Blenkinsop spoke abruptly. "I don't think we have anything to say," he said. "What we have to say has been said already in the advertisement. We shall pay the offered reward to the person who gives satisfactory information. I don't think that interferes with the police work." "That doesn't help me much, Mr. Blenkinsop," protested Matherfield. "You, or your client, must know more than that! There must be good reasons why your client should offer such a big sum as reward. I think we ought to know—more." "I am not prepared to tell you more," answered Blenkinsop. "Except that if we get the information which we think we shall get, we shall not be slow to hand it over to the police authorities." "That might be too late," urged Matherfield. "This is an intricate case—there are a good many wheels within wheels." Then, interpreting a glance which he had just received from Hetherwick as a signal to go further, he added: "We know what a lot of wheels there are—no one better! For example, gentlemen, there is the curious fashion in which this affair is mixed up with Lady Riversreade!" In spite of their evidently habitual practice of self-control, the two solicitors could not repress signs of astonishment. Blenkinsop's face fell; Penteney started out of his lounging attitude and stood upright. And for the first time he spoke. "What do you know about Lady Riversreade?" he demanded. "A good deal, sir, but not so much as I intend to know," answered Matherfield firmly. "But I do know this—that Hannaford, just previous to his sudden death, was in possession of a portrait of Lady Riversreade, and believed her to be identical with a certain Mrs. Whittingham who was through his hands on a charge of fraud, ten years ago, at Sellithwaite, in Yorkshire. I, too, believe that this Mrs. Whittingham is now Lady Riversreade, and I may tell you that I'm in full possession of all the facts relating to the Sellithwaite affair—an affair of obtaining a diamond necklace, worth about four thousand pounds, by means of a worthless cheque, and——" Blenkinsop suddenly rose from his chair, holding up a hand. "A moment, if you please!" he said. "Penteney," he continued, turning to his partner, "a word with you in your room." Matherfield glanced triumphantly after the retreating pair, and laughed when a door had closed on them. "That's got 'em, Mr. Hetherwick!" he exclaimed. "They see that we know more than they reckoned for. In some way or other, it strikes me, this advertisement is a piece of bluff!" "Bluff!" said Hetherwick. "What do you mean?" "What I say," answered Matherfield. "Bluff! Done to prevent somebody from bringing up that old Sellithwaite affair. Lay you a thousand to one it is. You'll see these two lawyers will be more communicative when they come back. Now they shall talk—and we'll listen!" "If you have to do any more talking, Matherfield," said Hetherwick, "keep Miss Hannaford's name out of it. She's in a rather awkward position. She went there, of course, to find out what she could, and the result's been that she's taken a fancy to Lady Riversreade, got a genuine interest in the work there, and wants to stop. Bit of a bother, all that, and it'll need some straightening out. Anyway, keep her name out of it here." "As I say, sir, when these chaps come back to us, they'll do the talking!" answered Matherfield, with a chuckle. "You'll see! If you want to keep Miss Hannaford's name out, so do they want to keep Lady Riversreade's name out—I know the signs!" Blenkinsop and Penteney suddenly came back and seated themselves, Blenkinsop at his desk and Penteney close by. And Blenkinsop immediately turned to his callers. His manner had changed; he looked now like a man who is anxious to get a settlement of a difficult question. "We have decided to talk freely to you," he said at once. "That means, to tell you everything we know about this matter. You, Mr. Matherfield, as representing the police, will, of course, treat our communication confidentially. I needn't ask you, Mr. Hetherwick, to regard all that's said here, as—you know! Now, to begin with—just get one fact, an absolutely irrefutable fact, into your minds at once. Lady Riversreade is not the woman who was known as Mrs. Whittingham at Sellithwaite ten years ago, nor did Hannaford believe that she was either!" "What?" exclaimed Matherfield. "But——" he turned to Hetherwick. "You hear that?" he went on. "Why, we know——" "Let Mr. Blenkinsop go on," said Hetherwick quietly. "He's explaining, I think." "Just so," agreed Blenkinsop. "And I'm beginning by endeavouring to clear away a few mistaken ideas from your minds. Lady Riversreade is not Mrs. Whittingham. Hannaford did not think she was Mrs. Whittingham. It was not Lady Riversreade's portrait that Hannaford cut out of the paper." Hetherwick could not repress a start at that. "Whose was it, then?" he demanded. "For I certainly believed it was!" Blenkinsop stooped and drew out a drawer from his desk. From a bundle of documents he produced a newspaper, carefully folded and labelled. Opening this, he laid it before the two visitors, pointing to a picture marked with blue pencil. And Hetherwick at once saw that here was a duplicate of the portrait in his own pocket-book. But there was this important difference—while Hannaford had cut away the lettering under his picture, it was there in the one which Blenkinsop exhibited. He started again as he read it—Madame Anita Listorelle. "That's the picture which Hannaford cut out of the paper," said Blenkinsop. "It is not that of Lady Riversreade." "Then it's that of a woman who's her double!" exclaimed Matherfield. "I'll lay anything that if you asked a hundred men who've seen Lady Riversreade if that's her picture, they'd swear it is!" "I see," said Hetherwick, disregarding his companion's outburst, "that this purports to be a portrait of a Madame Listorelle, who is described in the accompanying letterpress as a famous connoisseur of precious stones. Now, in relation to what we're discussing, may I ask a plain question? Who is Madame Listorelle?" Blenkinsop smiled—oracularly. "Madame Listorelle," he replied, "is the twin sister of Lady Riversreade!" <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.