Classic Audiobook Collection - The Charing Cross Mystery by J. S. Fletcher ~ Full Audiobook [mystery]

Episode Date: July 25, 2023

The Charing Cross Mystery by J. S. Fletcher audiobook. Genre: mystery Here's another intriguing mystery by J. S. Fletcher, centering on why a former high-level police official was murdered, and on whether - and if so how - the murder was linked to two glamorous and high-profile sisters, one of whose photo was found in the dead man's pocket. As usual, Fletcher creates a number of different detectives -- a lawyer, his assistant, several policemen, a police spy, and even the dead man's granddaughter -- following various lines of inquiry. These lines converge rapidly in the last few chapters, when the author lets the reader weave them together into a coherent whole: the solution to the mystery. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:19:35) Chapter 02 (00:40:24) Chapter 03 (00:58:01) Chapter 04 (01:18:02) Chapter 05 (01:36:37) Chapter 06 (01:58:18) Chapter 07 (02:20:00) Chapter 08 (02:37:44) Chapter 09 (02:56:30) Chapter 10 (03:19:24) Chapter 11 (03:41:29) Chapter 12 (03:55:08) Chapter 13 (04:14:05) Chapter 14 (04:35:24) Chapter 15 (04:57:04) Chapter 16 (05:19:58) Chapter 17 (05:39:37) Chapter 18 (06:03:49) Chapter 19 (06:21:05) Chapter 20 (06:40:54) Chapter 21 (07:01:10) Chapter 22 (07:19:52) Chapter 23 (07:44:33) Chapter 24 (08:03:18) Chapter 25 (08:19:08) Chapter 26 (08:43:36) Chapter 27 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. The Last Train East Heatherwick had dined that evening with friends who lived in Cadigan Gardens and had stayed so late in conversation with his host that midnight had come before he left and set out for his bachelor chambers in the temple. It was indeed by the fraction of a second that he caught the last east-bound train at Sloan Square.

The train was almost destitute. of passengers. The car which he himself entered, a first-class smoking compartment, was otherwise empty. No one came into it when the train reached Victoria. But at St. James's Park, two men got in and seated themselves opposite to Heatherwick. Now Heatherwick was a young barrister going in for criminal practice, in whom the observant faculty was deeply implanted. It was natural to him to watch and to speculate on anything he saw. Because of this, and perhaps because he had just then nothing else to think about, he sat observing newcomers. He found interest, amusement, and not a little profit in this sort of thing, and in trying to decide whether a given man was this, that, or something

else. Of the two men thus under inspection, the elder was a big, burly, fresh-colored man of apparently 60 to 65 years of age. His closely cropped silvery hair, his smartly trained gray mustache, his keen blue eyes and generally alert and vivacious appearance, made Heatherwick think that he was or had been in some way or other connected with the army. This impression was heightened by an erect carriage, square-set shoulders, and something that suggested a long and close acquaintance with the methods of the drill yard and the parade ground. Perhaps, thought Heatherwick, he was a retired non-commissioned officer, a regimental sergeant major, or something of that sort.

This idea again was strengthened by the fact that the man carried a handsome walking cane, the head of which, either of gold or of silver gilt, was fashioned like a crown. There was something military, too, about the cut of his clinton, clothes. He was a smartly-dressed man from his silk hat, new and glossy, and worn a little rakishly on the right side of his head, to his highly polished boots. A well-preserved, cheery-looking, good-humoured sort of person, this, decided Hetherwick, and apparently well-satisfied with himself, and full of the enjoyment of life, and likely, from all outward sight, to make old

bones. The other man came into a different category. The difference began with his clothes, which, if not exactly shabby, were semi-shabby, much worn, ill-kept, and badly put on. He was evidently a careless man, who scorned a clothes-brush, and was also indifferent to the very obvious fact that his linen was frayed and dirty. He was a thin, meager man, of not one-half the respectable, well-fed bulk of his companion. His sallow-complexioned face was worn, and his beard thin and irregular. Altogether, he suggested some degree of poor circumstances. Yet, in Heatherwick's opinion, he was a person of something beyond ordinary mental capacity.

His eyes were large and intelligent. His nose was well-shaped, his chin square and determined, and his ungloved hands were finely molded and delicate of proportion. The fingers were long, thin, and tapering. Heatherwick noticed two facts about those fingers. The first that they were restless, the second that they were much stained, as if the man had recently been mixing dyes, or using chemicals.

And then he suddenly observed that the big man's hands and fingers were similarly stained, blue and red and yellow in patches. These men were talking when they entered the compartment. They continued to talk as they settled down. Heatherwick could not avoid hearing what they said. Queerness experience I've ever had in my time, the big man was saying as he dropped into a corner seat.

Tell you, I knew her the instant I clapped eyes on the portrait. After how many years will it be not? now? Ten, I think. Yes, ten. Oh, yes, knew her well enough. When we get to my hotel, I'll show you the portrait. I cut it out and put it aside, and you'll identify it as quick as I did. Lay you ought you like on it. No mistaking that. This was said in a broad North Country accent, in full keeping, thought Heatherwick, with the burly frame of the speaker. But the other man replied in tones that suggested the born Londoner. "'I think I shall be able to recognize it,' he said softly.

"'I've a very clear recollection of the lady, though, to be sure, I only saw her once or twice. "'I, well, a fine-looking woman and a beauty like that's not soon forgotten,' declared the other. "'And nowadays the years don't seem to make much difference to a woman's age. "'Anyway, I knew her. That's you. my fine madam, says I to myself, as soon as ever I unfolded that paper. But, mind you, I kept it to myself. Not a word to my granddaughter, though she was sitting opposite to me when I made the discovery. Nope, not to anybody, till to-night. Not the sort of thing to blab about that. Just so, said the smaller man. Of course, you'd remember that I was likely to have some recollection

of her and of the circumstances. Odd, very. And I suppose the next thing is, what are you going to do about it? Oh, well, replied the big man. Of course, ten years have elapsed, but as to that, it wouldn't matter, you know, if twenty years had slipped by.

Still, at that point, he sank his voice to the least of a whisper, bending over to his companion, and Heatherwick heard no more. But it seemed to him that the little man, although he appeared to be listening intently, was, in reality, doing nothing of the sort. His long-stained fingers became more restless than ever. Twice, before the train came to Westminster, he pulled out his watch and glanced at it.

Once, after that, Hetherwick caught the nervous hand, again shaking towards the waistcoat pocket, and he got an idea that the man was regarding his big garrulous companion, with curiously furtive glances, as if he were waiting for some vague, yet expected thing, and wondering when it would materialize. There was a covert watchfulness about him, and though he nodded his head from time to time, as if in ascent to what was being whispered to him, Hetherwick became convinced that he was either abstracted in thought or taking no interest. If eyes and fingers were to be taken as indications, the man's thoughts were. elsewhere. The train pulled up at Westminster, lingered its half-minute, moved onward again.

The big man, still bending down to his companion, went on whispering. Now and then, as if he were telling a good story or making a clever point, he chuckled. But suddenly, and without any warning, he paused, coming to a dead, sharp-cut stop in an apparently easy flow of language. He stared wildly wildly around him. Heatherwick caught the flash of his eye as it swept the compartment, and never forgot the look of frightened amazement that he saw in it. It was as if the man had been caught with lightning-like swiftness, face to face with some awful thing. His left hand shut up, clutching at his breast and throat, the other, releasing the gold-headed cane, as if to ward off a blow. It dropped like lead at his side. The other arm relaxed and fell, limp and nerveless,

and before Heatherwick could move, the big burly figure sank back in its corner, and the eyes closed. Heatherwick jumped from his seat, shouting to the other man, "'Your friend,' he cried, look. But the other man was looking. He too had got to his feet, and he was bending down and stretching out a hand. to the big man's wrist. He muttered something that Heatherwick failed to catch. What do you say? demanded Heatherwick impatiently. Good heavens, we must do something. The man's, what is it? A seizure? Answered the other. Yes, that's it, a seizure. He'd had one, slight giddiness just before we got in. A, the train stopping, though. Jaring Cross, I know a doctor

close by. The train was already pulling up. Heatherwick flung open the dividing door between his compartment and the next. He had seen the conductor down there, and he beckoned to him. Quick, he called. Here, there's a man ill, dying, I think. Come here. The conductor came, slowly, but when he saw the man in the corner, he made for the outer door and beckoned two men on the platform. A uniformed official ran up and got in. "'What is it?' he asked. "'Gentlemen's in a fit? "'Who's with him? Anybody?'

Heatherwick looked round for the man with the stained fingers. But he was already out of the carriage and on the platform, and making for the stairs that led to the exit. He flung back a few words, pointing upward at the same time. "'Doctor, close by,' he shouted. "'Back in five minutes. Get him out.' "'But already there was a doctor at hand, before the man with stained fingers had fairly vanished,

other men had come in from the adjoining compartments. One pushed his way to the front. I'm a medical man, he said curtly. Make way, please. The other men stood silently watching, while the newcomer made a hasty examination of the still figure. He turned sharply. This man's dead, he said, in quick matter-of-fact tones.

Is anyone with him? The train officials glanced at head. Hetherwick, but Hetherwick shook his head. I don't know him, he answered. There was another man with him. They got in together at St. James's Park. You saw the other man, he continued, turning to the conductor. He jumped out as you came in here and ran up the stairs,

saying that he was going for some doctor close by. I saw him, heard him too, assented the conductor. He glanced at the stairs and the exit beyond. But he ain't come back, he added. "'You had better get the man out,' said the doctor. "'Bring him in to someplace on the platform. "'A station policeman had come up by that time. "'He and the railwayman lifted the dead man

"'and carried him across the platform to a waiting-room. "'Hetherwick, feeling that he would be wanted, "'followed in the rear, the doctor with him. "'It struck Heatherwick with grim irony "'that as soon as they were off it, "'the train went on, as if careless and indifferent. "'Good heavens!' he muttered more to himself than to the man at his side. "'That poor fellow was alive, and as far as I could see,

"'in the very best of health and spirits five minutes ago.' "'No doubt,' observed the doctor dryly, "'but he's dead now. What happened?' "'Hetherwick told him briefly. "'And the other man's gone,' remarked the doctor. "'Hemn't I suppose nobody thought of detaining him. Now, if he doesn't come back, eh? You don't suspect foul play, exclaimed Heatherwick.

The circumstances are odd, said his companion. I should say the man just died, died as suddenly as man can die, as if he'd been shot dead or literally blown to fragments. That's from what you tell me, you know, and it may be a case of poisoning. Will that other man come back? If not? By that time, Heatherwick was beginning to wonder if the other man would come back. He had not come at the end of ten minutes, nor of fifteen, nor of thirty. But other men had come, hurrying into the drab-walled waiting-room, and gathering about the table on which the dead man had been laid. They were mostly officials and police, and presently a police surgeon arrived,

and with him a police inspector, one Matherfield, who knew Hetherwick. While the two doctors made another examination, this man drew Hetherwick aside. Hetherick retold his story, this time with full details. Matherfield listened and shook his head. That second man won't come back, he said, gone half an hour now. Do you think he knew the man was dead before he cleared out? "'I can't say,' replied Heatherwick. "'The whole thing was so quick that it was all over

"'before I could realize what was happening. "'I certainly saw the other man give the dead man a quick, close inspection. "'Then he literally jumped for the door. "'He was out of it and running upstairs "'before the train had come to a definite stop. "'You can describe him, Mr. Heatherwick,' suggested the inspector. "'Describe him, yes, and identify him, too, asserted Heatherwick. He was a man of certain notable features. I should know him again anywhere.

Well, we'll have to look for him, said Matherfield, and now we'll have to take this dead man to the mortuary and have a thorough examination and see what he's got on him. You'd better come, Mr. Heatherwick. In fact, I shall want you. Heatherwick went, in the tale of a somber procession, himself and the two medical men walking together. He had to tell his tale again to the police surgeon, that functionary, like all the rest who had heard the story, shook his head ominously over the disappearance of the sallow-faced man. All an excuse that, he said, there is no doctor close by. You didn't get any idea from their conversation, I mean, of the dead man's identity, any name mentioned? I heard no name mentioned, answered Heatherwick. They didn't address each other by name.

I have no idea who the man is. That was what he wanted to know. Somewhere, of course, this dead man had friends. He had spoken of his hotel. There, perhaps, somebody was awaiting his coming, somebody to whom the news of his death would come as a great shock, perhaps, and terrible trouble. And he waited with a feeling that was little short of personal anxiety. while the police searched the dead man's pockets. The various articles, which were presently laid out on a side table, were many. There was a purse, well stocked with money, there was loose money in the pockets,

there was a handsome gold watch and a heavy chain and locket, there was a pocketbook stuffed with letters and papers. There were all the things that a well-provided man carries, a cigar case, a silver matchbox, a silver pencil case, a penknife, and so on. Clearly the dead man had been in comfortable circumstances. But the articles of value were brushed aside by the inspector. His immediate concern was with the contents of the pocketbook, from which he hastened to take out the letters. A second later, he turned to Heatherwick and the two doctors, nodding his head sideways at the still figure on the table. This'll be the name and address, he said, pointing to the envelopes in his hand.

Mr. Robert Hanford, Malter's private hotel, Surrey Street, Strand. Several letters, you see, addressed there, and all of recent dates. We'll have to go there. There may be his wife and people of his there. Wonder who he was, somebody from the provinces, most likely. Well, he laid down. the letters and picked up the watch, a fine gold-cased hunter, and released the back. Within that was an inscription engraved in delicate lettering. The inspector led out an exclamation.

Ah, he said, I half suspected that from his appearance. One of ourselves, look at this, presented to Superintendent Robert Haniford on his retirement by the magistrates of Selethwaite. Salithwaite, eh? Where is that now? Yorkshire, replied one of the men standing close by, southwest riding. Matherfield closed the watch and laid it by.

Well, he remarked, that's evidently who he is, ex-superintendant Hanford of Selethwaite, Yorkshire, stopping at Malter's Hotel. I'll have to go round there. Mr. Heatherwick, as you were the last man to see him alive, I wish you'd go with me. It's on your way to the temple.

Something closely corresponding to curiosity, not morbid but compelling, made Heatherwick exceed to this request. Presently he and Matherfield walked along the embankment together, talking of what had just happened, and speculating on the cause of Hannaford's sudden death. We may know the exact reason by noon, remarked Matherfield. There'll be a post-mortem, of course. But that other man. We may get to know something about him here, and I wonder whom we shall find here.

Hope it's not his wife. End of Chapter 1. Chapter 2 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Whose portrait is this? Malter himself opened the door of his small private hotel, a quiet reserved man who looked like a retired butler. He was the sort of man who is slow of speech, and he had not replied to Matherfield's guarded inquiry about Mr. Robert Hannaford, when a door in the little hall opened and a girl appeared, who, hearing the inspector's question, immediately came forward as if in answer.

Heatherwick recognized this girl. He had seen her only the previous afternoon in Fountain Court, in company with the man whom he knew slightly, Ken Thwait, a fellow barrister. Ken Thwait, evidently, was doing the honours, showing her round the temple. Heatherwick, in fact, in passing them, had overheard Ken Thwait telling his companion something of the history of the old houses and courts around them, and the girl had attracted him then. She was a pretty girl, tall, slim, graceful, and in addition to her undoubted charm of face and figure, she looked to have more than an average share of character and intelligence, and was listening to her guide with obvious interest and appreciation.

Heatherwick had set her down as being perhaps a country cousin of Kentthwaite's, visiting London, maybe for the first time. Anyhow, in merely passing her and Kentwate, he had noticed her so closely that he now recognized her at once. He saw, too, that she recognized him. But there was another matter more pressing than that, and she had gone straight to it. Are these gentlemen asking after my grandfather, she inquired, coming still nearer and glancing from the hotel proprietor to the two callers? He's not come in.

Heather Wick was glad to hear that the dead man was the girl's grandfather. Certainly it was a close relationship, but, after all, not so close as it might have been, and he was conscious that the inspector was relieved, too. We're asking about Mr. Robert Haniford, he said. Is he your grandfather, ex-superintendantant Haniford of Selethwaite? Just so. Well, I'm very sorry to bring back. news about him. He broke off, watching the girl keenly as if he wanted to make sure that she

would take the news quietly, and evidently reassured on that point, he suddenly went on, definitely. You'll understand, he said, it's, well, the worst news. The fact is, is my grandfather dead? interrupted the girl. If that's it, please say so. I shan't faint or anything of that sort, I want to know. I'm sorry to say he is dead, replied Matherfield. He died suddenly in the train at Charing Cross, a seizure, no doubt. Was he well when you saw him last? The girl turned to the hotel proprietor who was standing by, evidently amazed.

Never saw a gentleman look better or seem better in my life than he did when he went out of that door at half-past six o'clock, he exclaimed. best of health and spirits. My grandfather was quite well, said the girl quietly. I never remember him being anything else but well. He was a very strong, vigorous man. Will you please tell me about it? Matherfield told all about it,

turning now and then to Heatherwick for corroboration. In the end, he put a question. This man that Mr. Heatherwick saw in your grandfather, company, he suggested, do you recognize anyone from that description? No, no one, answered the girl. But my grandfather knew people in London, whom I don't know. He has been going about a good deal since we came here three days ago, looking out for a house. Well, we shall have to find that man, remarked Matterfield.

Of course, if you'd recognize the description as that of somebody known to you, "'No,' she said again. "'I know nobody like that. "'But now, do you wish me to go with you, to him?' "'It's not necessary. "'I wouldn't, tonight, if I were you,' replied Matherfield. "'I'll call again in the morning. "'Meanwhile, leave matters to us and the doctors.'

"'You friends in London, I suppose?' "'Yes, we have friends, relations, in fact,' said the girl. "'I must let them know at once.' "'Matherfield nodded and turned to the door. "'But Heatherwick lingered. "'He and the girl were looking at each other. "'He suddenly spoke. "'I saw you this afternoon,' he said,

"'in Fountain Court, with a man whom I know slightly, "'Mr. Kenswate. "'Is he by any chance one of the relations you mentioned just now? "'Because if so, he lives close by me, "'I can tell him, if you wish.' "'No,' she answered, not a relative. we know him. You might tell him, if you please, and if it's no trouble. No trouble at all, said Heatherwick. And, if I may, I hope you'll let me call in the morning to hear if there's anything I can do for you.

The girl gave him a quick, responsive glance. That's very kind of you, she said, yes. Heatherwick and the police inspector left the little hotel and walked up the street. Matherfield seemed to be in a brown study. somewhere up in the strand and farther away down fleet street the clocks began striking seems to me exclaimed matherfield suddenly seems to me mr heatherwick this is murder you mean poison said heatherwick likely why yes of course it would be poison we must have that man you can't add to your description of him you've already got everything that i can tell pretty full and accurate too "'I should say you oughtn't to have much difficulty in laying hands on him from my description.' Matherfield made a sound that was half a laugh and half a groan. "'Lord bless you,' he said.

"'It's like seeking a needle in a bundle of hay, searching for a given man in London. "'I mean, of course, sometimes, more often than not, in fact. "'Here's his chap rushes up the stairs at Charing Cross, vanishes. Where?' one ban amongst seven millions of men and women. However, then they parted, and Heatherwick, full of thought, went home to his chambers and to bed, and lay equally thoughtful for a long time

before he went to sleep. He made a poor night of it, but soon after eight o'clock he was in Kentthwaite's chambers. Kentthwaite was dressing and breakfasting at the same time, a ready-packed brief bag and an open time-table, suggested that he was in a hurry to catch a train, but he suspended his operations to stare, open-mouthed, wide-eyed, at Heatherwick's news. Hannaford, dead, he exclaimed.

Great Scott! Boy, he was as fit as a fiddle at noon yesterday, Heatherwick. He and his granddaughter called on me, and I took him to lunch. I come from Selethwaite, you know, so of course I knew them. Hanford had to go as soon as we'd lunched, some appointment, so I showed the girl round a bit. Nice girl, that, clever. Name of Rona, worth cultivating.

And the old band's dead. Bless me. I don't think there's much doubt about foul play, observed Heatherwick. Looks uncommonly like it, said Kenswait. He went on with his double task. Well, he added, "'Sorry, but I can't be of any use to Miss Hannaford today. "'Got to go down to a beastly quarter-sessions case, my boy,

"'and precious little time to catch my train. "'But tomorrow, perhaps you can give him a hand this morning?' "'Yes,' answered Heatherwick. "'I'm doing nothing. I'll go round there after a while. "'I'm interested, naturally. It's a queer case.' "'Queer seems so rather,' assented Kent Thwait. "'Well, give Miss Haniford my son. sympathy and all that, and tell her that if there's anything I can do when I get back,

you know what to say. She said she'd relations here in London, remarked Heatherwick. Cousins, aunts, something or other, over Tootingway, I think, agreed, Kentway. Twenty past eight, Heatherwick, I'll have to rush for it. He swallowed the last of his coffee, seized the bag, and darted away. Heatherwick went back to his own chambers and breakfasted leisurely, and all the time he sat there he was pondering over the event of the previous midnight, and especially upon the sudden disappearance of the man with the stained fingers. To Heatherwick, that disappearance seemed to argue guilt. He figured it this way.

The man who ran away at Charing Cross had poisoned this other man in some clever and subtle fashion by means of something which took a certain time to take effect, and when that time arrived did its work with amazing swiftness. Heatherwick, in his war service, had seen men die more times than he cared to remember. He had seen some men shot through the brain. He had seen others shot through the heart. But he had never seen any of these men, some of them shot at his very side, die with the extraordinary quickness with which Haniford had died.

And he came to a conclusion. If the man with the stained fingers had poisoned Haniford, then he was somebody who had a rare and a profound knowledge of poisons. He went round to Surrey Street at ten o'clock. Miss Hanford, said the hotel proprietor, had gone with her aunt, a Mrs. Keely, who had come early that morning to see her grandfather's dead body. Some police official had fetched them,

but she had left a message for anyone who called that she would not be long away, and Heatherwick waited in the little dingy coffee room. There were certain questions that he wanted to put to Rona Hanford. Also, he wanted to give her certain information. Very sad case this, sir, observed the hotel proprietor, hovering about his breakfast tables, cruel end for a fine, healthy gentleman like Mr. Hannaford. Very sad, agreed Heatherwick. You said last night, or rather this morning that Mr. Haneford was in good health and spirits when he went out early in the evening. "'The best, sir. He was a cheery, affable gentleman, fond of his joke.

Joked and laughed with me as I opened the door for him. Never thinking, sir, as I should never see him again alive.' "'You don't know where he was going?' "'I don't, sir.' And his granddaughter? Clever young lady, that, sir. She don't know neither. She went to a theater along of her aunt, the lady that came early this morning. We wired the bad news to her first thing, and she came along at once. But him, no, I don't know where he went to spend his evening, been in and out, and mostly out, ever since they were here three days ago. House hunting, so I understood.

Rona Haniford presently returned, in company with a motherly-looking woman who she introduced as her aunt, Mrs. Keely. Then Heatherwick remembered that he had not introduced himself. Rectifying that omission, he found that Kentthwaite had told Rona who he was when he passed them the previous afternoon. He delivered Kentthwaite's message, and in his absence, offered his own services. "'It's very good of you,' said Rona. "'I don't know that there's anything to do.

The police seemed to be doing everything. the inspector, who was here last night, was very kind just now, but as he said, there's nothing to be done until after the inquest. Yes, said Heatherwick, and that is, did he say when? Tomorrow morning. He said I should have to go, replied Rona. So shall I, observed Heatherwick. They'll only want formal evidence from you. I shall have to say more.

I wish I could say more than I shall have to say. The two women glanced at him, inquiringly. I mean, he continued, that I wish I had stopped the other men from leaving the train. I suppose you have not heard anything from the police about him, that man? Nothing. They had not found him, or heard of him, up to just now. But you can tell me something that I very much want to know. You saw this man with my grandfather for some time, didn't you?

from St. James's Park to Charing Cross. Did you overhear their conversation or any of it? A good deal, at first. Afterwards your grandfather began to whisper, and I heard nothing of that. But one reason I had for calling upon you this morning was that I might tell you what I did over here, and another that I might ask you some questions arising out of what I heard. Mr. Hannaford was talking to this man, now missing, about some portrait or photograph.

Evidently, it was of a lady whom he, your grandfather, had known ten years ago, whom the other man had also known. Your grandfather said that when they got to his hotel, he would show the portrait to the other man, who, he asserted, would be sure to recognize it. Now, had Mr. Hannaford said anything to you, Do you know anything about his bringing any friend of his to the hotel last night? And do you know anything about any portrait or photograph, such as that to which he referred? About bringing anyone here, no. He never said anything to me about it. But about a photograph, or rather about a print of one, yes, I do know something about that. What? asked Heatherwick eagerly.

Well, this, she answered. My grandfather, who, as I dare say you know by this time, was for a good many years, superintendent of police at Salithwaite, had a habit of cutting things out of newspapers, paragraphs, accounts of criminal trials, and so on. He had several boxes full of such cuttings. When we were coming to town the other day, I saw him cut a photograph out of some illustrated paper he was reading in the train and put it away in his pocketbook. in a pocketbook, I ought to say, for he had two or three pocketbooks.

This morning I was looking through various things which he had left lying about on his dressing table upstairs, and in one of his pocketbooks I found the photograph which he cut out in the train. That must be the one you mention. It's of a very handsome, distinguished-looking woman. If I may see it, suggested Heatherwick. Within a couple of minutes, he had the cutting in his hand. A scrap of paper neatly snipped out of its surrounding letterpress,

which was a print of a photograph of a woman, apparently 35 to 40 years of age, evidently of high position, and certainly, as Rona Haniford had remarked, of handsome and distinguished features. But it was not at the photograph that Heatherwick gazed, with eyes into which surmise and speculation were beginning to steal. After a mere glance at it, his attention fixed itself on some penciled words on the margin at its sides. Through my hands ten years ago.

Is that your grandfather's writing? he inquired suddenly. Yes, that's his, replied Rona. He had a habit of penciling notes and comments on his cuttings, all sorts of remarks. "'He didn't mention this particular cutting to you when he cut it out?' "'No, he said nothing about it. "'I saw him cut it out, and heard him chuckle, as he put it away, "'but he said nothing.' "'You don't know who this lady is.'

"'Oh, no. You see, there's no name beneath it. "'I suppose there was in the paper, "'but he cut out nothing but the picture, and a bit of margin. "'But from what he's written there, "'I conclude that this is a portrait of some sort of, some woman who had been in trouble with the police at some time or other. Obvious, muttered Heatherwick. He sat silently inspecting the picture for a minute or two.

Look here, he said suddenly. I want you to let me help in trying to get at the bottom of this. Naturally, you want to have it cleared up. And to begin with, let me have this cutting, and for the present, don't tell anyone. I mean the police or any inquiry. that I have it. I'd like to have a talk about it to Ken Thwait, you understand? As I was present at your grandfather's death, I'd like to solve the mystery of it. If you'll leave this to me, oh yes, replied Rona, but you think there has been foul play, that he didn't die a natural death,

that it wasn't just heart failure, or? The door of the little coffee room was opened, and Matherfield looked in. Seeing Hetherwick there, he beckoned him into the hall, closing the door again as the young barrister joined him. Heatherwick saw that he was full of news and instantly thought of the man with the stained fingers. Well, he said eagerly, laid your hands on that fellow. On him? No, answered Matherfield.

Not a word or sign of him, so far. But the doctors have finished their post-mortem, and there is no doubt about their verdict. moistened. Matherfield sank his voice to a whisper as he spoke the last word, and Hetherwick, ready though he was for the news, started when he got it. The definiteness of the announcement seemed like opening a window upon a vista of obscured and misty distances. He glanced at the door behind him. Of course they'll have to be told in there, said Matherfield interpreting his thoughts, but the thing's certain.

Our surgeon suspected it from the first, and he got a home office specialist to help at the autopsy. They say the man was poisoned by some drug or other, I don't understand these things, that had been administered to him two or three hours before he died, and that when it did work, worked with absolutely lightning-like effect. Yes, muttered Heatherwick thoughtfully,

lightning-like effect. "'Good phrase. I can testify that it did that.' "'Matherfield laid a hand on the door. "'Well, he said, I'd better tell these ladies, "'than there are things I want to know from the granddaughter. "'I've seen her and her aunt before this morning. "'I found out that Hannaford brought up and educated this girl, "'and that she lived with him in Salithwaite since she left school,

"'so she'll know more about him than anybody, and I want to learn all I can. Come in with me. End of Chapter 2. Chapter 3 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This zipper-box recording is in the public domain. The Potential Fortune. Elder and younger woman alike took Matherfield's intimation quietly.

Rona made no remark, but Mrs. Keely spoke, impulsively. There never was a more popular man than he was with everybody, she exclaimed. Who should want to take his life? That's just what we've got to find out, ma'am, said Matherfield. And I want to know as much as I can. I dare say, Miss Haniford can tell me a lot. Now, let's see what we do know from what you told me this morning. Mr. Haniford had been superintendent of police.

at Sellethwaite for some years. He had recently retired on his pension. He proposed to live in London, and you and he, Miss Hanford, came to London to look for a suitable house, arrived three days ago, and put up at this hotel. That's all correct? Very good. Now then, let me hear all about his movements during the last three days. What did he do? Where did he spend his time? time. I can't tell you much, answered Brona. He was out most of the day, and generally by himself. I was only out with him twice, once, when we went to do some shopping, another time

when we called on Mr. Kenswaite at his rooms in the temple. I understood he was looking for a house, seeing house agents, and so on. He was out morning, afternoon, and evening. Did he never tell you anything about where he'd been or whom he'd seen? No, he was the sort of man who kept things to himself. I have no idea where he went, nor whom he saw. Didn't say anything about where he was going last night? No, he only said that he was going out,

and that I should find him here when I got back from the theatre, to which I was going with Mrs. Keely. We got back here soon after 11, but he hadn't come in, as you know. You never heard him speak of having enemies? I should think he hadn't an enemy in the world. He was a very kind man and very popular, even with the people he had to deal with as a police superintendent. And I suppose he'd no financial worries, anything of that sort,

nor any other troubles, nothing to bother him. "'I don't think he'd a care in the world,' said Rona confidently. "'He was looking forward with real zest to settling down in London, "'and as to financial worries, he'd none. He was well off.' "'Always a saving, careful man,' remarked Mrs. Keely. "'Oh, yes, quite well off, apart from his pension.' "'Matherfield glanced at Heatherwick, "'who had listened carefully to all that was asked and answered,

something in the glass seemed to invite him to take a hand. This occurs to me, said Heatherwick, he turned to Rona, apart from this house-hunting. Do you know whether your grandfather had any business affair in hand in London? What I'm thinking of is this. From what I saw of him in the train, he appeared to be an active, energetic man, not the sort of man who, because he'd retired,

would sit down in absolute idleness, Do you know of anything that he thought of undertaking? Any business he thought of joining? Rona considered this question for a while. Not any business, she replied at last, but there is something that may have to do with what you suggest. My grandfather had a hobby. He experimented in his spare time.

What in? asked Hetherwick. Then he suddenly remembered the stained fingers that he had noticed on the hands of both men the night before. Was it chemicals, he added quickly. Yes, in chemicals, she answered, with a look of surprise. How did you know that? I noticed that his hands and fingers were stained, replied Heatherwick. So were those of the man he was with.

Well, but this something? He had a little laboratory in our garden at Selethwaite, she continued. He spent all his spare. time in it. He'd done that for years. Lately, I know he'd been trying to invent or discover something, I don't know what, but just before we left Saliswate, he told me that he'd solved the problem, and when he was sorting out and packing up his papers, he showed me a sealed envelope in which he said were the particulars of his big discovery. He said there was a potential fortune in it, and that he should die a rich man.

I saw him put that envelope in a pocketbook, which he always carried with him. That would be the pocketbook I examined last night, said Matherfield. There was no sealed envelope, nor one of which any seal had been broken in that. There was nothing but letters, receipts, and unimportant papers. It is not in his other pocketbooks, declared Rona. I went through all his things myself, early this morning, through everything that he had here. I know that he had that envelope yesterday.

He pulled out some things from his pocket when we were lunching with Mr. Kensway in a restaurant in Fleet Street, and I saw the envelope. It was a stout square envelope, across the front of which she had drawn two thick red lines, and it was heavily sealed with black sealing wax at the back. "'That was yesterday, you say,' asked Matherfield sharply. "'Yesterday noon? Just so. Then, as he had it yesterday at noon, and as it wasn't in his pockets last night, and is not among his effects in this house, it's very clear that between, say, two o'clock yesterday and midnight, he parted with it. Now then, to whom? That's a thing we've just got to find to find out, but you're sure he wasn't joking when he told you that this discovery, or invention,

or whatever it was, was worth a potential fortune? On the contrary, he was very serious, replied Rona. Unusually serious for him, he wouldn't tell me what it was, nor give me any particulars. All he said was that he'd solved a problem and hit on a discovery that he'd worked over for years, and that the secret was in that envelope and worth no end of money. I asked him what he meant by no end of money, and he said, well, at any rate, a hundred thousand pounds, in time. The two men exchanged glances. Silence fell on the whole group.

Oh, said Matherfield at last a secret worth a hundred thousand pounds in time. This will have to be looked into, narrowly. What do you think, Mr. Heatherwick? Yes, answered Heatherwick. You've no idea, of course, as to whether your grandfather had done anything about putting this discovery on the market or made any arrangement about selling it.

No. Well, can you tell me this? What sort of house did your grandfather want to rent here in London? I mean, do you know what rent he was prepared to pay? "'I can answer that,' remarked Mrs. Keely. "'He told me he wanted a good house, a real good one, "'in a convenient suburb, and he was willing to go up to three hundred a year.' "'Three hundred a year,' said Heatherwick.

"'He exchanged a meaning glance with Matherfield. "'That,' he added, "'looks as if he felt assured of a considerable income, "'and as though he had already realized on his discovery, or was very certain of doing so. To be sure, agreed Matherfield. Of course, I don't know what his private means were, but I know what his retiring pension would be,

and three hundred a year for rent alone means a good deal. Hmm. We'll have to endeavour to trace that sealed envelope. It seems to me, Matherfield, observed Hetherwick, that the first thing to do is to trace Hannaford's movements last night, from the time he left this hotel, until his death in the train. We are at that already, replied Matherfield. We've a small army of men at work, but as we want all the help we can get, I'm going to stir up the newspaper men, Mr. Hetherwick.

The press, sir, is always valuable in this sort of thing, and I want Miss Hannaford, if she's got one, to give me a recent photograph of her grandfather, so that it can appear in the papers. Somebody, you know, may recognize it, somebody who saw him last night with somebody else. Rona had a new photograph of the dead man, taken in plain clothes just before he left Salithwaite, and she gave Matherfield some copies of it.

Reproductions appeared in the Meteor and other evening papers that night, and in some of the dailies next morning. And as a result, a man came forward, at the inquest a few hours later, who declared with positive assurance that he had seen Haniford early in the evening of the murder. His appearance was the only sensational thing about these necessarily only preliminary proceedings before the coroner. Until he stepped forward, nothing had transpired, with which Heatherwick was not already familiar. There had been his own

evidence, somewhat to his surprise, neither coroner nor police, seemed to pay much attention to his account of the conversation about the woman's portrait. They appeared to regard Haniford's observations as a bit of garrulous reminiscence about some criminal or other. There had been Rona's, a repetition of what she had told Matherfield and Hetherwick at Malter's Hotel. Police and coroner evidently fixed on the missing sealed envelope. and its mysterious secret as a highly important factor in the case. Then there had been the expert testimony of the two doctors as to the cause of death. That had been confined to positive declarations that Haniford died from the administration of some subtle poison,

the exact details being left over until experts could tell more at the adjourned proceedings. and the coroner was about to adjourn for a fortnight when a man who had entered the court and been in conversation with the officials was put into the witness box to tell a story which certainly added information and at the same time accentuated mystery. This man was a highly respectable person in appearance, middle-aged, giving the name of Martin Charles Ledbitter, manager of an insurance office in Westminster and residing at Sutton in Surrey. It was his habit, he said, to travel every evening from Victoria to Sutton by the 720 train. As a rule, he arrived at Victoria just before seven, and took a cup of tea in the refreshment room. He did this on the night before last.

While he was drinking his tea at the counter, an elderly man came in and stood by him, whom he was sure beyond doubt was the same man whose photograph was reproduced in some of last nights and some of this morning's newspapers. He had no doubt whatever about this. He first noticed the man's stained fingers, as he took up the glass of whiskey and soda, which she had ordered. He had, at the time, wondered at the contrast between those fingers and the general spick and spanness of the man and his same. smart attire. Also, he had noticed his gold-headed walking cane, and that the head was fashioned like a crown. They stood side by side for some minutes, then the man went out. A minute or two later he saw him again, this time at the right-hand side bookstall. He was there obviously looking out for somebody.

This was the point where the interest really began. Everybody in court strained eyes and ears. as the coroner put a direct question. Looking out for somebody, did you see him meet anybody? I did. Tell me what you saw. I saw this. When I approached the book stall to buy some evening papers, the man whom I had seen in the refreshment room was standing close by. He was looking about him, but chiefly at the entrances to the big space between the offices and the platforms. once or twice he looked at his watch.

It was then, by the station clock, about ten minutes past seven. He seemed impatient. He moved restlessly about. I passed him and went to the bookstall. When I turned round again, he was standing a few yards away, shaking hands with another man. From the way in which they shook hands, I concluded that they were old friends, who perhaps had not seen each other for some time. Their greeting was cordial. I should call it effusive. Can you describe the other man?

I can describe a sort of general impression of both. He was a tall man, taller than Hannaford, but not so broadly built. He wore a dark ulster overcoat, with a strap at the back. It was either a very dark blue or a black in color. He had a silk hat, new and glossy. He gave me the impression of being a smartly-dressed man, smart boots and gloves, and that sort of thing. You know the general impression you get at a quick glance, but as to his features, I can't tell you anything. Why not? asked the coroner. Because, to begin with, he wore an unusually large pair of blue spectacles, which completely

veiled his eyes, and to end with, his throat and chin, were suad in a... heavy white muffler, which covered the lower part of his face as well. Between the rim of his hat and the collar of his coat, it was all muffler and spectacles. The coroner looked disappointed. His interest in the witness seemed to evaporate. Did you notice anything else, he asked. Only that the newcomer took Haniford's arm and that they walked away towards the left-hand entrance hall, evidently in earnest conversation. That was the last I saw of them.

There's just one question I should like to put to you in conclusion, said the coroner. You say that you are confident that the photograph in the newspapers is that of the man you saw at Victoria. Now, have you seen the dead man's body? I have. The police took me to see it when I volunteered my evidence. And you recognized it as that of the man you saw? Without doubt, there is no question of that in my mind. Five minutes later, the inquest stood adjourned,

and those chiefly concerned gathered together in the emptying court to discuss the voluntary witness's evidence. Matherfield manifested an almost cheerful optimism. That's better, much better, he declared, rubbing his hands, as if in anticipation of laying them on something, we know now that Hannaford met, at any rate, two men that night. It's easier to find two men than one. Rona, whom Hetherwick had escorted to the coroner's court,

looked her astonishment. How can that be, she asked. Mr. Hetherwick understands, answered Matherfield with a laugh. He'll tell you. But Hetherwick said nothing. He was always wondering, always wondering, always wondering. wondering about the woman whose picture lay in his pocket. End of Chapter 3.

Chapter 4 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Libby Box recording is in the public domain. The Diamond Necklace The Conviction that there was more than met the eye in Hannaford's cutting out and putting away the handsome and distinguished woman's photograph grew mightily in Heatherwick's mind during the next few days. He recalled all that Haniford had said about it in the train,

in those few short minutes, before his sudden death. Why had he been so keen about showing it to the other man? Was he taking the other man specially to his hotel to show it to him? At that time of night? Why did the recollections which his possession of it brought up, afford him obviously so much interest and, it seemed, amusement. And what exactly was meant by the pencilled words in the margin of the cutting? Through my hands ten years ago?

Under what circumstances had this woman been through Henniford's hands? And who was she? The more he thought of it, the more Heatherwick was convinced that there was more importance in this matter than the police attached to it. They had proved utterly indifferent to Heatherwick's account of the conversation in the train that, said Matherfield with official superiority, was nothing but a bit of chat, reminiscent recollection on the ex-superintendence part. Old men, he said, were fond of talking about incidents of the past.

The only significance Matherfield saw in it was that it seemed to argue that whoever the man who had disappeared was, he and Haniford, had known each other ten years ago. At the end of a week the police had heard nothing of this man, nor had they made any discovery in respect to the other man whom Ledbitter swore he had seen with Haniford at Victoria. The best Scotland Yard hands had been hard and continuously at work, and had brought nothing to light. Only one person had seen the first man after he darted up the stairs of Charing Cross, calling out that he was going for a doctor. This was a policeman on duty at the front of the underground station. He had seen the man run out, had watched him run at top speed up Villiers Street, and had thought no more of it than that he was some belated passenger, hurrying to catch a last bus in the strand.

But with that, all news and trace of him vanished. Of the tall man, in the big blue spectacles and white muffler, there was never any trace, nor any news, beyond lead-bitter's. Yet Ledbitter was a thoroughly dependable witness, and there was no doubt that he had seen Hanover. in this man's company. So without question, Haniford, during his last few hours of life, had been with two men, neither of whom could be found. Within 24 hours of his death, several men came forward voluntarily, who had had dealings or conversations with Haniford

since his arrival in London. But there was a significant fact about the news which any of them could give. Not one knew anything of the tall man seen by lead-bitter, or of the shabby man seen by Heatherwick, or of the secret which Hanford carried in his sealed packet. The story of that sealed packet had been told plentifully in the newspapers, but nobody came forward who knew anything about it. And when a week had elapsed after the ex-superintendent Spurial, the whole mystery of his undoubted murder seemed likely to become one of the many which are never solved. But Heatherwick was becoming absorbed in this affair into which he had been so curiously thrown headfirst. He had leisure on his hands, also he was well off in this world's goods, and much more concerned with the psychology of his profession than with a desire to earn money by its practice.

From the moment in which he heard that the doctors had found that Haniford had been poisoned, he felt that here was a murder mystery at the bottom of which he must get. It fascinated him. And all through his speculations and theorizings about it, he was obsessed by the picture in his pocket. Who was that woman? And what did the dead man remember about her? suddenly one morning after a visit from matherfield who looked in at his chambers casually to tell him that the police had discovered nothing heatherwick put on his hat and went round to surrey street

he found rona hannahford busy in preparing to leave malter's hotel she was going to live for a time at any rate with mrs keely heatherwick went straight to the matter that had brought him That print of a woman's photograph, which your grandfather had in his pocketbook, he said, and that's now in mine, out of what paper did he cut it? A newspaper, evidently. Yes, but I don't know what paper, answered Donna. All I know is that it was a paper which he got by post the morning that he left Selleth's weight. We were just leaving for the station when the post came. He put his letters and papers, there were several things, in his overcoat pockets, and opened them in the train. It was somewhere on the way to London that he cut out that picture. He threw the paper away with others. He had a habit of buying a lot of papers, and used to

cut out paragraphs. Well, I suppose it can be traced, muttered Heatherwick, thinking aloud. he glanced at the evidences of Rona's departure. So you're going to live with your aunt, he said. For a time, yes, she answered. I hope you'll let me call, suggested Heatherwick. I'm awfully interested in this affair, and I may be able to tell you something about it. We'd be pleased, she replied.

I'll give you the address. I don't intend to be idle, though, unless you call in the evening, you'll probably find me out. What are you thinking of doing? I think of going in for secretarial work, she answered. As a matter of fact, I had a training for that in Selethwight, typewriting, correspondence, accounts, French, German.

I'm pretty well equipped. Don't think me inquisitive, said Hetherick suddenly. I hope your grandfather hasn't forgotten you in his will. I heard he'd left one. Thank you, replied Rona. He hasn't. He left me everything. I've got about 300 a year, rather more.

But that's no reason why I should sit down and do nothing, is it? Good, said Hetherwick. But if that sealed packet could be found, what was worth a hundred thousand to him would be worth a hundred thousand to his sole legatee, worth finding. I wonder if anything will be found, she answered. The whole thing's a mystery that I'm not even on the edge of solving.

Time, said Heatherwick and patience. He went away presently and strolled round to Brick Court, where Kent Thwait had his chambers. Doing anything, he asked as he walked in. Nothing, replied Kentthwaite, go ahead. Heatherwick sat down and lighted his pipe. You know, Salithwaite, don't you? He asked when he had got his tobacco well going.

Your town, eh? Born and bred there, and engaged to a girl there, replied Kenswaite. What about, Saliswate? Were you there ten years ago? demanded Heatherwick. Ten years ago. No, except in the holidays. I was at school ten years ago. Why?

Do you remember any police case at Selethwaite about that time in which a very handsome woman was concerned probably as defendant? No, but I was more interested in cricket than in crime in those days. Are you thinking about the woman Hannaford spoke of in the train to the chap they can't come across? I am. Seems to me there's more in that. than the police think. Shouldn't wonder.

Let's see. Haniford spoke of that woman as what? Said she'd been through his hands ten years ago. Well, that's easy. If she was through Haniford's hands, as superintendent of police ten years ago, that would be at Celethwaite. And there'll be records, particulars,

and so on at Selethwaite. Heatherwick nodded, and smoked in silence for a while. Think I shall go down there, he said at last. Kanswate stared wonderingly. King as all that, he exclaimed. Queer business, said Hetherwick, like to solve it. Oh, well, it's only a four hours run from King's Cross, observed Kentwate.

Interesting town, too. Old as the hills and modern as they make them. excellent hotel, White Bear. And I'll tell you what. My future brother is a solicitor there, Michael Hollis. I'll give you a letter of introduction to him, and he'll show you round and give you any help you need. Good man, said Heatherwick.

Write it. Ken Thwaite sat down and wrote, and handed over the result. What do you want to find out exactly? He asked as Heatherwick thing. Tim and rose to go. All about the woman, and why Hanford cut her picture out of the paper, answered Heatherwick. Well, see you when I get back. He went off to his own chambers, packed a bag, and drove to Kings Cross to catch the early afternoon train for the north.

At half-past seven that evening, he found himself in Selethwaite. A gray, smoke-laden town, sat in the midst of bleak and rugged. hills, where the folk, if the railway officials were anything to go by, spoke a dialect which, to Heatherwick's southern ears, sounded like some barbaric language. But the white bear, in which he was presently installed, yielded all the comforts and luxuries of a first-class hotel. The dining-room, into which Heatherwick turned as soon as he had booked his room, seemed to be thronged by a thoroughly cosmopolitan crowd of men. He heard most of the principal European languages being spoken. Later, he found that his fellow guests were principally continental businessmen,

buyers intent on replenishing exhausted stocks from the great warehouses and manufactories of Salithwaite. All this was interesting, nor was he destined to spend the remainder of his evening in contemplating it from a solitary corner, for he had scarcely eaten his dinner, when a Hall-Porter came to tell him, that Mr. Hollis was asking for Mr. Heatherwick. Heatherwick hastened into the lounge, and found a keen-faced, friendly-eyed man of forty or thereabouts,

stretching out a hand to him. Ken Thwait wired me this afternoon that you were coming down, and asked me to look you up here, he said. "'I have asked you to dine with me, but I've been kept at my office until just now, and again I live a good many miles out of town. But to-morrow night—' "'You're awfully good,' replied Heatherwick. "'I'd no idea that Kentthwaite was writing. "'He gave me a letter of introduction to you,

"'but I suppose he thought I wanted to lose no time. "'And I don't, and I dare say you can tell me something "'about the object of my visit. let's find a corner and smoke. Installed in an alcove in a big smoking room, Hollis read Kenthwaite's letter. What is it you're after, he asked. Kentthwaite mentions that my knowledge of Selethwit is deeper than his own.

Naturally, it is, as I'm several years older. Well, responded Heather Rick, it's this briefly. You're aware, of course, of what be found. your late police superintendent in London. His sudden death? Oh, yes. Read all the newspapers, anyway, assented Hollis. You're the man who was present in the train on the underground, aren't you? I am, and that's one reason why I'm keen on solving this mystery. There's no doubt whatever that Hannaford was poisoned, that it's a case of deliberate murder. Now there's a feature of the case to which the police don't seem to attach any importance. I do attach great importance to it. It's the matter of the

woman to whom Haniford referred when he was talking, in my presence, to the man who so mysteriously disappeared. Hanford spoke of that woman as having been through his hands ten years ago. That would be some experience he had here in this town. Now then, do you know anything about it? Does it arouse any recollection? Hollis, who was smoking a cigar, thoughtfully tapped its long ash against the edge of his coffee cup. Suddenly his eyes brightened. That's probably the Whittingham case, he said. It was about ten years ago. And what was the Whittingham case? asked Heddingham. of a woman of a woman evidently an adventurous who came to sellathwaite about ten years ago and stayed here some little time in this very hotel replied hollis oddly enough i never saw her but she was heard of enough eventually she came here to the white bear alone with plenty of luggage and evident funds i understand she was a very handsome woman, 28 or 30 years of age, and she was taken for somebody of consequence.

I rather think she described herself as the Honorable Mrs. Whittingham. She paid her bills here with unfailing punctuality every Saturday morning. She spent a good deal of money amongst the leading tradesmen in town, and always paid cash. In short, she established her credit very successfully. and with nobody more so than the principal jeweller here. Maladale. She bought a lot of jewelry from Maladale, but in his case she always paid by check.

And in the end, it was through a deal with Maladale that she got into trouble. And into Hanford's hands, suggested Heatherwick. Into Hanford's hands, certainly assented Hollis. It was this way. She had, as I said just now, made a lot of purchases from Malladale, who, I may tell you, has a first-class trade amongst our rich commercial magnates in this neighborhood. Her transactions with him, however, were never at first in amounts exceeding a hundred or two, but they went through all right. She used to pay him by check drawn on a Manchester bank.

Manchester, you know, is only 35 miles away. As her first checks were always met, Maladale never bothered about making any inquiry about her financial stability. Like everybody else, he was very much impressed by her. Well, in the end, she'd a big deal with Maladale. Maladale had a very fine diamond necklace in stock. He and she used to discuss her acquisition of it,

according to his story they had a fine old battle as to terms eventually they struck a bargain he let her have it for three thousand nine hundred pounds she gave him a check for that amount there and then and he let her carry off the necklace oh exclaimed hetherwick just so agreed hollis but he did however for some reason or other Maladale had that check specially cleared. She handed it to him on a Monday afternoon. First thing on Wednesday morning, Maladale found it had been returned with the ominous reference to drawer inscribed on its surface. Naturally, he hurried round to the white bear, but the Honourable Mrs. Whittington had disappeared. She had paid up her account, taken her belongings, and left the hotel and the town, late on the Monday evening, and all that could be discovered at the station was that she had traveled by the last train to Leeds,

where, of course, there are several big main lines to all parts of England, and she had left no address. She had indeed told the people here that she should be back before long, and that if any letters came, they were to keep them until her return. So then Maladale went to the police, and Haniford got busy. I gather that he traced her, suggested Heatherwick. Hollis laughed sardonically. Haniford traced her, and he got her, he answered,

but he might well use the expression that you mentioned just now. She was indeed through his hands, just as a particularly slippy eel might have been, she got clear away from him. End of Chapter 4 Chapter 5 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. The Police Return

Heather Wic now began to arrive at something like an understanding of a matter that had puzzled him ever since, and also at the time of, the conversation between Hanford and his companion in the train. He had noted then that whatever it was that Haniford was telling, he was telling it as a man tells a story against himself. There had been signs of amused chagrin and discomfiture in his manner. Now he saw why. Ah, he exclaimed she was one too many for him. Then, a good many times too many, laughed Hollis. She did Hanford completely.

He strove hard to find her, and did a great deal of the spade work himself, and at last he ran her down in a fashionable hotel in London. He had a Scotland yard man with him, and a detective from our own police office here, a man named Grandam, who is still in the force. I'll introduce you to him tomorrow. Hanford, finding that Mrs. Whittingham had a suite of rooms in this hotel, a big West End place, left his two men downstairs, or outside, and went up to see her alone. According to his own account, she was highly indignant at any suspicions being cast upon her,

and still more so rose to a pitch of most virtuous indignation when he told her that he'd got a warrant for her arrest and that she'd have to go with him. During a brief interchange of remarks, she declared that if her bankers at Manchester had returned her check unpaid, it must have been merely because they hadn't realized certain valuable securities which she'd sent to them,

and that if Maladale had presented his check a few days later it would have been all right. Now that was all Bosch. Hanneford, of course, had been in communication with the bankers. All they knew of the lady was that she had opened an account with them while staying at some hotel in Manchester, and that she had drawn all but a few pounds of her balance, the very day on which she had got the necklace from Malladale and fled with it from Selethwaite. Naturally, Haniford didn't. tell her this, he merely reiterated his demand that she should go with him. She assented at once, only stipulating that there should be no fuss. She would walk out of the hotel with him,

and he and his satellites could come back and search her relongings at their leisure. Then Haniford, who, between you and me, Heatherwick, had an eye for a pretty woman, made his mistake. Her bedroom opened out of the sitting-work, in which she'd had his interview with her. He was fool enough to let her go into it alone to get ready to go with him. She went, and that was the very last Hanford ever saw of her. Made a lightning exit, eh? remarked Heatherwick.

She must have gone instantly, asserted Hollis. A door opened from the bedroom into a corridor. She must have picked up hat and coat and walked straight away, leaving everything she had there. Anyway, when Haniford, tired of waiting, knocked at the door and looked in, his bird was flown. Then, of course, there was a hue and cry and a fine revelation, but she'd got clear away, probably by some side door or other exit, and although Haniford, according to his own account,

raked London with a comb for her. She was never found. Vanished. And the necklace, inquired Heatherwick. That had vanished too, replied Hollis. They searched her trunks and things, but they found nothing but clothing. Whatever she had in the way of money and valuables, she carried off. And so Hanifert came home, considerably down in the mouth,

and he had to stand a good deal of chaff. And if he found this woman's picture in a recent paper, well, small wonder that he did cut it out, I should say he was probably going to set Scotland Yard on her track, for of course there's no time limit to criminal proceedings. This is the picture he cut out, observed Heatherwick, producing it from his pocketbook, but you say you never saw the woman.

"'No, I never saw her,' assented Hollis, "'examining the print with interested curiosity. "'So, of course, I can't recognize this. "'Hansome woman. "'But you meet me at my office, close by, "'t tomorrow morning at ten, "'and I'll take you to our police station. "'Grandham will know.'

"'Grandham, an elderly man "'with a sinks-like manner and watchful eyes, laughed sardonically when hollis explained hetherwick's business he laughed again when hetherick showed him the print oh ay that's the lady he exclaimed not changed much neither eagat she was a smarton that mr hollis i often laugh when i think how she did hanniford but you know hanniford was a soft-hearted man all these little affairs he was always for sparing people "'all very well, but he had to pay for trying to spare hers. "'I, that's her. We have a portrait of her here, you know.' "'You have,' exclaimed Heatherwick. "'I should like to see it.'

"'You can see it with pleasure, sir,' replied the detective, "'and look at it as long as you like.' He turned to a desk close by and produced a big album full of portrait. with written particulars beneath them. This is not, strictly speaking, a police photo. He continued, it's not one that we took ourselves, you understand? We never had the chance.

No, but when my lady was staying at the white bear, she had her portrait taken by Wintering, the photographer in Silver Street, and Wintering was that suited with it that he put it in his window. So, of course, when her ladyship popped off with Maladale's necklace, we got one of those portraits and added it to our little collection. Here it is, and you will not notice so much difference between it and that you've got in your hand, sir. There was very little difference between the two photographs, and Heatherwick said so. And presently he went away from the police office, wondering more than ever about the woman, with whose past adventures he was concerning himself.

May as well do the thing thoroughly while you're about it, remarked Hollis as they walked off, come and see Malladale. His shop is only round the corner. Not that he can tell you much more than I've told you already. But Malladale proved himself able to tell a great deal more. A grave, elderly man, presiding over an establishment which Heatherwick, unaccustomed to the opulence of provincial manufacturing towns, was astonished to find outside London, he ushered his visitor into a private room and listened to the reasons they gave for calling on him. After a close and careful inspection of the print which Heatherwick put before him, he handed it back with a confident nod.

There is no doubt whatever, in my mind, that that is print from a photograph of the woman I knew as the Honourable Mrs. Whittingham, he said, and if it has been taken recently, she has altered very little during the ten years that have elapsed since she was here in this town. You'd be glad to see her again, Mr. Malladale, in the flesh. laughed Hollis. The jeweler shook his head. I think not, he answered. No, I think not, Mr. Hollis.

That's an episode which I had put out of my mind until you recalled it. But your loss, suggested Hollis, close on four thousand pounds, wasn't it? Mr. Maladale raised one of his white hands to his gray beard and coughed. It was a cough. that suggested discretion, confidence, secrecy. He smiled behind his mustache, and his spectacled eyes seemed to twinkle. I think I may venture a little disclosure

in the company of two gentlemen learned in the law, he said, to a solicitor whom I know very well and to a barrister introduced by him, I think I may reveal a little secret. between ourselves and to go no further. The fact of this matter is, gentlemen, I had no loss. What? exclaimed Hollis, no loss. Eventually, replied the jeweller, eventually.

Indeed, to tell you the truth plain, I made my profit and something over. Hollis looked his bewilderment. Do you mean that eventually you were paid, he asked? Precisely. Eventually, after a considerable interval, I was paid, replied Mr. Melodale. I will tell you the circumstances. It is, I believe, common knowledge that I sold the diamond necklace to Mrs. Whittingham for three thousand nine hundred pounds, and that the check she gave me was dishonored, and that she cleared

off with the goods, and was never heard of after she escaped from Hannaford. Well, two years ago, that is to say, eight years after her disappearance, I one day received a letter which bore the New York postmark. It contained a sheet of note paper on which were a few years. On which were a few few words and a few figures. But I have that now, and I'll show it to you. Going to a safe in the corner of his parlour, the jeweller, after some searching, produced a paper and laid it before his visitors. Hetherwick examined it with curiosity. There was no name, no address, no date. All that appeared was, as Maladale had remarked, a few words, a few figures. Type written.

Principal, 3,900 pounds. Eight years' interest at 5%, 1,560. Total, 5,460 pounds. Draft, 5,460 pounds and closed herein. Kindly acknowledge, in London, times. Enclosed, as is there said, was a draft on a London bank for the specified amount, continued Mr. Melodale, 5,460 pounds. You may easily believe that at first I could scarcely understand this. I knew of no one in New York who owed me money, but the first

figures, 3,900 pounds, threw light on the matter. I suddenly remembered Mrs. Whittingham and my lost necklace. Then I saw through the thing, evidently Mrs. Whittingham had become prosperous, wealthy, and she was honest enough to make amends. There was my principal and eight years' interest on it. Yet I felt somewhat doubtful about taking it. I didn't know whether I mightn't be compounding a felony. You gentlemen, of course, will appreciate my little difficulty? Hmm, remarked Hollis, in a non-committal tone. The more interesting matter is, what did you do?

Though I think we already know, he added with a smile. Well, I went to see Haniford and told him what I had received, answered the jewellery, and Haniford said precisely what I expected him to say. He said, put the money. in your pocket, Malladale, and say nothing about it. So I did. Each of you, feeling pretty certain that Mrs. Whittingham was not likely to show her face in Salithwaite again, no doubt, observed Hollis. Very interesting, Mr. Malladale, but it strikes me that whether she ever comes to Selethwaite again or not, Mrs. Whittingham, or whatever her name may be nowadays, is in England.

"'You think so?' asked the jeweler. "'Her pictures recently appeared in an English paper, anyway,' said Hollis. "'But pictures of famous American ladies appear in English newspapers,' suggested Mr. Melodale. "'I have recollections of several. "'Now my notion is that Mrs. Whittingham, "'who was a very handsome and very charming woman, "'eventually went across the Atlantic and married, an American millionaire.

That's how I figured it, and I have often wondered who she is now. That's precisely what I want to find out, said Heatherwick. One thing is certain. Haniford knew. If he'd been alive, he could have told us, because in whatever paper it was that this print appeared, there would be some letter-press about it, giving the name,

and why it appeared at all. "'You can trace that,' remarked Hollis. "'Just so,' agreed Heatherwick, "'and I may as well get back to town and begin the job. "'But I think with Mr. Hollis,' he added, "'turning to the jeweller, "'I believe that the woman is here in England. "'I think it possible, too, that Hanford knew where.

"'And I don't think it impossible "'that between the time of his cutting out her picture, from the paper and the time of his sudden death, he came in touch with her. You think it probable that she, in some way, had something to do with his murder? If it was murder? asked Mr. Melodale. I think it possible, replied Heatherwick. There are strange features in the case. One of the strangest is this.

Why, when Haniford cut out that picture for his own? own purposes, evidently with no intention of showing it to anyone else, did he cut it out without the name and the letter-press which must have been under and over it? Queer, certainly, said Hollis, but you know you can soon ascertain what that name was. All you've got to do is to get another copy of the paper. Unfortunately, Haniford's granddaughter doesn't know what particular paper it was, replied Hetherwick. Her sole recollection of it is that it was some local newspaper sent to Hannaford by Post the very morning that he left here for London. Still, it can be traced,

said Hollis. It was in some paper, and there'll be other copies. Presently, he and Tetherwick left the jeweller's shop. Outside, Hollis led his companion across the street. and turned into a narrow alley. I'll show you a man who'll remember Mrs. Whittingham better than anybody in Sellithwaite, he said, with a laugh, better even than Maladale. I told you she stayed at the White Bear when she was here. Well, since then, the entire staff of that eminent hostelry

has been changed, from the manager to the boots. I don't think there's a man or a woman there, who was there ten years ago. But there's a man at the end of this passage, who was formerly Hall Porter at the White Bear, Amblet Hudson, and who now keeps a rather cozy little saloon bar down here. We'll drop in on him. He's what we call a bit of a character, and if you can get him to talk, he's usually worth listening to. End of Chapter 5. Chapter 6 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Librevox recording is in the public domain.

Samples of Ink Hollis led the way farther along the alley between the high black windowless walls and suddenly turning into a little court, paused before a door set deep in the side of an old half-timbered house. Queer old place this, he remarked over. his shoulder, but you'll get a glass of as good port or sherry from this chap as you'd get anywhere in England. He knows his customers. Come in. He led the way into a place the like of which Heatherwick had never seen. A snug, cozy room, paneled and raftered in old oak, with a bright fire burning in an open hearth and the flicker of its flames dancing on the old

brass and pewter that ornamented the walls. There was a small bar counter on one side of it, and behind this in his shirt sleeves, and with a cigar protruding from the corner of a pair of clean-shaven, humorous lips, stood a keen-eyed man, busily engaged in polishing wine-glasses. Good morning, gentlemen, he said heartily. Nice morning, Mr. Hollis for this time of year, "'And what can I do for you and your friend, sir?' Hollis glanced round the room, empty, safe for themselves. He drew a stool to the bar and motioned Heatherwick to follow his example. "'I think we'll try your very excellent dry Sherry Hudson,' he answered.

"'That is, if it's as good as it was last time I tasted it?' "'Always up to standard, Mr. Hollis. "'Always up to standard, sir,' replied the barkeeper. no inferior qualities no substitutes and no trading on past reputation in this establishment gentlemen as good a glass of dry sherry here sir as you'd get where sherry wine comes from and you can't say that of most places in england i think everything's of the best here mr hollis as you know hollis responded with a little light chaff suddenly he bent across the bar hudson He said, confidentially, My friend here has something he'd like to show you. Now then, he continued, as Heatherwick, in response to this, had produced the picture,

Do you recognize that? The barkeeper put on a pair of spectacles and turned the picture to the light, examining it closely. His lips tightened, then relaxed in a cynical smile. Aye, he said, half carelessly, it's the woman that did old Maladale out of that diamond necklace. Of course, Mistress Whittingham. Would you know her again if you met her now? asked Hollis.

The barkeeper picked up one of his glasses and began a vigorous polishing. Aye, he said laconically, and I should know her by something else than her face. Just then two men came in and Hudson broke off to attend. to their wants. But presently they carried their glasses away to a snug corner near the fire, and the barkeeper once more turned to Hollis and Heatherwick. Aye, he said confidentially, if need were, I could tell that party by something else than her face, handsome as that is. I used to tell Haniford when he was busy trying to find her, that if he'd any difficulty about making certain, I could identify her if nobody else could. You see, I saw a deal of her when I was

stopping at the white bear, and I knew something that nobody else knew. What is it? asked Heatherwick. Hudson leaned closer across the counter and lowered his voice. She was a big, handsome woman, this Mrs. Whittingham, he continued, very showy, dressy woman, fond of fine clothes and jewelry, and so on, sort of woman, you know, that would attract attention anywhere. And one of these women, too, that was evidently used to being weighted on, hand and foot. She took her money's worth out of the white bear, I can tell you. I did a deal for her, one way or another, and I'll say this for her, she was free enough with her money. If it so happened that she wanted things doing for her, she kept you fairly on the go till they were done.

but she threw five shilling pieces and half-ground about as if they were farthings. She'd send you to take a six-penny telegram and give you a couple of shillings for taking it. Well, now, as I say, I saw a deal of her, one way and another, getting cabs for her, and taking things up to her room and doing this, that, and tether. And it was with going up there one day, Sunlike, with a telegram that had just come, that I found out something about her, something that, as I say, I could have told her by anywhere,

even if she could have changed her face and put a wig on. Aye, and what now? asked Hollis. This, answered Hudson, with a knowing look. Maybe I'm a noticing sort of chap. Anyhow, there was a thing I always noticed about Mrs. Whittingham, wherever she was, and no matter how, she was dressed, whether it was in her going out things or her dinner finery, she always wore a band of black velvet round her right forearm, just above the wrist, where women wear bracelets.

In fact, it was a sort of a bracelet, a strip, as I say, of black velvet, happened about two inches wide, and on the front a cameo ornament, size of a shilling, white stone or something of that sort, with one of these heathed figures carved on it. There were other folk about the place noticed that black velvet band, too. I tell you, she was never seen without it. Chambermaid said she slept with it on. But on the occasion I'm telling you about, when I went up to her room with a telegram, I caught her without it.

She opened her door to see who knocked. She was in a dressing gown, going to change for dinner, I reckon, and she held out her right hand for what I'd brought her, and the black velvet band wasn't on it, and for just a second like, I saw what was on her arm. Yes, said Hollis, something remarkable. For a lady, I, replied Hudson, with a grim laugh, her arm was tattooed. Right round the place where she always wore this black velvet band, there was a sneak, red and green and yellow and blue with its tail and its mouth wonderfully done too it had been no novice that had done this bit of work i can tell you of course i just saw it and no more but there was a strong electric light close by and i did see it and saw it plain and all and that's a thing that that woman whoever she may be and wherever she's got to can never rub off

nor scrub off. She'll carry that to the day of her death. The two listeners looked at each other. Odd, remarked Hollis. Heatherwick turned toward the barkeeper. Did she notice that you saw that her arm was tattooed? he asked. Nay, I don't think she did, replied Hudson. Of course, the thing was over in a second. I made no sign that I'd seen aught particular, and she said not, but I saw. just then other customers came in and the barkeeper turned away to attend to their wants hollis and heatherwick moved from the counter to one of the snug corners at the far end of the room "'Whever she may be, wherever she may be,' "'as Hudson said just now,' remarked Hollis. "'And if this woman really had anything to do

"'with the mysterious circumstances of Haniford's death, "'she ought not to be difficult to find. "'A woman who carries an indefasible mark like that on her arm, "'and whose picture has recently appeared in a newspaper, "'should be easily traced. "'I think I shall get at her through the picture, agreed Heatherwick. The newspaper production seems to have been done from a photograph which, from its clearness and finish, was probably taken by some first-class firm in London.

I shall go round such firms as soon as I get back. It may be, of course, that she's nothing whatever to do with Haniford's murder, but still, it's a trail that's got to be followed to the end, now that one's started on it. Well, that seems to finish my business here, as far as she's concerned. But there's another matter. I told you that when Haniford came to town, he had on him a sealed packet containing the secret of some invention or discovery,

and that it's strangely and unaccountably missing. His granddaughter says that he worked this thing out, whatever it is, in a laboratory that he had in his garden. Now then, before I go, I want to see that laboratory, as he's only recently left the place, I suppose things will still be pretty much as he left them at his old house. Where did he live? He lived on the outskirts of town, replied Hollis,

an old-fashioned house that he bought some years ago. I know it by sight well enough, though I've never been in it. I don't suppose it's let yet, though I know it's being advertised in the local papers. let's get some lunch at the white bear, and then we'll drive up there and see what we can do. You want to get an idea of what it was that Haniford had invented. Just so, assented Heatherwick. If the secret was worth all that he told his granddaughter it was, he may have been murdered by somebody who wanted to get sole possession of it.

Anyway, it's another trail that's got to be worked on. I never heard of Haniford as an investigator, or, experimenter, remarked Hollis. But there, I knew little about him, except in his official capacity. He and his granddaughter, and an elderly woman they kept as a working housekeeper, or quiet sort of folk. I knew that he brought up his granddaughter from infancy and gave her a rattling good education at the girls' high school, but beyond that, I know little of their private affairs. I suppose he amused himself in this laboratory you speak of in his spare time? Dabbled in chemistry, I understand, said Heatherwick.

And if it hasn't been dismantled, we may find something in that laboratory that will give us a clue of some sort. Hollis seemed to reflect for a minute or two. I've an idea, he said, suddenly, there's a man who lunches at the white bear every day, a man named Collison. he's analytical chemist to a big firm of diers in the town. I've seen him in conversation with Hannaford now and then. Perhaps he could tell us something on this point.

Come on, this is just about his time for lunch. A few minutes later, in the coffee room of the hotel, Hollis led Heatherwick up to a bearded and spectacled man who had just sat down to lunch, and, having introduced him briefly detailed the object of his visit to Selethwaite. Collison nodded and smiled. I understand, he said, as they seated themselves at his table.

Haniford did dabble a bit in chemistry, in quite an amateur way. But as to inventing anything that was worth all that, come, still, he was an ingenious man for an amateur, and he may have hit on something fairly valuable. You've no idea what he was after? "'Of late, no, but some time ago he was immensely interested in Annaline Dies,' replied Collison. "'He used to talk to me about them. That's a subject of infinite importance in this district. Of course, as I dare say you know, the Germans have been vastly ahead of us as regards Annaline Dies, and we've got most, if not all, of the stuff used from Germany.

Haniford used to worry himself as to why we couldn't make our own Annaline dies, and I believe he experimented. But with his resources, as an amateur, of course, that was hopeless. I've sometimes seen him talking to you, observed Hollis. You've no idea what he was after of late? No, he used to ask me technical questions, answered Collison. You know, I've just regarded him as a man who had a natural taste for, experimenting with things. This was evidently his hobby. I used to chafe him about it. Still, he was a purposeful man, and by reading and experiment he picked up a lot of knowledge.

And I suppose it's within the bounds of possibility that he had hit on something of practical value. Oh, quite within such bounds, as he may have done, agreed Collison, I've known much greater amateurs suddenly discover something, the question then is, do they know enough to turn their discovery to any practical purpose or account? Evidently, from what he told his granddaughter, Hanifer did think that he knew enough, said Heatherwick, what I want to find out from a visit to his old laboratory is what had he discovered. And as you are not a chemist nor even a Dabbler, remarked Hollis, with a laugh, that won't be easy. You'd better come with us after lunch, Collison. I can give you a couple of hours, assented Collison. I'm already curious,

especially if any discovery we can make tends to throw light on the mystery of Haniford's death. Pity the police haven't got hold of the man who was with him, he added, glancing at Heatherwick. I suppose you could identify him. Unless he's an absolute adept, disguising himself, yes, positively, replied Heatherwick. He was a noticeable man. An hour later, the three men drove up to a house, which stood a little way out of town, on the edge of the moorland, that stretches towards the great range of hills on the west. The house, an old-fashioned, solitary place, was empty, save for a caretaker who had been installed in its back rooms to keep it aired, and,

and to show it to possible tenants. The laboratory, a stone-walled, timber-roofed shed at the end of the garden, had never been opened, said the caretaker, since Mr. Hanford locked it and left it. But the key was speedily forthcoming, and the three visitors entered and looked round, each with different valuings of what he saw. The whole place was a wilderness of litter and untidiness.

whatever henneford had possessed in the way of laboratory plant and appliances had been removed and now there was little but rubbish glass whole and broken paper derelict boxes and crates odds and ends of wreckage to look at but the analytical chemist glanced about him with a knowing eye examining bottles and boxes picking up a thing here and another there and before long he turned to his companions with a laugh pointing at the same time to a table in a corner which was covered with dust-lined pots. It's very easy to see what Hanford was after, he said. He's been trying to evolve a new ink. Inc, exclaimed Hollis incredulously. Aren't there plenty of inks on the market? No end, agreed Collison, with another laugh, and again pointing to the table,

these are specimens of all the better-known ones. British, of course, for no really decent ink is made elsewhere, but even the very best ink up to now isn't perfect. Haniford perhaps thought, being an amateur, that he could make a better than the known best. Ink, that's what he's been after. A superior, perfectly fluid, penetrating, permanent, non-corrosive writing ink, That's been his notion, a thousand to one.

I observed the presence of lots of stuffs that he's used. He showed them various things, explaining their properties, and adding some remarks on the history of the manufacturer of writing inks during the last hundred years. Taking it altogether, he concluded, and in spite of manufacturer's advertisements and boasting, there isn't a really absolutely perfect writing fluid on the market that I know of, anyway.

If Hannaford thought he could make one and succeeded, well, I'd have been glad to have his formula. Money in it. To the extent of a hundred thousand pounds, asked Hetherwick, remembering what Rona had told him, all that. Oh, well, laughed Collison. You must remember that inventors are always very sanguine, always apt to see everything through rose-coloured spectacles,

invariably prone to exaggerate the merits of their inventions. But if Haniford, by experiment, really hit on a first-class formula for making writing ink superior in all the necessary qualities to its rivals, yes, there'd be a pot of money in it, no doubt of that. I suppose he'd have to take out a patent for his invention, suggested Hetherwick. Oh, to be sure, I should think that was one of his reasons for going to love, London to see after it, assented Collison. He looked round again, and again laughed. Well, he said, I think you know now, you may be confident about it, from what I've seen here,

what Hanford was after. Ink. Just ink. Heatherward accepted this judgment, and when he left Selethwaite later in the afternoon on his return journey to London, he summed up the results of his visit. They were two. First, he had discovered that the woman of whom Hanford had spoken in the train was a person who, ten years before, had been known as Mrs. Whittingham, appeared to be some sort of adventurous, and, in spite of her restitution to the jeweler whom she had defrauded, was still liable to arrest, conviction, and punishment if she could be found. Second, he had found out that the precious invention of which Haniford had spoken so confidently and enthusiastically to his granddaughter, and the particulars of which had mysteriously disappeared,

related to the manufacture of a new writing ink, which might, in truth, prove a very valuable commercial asset. So far, so good. He was finding things out. As he ate his dinner in the restaurant car, he considered his next steps, but it needed little consideration to resolve on them. He must find out all about the woman whose picture lay in his pocketbook, what she now called herself, where she was, how her photograph came to be reproduced in a newspaper, and, last, but far from least, if Haniford, after seeing the reproduction, had got into touch with her, or given information about her. To the man in the train Henniford had remarked that he had said nothing about her until that evening.

Yes, but was that man the only man to whom he had spoken? So much for that. And the next thing was to find out somehow what had become of the sealed packet, which Henniford undoubtedly had on him when he went out of Malta's hotel on the night of his death. End of Chapter 6 Chapter 7 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Black Velvet Next morning, and before calling on either Kenswait or Rona Haniford,

Heatherwick set out on a tour of the fashionable photographers in the West End of London. after all there were not so many of them, so many at any rate of the very famous ones. He made a hit and began to work methodically. His first few coverts were drawn blank, but just before noon, and as he was thinking of knocking off for lunch, he started his fox. In a palatial establishment in Bond Street, the person to whom he applied, showing his picture gave an immediate smile of recognition. You want to know who is the original of this, he said.

Certainly. Lady Rivers-Reed, of Rivers-Reed Court, near Dorking. Heatherwick had no deep acquaintance with DeBrette, nor with Burke, nor even with the list of peers, baronets, or knights, given in the ordinary reference books, and to him, the name of Lady Rivers-Reed was absolutely unknown. He had never heard. of her. But the man to whom he had shown the print, and who now held it in his hand, seemed to consider that Lady Rivers-Reed was, or should be, as well-known to everybody, as she evidently was to him. This print is from one of our photographs of Lady Rivers-Reed, he said, turning to a side-table in the reception-room in which they were standing,

and picking up a framed portrait. This one. Then you probably know in what newspaper this print appeared, suggested Heatherwick. That's really what I'm desirous of finding out. Oh, it appeared in several, answered the photographer, recently.

It was about the time that Lady Rivers-Reed opened some home or institute, I forget what. There was an account of it in the papers, and naturally her portrait was. reproduced. Hatterwick made a plausible, pre-arranged excuse for his curiosity, and went away. Lady Rivers-Reed. Evidently, some woman of rank or means or position, but was she identical with the Mrs. Whittingham of ten years ago, the Mrs. Whittingham, who did the Salithwaite

jeweler out of a necklace worth nearly four thousand pounds, and cleverly escaped arrest at the hands of Hanford? And if so, but that led to indefinite vistas. The main thing at present was to find out all that could be found out about Lady Rivers-Reed of Rivers-Reed Court near Dorking. Heatherwick could doubtless have obtained considerable information from the fashionable photographer, but he had carefully refrained from showing too much inquisitiveness. Moreover, he knew a man, Boxley, a fellow club member, who was always fully posted up in all the doings of the social and fashionable world, and could, if he would, tell him everything about Lady Rivers' Reed. That was, if there was anything to tell about her.

Boxley was one of those bachelor men about town who went everywhere, knew everybody, and kept himself fully informed. He invariably lunched at this particular club, the junior megatherim, and thither Hetherwick presently proceeded, bent on finding him. He was fortunate in running Voxley to Earth almost as soon as he entered the sacred and exclusive portals. Voxley was lunching, and there was no one else at his table. Heatherwick joined him and began the usual small talk about nothing in particular, but he soon came to his one point. Look here, he said, at a convenient interval, I want to ask you something. You know everybody and everything.

Who is Lady Rivers-Reed, who's recently opened some home or institution or hospital or something? One of the richest women in England, replied Boxley, promptly. Worth a couple of millions or so, that's who she is. Who she was? I don't know. Don't suppose anybody else does either. in this country, anyhow. What is she a foreigner, then? asked Hetherick. I've seen her portrait in the papers. That's why I ask you who she is. Doesn't look for, I think.

I can tell you all that is known about her, said Boxley, and that's not much. She's the widow of old Sir John Rivers-Reed, the famous contractor, the man who made a pot of money building railways and dams across big rivers and that sort of thing, and got a knighthood for it. He also built himself a magnificent place near Dorking, and called it Rivers-Rieged Court, just the type of place a modern millionaire would build. Now, old Sir John had been a bachelor all his life, until he was

over 60, no time for anything but his contracts, you know. But when he was about 65, which would be some six or seven years ago, he went over to the United States and made a rather lengthy stay there. When he returned, he brought a wife with him, the lady you're inquiring about. American, then, suggested Hetherick. Well, he married her over there, certainly, said Boxley, but I should say she isn't American. You've met her personally? Just. Run across her once or twice at various affairs and been introduced to her quite casually. No, I don't think she's American. If I wanted to label her, I should say she was cosmopolitan. Woman of the world, eh? Decidedly so. Handsome woman, self-possessed, self-assured, smart, clever. I think she'll know how to take care of the money her

husband left her. Leave her everything? Every penny, except some inconsiderable legacies to charitable institutions. It was said at the time, it's two years since the old chap died, that she's got over two millions. And this institution, or whatever it is, oh, that was in the papers not so long since. I'm no great reader of newspapers. What about it? Oh, she started a home for wounded officers near Rivers Reed Court. There was some big country house near there, empty, couldn't really be sold or let. She bought it, renovated it, fixed it up, stuck a staff of nurses and servants in, and got it blessed by the war office.

Jolly nice place, I believe, and she pays the piper. Doing the benevolent business, eh? So it appears. Easy game, too, when you've got a couple millions behind you. Useful, though. Boxley went away soon after that, and Heatherwick, wondering about what he had learned, and now infinitely inquisitive about the identity of Lady Rivers-Reed

with Mrs. Whittingham, went into the smoking-room, and, more from habit than because he really wanted to see it, picked up a copy of the Times. Almost the first thing on which his glance lighted was the name that was just then in his thoughts. There it was, in Capitals at the head of an advertisement. Lady Rivers-Reed's home for wounded officers, Surrey, required at once a resident lady secretary, fully competent to undertake accounts and correspondence,

and thoroughly trained in shorthand and typewriting. A knowledge of French and German would be a higher recommendation. Application should be made personally any day this week, between 10 and 12 and 3 and 5, to Lady Riversread, Rivers Reed, Rivers Reed Court, Dorking. Heatherwick threw the paper aside, left the club, and at the first newsagent he came to bought another copy. With this in hand, he jumped into a taxi cab and set off for Surrey Street,

wondering if he would find Rona Haniford still at Malta's Hotel. He was fortunate in that she had not yet left, and in a few minutes he was giving her a full and detailed account of his doings since his last interview with her. She listened to his story about Salithwaite and his discoveries of that morning with a slightly puzzled look. "'Why are you taking all this trouble?' she asked suddenly and abruptly. "'You're doing more, going into things more than the police are.'

Matherfield was here this morning to tell me, he said, "'How they were getting on, they aren't getting on at all. "'They haven't made one single discovery. "'They've heard nothing, found out nothing, "'about the man in the train, or the man at Victoria. "'They're just where they were. "'But you've found a-one. not a lot. Why are you so energetic about it? Put it down to professional inquisitiveness,

if you like, answered Heatherwick, smiling. I'm interested tremendously. You see, I, too, was there in the train, like the man they haven't found. Well, now, now that I've got to this point I've arrived at, I want you to take a hand. I, in what way? exclaimed Rona. Heather Rick pulled out the times and pointed to the advertisement. I want you to go down to Dorking tomorrow morning and personally interview Lady Rivers-Reed in response to that. He said, you've all the qualifications she specifies, so you've an excellent excuse for calling on her. Whether you'd care to take the post is another matter. What I want is that you should see her under conditions that will enableness.

you to observe her closely. Why? asked Rona. I want you to see if she wears such a band as that which Hudson told Hollis and myself about, replied Heatherwick. Sharp eyes like yours will soon see that. And if she does, then she's Mrs. Whittingham. In that case, I might ask you to do more, still more. What, for instance, she inquired.

well, to do your best to get this post, he answered, I think that you, with your qualifications, could get it. And your object in that, she asked? To keep an eye on Lady Rivers-Reed, he replied promptly, if the Mrs. Whittingham of ten years ago at Salithwaite is the same woman as the Lady Rivers-Reed of Rivers-Reed Court of today, then, in view of your grandfather's murder, I want to know a lot more about her. To have you, there, would be an immense help.

I'm to be a sort of a spy, eh? asked Rona. Detective, if you like, assented Heatherwick. Why not? You forget this, she remarked. If this Lady Rivers-Reed is identical with the Mrs. Whittingham of ten years ago, she'd remember my name, Haniford. She's not likely to have forgotten Superintendent Haniford of Celethwate. Exactly. But I've thought of that little matter, replied Heatherwick. Call yourself by some other name, your mother's, for instance. That was Featherstone, said Rona. There you are. Go as Miss Featherstone.

As for your address, give your aunt's address and tooting. Easy enough, you. You're see, laughed Heatherwick. Once you begin it properly. There's another thing, though, she objected. References. She'll want those. Just as easy, answered Heatherwick. Give me as one and Kenthwaite as the other. I'll speak to him about that. Two barristers of the middle temple, excellent. Come, all you've got to do is to work the scheme out fully and carry it out with assurance, and you don't know what we mightn't discover. Rota considered matters a while, watching him steadily. You think that, somehow, this woman may be at the back of the mystery surrounding my grandfather's

murderer, she suddenly asked. I think it's quite within the bounds of probability, he answered. All right, she said abruptly, I'll go. Tomorrow morning, I suppose. Sooner the better, agreed Heatherwick. and look here, I'll go down with you. We'll go down by the 10-10 from Victoria, drive to this place,

and I'll wait outside while you have your interview. After that, we'll get some lunch in dorking, and you can tell me your news. Next morning found Heatherwick pacing the platform at Victoria and on the lookout for his fellow companion. She came to him a little before the train was due to leave, and he noticed at once that she had discarded the morning garments in which she had found her the previous afternoon.

She now appeared in a smart tailor-made coat and skirt and looked the part he wanted her to assume, that of a capable and self-reliant young businesswoman. Good, he said approvingly as they went to find their seats. Nothing like dressing up to it. You're all ready with your line, say? I mean, you've settled. on all you're going to say and do?

Leave that to me, she answered with a laugh. I shan't forget the primary object, anyway. But I've been wondering, supposing we come to the conclusion that this Lady Rivers-Reed is, the Mrs. Whittingham of ten years ago, what are you going to do then? My ideas are hazy on that point,

at present, confessed Heatherwick. The first thing, surely, is to establish identity. Don't forget that the main thing to do at Rivers-Reed Court is to get a good look at Lady Rivers-Reed's right wrist and see what's on it. Rivers-Reed Court proved to be some distance from dorking in the Leith Hill District.

Heather Wick charted a taxi-cab and gave his companion final instructions as they rode out. Half an hour's run brought them to the house, a big, pretentious imitation Elizabethan structure set on the hillside amongst a grove of firs and pines and having an ornamental park laid out between its gardens and terraces and the high road. At lodge gates he stopped the driver and got out.

I'll wait here for you, he said to Rona. You ride up to the house, get your business done, and come back here. being watchful now of anything. Rona nodded, reassuringly, and went off. Heatherwick lighted his pipe and strolled about, admiring the scenery. But his thoughts were with Rona. He was wondering what adventures she was having in the big mansion,

which the late contractor had built amidst these woods, and Rona kept him wondering some time. An hour had elapsed before the cab came back, with a hand on its door, he turned to the driver. Go to the white horse now, he said. We'll lunch there, and afterwards you can take us to the station. Well, he continued as he got in and seated himself at Rona's side. What luck?

Good, I should say, answered Rona. She wears a broad black velvet band on her right wrist, and on the outer face is a small cameo. How's that? precisely exclaimed heatherwick just what that barkeeper chap at sellathwaite described wears it openly makes no attempt at concealment beneath her sleeve eh none answered rona she was wearing a smart fashionable short-sleeved jumper she'd a very fine diamond bracelets on the other wrist and she herself asked Heatherwick, what sort of woman is she? That's a very good photograph of her that my grandfather cut out of the paper, replied Rona. Very good indeed. I knew her at once. She's tall, fine, handsome, well-preserved, perhaps 40, perhaps less,

very easy, accustomed manner, a regular woman of the world, I should think, quite ready to talk about herself and her doings. She told me the whole history of this home she's started and took me to see it. It's a fine old house, much more attractive than the court, a little way along the hillside. She told me that it was her great hobby and that she's devoting all her time to it. I should say that she's genuinely interested in its welfare, genuinely. She impressed you, suggested Heatherwick. I think from what I saw and heard that she's a good-natured, probably warm-hearted woman. She spoke very feelingly of the patience she's got in her home, anyhow.

And the post, the secretorship? I can have it if I want it. Of course, I told her I did. She examined me pretty closely about my qualifications. She herself speaks French and German like a native, and I mentioned you and Mr. Ken Thwait as references. She's going to write to you both today, so it's for you to decide. I suppose it's really for you.

No, I'm willing, eager indeed to do anything to clear up the mystery about my grandfather's murder, but I don't think this woman had anything to do with it, in my opinion, and I suppose I've got some feminine intuition. she's honest and straightforward enough. And yet it looks as if she were certainly the Mrs. Whittingham, who did a sell-aithwaite jeweller to the tune of four thousand pounds, laughed Heatherie. That wasn't very honest or straightforward. I've been thinking about that, said Rona.

Perhaps, after all, she really thought the check would be met. And anyway, she did send the man his money. even though it was a long time afterwards. And again, an important matter, Lady Rivers-Reed may not be Mrs. Whittingham at all. More women than one wear wristlets of velvet. But the portrait, exclaimed Heatherwick, the positive identity.

Well, answered Rona, I'm willing to go there and to try to find out more, but frankly I think Lady Rivers-Reeds all right. First impression, anyhow. The cab drew up at the white horse, and Heatherwick led Rona into the coffee room, but they had hardly taken their seats when the manager came in. "'Does your name happen to be Heatherwick, sir?' he inquired. "'Just so, thank you. A Mr. Mapperly has twice rung you up here during the last hour. He's on the phone again now, if you'll speak to him.'

"'I'll come,' said Heather Wick. "'That's my clerk,' he murmured to Rona as he rose. "'I told him to ring me up here between twelve and three, if necessary, back in a minute.' But he was away several minutes, and when he came to her again, his face was grave. "'Here's a new development,' he said, bending across the table and whispering. "'The police have found the man, who was with your grandfather in the train. Matherfield wants me to identify him, and you'll gather from that that they found him dead. We must lunch quickly and catch the 224.

End of Chapter 7. Chapter 8 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Fligwood's Rents Heatherwick went to the hotel telephone again before he had. had finished his lunch, and as a result, Matherfield was on the platform at Victoria when the 224 ran in. He showed no surprise at seeing Heatherwick and Rona together. His manifest concern was to get Heatherwick to himself and away from the station. And Heatherwick, seeing this,

said goodbye to Rona with a whispered word that he would look in at Malter's Hotel before evening. A few minutes later, he and Matherfield were in a taxi cab together, hastening along Buckingham Palace Road. Well, inquired Hetherwick, this man? I don't think there's any doubt about his being the man you saw with Hannaford, replied Matherfield. He answers to your description anyway. But I'll tell you how we came across his track. Last night, a man named Applyard came to me. He's a chap who has a chemist shot.

in Horse Ferry Road, Westminster, a middle-aged, quiet sort of man who prefaced his remarks by telling us that he very rarely had time to read newspapers, or he'd have been round to see us before. But yesterday he happened to pick up a copy of one of last Sunday's papers, and he read an account of the Hanford affair. Then he remembered something that seemed to him to have a possible connection with it. Some little time ago, he asked, advertised for an assistant, a qualified assistant. He'd two or three applications, which weren't exactly satisfactory. Then one evening, he couldn't give any exact date,

but from various things he told us, I reckoned up that it must have been on the very evening on which Haniford met his death. A man came and made a personal application. Abelyard described him, medium-sized, a spare man, sallow complexioned, thin face and beard, large, dark eyes, very intelligent, superior manner, poorly dressed, and evidently in low water.

That's the man I'll be bound, exclaimed Heatherwick. Did he give the chemist his name? He did, name and address, answered Matherfield. He said his name was James Granite, and his address, number eight, Fligwood's Rents, Gray's Inn Road, Hull Board, End. He told Applyard that he was a qualified chemist and produced his proofs and some references. He also said that though he'd never had a business of his own,

he'd been employed, as indeed the references showed, by some good provincial firms at one time or another. Lately, he'd been in the employ of a firm of manufacturing chemists in East Ham, for some reason or other their trade had fallen off, and they'd had to reduce their staff, and he'd been thrown out of work, and had had the further bad luck to be seriously ill. This, he said, had exhausted his small means,

and he was very anxious to get another job, so anxious that he appeared to come to Applyard on very low terms. Applegard told him he'd inquire into the references and write to him in a day or two. he did inquire, found the references quite satisfactory, and wrote to Granite engaging him. But Granite never turned up, and Appleyard heard no more of him, until he read this Sunday paper. Then he felt sure Granite was the man, and came to me. I shouldn't think there's any doubt in the case, remarked Heatherwick, but before we go any further, a question.

Did Appleyard say what time it was when this man came? came to him that evening? He did. It was just as he was closing his shop. Nine o'clock. Granite stopped talking with him about half an hour. Indeed, Appliard told me more after they'd finished their talk. Appleyard, who doesn't live at the shop, locked it up, and he then invited Granite to step across the street with him and have a drink before going home. They had a drink together in a neighborhood saloon bar, and chatted a bit there. It would be nearly ten o'clock, according to Appleyard, when Granite left him. And he remembered that Granite, on leaving him, went round the corner into Victoria Street, on his way, no doubt, to the underground.

And in Victoria Street, equally without doubt, he met Hannaford, muttered Hetherwick, well, and the rest of it? Well, of course, as soon as I learned all this, I determined to go myself to Fligwood's rents, replied Matherfield. I went first thing this morning. Fligwood's rents is a slum street. Only a man who is very low down in the world would ever dream of renting a room there. It's a sort of alley or court on the right-hand side of Grays Inn Road, going up some half-dozen squalid houses on each side, let off in tenements. Number eight was a particularly squalid house, slatternly women and squalling brats about the door and general dirt and shabbiness all around. None of the women about the place knew the name of granite, but after I

described the man I wanted, they argued that it must be the gentleman on the top back. They added the further information that they hadn't seen him for some days. I went up a filthy stare to the room they indicated. The door was locked, and I couldn't get any response to my repeated knockings. So then I set out to discover the landlord, and eventually unearthed a beery individual in a neighboring low-class tavern. I got out of him that he had a lodger named Granite, who paid him six shillings a week for this top-back room, and he suddenly remembered that Granite hadn't paid his last week's rent. That made more impression on him. him than anything I said, and he went with me to the house. And to cut things short, we forced the

door and found the man dead in his bed. Dead, exclaimed Heatherwick. Dead then. Dead then, yes, and he'd been dead several days, according to the doctors, replied Matherfield, grimly, dead enough. It was a poor room, but clean. You could see from various little things that the man had been used to a better condition, but as regards himself, he evidently had gone to bed in the usual way. His clothes were all carefully folded and arranged, and by the side of the bed, there was a chair on which was a half-burnt candle, and an evening newspaper. That would fix the date, suggested Hetherwick. Of course it did, and it was the same date as that on which Haniford died, answered Matherfield.

I've made a careful note of that circumstance. Everything looked as if the man had gone to bed in just his ordinary way, read the paper a bit, blown out his light, dropped off to sleep, and died in his sleep. Yes, and from what cause, I wonder, exclaimed Hetherwick. Precisely the same idea occurred to me, knowing what I did about Haniford, said Matherfield. However, the doctors will tell us more about that, but to wind up, I had a man of mine with me,

and I left him in charge while I got further help, and sent for Applyard. Appleyard identified the dead man at once as the man who had been to see him. Indeed, on opening the door, we found Applyard's letter, engaging him, lying with one or two others just inside. So that's about all, except that I am. now want to know if you can positively identify him as the man you saw with Hannaford, and I also want to open a locked box that we found in the room, which may contain something that will give us further information. Altogether, it's a step forward. Yes, admitted

Heatherwick, it's something, but there's spade work to be done yet, Matherfield. I don't think there's any doubt now that Granite encountered Hannaford after he left Appal yard, and that indicates that Granite and Hannaford were old acquaintances. But supposing they met at, or soon after,

10 o'clock, where did they go? Where did they spend their time between that and the time they entered my compartment at St. James's Park? That would be what? asked Matherfield. It was well after mid-day.

"'Mine was the last train going east, anyway,' said Hetherwick. "'I only just caught it at Sloan Square. "'But we can certainly ascertain the exact time to a minute. "'Still, those two, meeting accidentally, as I conclude they did, "'must have been together two or three hours. "'Where, at that time of night? "'Surely there must be some way of finding that out. "'Two men, each rather noticeable,

somebody must have seen them together somewhere. It seems impossible that they shouldn't have been seen. Aye, but in my experience, Mr. Heatherwick, it's the impossible that happens, rejoined Metafield. In a beehive like this, where every man's intent on his own business, 99 men out of 100 never observe anything unless it's shoved right under their very eyes. Of course, if we could find out, if and where,

and Granite were together that night, and where Granite went to after he slipped away at Charing Cross, it would vastly simplify matters. But how are we going to find out? There's been immense publicity given to this case in the papers, you know, Mr. Heatherwick, portraits of Haniford and details about the whole affair and so on, and yet we've had surprisingly little help and less information. I'll tell you what I think it is, sir. What we want is that tall, muffled-up chap who met Haniford at Victoria.

Who is he now? Who indeed, assented Heatherwick? Vanished, without a trace. Oh, well, said Matherfield, cheerfully. You never know when you might light on a trace. But here we are at this unsavory Fligwood's ram. The cab pulled up at the entrance to a dark, high-walled, stone-paved alley, which at that moment appeared to be full of women and children. So, too, did the windows on either side. The whole

place was somber and evil-smelling, and Heatherwick felt a sense of pity for the unfortunate man whose luck had been bad enough to bring him there. A murder, a suicide, or a sudden death is a breath of heaven to these folk, said Matherfield, as they made their way through the ragged and frowsy gathering. It's an event in uneventful lives. Here's the place, he added, as they came to a doorway where a policeman stood on guard. And here are the stairs. Mind you don't slip on them, for the woods broken and the banisters are smashed. Heatherwick cautiously followed his guide to the top of the house. There, at another door stood a second policeman,

engaged when they caught sight of him in looking out through the dirt-obscured window of the landing. His bored countenance brightened when he saw Matherfield. Stepping back, he quietly opened the door at his side, and the two newcomers, silent in view of the task before them, tiptoed into the room beyond. It was, as Matherfield had remarked, A poor place, but it was clean and orderly, and its occupant had evidently tried to make it as habitable and comfortable as his beans would allow.

There were one or two good prints on the table, half a dozen books on an old chest of drawers. In a cracked vase on the mandelpiece there were a few flowers, wilted and dead. Heatherwick took in all this at a glance, then turned to Matherfield, who silently drew aside a sheet from the head and shoulders of the rigid figure on the bed and looked inquiringly at his companion. And Heatherwick gave the dead man's face one careful inspection and nodded. Yes, he said, that's the man. Without doubt, asked Matherfield. No doubt at all, affirmed Heatherwick.

That is the man who was with Hannaford in the train. I knew him instantly. Matherfield replaced the sheet and turned to a small table which stood in the window. On it was a box, a square, old-fashioned thing clamped at the corners. This seems to be the only thing he had, that's what you may call private, he observed. It's locked, but I've got a tool here that'll open it. I want to know what's in it. There may be something that'll give us a clue.

Heatherwick stood by while Matherfield forced open the lock with an instrument which he produced from his pocket and began to examine the contents of the box. At first there seemed little that was likely to yield information. There was a complete suit of clothes and an outfit of decent linen. It seemed as if granite had carefully kept these in view of better days. There were more books, all of a technical nature, relating to chemistry.

There was a small case containing chemical apparatus, and another in which lay a pair of scales. In a third they found a microscope. He wasn't down to the very end of his resources, or he'd have pawned these things, muttered Matherfield. They all look good stuff, especially the microscope. But here's more what I want, letters. He drew forth two bundles of letters, neatly arranged and tied up with tape.

Unloosening the fastenings and rapidly spreading the envelopes out on the table, he suddenly put his finger on an address. There you are, Mr. Heatherwick, he exclaimed. That's just what I expected to find out, though I certainly didn't think we should discover it so quickly. This man has lived at Tellithwaite some time or, or other, look there at this address, Mr. James Granite, seven Victoria Terrace, Sellithwaite, Yorkshire.

Of course, that's how he came to know and be with Haniford. They were old acquaintances. See, there are several letters. Heatherwick took two or three of the envelopes in his hand, and looked closely at them. He perceived at once what Matherfield had not noticed. "'Just so,' he said, but what's of far more importance is the date. "'Look at this, you see. "'That shows that Granite was living at Selethwaite ten years ago.

"'It was of that time that Haniford was talking to him in the train. "'Oh, we're getting at something,' assented Matherfield. "'Now we'll put everything back, "'and I'll take this box away and examine it thoroughly at leisure.' He replaced the various articles, twisted a cord round the box, nodded it, and turned to the dead man's clothes, lying neatly folded on a chair close by. I haven't had a look at the pockets of those things yet. He continued, I'll just take a glance, you never know. Heatherwick again watched in silence.

There was little of interest revealed until Matherfield suddenly drew a folded bit of paper from one of the waistcoat. pockets. Smoothing it out, he uttered a sharp exclamation. Good, he said, see this? A brand-new five-pound note. Now, I'll lay anything. He hadn't had that on him long. Got it that night, doubtless. And from whom? I should say Haniford gave it to him, suggested Heatherwick, but Matherfield shook his head and put the note in his own pocket. That's a definite clue, he said, with emphasis, I can trace that. End of Chapter 8. Chapter 9 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher.

This Librivox recording is in the public domain. The Medicine Bottle Heatherwick went away from the sordid atmosphere of Fligwood's rents, wondering more than ever at this new development. He continued to wonder and to speculate all the rest of that day and most of the next. That Granite's sudden death had followed on Hanifords seemed to him assure proof that there was more behind this mystery than anybody had so far conceived of. Personally, he had not the slightest doubt that whoever poisoned Haniford had also poisoned Granite. and he was not at all surprised when late in the afternoon of the day following upon that of the visit to dorking,

Matherfield walked into his chambers with a face full of news. I know what you're going to tell me, Matherfield, said Hetherwick, motioning his visitor to an easy chair. The doctors have held a post-mortem on granite, and they find that he was poisoned. Well, and that's just what I was going to tell you, he answered. That's what they do say. Same doctors that performed the autopsy on Hannaford. Doesn't surprise you? Not in the least, replied Hetherwick.

I expected it. They're sure of it? Dead certain. But, as in Hannaford's case, they're not certain of the particular poison used. However, also, as in his case, they've submitted the whole case to two big swells in that line, one of them, the man that's always employed by the home office in these affairs, and the other, that famous specialist at St. Martha's Hospital, I forget his name, they'll get to work, they're at work on the Haniford case now,

difficult job, I understand, some very subtle poison, probably little known, however, I believe we've got a clue about it. A clue about the poison? exclaimed Heatherwick. What clue? Well, this, answered Matherfield. After you'd gone away from Fligwood's rents yesterday afternoon, and while I was making arrangements for the removal of the poor chap's body,

I took another careful look around the room. Now, if you noticed things as closely as... as all that, you may have observed that Granite's bed was partly in a sort of alcove, the head part. In the corner of that alcove, or recess, just where he could have set them down by reaching his arm out of bed, I found a bottle and a glass tumbler. The bottle was an ordinary medicine bottle, not a very big one. It had the cork in it, and about an inch of fluid, which on taking out the cork, I found to be whiskey, and, I should say by the smell, whiskey of very good quality. But I noticed that there was the very slightest trace of some sort of sediment at the bottom.

There was a trace of similar sediment in the bottom of the tumbler. Now, of course, I put these things up most carefully, sealed them, and handed them over to the doctors. For it was very evident to me reconstructing things, you know, that granite had mixed himself a drink, a nightcap, if you like to call it, so from that bottle on getting into bed, and then had put bottle and glass down by his bedhead in a corner. and just as I mean to trace that five-pound note, Mr. Heatherwick, so I mean to trace that bottle. How? asked Heatherwick, closely interested.

And to what or whom? To the chemists where it came from, answered Matherfield. It came from some chemists, and I'll find which. There are hundreds of chemists in London, said Heatherwick. It's a stiff proposition. "'It's going to be done anyway,' asserted Matherfield, "'and it mayn't be such a stiff job as at first it looks to be. "'See here, there were labels on that bottle.

"'Both of them torn and defaced, it's true, "'but still with enough on them to narrow down the field of inquiry. "'I've had the face of the bottle photographed. "'Here's a print of the result. "'He brought out a photographic print, roughly finished, and mounted on a card, and handed it over to Heatherwick, who took it to the light and examined it carefully. It showed the front of the medicine bottle with a label at the top and another at the bottom. Each had been torn, as if to obliterate names and addresses, but a good deal of the lettering

was left. Reader's note, here follows an illustration of the top and bottom pieces of the label. The top piece reads as follows. C. period A, blank, comma, esquire, comma, blank. The mix, blank, R.E, as before, blank. Number A, period, 1152, blank. The bottom piece reads as follows. Note, period. This medicine has been dispensed by a fully qualified chemist

with the blank two possible drugs. blank is guaranteed blank wishes of blank the P-R-E-S-Hifin blank M-P-S-B-M-P-S-B-S-B-S-W-C. End of Reader's note. That top labels the thing, Mr. Heatherwick, remarked M-E-F-E-E-F-E-E-Field. let me get that hiatus filled up with the name and address of the chemist, and I'll soon find out who C-A-blank Esquire is. The chemist is one in the West Central District.

He's a member of the Pharmaceutical Society. He'll have somebody whose initials are CA on his books. He'll recognize the number A-1152 of the prescription. It's a decided clue. and even if there are, as there undoubtedly are, scores of chemists in the West Central District, I'll run this one down. Heatherwick handed back the photograph and began to pace up and down the room. Suddenly he turned on his visitor, his mind made up to tell him what he himself had been doing. Matherfield, he said dropping into his chair again and adopting a tone of confidence,

what do you make of this? I mean, what's your theory? Is it your opinion that the deaths of these two men are, so to speak, all of a piece? That is my opinion, answered Matherfield, with an emphatic nod. I have no more doubt about it than I have, that I see you, Mr. Hetherwick. All of a piece, to be sure. Whoever poisoned Hannaford, poisoned granite. I'll tell you how I've figured it out, since the doctors told me only a couple of hours since what their opinion is about Granite. This way, Hanneford and Granite knew each other at Salithwaite ten years ago. That night, when Granite left Appliard in Horse Ferry Road and turned into Victoria Street, he met Haniford accidentally. Why accidentally? Well, that's what I think, said Matherfield.

I figured in that way. Of course, it may have been an appointment, but anyway, they met. We know that. Now then, where did they spend their time between then and the time they got into your carriage at St. James's Park? We don't know. But here comes in an unknown factor. What about the strange man at Victoria, the man muffled to his eyes? Two things suggest themselves to me, Mr. Heatherwick. did Haniford take Granite to see that man, or did Haniford and Granite meet at that man's? For I think that man, whoever he is, is at the bottom of everything. Why should they meet at that man's, asked Heatherwick? Well, answered Matterfield, I think that secret of Hanifords has something to do with it.

He had the sealed packet on him when he left Malta's hotel. It had disappeared when we searched his clothing after his death. Now the granddaughter says it had to do with chemicals. Suppose the tall, muffled man was a chap whose business opinion on this secret, Haniford wanted, and that they met at Victoria and went to the man's rooms somewhere in that district. Suppose Granite, another man in the chemistry line, came there knowing both. Suppose the muffled man poisoned both of them to keep the secret to himself. Do you see what I'm after? Very well. There you are. The thing is to hunt out that man

whoever he is. I wish I knew what Hanford's secret was, though. It's precise nature. Matherfield, said Heatherwick, I'll tell you, you've been very confidential with me. I'll be equally so. with you on condition that we work together from this. The fact is, I've been at work. I'm immensely interested in this case. Ever since I saw Hanifer die in that train, in that awfully mysterious fashion, it's fascinated me, and I'm going to the very end of it. Now, I'll tell you all I've been doing and what I've discovered. Listen carefully. He went on to tell his visitor the whole details of his visit to Salithwaite of the results of his investigations there, and of Rona's doings and observations at Rivers-Reed Court. Matherfield listened in absorbed silence.

Is Miss Haniford going to this secretorship, then? He demanded abruptly at the end of Heatherwick's story. Is it settled? Practically, yes, replied Heatherwick. I heard from Lady Rivers Reed this morning, so did Mr. Kenthwaite. We gave Miss Haniford to be known to Lady Rivers Reed as Miss Featherstone. Very good recommendations for the post, and I expect that as soon as she's had our letters, Lady Rivers Read will telephone to Miss Haniford that she's to go at once. Then she'll go. To act as a spy, suggested Matherfield. "'If you put it that way, yes,' assented Heatherwick. "'Though, from what she saw of her yesterday,

"'Miss Haniford formed a very favorable opinion of Lady Rivers-Reed. "'However, I'm so certain that somehow or other, "'perhaps innocently, she's connected with this affair, "'that we mustn't lose any chance.' "'And Miss Haniford will report anything likely to you?' asked Matherfield. "'Just so.' Miss Hanifers' duties don't include any Sunday work. On Sunday, she'll come to town, and if there's anything to tell, she'll tell it, to me.

She's a smart, clever girl, Matherfield, and she'll keep her eyes open. Matherfield nodded, and for a while sat silence, evidently lost in his own thoughts. Oh, she's a clever girl right enough, he said suddenly. Hmm. I wonder who this Lady Rivers-Reed really is now. This Lady Rivers-Reed, laughed Heatherwick, a multi-millionaireess. I just so, but who was she before her marriage? If she is the woman who was known as Mrs. Whittingham,

can there be any doubt about it after what I found out? You never know, Mr. Heatherwick. Lord bless you, they talk about the... the long arm of coincidence, why in my time I've known of things that make me feel there's nothing wonderful about the most amazing coincidence. But if Lady Rivers-Reed used to be Mrs. Whittingham, then I'd like to know all about Mrs. Whittingham until she became Lady Rivers-Reed, and who she was before she was Mrs. Whittingham, if she ever was Mrs. Whittingham. "'Stiff job, Matherfield,' said Hetherwick.

"'I think we shall have enough to do to keep an eye on Lady Rivers' Reed.' "'You anticipate something there?' suggested Matherfield. "'I think something may transpire,' replied Hetherwick. Matherwick got to his feet. "'Well, he said, keep me informed, and I'll keep you informed. We've something to go on. Lord knows what we shall make out of it. "'You're doing your best to trace the tall man?' asked Heatherwick. "'Best,' exclaimed Matherfield, with an air of disgust.

"'We've done our best and our better than best. "'I've had special men all round the Victoria District. "'I should think every tall man in that part's been eyed over, "'and I believe that Mr. Ledbitter has so got the thing on his brain "'that he's been spending all his spare time, controlling the neighborhood and going in and out of restaurants and saloons looking for the man he saw, of course without result. All the same, said Heatherwick, that man is somewhere.

Mathurfield went away, and except at the inquest on granite, whereat nothing transpired, which was not already known, Heatherwick did not see him again for several days. He himself progressed no further in his investigations during that time. Rona Hanford, we took herself to Rivers-Reed Court as secretary to its mistress's home, and until the Sunday succeeding his departure, Hetherwick heard nothing of her. Then she came up to town on the Sunday morning, and, in accordance with their previous agreement,

Heatherwick met her at Victoria, and took her to lunch at a neighboring hotel. Anything to tell, he asked when they had settled down to their soup. Any happenings? Nothing, answered Rona. Everything exceedingly proper, business-like, orderly. And Lady Rivers-Reed appears to me to be a model sort of person. Her devotion to that home and its inmates is remarkable.

I don't believe anything's going. going to happen, or that I shall ever have anything to report. Well, that'll have its compensations, said Heatherwick. Leave us all the more time for ourselves, won't it? He gave her a look to which Rona responded, shyly, but unmistakably. She knew, as well as he did, that they were getting fond of each other's society, and they continued to meet on Sundays, and three or four went, by, and still she had nothing to tell that related to the mystery of Hannaford and Granite.

Three weeks elapsed before Matherfield had anything to tell either. Then he walked into Heatherwick's chambers one morning with his news in his face. Traced it, he said, "'Knew I should, that five-pound note, brand-new. Only a question of time to do that, of course.' Well, inquired Heatherwick, it was one of twenty-fifers paid by the cashier of the London and Country Bank in Piccadilly to the Secretary of Vivians, continued Matherfield, date a day before Haniford's death. Vivians, let me tell you, is a swell nightclub. Now then, how did that note get into the hands of granite? That's going to be a stiffen. so stiff that i'm afraid you mustn't ask me to go in at it agreed heatherwick good-humoredly i must stick to my own line when the chance comes

the chance came on the following sunday when in pursuance of now established custom he met rona she gave him a significant look as soon as she got out of the train news at last she saw she had out of the train news at last she said as they turned up the platform, something's happened, but what it means, I don't know. End of Chapter 9. Chapter 10 of the Jarring Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. The Mysterious Visitor The Head Waiter in the restaurant to which Heatherwick and Rona repaired every Sunday immediately upon her arrival, now knew these two well by sight, and forming his own conclusions about them, always reserved for them a table in a quiet and secluded corner.

Hither they now proceeded, and had scarcely taken their accustomed seats, before Rona plunged into her story. "'I expect you want to know what it's all about, so I won't keep you waiting,' she said. It was on Friday, Friday morning, that it happened, and I have thought of writing to you about it that evening. Then I thought it best to tell you personally today, besides there are things to explain. I'd better explain them first. Our arrangements down there at Rivers Reed, for instance, they're like this.

Lady Rivers Reed and I always breakfast together at the court about nine o'clock. At ten, we go across the grounds to the home. There we have a sort of formal office, two rooms, one of which, the first opening from the hall, I have, the other opening out of it, is Lady Rivers-Reed's Private Sanctum. In the hall itself, we have an ex-army man, Mitchell, as Hall Porter, to attend to the door, and so on. All the morning we are busy with letters, accounts, reports of the staff, and that sort of thing. We have lunch at the home, and we're generally busy until four or five o'clock.

Got that? Every scrap, replied Hetherwick, perfectly plain. Very well, continued Rona. One more detail, however. A good many people, chiefly medical men and folk interested in home. and hospitals, call wanting to look over and to know about the place, which I may tell you in parenthesis, costs Lady Rivers-Reed a pretty tidy penny. Mitchell's instructions, as regards all callers, are to bring their cards to me. I interview them first. If I can deal with them,

I do. If I think it necessary or desirable, I take them in to Lady Rivers-Reed. We have to sort them out. Some, I am sure, come out of mere idle curiosity. In fact, the only visitors we want to see there are either medical men who have a genuine interest in the place and can do something for it, or people who are connected with its particular inmates. Well, on Friday morning last, about a quarter to twelve, as I was busy with my letters, I heard a car come up the drive, and presently Mitchell came into my room with a card, bearing the name Dr. Cyprian Basvary. Instead of being an engraved card, as by all of recognized standards it should have been, it was a printed card. That was the first thing I noticed.

Your powers of observation, remarked Heatherwick, admiringly, are excellent and should prove most useful. Thank you for the compliment, but that didn't need much observation, retorted Rona with a laugh. It was obvious. However, I asked Mitchell what Dr. Bazvary wanted. Mitchell replied that the gentleman desired an interview with Lady Rivers Reed. Now, as I said before, we never refused doctors, so I told Mitchell to bring Dr. Buzz Verie to me. A moment later, Dr. Buzz Verie entered. I want to describe him particularly, and you must listen most attentively. Figure then, to yourself, a man of medium height,

neither stout nor slender, but comfortably plump, and apparently about 45 years of age, Dressed very correctly and fashionably in a black morning coat and vest, dark striped trousers, immaculate as to linen and neckwear, and furnished with a new silk hat, pearl-gray gloves, and a tightly rolled gold-mounted umbrella. Incidentally, he wore a thin gold watch chain, white spats, and highly polished shoes. Got that? "'I see him, his clothes and things, I mean,' assented Heatherwick.

"'Fashionable medico sort, evidently, but himself.' "'Now his face,' continued Rona, "' Imagine a man with an almost absolutely bloodless countenance, "'a face the color of old ivory, "'lightened by a pair of peculiarly piercing eyes, "'black as slows, and the pallor of the face heightened by a rather heavy black mustache, and equally black, slightly crinkled hair,

thick enough above the ears, but becoming sparse and thin on the crown. Imagine two, a pair of full red lips above a round, but determined chin, and a decidedly hooked nose, and you have the man I'm describing. "'Hm,' said Hetherwick, reflectingly. "'Hebraic, I think, from your description.' "'That's just what I thought myself,' agreed Rona. "'I said to myself at once, "'whatever and whoever else you are, my friend, you're a Jew.'

"'But the creature's manner and speech were English enough, "'very English. "'He had all the well-accustomed air "'of the medical practitioner, who is also a bit of a man of the world, and I saw at once that anybody who tried to fence with him would usually come off second best. His explanation of his presence was reasonable and commonplace enough.

He was deeply interested in the sort of cases we had in the home and desired to acquaint himself with our methods and arrangements, and so on. He made use of a few technical, terms and phrases which were quite beyond my humble powers, and I carried in his card to Lady Rivers Reed. Lady Rivers-Reed is always accessible when there's a doctor in the case, and in two minutes Dr. Buzz Verie was closeted with her. That ends the first chapter, I suppose, said Heatherwick. Interesting, very, a good curtain. And the next? The event. The event. The event. The

The events of the second chapter, replied Rona, took place in Lady Rivers-Reed's room, and I cannot even guess at their nature. I can only tell of things that I know, but there's a good deal in that. To begin with, although Dr. Bazvary had said to me that he desired to see the home, which, of course, in the ordinary way, meant his being either taken round by Lady Rivers-Reed, or by our resident-house physician, he was not taken round. He never left that room from the moment he entered it until the moment in which he left it, and he remained an entire hour. With Lady Rivers-Reed? With Lady Rivers-Reed. She never left it either, nor did I go in it.

She hates me to go in if she has anybody with her at any time. No, there are those two were together from ten minutes to twelve until five minutes to one. Yet the man had said he wanted to look round. Is there any other way by which they could have left that room, suggested Heatherwick, another door or a French window? There is nothing of the sort, the door into. my room is the only means of entrance or exit to or from Lady Rivers' Reeds. No, they were there all the time.

Did you hear anything? Nothing. The house in which Lady Rivers-Reed set up this home is an old, solid, well-built one. None of your modern Jimcrack work in it. It's a far better house than the court, grand as that may be. all the doors and windows fit. I never heard a sound from the room. Well, asked Heatherwick, after due meditation,

and at the end of the hour? At the end of the hour, the door suddenly opened, and Dr. Bazvary appeared, hat, gloves, and umbrella in hand. He half turned as he came out and said a few words to Lady Rivers' Reed. I heard them. He said, Well, then, next Friday morning at the same time. Then he nodded, stepped into my room, closed the door behind him, made me a very polite, smiling bow as he passed my desk, and went out.

A moment later he drove off in his car. It had been waiting at the entrance all that time. I suppose that's the end of Chapter 2, suggested Heather, is there more? Some, responded Rona. During the hour which Dr. Basveri had spent with Lady Rivers-Reed, I had been very busy typing letters. When he had gone, I took them into her room so that she could sign them.

I suppose I was a bit curious about what had just happened and may have been more than usually observant. Anyway, I felt certain that the visit of this man man, whoever he is, had considerably upset Lady Rivers-Reed. She looked it. Precisely how, inquired Heatherwick. Well, I couldn't exactly tell you. Perhaps a man wouldn't have noticed it, but being a woman, I did, she was perturbed. She'd been annoyed or distressed or surprised or something. I saw signs, which, as a woman, unmistakable to a woman. The man's visit had been distasteful, troubling. I'm as certain of that,

as I am, that this is roast mutton. Did she say anything? Not one word. She was unusually taciturn, silent, in fact. No, on reflection she never spoke a word while I was in her room. I took the letters away and began putting them in their envelopes. Sooned afterwards, Lady Rivers-Reed came through my room and went out, and I saw her go across the grounds to the court. She didn't turn up at the usual luncheon at the home, and I didn't see her again that afternoon. In fact, I didn't see her again that day,

for when I went home to the court at five o'clock, Lady Rivers-Reed's maid told me that her mistress had gone up to town and wouldn't be home until late that night. I went to bed before she returned. Next morning, suggested Heatherwick. Next morning she was just as usual, and things went on in the usual way. Did she ever mention this man and his visit to you? asked Heatherwick.

No, not a word of him. But I found out something about him myself on Friday afternoon. What, something relevant? Maybe relevant to something. I was wondering about him and his printed card. I thought it odd that a medical man, so smartly dressed and all that, should present a card like that, not one well-printed, a cheap thing. Besides, it had no address.

I wondered, mere inquisitiveness, perhaps, where the creature came from. Now, we've a jolly good lot of usual reference books there at the home, and there's a first class, right up-to-date, medical directory amongst them. So I looked up the name of Dr. Cyprian Vasevri. I say I looked it up, but I didn't do that, for it wasn't there. He's neither an English nor a Scotch nor an Irish medical man. Foreigner, then, said Heatherwick, French, perhaps, or American. Maybe an Egyptian or a Persian or a Eurasian for anything I know, remarked Rona.

What I know is that he's not on the list in that directory, though from his speech and manner you'd think he'd been practicing in the West End all his life. Anyway, that's the story. Is there anything in it? Heatherwick picked up his glass of claret by its stem and looked thoughtfully through the contents of the bull. The particular thing is the extent and quality of Lady Rivers-Reed's annoyance, or dismay, or perturbationed by the man's visit, he said at last, if she would was really very much upset. If you want my honest opinion as an eyewitness and as a woman, remarked Rona,

Lady Rivers-Reed was very much upset. She gave me the impression that she just received very bad, disconcerting, unpleasant news. After seeing and watching her as she signed the letters, I had no doubt whatever that the man had deliberately lied to me when he said he wanted to see the home and it's working. What he really wanted was access to Lady Rivers' Reed. "'Look here,' exclaimed Heatherwick suddenly.

"'Were you present when this man went into Lady Rivers' Reed's room?' "'Present? Of course I was. I took him in myself. You saw the meat, to be sure.' "'Well, then, you know, were they strangers? Did she recognize him? Did she show any sign of recognition whatever when she set eyes on him? No, none. I am perfectly certain she'd never seen the man before in her life. I could quite well see that he was an absolute stranger to her. And she to him? Oh, that I don't know. He may have seen her a thousand times,

but I'm sure she had never seen him. Heatherwick laid down his knife and fork with a gesture of finality. I'm going to find out who that chap is, he answered. Got to. You think his visit may have something to do with this? asked Rona. May. Yes, anyhow, I'm not going to let any chance go. There's enough mystery in what you tell me about the man to make it worthwhile following him up. It must be done. How will you do it? You say, he said he was going there again next Friday at the same time?

Well, the thing to do then is to watch and follow him when he goes away. I'm afraid I'm no use for that. He'd know me. Nor am I. I'm too conspicuous, laughed Hetherwick. If I were ahead and shoulders shorter, I might be some use, but I've got the very man, my clerk, one Mapperly. He's just the sort to follow and dog anybody and yet never be seen himself. As you'll say, when you've the pleasure of seeing him, mapperly's the most ordinary, commonplace chap you've ever set your eyes on, pass absolutely unnoticed in any cockney crowd. But he's as sharp as they make him, veiling a peculiar astuteness under his eminently undistinguished features.

And what I shall do is this. I'll give Mapperly a full and detailed description of Dr. Cyprian Buzveri. I've memorized yours already. Mapperly will memorize mine. Now Bazverly, whoever he may be, will probably go down to Dorking by the Ten Ten from here, so will Maperly. And after Maperly has once spotted his man, he'll not lose sight of him.

And he'll do what? Asked Rona. Follow him to Dorking, watch him, follow him back to London, find out where he goes when he returns, run him to Earth, in fact. Then he'll report to me, and we shall know more than we know now,

and also what to do next. I wonder what it's all going to lead to, said Rona. Pretty much of a maze, isn't it? It is, agreed Heatherwick. But if we can only get a firm hold on a thread. And that might break, she laughed. Well, then, one that won't break, he said. There are several loose ends lying about already.

Matherfield's got a hold on one or two. He went to see Matherfield next morning and told him the story that he had heard from Rona. Matherfield grew thoughtful. Well, Mr. Hetherwick, he said after a pause, it's, as I've said before, if this Lady Rivers-Reed is mixed up in it, the thing to do is to go back and get as full a history as can possibly got of her antecedents. "'We'll have to get on to that, but we'll wait to see what that clerk-reviewers discovers about this man. "'There may be something in it. In the meantime, I'm hard at work on my own clues.'

"'Any luck?' asked Heatherwick. "'Scarcely that, but, as I say, we're at work. "'The five-pound note is a difficult matter, given in change, of course, at Vivian's nightclub, but they tell me there that it's no uncommon thing to change ten, twenty, even fifty-pound notes for their customers. It's a swell lot who foregather there, and of course they've no recollection whatever about that particular note or night. Still, the fact remains. That note came through Vivians, and through one of its frequenters, two granite, and I'm in hopes. And the medicine bottle, suggested Heatherwick.

Ah, there is more chance, responded Matherfield, with a lightning eye. That's only a question of time. I've got a man going round all the chemists in the West Central District. Stiff job, for there are more of them than I believed, but he's bound to hit on the right one eventually. And then, well, we shall have a pretty good idea, if not positive proof as to how granite got hold of the stuff that poisoned him. I suppose there is no doubt that there was poison in that bottle, inquired Heatherwick.

According to the specialists, none required Matherfield, and in the glass too. What sort of poison I don't know. You know what these experts are, so mysterious about things. But they have told me this. the stuff that settled Granite was identical with that which finished off Hanford. That's certain. Then it probably came from the same source, said Hetherwick. Oh, my notion is that the man, or men, who poisoned one man, poisoned the other, exclaimed Matherfield, and at the same time.

At least I think Granite got his dose at the same time. probably carried it off at his pocket and drank it when he got home. But we shall trace that bottle. Let me know what you find out about this man, Bazvary, Mr. Heatherwick. Every little helps. Heatherwick duly coached Maperly in the part he wanted him to play, and Maperly, with money in his pockets and a pipe in his mouth, lounged off to Victoria on the following Friday morning.

His principal saw nothing and heard nothing of him all that day. End of Chapter 10 Chapter 11 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Lady Rivers read. As Heatherwick was breakfasting next morning, mapperly, outwardly commonplace and phlegmatic as ever, walked into his room.

A brief outline first, Mabberley commanded Hetherwick instinctively senting news. Details later. Well, spotted him at once at Victoria, said Maburly. Followed him down there. He was at Rivers Reed an hour, then went back to Dorking, had lunch at Red Lion, stopped there till four o'clock, lunching and idling, went back to town by the 429, arriving six, five. I followed him then to the Café de Paris. He dined there and hung about till past ten,

and then he went to Vivian's nightclub. Heatherwick pricked up his ears at that. Vivian's nightclub. Here, at any rate, seemed to be a link in the chain of which Matherfield believed himself to hold at least one end. The five-pound note found on granite had been traced to Vivian's nightclub, now Mapperly had tracked Lady Rivers-Reed's mysterious visitor to the same resort. To Vipian's nightclub, eh, Mapperly? He said, let's see. Where is that?

Entrance is in candlestick passage off St. Martin's Lane, replied Mapperly, with promptitude. Clubs on the first floor, Charlie finds suite of rooms, too. You've been in it, suggested Hetherwick, twice. Not last night. night, though. You didn't give me any further orders than to see where he went finally, after returning to town. So, when I'd run him to Earth at Vivians, I went home. I argued that if he was wanted further, Vivians would find him. All right, Mapley, but before that, you followed him to Rivers Reed Court? Maperly grinned widely. No, I did better than that. I was there before him, much better that than following.

I spotted him quick enough at Victoria, and made sure he'd got the ten-ten. Then I got in. As soon as we got to Dorking, I jumped out, got outside the station, and chartered a taxi, and drove off to Rivers Reed Court. I made the driver hide his cab up the road. I laid low in the plantation opposite the entrance gates.

Presently, my lord came along and drove up to the house. He was the best part of the house. hour, then he drove off again towards dorking. I followed at a good distance, keeping him in sight all the same. He got out of his conveyance in the High Street. So did I. He went into the Red Lion. So did I. He had lunch there. So had I. After that, he lounged about in the smoking room. I kept an eye on him. I suppose he didn't meet anybody? Nobody. Well, and at the Café de Paris. Did he meet anybody there? He exchanged a nod and a word here and there with men and women that came in and went out, but as to any arranged meeting, I should say not. I should say,

too, that he was well known at the Café de Paris. Did he seem to be a man of means? You know what I mean. He did himself very well at lunch and dinner, anyway, said Maperly, with another grin, bottle of claret at Dorking, and a bite of champagne at the Café de Paris, big cigars, too. That sort of man, you know. Heatherick considered matters a moment. How did you get into this Vivian's nightclub? he asked suddenly. Hey, answered Mappily, laconically, at the door. Some nonsense about being proposed, but that's all Bosch.

Two of you go, say, Brown and Smith. Brown proposes Smith and Smith proposes Brown. All rot. Anybody can get in with money. And what goes on there? Dancing, drinking, devilry. Quite respectable, though, replied Maperly. Been no prosecutions anyway, so far. What time does it open? Nine o'clock, answered Mapperly with a suggestive grin. In the old days, it didn't open till after the theaters, but now, earlier. Really, not a nightclub at all, in the old acceptation of the term, suggested Heatherwick. Evening, really. That's about it, agreed Matherley. Anyhow, it's Vivian's. For the second time in the course of his investigations, Heatherwick's thoughts turned to Boxley.

Boxley's love of intimate acquaintances with all sides of London life had doubtless led him to look in at Vivians, he would ask Boxley for some further information, and he looked up Boxley at the club. Boxley knew Vivians well enough, innocent and innocuous now, said Boxley, what with all these new regulations and so on, degenerated indeed, or improved, just whichever you regarded it, into a supper club and that sort of thing.

Dancing? Oh, yes, there was dancing, and so on, but things had altered. Altered. Well, I don't want to dance there, nor to go there at all, for that matter, unless I'm obliged to, said Heatherwick. What I want to know is something about a man who, I believe, frequent. the place, a somewhat notable man. Describe him, commended Boxley. Hetherick retailed Rona's description of Basverie. Boxley nodded. I know that man, by sight, he said, seen him there.

I believe he's something to do with the proprietorship, that place is owned by a small syndicate, but I don't know his name. I've seen him outside, too, round about Leicester Square, and its purloos. Heatherwick went from Boxley to Matherfield and told him the result of Mappertley's work. I know Vivians, of course, said Matherfield. Been in there two or three times lately

in relation to this five-pound note. Don't remember seeing this man, though, but in view of what your clerk says, I'd like to see him. Come with me. We'll go tonight. Make it Monday, suggested Hetherick. and tomorrow, Sunday, I shall be meeting Miss Hanford again, and before we go to Vivians, I'd like to know if she has anything to tell about the last visit of Basvili to Rivers-Reed Court, the visit that Mapily watched yesterday. She may have.

Monday night, then, agreed Motherfield. I don't know what we can expect, but I'd certainly like to know who this man is and why he goes to Lady Rivers' Reed. "'No good, you may be sure,' said Heatherwick. "'But we'll ferret it out, somehow. "' Odd that things seem to be centering round Vivians,' mused Matherfield. "'The fiver, and now this. "'Well, Monday evening, then, perhaps Miss Hannaford can supply a bit of extra news tomorrow.' "'Hetherwick, meeting Rona at Victoria next day, "'found his arm grasped in Rona's right hand and himself twisted round.

If you want to see Lady Rivers-Reed in the flesh, there she is, whispered Rona, came up by the same train, there, going towards the bookstall, a tall man with her. At that moment, Lady Rivers-Reed turned to speak to a porter who was carrying some light luggage for her, and Heatherwick had a full and good view of her face and figure, a fine, handsome, capable-looking woman, he said to himself, and one that once seen would not easily be forgotten. Who's the man, he asked, looking from Lady Riversree to her companion,

a tall bronzed man of military appearance, and apparently of about her own age. Major Pentany, replied Rhoda promptly. He's a friend of hers, who takes a tremendous interest in the home. In fact, he acts as a sort of representative of it here in town. He's often down at the country. court. I believe he's in love with her. Well-matched couple, observed Hetherwick, as the two people

under notice moved away towards the exit, and what's Lady Rivers-Reed come up for? Oh, I don't know that, replied Rona. She never tells me anything about her private doings. I heard her say that she was going to town this morning and shouldn't be back until Tuesday, but that's all I know. That man, Buzz Villy, came again on Friday, suggested Heatherwick, but I know he did. Mappily watched him. Anything happen? Nothing, except that Lady Rivers-Reed told me that if Dr. Bazvary called, he was to be brought into her at once, answered Rona. He came at the same time as before, and was with her an hour. Any signs on her part of being further upset? asked Heatherwick.

"'No. On the contrary, she seemed quite cool and collected after he'd gone,' said Rona. "'Of course she made no reference to his visit.' "'Has she never mentioned him to you?' "'Never, in spite of the fact that his professed object was to see the home and the patience. "'He's seen neither.' "'Which shows that that was all a mere excuse to get speech with her,' muttered Heatherwick. "'Well, we are going to find. out who this Dr. Buzzvelli is. Matherfield and I intend to get in touch with him tomorrow night.

But when the next night came, Heather Wiggs plans about the visit to Vivians were frustrated by an unexpected happening, and neither he nor Matherfield as much as crossed the threshold of the nightclub in Candlestick Passage. They went there at ten o'clock. That, said Matherfield was a likely hour. Between then and 1130, the place would be full of its habitual frequenters. The notion was to mingle unobtrusively with whatever crowd chance to be there, and to keep eyes and ears open for whatever happened to transpire. Candlestick passage, unfamiliar to Heatherwick until that evening, proved to be one of the many narrow alleys, which open out of St. Martin's lane in the neighborhood of the theaters. It were a very commonplace, not to say shabby complexion,

and there was nothing in its atmosphere to suggest adventure or romance, nor was there anything alluring about the entrance to Vivian's, which was merely a wide double doorway, ornamented by two evergreen shrubs, set in tubs, and revealing swing doors within, and a carpeted staircase beyond. Heatherwick and Matherfield, however, never reached swing doors or staircase. As they approached the outer entrance, a tall woman emerged, and without so much as a look right or left, turned down the passage toward the street. She paid no attention to the two men as she walked quickly past them, but Heatherwick softly seized his companion's arm. Lady Rivers Read, by all that's wonderful, he exclaimed under his breath. That woman. Matherfield turned sharply, gazing after the retreating figure. "'That?' he said, incredulously. Coming out of here? Certain? "'Dead sure,' affirmed Hetherwick. I knew her at once. I'd had a particularly good look at her

yesterday. That's she.' "'What's she doing at Vivians?' muttered Matherfield. "'Queer that.' "'But she's going away from it,' said Hetherick. Let's see where she goes. We can easily come back here, but why not follow her first? Good, agreed Matherfield. Come on then. Easily keep her in sight. Lady Rivers-Reed at that moment was turning out of the passage to her left hand. When the two men emerged from it, she was already several yards ahead, going toward St. Martin's Church. Her tall figure made her good to follow, but Matherfield kept Heatherwick back.

use, he said, in pressing too closely on your quarry, tall as she is and tall as we are, he whispered, as they threaded in and out of the crowds on the payment, we can spot her at 20 yards. Cautiously now, she's making for the cab rank. They watched Lady Rivers read charter and enter a taxi cab. In another minute it moved away, but it had scarcely moved when Matherfield was at the door of the next cab

on the rank. You saw that cab go off with a tall woman in it, he said to the driver. There, just rounding the corner, know it's driver, right, follow it carefully, note where it stops, and if the woman gets out, drive slowly past wherever that is, and then pull up a bit farther on. Be sharp now. This is, he bent towards the man and whispered a word or two. A second later, he and Heatherwick were in the cab and across the top side of Trafalgar Square. This is getting a bit thick, Mr. Heatherwick, remarked Matherfield. Your clerk tracks his man to Vivians on Friday night. We find Lady Rivers-Reed coming out of Vivians on Monday night.

Now, I shouldn't think Lady Rivers-Reed, whom we hear of chiefly as a humanitarian, a likely sort of lady to visit Vivians. "'She came out of Vivians anyway,' replied Heatherwick. "'Then, of course, she'd been in it,' said Matherfield. "'But why? I should say, to have a meeting with Bazvary, or with somebody representing him, or having something to do with the business that took him to Rivers-Reed Court. What business is it? Has it anything to do with our business? However, there's Lady Rivers-Reed in that cab in front, and we'll just follow her to find out where she goes.

No doubt she's bound for some swell west-end hotel, and that knowledge will be useful, for I may want to see her in the morning, to ask her a question or two. Somewhat early for that, isn't it, suggested Heatherwick. Do we know enough? Depends on what you call enough, replied Matherfield dryly. what I know is this. That man, Granite, was poisoned. He had on him a brand new five-pound note. That note, I've traced as far as Vivians, where it was certainly paid to some customer in change on the very day before Granite and Haniford's deaths. Vivians is accordingly a place of interest. Now I hear of a mysterious man visiting Lady Rivers' Reed.

the man is tracked to Vivians. I myself see Lady Rivers-Reed emerging from Vivians. I think I must ask Lady Rivers-Reed what she knows about Vivians and a certain Dr. Bazvary, and, incidentally, if she ever heard of a place called Selethwaite and a police superintendent named Haniford, eh? But we're leaving the region of the fashionable hotels. Hetherwick looked out of the the window, and what he saw seemed unfamiliar. We're going up Edgeware Road, said Matherfield. He leaned out of the cab and gave some further instructions to the driver. I don't want to arouse any suspicion there in front, he remarked, dropping into his seat again.

The probability is that she's going to some private house, and I don't want her to get any idea that she's followed. Ah, now we turn into Harrow Road. The cab went away by Paddington Green, turned sharply at the town hall, and made up St. Mary's terrace. Presently, it slowed down, proceeded still more slowly, past the other cab, which had come to a standstill in front of a block of high buildings. A few yards farther on, it stopped altogether. The driver got down from his seat and came to the door. "'The tall lady,' he said, confidentially. "'Her has got into the other cab.

"'She's gone into St. Mary's mansions, just below.' "'Flats, aren't they?' asked Matherfield. "'That's it, sir,' answered the driver. "'He looked down the street. "'Cab's going off again, sir. "'Porter came out and paid.' "'That looks as if she was going to stay here a while,' remarked Matherfield in an undertone,

Well, we'll get out, too, and take a look round. He paid, and dismissed the driver, and, crossing over to the opposite side of the roadway, pointed out to Heatherwick the block of flats, into which Lady Rivers Reed had disappeared. Big place, he muttered. Regular rabbit warren. However, no other entrance than this.

The old burial grounds at the back, "'No way out there. I do know that. "'So she can't very well vanish that way.' "'You are going to wait, then?' asked Heatherwick. "'I don't believe in starting out on any game, "'unless I see it through,' replied Matherfield. "'Yes, I think we'll wait. "'But there's no necessity to hang around in the open street.

"'I know this district used to be at the police station round the corner. "'You see all these houses on this side, Mr. Heatherwick? They're all lodging houses, and I know most of their keepers. Wait here a minute, and I'll soon get a room that we can watch from without being seen ourselves. He left Heatherwick standing under the shadow of a neighboring high wall, and went a little way down the street. Heatherwick heard him open the gate of one of the little gardens and knock at a door. There, some little delay. Heatherwick passed the time in staring at the long rows of lighted windows in the flats opposite, wondering to which of them Lady Rivers-Reed had gone, and what she was doing

there at all. It was clear to him that this was some adventure connected with the mysterious Basveri and with Vivian's nightclub, but how, and of what nature? Matherfield came back presently, cheerful and reassuring. Come along, Mr. Heatherwick, he whispered, there's a man here, lodging housekeeper who knows me. We can have his front parlor window to watch from. Far better than patrolling the street. We shall be comfortable there.

Your intent on watching, then, said Heatherwick as they moved off. I'm not coming all that way for nothing, replied Matherfield. I'm going to follow her up till she settles for the night. that won't be here. She'll be off to some hotel or other before long, but Matherfield's prediction proved to be faulty. Time dragged slowly by in the stuffy and shabby little room in which he and Hetherwick took up a position and from the window of which Matherfield kept a constant watch on the entrance of the flats exactly opposite. Midnight came and went, but nothing happened. and, at half-past twelve, Heatherwick suggested that the game wasn't worth the candle and that he

should prefer to depart. You do as you like, Mr. Heatherwick, said Mathefield, stifling a suspicious yawn. I'm sick enough of it, too, but here I stop till she comes out, whether it's this side of breakfast or the other side. And what then? asked Heatherwick, then we'll see, or I'll see, if you're going, where she goes next. Don't believe in half-measures, retorted Matherfield. Oh, I'll see it out, said Hetherwick. After all, it'll be daylight soon. Daylight came over the housetops at four o'clock.

They had seen nothing up to them. But at twenty minutes to five, Matherfield tugged his companion's arm. Lady Rivers Reed, in a big Ulster traveling coat and carrying a small suitcase, was emerging alone from the opposite door. End of Chapter 11. Chapter 12 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Alias Madame Listerle.

The woman thus observed marched swiftly away down the deserted street in the direction of the town hall at the corner, and Matherfield, after one more searching looking, at her, dropped the slat of the Venetian blind, through which he had been peeping, and turned on his companion. At the same instant, he reached a hand for his overcoat and hat. Now, Mr. Hetherwick, he said sharply, this has got to be a one-man job. There'll be nothing extraordinary in one man going alone along the streets to catch an early morning train, but it would look a bit suspicious if two men went together, on the same errand, and the same track. I'm home,

after her. I'll run her down. I'm used to that sort of thing. You go to your chambers and get some sleep. I'll look in later and tell you what news I have. Sharp's the word now. He was out of the room and the house within the next few seconds, and Heatherwick, half vexed with himself for having lingered there on a job which Matherfield thus unceremoniously took into his own hands, prepared to follow. presently he went out into the shabby hall. The man of the house was just coming downstairs, stifling a big yawn. He smiled knowingly when he saw Heatherwick. Matherfield gone, sir, he inquired.

I heard the door close. He's gone, assented Heatherwick. The person he wanted appeared suddenly, and he's gone in pursuit. The man, a smug-faced, easy-going sort of person, smiled again. "'Rum-doings these police do have,' he remarked. "'Queer job, watching all night through a window. "'I was just coming down to make you a cup of coffee,' he continued. "'I'll get you one in a minute, if you like, or tea now.

"'Perhaps you'd prefer tea.' "'It's very good of you,' said Heatherwick, "'but to tell you the truth, I'd rather get home and to bed. "'Many thanks all the same.' "'Then, out of sheer good nature, he slipped a treasury note into the man's hand, and, bidding him good morning, went away. He, too, walked down the street in the direction taken by Lady Rivers-Reed and her pursuer, but when he came to the bottom and emerged into Harrow Road,

he saw nothing of them, either to left or right. The road, however, was not deserted. There were already workmen going to early morning tasks, and close by the corner of the town hall, a roadman was busy with his broom. Heatherwick went up to him. Did you see a lady and then a gentleman come down here from St. Mary's Terrace just now, he asked. Tall people, both of them. The man rested on his broom, half turned, and pointed towards Paddington Bridge.

I see him, Governor, he answered. Tall lady, carrying a little portmantle, gone along over the bridge yonder, Paddington Stationway, and after her, Matherfield. Oh, you know him, do you? exclaimed Hetherwick in surprise. The man jerked a thumb in the direction of the adjacent police station. Used to be a sergeant here, did Matherfield, he replied. I knows him right enough. Once run me in, me and a mate of mine, for being a bit festive-like.

Five bob and costs, that was. But I don't bear him no grudge, not me, thank ye, governor. heatherwick left another tip behind him and walked slowly off towards edgeware road the tube trains were just beginning to run and he caught a southbound one and went down to charing cross and thence to the temple and at six o'clock he tumbled into bed and slept soundly until four hours later he heard mapperly moving about in the adjoining room mapperley whose job at heatherwicks was a good deal of a sinecure was leisurely reading the news when his master entered. He laid the paper aside and gave Heatherwick a knowing glance. Got some more information last night, he said, about that chap I tracked the other day. How did you get it? asked Heatherwick. Put in a bit of time at Vivience, answered Maperly. There is a fellow there that I know, clerk to the secretary chap, named Flowers. That man,

Bosvary has a share in the place, sort of director, I think. What time were you at Vivians? inquired Heatherwick, late or early. Early, for them, answered Maprily. Did you see the man there? I did. He was there all the time I was, in and about all the time. But at first he was in what seemed to be a serious conversation with a tall, handsome woman. They sat talking in an alcove in the lounge there sometime. Then she went off alone. Oh, you saw that, did you? said Hetherwick.

Well, I may as well tell you, since you know what you do, that the woman was Lady Rivers-Reed. Oh, I guess that, remarked Mapperly. I figured in that at once, but that wasn't all. I found out more. The dead man, Haniford, from what I heard from, from Flowers. I've no doubt whatever that Haniford was at Vivian's once, if not twice, during the two or three nights before his death. Anyway, Flowers recognized my description of him, which I got, of course, from you and the papers. Haniford. Fair, huh? exclaimed Heatherwick,

alone? No, came in with this Buzzvary. They don't know him as Dr. Buzzvary there, though, plain mister. I'm quite sure it was Hannaford who was with him. Did you get the exact dates and times? asked Hetherwick. I didn't. Flowers couldn't say that, but he remembered such a man. Well, that's something, said Hetherwick. He turned into another room and sat down to his breakfast, thinking. Mapperly, come here, he called presently. Look here, he went on as the clerk came in. Since you, know this Vivian place. Go there again tonight, and try to find out if that friend of yours knows anything of a tall man who corresponds to the description of the man whom Haniford was

seen to meet at Victoria. You read Ledbitter's account of that, given at the inquest? Yes, replied Maprily, but of what value is it? None for practical purposes. He couldn't even tell the shape of the man's nose, nor the color of his eyes. All he could tell was that he saw a man muffled in such a fashion that he saw next to nothing of his face and that he was tall and smartly dressed. There are a few tens of thousands of scores, perhaps, of tall, smartly dressed men in London. Never mind, inquire, said Heatherwick, and particularly if such a man has ever been seen in Basvary's company there. He finished his breakfast, and then, instead of going down to this, the central criminal court, after his usual habit, he hung about in his chambers expecting

Matherfield. But Matherfield did not come, and at noon Hetherwick, impelled by a new idea, left a message for him in case he called, and went out. In pursuance of this idea, he journeyed once more to the regions of Paddington, and knocked at the door of the house wherein he and Matherfield had kept watch on the flats opposite. The lodging-house, housekeeper opened the door himself and grinned on seeing Heatherwick. Heatherwick stepped inside and nodded at the door of the room which he had left only a few hours before. I want a word or two with you, he said in private. Nobody in here, sir, replied the man, come in. He closed the door on himself and his visitor, and offered Heatherwick a chair. I expected you'd be back during the day,

he said with a sly smile, either you or Matherwick. or both. You haven't seen him again, asked Heatherwick. No, he's not been here, replied the man. Well, I wanted to ask you a question, continued Heatherwick. Perhaps two or three. To begin with, have you lived here long? Been here since before these flats were built.

And that's a good many years ago. I can't say exactly how many, said the other, glancing at the big block opposite his window. 22 or three, anyway. "'Then I dare say you know most of the people hereabouts,' suggested Heatherwick, "'by sight, at any rate.' The lodging-housekeeper smiled and shook his head. "'That would be a tall order, Mr,' he answered. "'There's a few thousand of people packed into this bit of London.

"'Of course, I do know a good many, close at hand. "'But if you're a Londoner, you'll know that Londoners keep themselves to themselves. "'May seem queer, but it's a fact that I don't know the name names of my next-door neighbors on either side, though to be sure they've only been here a few years in either case. What I was suggesting, said Hetherick, was that you probably knew by sight many of the people who live in the flats opposite your house. Oh, I know some of them by sight, assented the man. They're a mixed lot over in those flats, a few old gentlemen, retired, two or three old ladies, and a fair lot of actresses.

Very popular with the stage is those flats. But, of course, it is only by sight. I don't know any of them by name. Just see them going in and coming out, you know. Do you happen to know by sight, a tall, handsome young woman, who has a flat there? asked Heatherwick, a woman who's likely to be very well-dressed. The lodging-house keeper.

who was without his coat, and had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, scratched his elbows, and looked thoughtful. "'I think I do know the lady you mean,' he said at last, "'goes out with one of those pesky little palms, "'a blackened on a lead, that her?' "'I don't know anything about a dog,' replied Heatherwick. "'The woman I mean is, as I said, tall, handsome, distinguished-looking, fair hair and a fresh complexion, and about forty or so.

I dare say that's the one I'm thinking of, said the man. I have seen such a lady now and then, not of late, though. Then he gave Heatherwick a shrewd inquiring glance. You and Matherfield after her, he asked. Not exactly that, answered Heatherwick. What I want to find out now is her name, the name she's known by here, anyway. I can soon settle that for you, said the lodging-housekeeper with alacrity.

I know the caretaker of those flats well enough. Often have a talk with him. He'll tell me anything between ourselves. Now then, let's get it right. A tall, handsome lady, about forty, fair hair, fresh complexion, well-dressed. That's it, mister? You've got it, said Heatherwick. "'Then you wait here a bit, and I'll slip across,' said the man.

"'All on the strict between ourselves, you know, as I said, "'the caretaker and me's pals.' "'He left the room, and a moment later, "'Hetherwick saw him cross the road and descend into the basement of the flats. "'Within a quarter of an hour he was back, and evidently primed with news. "'Soon settled that for you, mister,' he announced triumphantly. "'He knew who you meant. The lady's name is Madame Listerrell.

Here I got him to write it down on a bit of paper, not being used to foreign names. He thinks she's something to do with the stage. She's the tenant of flat 26. But he says that of late she seldom comes there, comes for a night or two, then away, maybe four months at a time. He saw her here yesterday, though. She hadn't been there, he says, for a good bit. but there it don't signify to him whether she's there or away,

always punctual with her money, that's the main thing, ain't it? Heatherwick added to his largesse of the early morning and went away. He was now convinced that Lady Rivers-Reed, for some purpose of her own, kept up a flat in Paddington, visited it occasionally, and was known there as Madame Listerrand. How much was there in that, and what bearing had it on the problem he was endeavoring to solve. End of Chapter 12.

Chapter 13 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Who was she? Late that night, when Hetherick was thinking things over, a pounding on his stairs and a knock on his outer door, heralded the entrance of Matherfield, who, with an expressive look, flung himself into the nearest easy-chair. "'For heaven's sake, Mr. Heatherwick, give me a drop of that whiskey,' he exclaimed.

"'I'm dead beat and dead disappointed, too. Such a day as I've had after that woman. And what it all means, the Lord only knows, I don't.' Heatherwick helped his evidently far-spent visitor to a whiskey soda, and waited until he had taken a hearty pull at it. Then he resumed his own seat and took up his pipe. I gather that you haven't had a very successful day, Matherfield, he suggested. Hope it wasn't exactly a wild goose chase. That's just about what it comes to, then, exclaimed Matherfield.

Anyway, after taking no end of trouble, she got clear away, practically under my very nose. But I'll tell you all about it. That's what I dropped in for. When I went out of that house in St. Mary's Terrace, she was just turning the corner to the right, Bishop's Roadway. Of course I followed. She went over the bridge, the big railway bridge, and at the end turned down to Paddington Station. I concluded then that she was going up by some early morning train. She entered the station by the first-class booking office.

I was not so many yards in her rear then, but instead of stopping there and taking a ticket, she went right through, crossed the station to the arrival platform, and signaled a taxi cab. In another minute she was in it and off. Very luckily, there was another cab close by. I hailed that and told the driver to keep the first cab in sight and follow it to wherever it went. So off we went again on another pursuit. and it ended at another terminus, Waterloo. Going home, I suppose, remarked Heatherwick,

as Matherfield paused to take up his glass, you can get to dorking from Waterloo. She wasn't going to any dorking, answered Matherfield. I soon found that out, early as it was. There were a lot of people at Waterloo, and when she went to the ticket office, I can drive to be close behind her, close enough at any rate to overhear anything she said,

she asked for a first single to Southampton. Southampton, exclaimed Heatherwick. Hmm. Southampton, repeated Matterfield. First single for Southampton. She took the ticket and walked away, looking neither right nor left. She never glanced at me.

Well, as I said yesterday, I don't believe in starting out on anything unless I go clean through with it. So after a minute's thought, I booked for Southampton, third. Then I went out and looked at the notice board. Southampton, 540. It was then 525. So I went to the telephone office, rang up our headquarters,

and told them I was after something they needn't expect to see me all day. Then I bought a timetable and a newspaper or two at the bookstall, just opening, and went to the train. There were a lot of people traveling by it. The train hadn't come up to the platform then. When it came down a minute or two later, I watched her get in it. She was good to spot because of her tall figure. I got into a smoker, a bit lower down, and in due course, off we went,

me wondering, to tell you the truth, precisely why I was going. But I was going wherever she went, even out of the country. country, asked Hetherwick with a smile. I thought of that, assented Matherfield. She might be slinging her hook for anything I knew. That made me turn to the steamship news in the paper, and I saw then that the Tartaric was due to leave Southampton for New York about two o'clock that very afternoon.

Well, there were more improbable things than that she meant to go by it, for reasons of her own, especially if she really is, the Mrs. Whittingham of the Sellithwaite affair ten years ago. You see, I thought it out like this. Granting she's Mrs. Whittingham, that was, she'll be astute enough to know that there's no time limits to a criminal prosecution in this country, and that she's still liable to arrest, prosecution, and conviction.

She'd probably know, too, that this Haniford affair has somehow drawn fresh attention to her little matter. and that she's in danger. Again, I'd been working out an idea about her and this man, Basveri. How do we know that Basari wasn't an accomplice of hers in that sell-a-weight fraud? In most cases of that sort, the woman has an accomplice somewhere in the background. Bas-Veri may well have been mixed with her then. And now he may have information that has led him to warn her to make herself scarce, eh? "'There's something in that, Matherfield,' admitted Hetherwick.

"'Yes, decidedly something.' "'There may be a good deal,' affirmed Matherfield. "'You see, we've let those newspaper chaps have a lot of information. "'I'm a believer in making use of the press. "'It's a valuable aid sometimes, perhaps generally, "'but there are other times when you can do too much of it. "'It's a sort of giving valuable aid to the enemy. "'I don't know whether we can do it.

haven't let these reporters know too much about this case. We've let him know, for instance, about the portrait found in Haniford's pocketbook, and about the sealed packet in which we believe was the secret of his patent. All that's been in the papers, though, to be sure, they didn't make much copy out of it. Still, there was enough for anybody who followed the case closely. Now, supposing that Basvary was Mrs. Woodingham's accomplice ten years ago, and that he'd read all this and seen the reproduction of the portrait, wouldn't he see that she was in some danger and warn her? I think it likely, and I wish we hadn't been quite so free with our news for those paper chaps. I'm glad, anyhow, that there's one thing I haven't told them of, that medicine bottle found at granites.

There's nobody but me, you, and the... the medical men who know of that, so far. You think this woman, Lady Rivers-Reed, as she is, Mrs. Whittingham, as she used to be, was making off to Southampton and possibly farther, on a hint from Basvary, said Hetherwick, ruminatively. Put it this way, replied Matherfield. Of course, you've got to assume a lot, but we can't do without assuming things in this business. Lady Rivers-Reed was formerly Mrs. Whittingham.

Mrs. Whittingham did a clever bit of fraud at Salithwaite and got away with the swag. Basvary was her accomplice. Now then, ten years later, Mrs. Whittingham has become My Lady Rivers-Reed, a very wealthy woman. She's suddenly visited by Basvary at Rivers-Reed Court and is obviously upset by his first visit. he comes again. Three nights later, she's seen to come out of a club which he frequents. She spends most of the night in a flat in a quiet part of London, and next morning slopes off as early as five o'clock to a port, Southampton. What inference is to be drawn? That her visit to Southampton has certainly something to do with Buzeri's visits to her,

and her visit to Vivians. I think there's something in that, too, said Hetherwick, but we're on the way to Southampton. Go on. Very good train that, continued Matherfield. We got to Southampton just before eight, a minute or too late. I was wanting something to eat and drink by that time, and I was glad to see my lady turn into the refreshment room as soon as she left her carriage. So did I. I knew she'd never suspect a quiet, ordinary man like her.

me, if she deigned to give me a glance, she's a very haughty-looking woman, I observed. She'd only take me for a commercial traveller. And we were not so far off each other in that room. She sat at a little table, having some tea and so on. I was at the counter. Of course, I never showed that I was taking any notice of her, but I got in two or three good comprehensive inspections. Very good-looking, no doubt of it, Mr. Heatherwick. a woman that's born well. But, of course, you've seen that for yourself. You must remember that I've only seen her twice, remarked Heather Wick with a laugh. Once at Victoria, when Miss Haniford pointed her out, once night before last, when it was a

poorish gaslight. But I'll take your word, Matherfield. Well, and what happened next? Oh, she took her time over her tea and toast, continued Matherfield. very leisureed in all her movements, I assure you. At last she moved off, of course I follow, casually and carelessly. Now, as you may be aware, Southampton West, where the train set us down, is a bit out of the town, and I expected her to take a cab. But she didn't. She walked away from the station, so did I, 20 or 30 yards in the rear. She took her time. It seemed to me she was purposely loitering. It struck me at last why. She was waiting until the business offices were open. I was right in that. As soon as the town clock struck nine, she quickened her pace and made a

B-line for her objective. And what do you think that was? No idea, said Hetherwick. White Star offices, answered Matherfield, went straight there, and walked straight in. Of course I waited. I waited. I outside where she wouldn't see me when she came out again. She was in there about 20 minutes. When she came out, she turned to another part of the town, and near that old gateway or bar, or whatever it is, that stands across the street, I lost her, all together. Some exceptional reason I should think, Matherfield, remarked Hetherwick. How was it? "'My own stupid fault,' growled Matherfield. "' Took my eye off her in a particularly crowded part.

"'The town was beginning to get very busy. "'I just happened to let my attention be diverted, "'and she was gone. "'At first I made certain she'd gone into some shop. "'I looked into several, risky as that was, "'but I couldn't find her. "'I hung about, no good. "'Then I came to the conclusion that she'd

turned down one of the side streets or alleys or passages, there were several about there, and got clean away. And after hanging around a bit, and going up one street and down another, a poor job in our business at the best of times, and all dependent on mere luck, I decided to make a bold stroke and be sure of, at any rate, something.

What? How? asked Hetherwick. I thought I'd find out what you'd find out what she'd gone to the White Star offices for, replied Matherfield. Of course, I didn't want to raise any suspicion against her under circumstances, but I flattered myself, I'm a bit of a diplomatist, and I laid my plans. I went in there, got hold of a clerk who was likely-looking chap for secret-keeping, told him who I was, and showed him my credentials, and asked him for the information.

I got it. As luck would have it, my man had attended to her himself and remembered her quite well. Of course, a little more than an hour and a half had passed since she'd been there. And what had she been in for? asked Hetherwick. What did you hear? Matherfield nodded significantly. Just what I expected, he answered. She booked a second-class passage for New York in the Tartaric, sailing that afternoon in the name of H. Cunningham.

As soon as I found that out, I knew I should come across her again. There'd be no need going raking the town for her. I ascertain that passengers would be allowed to go aboard from two o'clock. The boat would sail between five and six. So, having once more admonished the clerk to secrecy and given him plausible excuses for my inquisitiveness, I went off to relax a bit, and in due time sat down to an early and comfortable lunch. A man must take his ease now and then, you know, Mr. Heatherwick.

Exactly, Matherfield, I quite agree, said Hetherwick. But I dare say your brain was at work all the same while you ate and drank. It was, sir, assented Matherfield. Yes, I made my plans. I wasn't going to New York, of course. that was out of the question, but I was going to have speech with her. I decided that I'd watch for her coming aboard the Tartaric. Being alone, she'd probably come early.

I proposed to get her aside, accosting her, of course, as Lady Rivers read, tell her who I was, and show my papers, and ask her if she would give me any information about a certain Dr. Cyprian Baseri. I thought I'd see how she took that, before asking anything further. If I saw that she was taking a back, confused, and especially if she gave me any prevaricating or elusive answer, I'd ask her straight out,

if before her marriage to the late Sir John Rivers-Reed, she was the Mrs. Whittingham, who, some ten years ago, stayed for a time at the White Hart Hotel at Selethwaite. And I practically made up my mind, too, that if she admitted that, and I saw a good cause for it, I'd detain her. You meant to go as far as that, exclaimed Heatherwick. I did. I should have been justified, replied Matherfield. However, that's neither here nor there, for I never saw her.

I was down at the point of departure well before two, and I assured myself that nobody had gone aboard the Tartaric up to that time. I kept as sharp a little. look-out, as any man with only one pair of eyes could, right away from ten minutes to two until five and twenty minutes past five, when the boat sailed. But she never turned up. Of course, you'll say she must have slipped on, unobserved by me, but I'm positive she didn't. No, sir. It's my opinion that she thought better of it and didn't go. Forfeiting her passage money, or a part of it, would be nothing to a woman of her means, or that she was frightened at the last minute of showing herself on that stage.

Frightened? Why? asked Hetherwick. Matherfield laughed significantly. There were two or three of our men from Scotland Yard about, he answered. I'm not aware of what they were after. I didn't ask them, but I did ask them to give me a hand in looking out for a little, lady whom I fully described, which is why I'm dead certain she never went aboard. Now, it may have been that she came down there, knew, you never know, some of those chaps, and made herself scarce. Anyway, I never set eyes on her, never, in fact, saw her again

after I lost her in the morning. So, that's where I am. You came back, defeated, remarked Heatherwick. "'Well, if you like to call it so,' admitted Matherfield. "'Yes, I came back by the 738. "'Dog tired. "'But I'm not through with this yet, Mr. Heatherwick, "'and I want you to do something for me. "'This Miss Haniford now is down at Rivers Reed Court. "'They'll be on the telephone there, of course.

"'I want you to ring her up early tomorrow morning "'and ask her if she can meet you on important private business in Dorking Town at noon. Where shall we say? White Horse would do, suggested Heatherwick. Very well. White Horse Hotel at noon, agreed Motherfield. We'll go down, for I'll go with you, by the Ten Ten from Victoria.

Now, please be very careful about this, Mr. Heatherwick, when you telephone. Don't say anything of any reason for going down to dorking. Don't on any account mention Lady Rivers' research. in any way. merely tell Miss Hanford that you have urgent reasons for seeing her, and fix it up. Oh, I can fix it up all right, answered Heatherwick. Miss Haniford can easily drive down from Rivers Reed Court, but I don't know what you want her for. Wait till morning, replied Matherfield, with a knowing look. You'll see. I'll meet you at Victoria at 10 o'clock sharp.

End of Chapter 13. Chapter 14 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Is it Black Male? Heatherwick was still in ignorance of the reason of Matherfield's desire to see Rona when just before noon next day, Matherfield and he walked up from Dorking Station into the High Street and made for the white horse. Matherfield halted a few yards away from its door.

Let's wait for her outside, he said, until I've asked her a question or two. I don't want to even run the risk of being overheard. Rona came along in a car a few minutes later, and seeing the two men advanced to. meet them. Matherfield lost no time in getting to business. Miss Hannaford, he said, with a cautious look round, and in a low voice, Just tell me. Is Lady Rivers-Reed up there at the court?

She is, he continued, as Rona nodded. When did she come back, then? Very early yesterday morning, answered Rona promptly, by the seven forty five from victoria she was up at the court by nine thirty matherfield turned an utterly perplexed face on heatherwick then he stared at roma up at rivers reed court at nine thirty yesterday tuesday morning he exclaimed impossible i saw her at southampton at nine thirty yesterday morning with my own eyes i'm quite sure you didn't replied rona with a satirical laugh or under some queer mistaken impression mr matherfield lady rivers reed was in her own house here with me at nine-thirty yesterday morning that's the fact that i can vouch for the two men looked at each other each seemed to be asking the other a silent question but matherfield suddenly voiced his in tones full of one and of chagrin.

Then, who on earth is that woman that I followed to Southampton? Matterfield's question went without answer. Rona, who had no idea of what he was talking about, turned a surprise and inquiring look on Hetherwick. And Hetherwick saw that time had come for a lot of explanation. A look here, he said. We've got to do some talking, and we can't keep Miss Henniford standing in the street, coming to the hotel.

We'll get a private room for lunch, and then we can discuss matters all to ourselves. You're a bit puzzled by all this, he continued a few minutes later, turning to Rona, when all three were safely closeted together, and lunch had been ordered, and no wonder, but I'd better tell you what Matherfield and I were after on Monday night, and what Matterfield was doing all yesterday. You see, he concluded, after giving Rona an epitomized account of the research proceedings, I was absolutely certain that the woman whom we saw coming out of Vivians on Monday night was the woman you pointed out to me on Sunday morning at Victoria as Lady Rivers Reed.

She was dressed in just the same things, I'm positive, in short I'm convinced it was Lady Rivers-Reed. Then Matherfield and I are both equally sure that that was the same woman we saw coming out of St. Mary's mansions shortly before five o'clock yesterday morning, and whom Matherfield followed up to Southampton, up to now we never had a doubt that it was Lady Rivers-Reed, not a doubt. Well, said Rona with an incredulous,

left. I can't say, of course, that you didn't see Lady Rivers-Reed come out of Vivians on Monday night. Lady Rivers-Reed was certainly in town from Sunday noon to yesterday morning, and she may have gone to Vivians on Monday night for purposes of her own. I know nothing about that, but I do know that she was not in Southampton yesterday, for, as I told you, she was back home at Rivers Reed Court, about half-past nine in the morning, and she's never left past since. That's plain fact. It's beyond me, then, exclaimed Matherfield, and I say again, if that wasn't Lady Rivers-Reed that I tracked to Southampton, who was it? I'll say more. If that Vivy was, Lady Rivers' Reed, that we saw coming out of Vivians and followed to Paddington,

and if she wasn't the woman who came out of those flats yesterday morning, and that I went after, well, then Lady Rivers' Reed has a double who lives in St. Mary's Mansions. That's about it. As regards that, remarked Heatherwick, I didn't tell you last night, other field, that I went back yesterday to that house from which we watch, and made some cautious inquiries about the tall, handsome woman who has a flat opposite. I got some information. The woman whom we followed there, and whom you were running after yesterday, is known there as a Madame Listerrelle. She's very little at her flat, though punctual with its rent. She's sometimes a way altogether.

for long periods. In fact, she's rarely seen there, and she's believed to be connected with the stage. The caretaker, who supplied this information, saw her at the flat on Monday. Meatherfield smacked one hand on the open palm of the other. It's an alias, he exclaimed. Bet your stars, she's Lady Rivers Reed.

Away from her flat for long periods? of course, because she's down here at her big house. Keeps that flat up for some purpose of her own and calls herself, What is it? Sounds French. But supposing that so, remarked Heatherwick with a sly glance at Brona, it's utterly impossible that Lady Rivers-Reed could be at Rivers-Reed Court yesterday, and in Southampton at the same time. Come now. "'Well, I tell you, it beats me,' muttered Mathieu.

"'I know what I saw. "'If there's anything gone wrong, it's your fault, Mr. Heatherwick. "'I don't know this Lady Rivers-Reed. "'All I know is that you said the woman we saw coming out of that club "'was Lady Rivers-Reed. "'That, sir, is the woman I followed.' "'The woman I saw coming out of Vivians was the woman pointed out to me by Miss Hanford as Lady Rivers-Reed,

affirmed Heatherwick quietly. That's certain. But he was interrupted at this stage by the arrival of lunch. Nothing more was said until all three were seated, and the waiter had been sent away. Then Rona looked at her companions and smiled. You both seem to have arrived at a very promising, stage, she said. At first I thought it a regular impasse, but, isn't it? asked Heatherwick.

At present, I don't see any way through or over it. Oh, I think you're getting towards something, she retorted. All these things, puzzling as they are, are better than nothing. I've got some news, too, if you're sure, there are no eavesdroppers about. "'Oh, we're all right,' said Heatherwick. Good stout old doors these, close-fitting. Or next. Rona leaned across the table a little and lowered her voice. There was a sort of row at the court, at least at the home yesterday, she said,

with that man, Buzz Vali. Ah, exclaimed Heatherwick, that's interesting. Tell about it. well i told you that lady riversford arrived from london yesterday morning about nine thirty continued brona major pentany arrived with her whose major pantony demanded he's a retired army man who's greatly interested in lady riversweed's home and looks after its affairs in london replied hetherwick and miss hannahford thinks he's in love with the found I've seen him, saw him with Lady Rivers Reed on Sunday. Yes, he added, turning to Rona, Major Pantany came back with her. Go on. As soon as they arrived, I saw them come from my office window, they came across to the home,

continued Rona. It struck me that they both looked unusually grave and serious. They talked to me for a few minutes on Biddlew. business matters, then they went into Lady Rivers-Reed's private office. They were there for some little time. Then Lady Rivers-Reed came out and went away. I saw her cross to the court. Presently Major Pentany came to me and told me that he wanted to have a little private talk with me. He said, as near as I can remember, Miss Featherstone,

Matherfield looked up quickly from his plate. A, he said, Miss Featherstone. That's the name, Miss Hanford's known by there, said Heatherwick, her mother's name. I told you before, you know. True, true, assented Matherfield with a groan. You did. I remember now. I'm muddled with yesterday's affair.

Miss Featherstone, Rona went on. I believe you're aware that Lady Rivers Reed, has lately been visited, twice, by a man who called himself Dr. Buzzvelli? Yes, I answered. I am, Major Pentany. I saw Dr. Busvilly on both occasions. Well, he said, I don't suppose you were at all impressed by him. Not at all impressed, Major Pentany, I replied, except very unfavorably. didn't like his looks, eh? he asked with a smile. Do you, I inquired.

I've never seen the fellow, he answered. But I expect to, this very morning. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I believe he'll turn up about noon, as I understand. He did before, wanting, of course, to see Lady Rivers' Reed. I want you to tell the doorkeeper, Mitchell, to bring him straight in when he comes, and Mitchell is not to say that Lady Rivers-Reed is not in. She won't be in.

He's to admit him immediately. And you, if you please, are to show him straight into the private office. Instead of finding Lady Rivers-Reed there, he'll find me. Is that clear? Perfectly clear, Major Pentany, I replied. I'll see to it. Well, there's something else, he said. After I have had a little plain-spoken talk with this fellow, I shall ring the bell. I want you to come in and ditchell with you.

And that's all at present. Do you understand? I understand, Major Pentany, by answer. I'll see to it. but as you've never seen this man there's one thing i'd like to say to you he's the sort of man who looks as if he might be dangerous he smiled at that thank you he said i'm prepared for that miss featherstone you show him right in rona paused for a moment to attend to the contents of her plate but heatherwick's knife and fork had become idle so had had and Matherfield's. Each man, it was playing, was becoming absorbed. And Matherfield suddenly brightened and gave Hetherwick an unmistakable wink. Good, good, good, he muttered.

I'm beginning to see a bit of daylight. Excellent. When you're ready, Miss Featherstone. Well, continued Rona, after a few minutes pause, about noon Dr. Cyprian Buzzvalley drove up. i had already given mitchell his instructions and he brought basviery straight into my office bazreys was evidently in the very best of spirits he bowed and grimaced at sight of me i made no answer to his flowery greetings i just got up ushered him to the door of the private room and closed it after him as he stepped across the threshold then i laughed He wouldn't see who was awaiting him until he got right into the room, and I'd already gathered from Major Pentany that his reception couldn't be exactly pleasant or agreeable.

Matherfield rubbed his hands together. Good, good, he chuckled. Wish I'd been in that room. It wasn't long before I was there, Mr. Matherfield, said Rona. I was, of course, tremendously curious to know what was going on there, but the door fits closely and I heard nothing. No angry voices or anything. However, in less than ten minutes, the bell rang sharply.

I called Mitchell. He's a big strapping, very determined-looking ex-guardsman, and in we went. I took everything in at a glance. Major Pentany sat at Lady Varsery's desk. On the blotting pad, his right hand close to it, lay a revolver. Ha! exclaimed Matherfield, to be sure, just so fine. Opposite the desk stood by Vali, staring, first at Major Pentany, then at us.

It's difficult for me to describe how he looked. I think the principal expression on his face was one of surprise. Surprise, ejaculated Heatherwick. Surprise, astonishment. He looked like a man who had just heard something that he has believed it's impossible to appear. But there was also such a look of anger and rage. Well, if Major Pentany hadn't had that revolver close to his finger ends, and if Mitchell hadn't been there, I should have screamed and run.

However, it was not I who was doing the running. As soon as Mitchell and I entered, Major Pentony spoke very quietly. He nodded at Buzzvary, Miss Featherstone and you, Mitchell, you see this man? If he ever comes here again, you, Mitchell, will deny him entrance, and you, Miss Featherstone, on hearing from Mitchell that he's here, will telephone for the police, and, if he hangs about, we'll give him in charge. Then he turned to Basveri.

Now, my man, he continued, pointing to the door, you get out. Quick, go. Of course I looked at Basvary, he stood staring, almost incredulously at Major Pentany. It seemed to me that he could scarcely believe his ears. He gave me the impression of being unable to credit that he could be so treated. But he was also livid with anger.

His fingers worked, his eyes blazed. It was dreadful to see his lips. He got some words out at last. Give me the exact ones, if you can, interrupted Matherfield. I can. I'm not likely to forget them, said Rona. He said,

What, you defy me, knowing what I know. Knowing what I know? Hmm, knowing what I know, muttered Matherfield, knowing what he knew. Hmm. And then,

then, Major Pantany, pointed to the door. Get out, I tell you, he said. And look in the papers tonight. Be off. Look in the papers tonight, eh? Said Matterfield. Hmm.

And then I suppose he went? He went without another word. Then assented Rona. Mitchell escorted him out and saw him off. Major Pentany looked at me when he'd gone. There, Miss Featherstone, he said, You've seen one of the biggest scoundrels in London, or in Europe. Let's hope you'll never see him again,

and that that's the end of him here. I think he's had his lesson. I made no answer, but I was jolly glad to see Buzz Valle's car scooting away down the drive. Matherfield picked up the tankard of ale at his side, and took a hearty pull at his content. He set the tanker down again with an emphatic bang. I know what this job is, he exclaimed triumphantly. Blackmail.

Just so, agreed Heatherwick. I've been thinking that for the last ten minutes. Bosvary has been endeavoring to blackmail Lady Rivers Reed, but that's not our affair, you know. What we are after is the solving of the mystery surrounding sounding Hanford's death. And does this look likely to fit in anywhere? I should say it decidedly does look likely, answered Matherfield. In my opinion, it's all of a piece. At least it's a piece out of a piece, one of many pieces,

like a puzzle. The thing is to put these pieces together, and there are two things we can try to do at once. first find out more about this man buzz verry the other get hold of more information about the lady in st mary's mansions What about approaching Lady Rivers-Reed for information, or Lady Pentany, suggested Heatherwick? Yes, why don't you, said Rona, almost eagerly. Do, I'm a bit tired of being there as Miss Fetterstone. I want to tell Lady Vivers-Reed the truth, and all the wise and the where-force of it. But Matherfield shook his head. The time for that was not.

Not yet, he declared, Let them wait a while. And after more conversation, he and Heatherwick returned to London. End of Chapter 14. Chapter 15 of the Cherry Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Librevox recording is in the public domain.

Revelations. The late afternoon edition of the evening papers were just out. when Heatherwick 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.

Heatherwick looked and gasped his astonishment at what he read. Murder of Robert Hanford, 5,000-pound reward. Heatherwick turned on his companion with a look that was both questioning and surprised. This is probably, no, certainly, what Pentany referred to when he told Basvili 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 Matafield. 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 Heatherwick. 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 Heatherwick. 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 rereading the advertisement. Whereas Robert Hanford, formerly superintendent of police at Salithwaite, Yorkshire, died suddenly in an underground railway train near Chepard. Farring Cross Embankment Station at 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 5,000 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. Pentley, Blankensop, and Pentley, Solicitors April 22nd

nineteen twenty eight fifty three lincoln's inn fields london w c matherfield pointed to the names of the signatories pentany he remarked that's the name of the man miss hannahford mentioned as having given basverie his dismissal of course major pentany said heatherwick 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 Heatherwick. Anyway, it's very plain what this is. Matherfield, considering all we know, this advertisement has been issued on behalf of Lady Rivers Reed.

Pentany, Blankensop, and Pentany are no doubt her solicitors. But why? I, 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 Rivers-Reed, why, if she's really the woman who was, was once Mrs. Whittingham, you'd have thought she'd have been rather glad that Panifred was out of the way. And after all, this mayn't come from her. I'm absolutely certain it does, asserted Heatherwick, putting everything together and what other conclusions we come to. It comes from Lady Rivers Reed and her advisor, Major Pentany. And it's something to do with that man, Buzz Vailie. 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. I think you and I had better call at Pentonies tomorrow 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.

hmm replied mannfield 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 southeast corner of lincoln's inn fields at half-past ten to-morrow morning said hetherwick pantony's offices are close by we'll go together and ask them straight out for what this advertiser means. All right, but if they won't tell, suggested Matterfield, then in that case, we'll introduce Lady Rivers-Reed's name, and ask them if Lady Rivers-Reed of Rivers-Reed Court and Mrs. Whittingham, formerly of Sellithwaite, are one and the same person, replied Heatherick. Come, I think we can show them that we already know a good deal. We have certainly a hard or two to play, admitted Matherfield. All right, Mr. Heatherwick, tomorrow morning, then, as you suggest.

He was waiting at the appointed place when Heatherwick hurried up next morning. Heatherwick immediately turned him down the lower side of the fields. I found out something about these people we're going to see, he said. My clerk, Maperly, told me a bit. He's a sort of walking encyclopedia. Old, highly respectable firm this. Pentany, Sr. is retired. Firm is now really Blankensop and Pentany, Jr.,

and Pentany Jr. is the major Pentany who takes such an interest in Lady Rivers'Reeds home, and in Lady Rivers' Reed. 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 Haniford'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 somber 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 recognized the major Pentany, pointed out by Rona, stood hands in pockets on the hearth-rug. each stared silently at the two callers. The man at the desk pointed two chairs on either side of his fortress.

He looked at Matherly. Yes, he asked. Mr. Blankensop, I presume, began Matherly with a polite bow to desk, and Mr. Pentany with another to the hearthrug. Just so, agreed Blankensop, precisely. Yes. You have my card, gentlemen, and so you know who I am, continued Matherfield. The police, a moment, interrupted Blankensop. He picked up Hetherwick's card and glanced from it to its presenter. Mr. Guy Hetherick, he remarked.

Does Mr. Hetherick call also on behalf of the police? Because he has. He is. Heatherwick. He is. He is he, he He added, with a dry smile, I think I've seen Mr. Heatherwick in wig and gown. I am the man who was present at Robert Haniford's death, said Heatherwick. If you are conversant with the case, quite. Every detail, said Blankensaw. Then you know what I saw, and what evidence I gave at the inquest, continued Heatherwick. I have followed up the case.

ever since, and that's why I am here. Not as Amicus Curier then remarked Blenkinsop, with a still drier smile. For not a disinterested advisor, I see, and Mr. Matherfield, why is he here? I was saying, Mr. Blankensop, that the police have seen the advertisement signed by your firm, offering five thousand pounds a reward, etc., 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 Haniford was murdered by poison,

and that whoever poisoned him also poisoned the man Granite at the same time. Now, as either you or some person, a client, I suppose, behind you, is so much concerned in bringing Haniford'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. i don't think we have anything to say blenkinsop drummed the blotting-pad before him with the tips of his fingers and his face became more inscrutable than ever as for pentany 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 heatherwick or matterfield There was a brief silence. At last Blankensop 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. Blankensop, 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 Blankensop, 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 she had just received from Heatherwick 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 a curious fashion in which this affair is mixed up with Lady Ribble. Rivers' Reed. In spite of their evidently habitual practice of self-control, the two solicitors could not repress signs of astonishment. Blankensop's face fell.

Pentany started out of his lounging attitude and stood upright, and for the first time he spoke. What do you know about Lady Rivers-Reed, he demanded. A good deal, sir, but— not so much as I intend to know, answered Matherfield firmly, but I do know this, that Hanford, just previous to his sudden death, was in possession of a portrait of Lady Rivers Reed, 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 Selethwaite in Yorkshire.

I, too, believe that this Mrs. Whittingham is now Lady Rivers-Reed, and I may tell you that I'm in full possession of all the facts relating to the Salithwaite affair, an affair of obtaining a diamond necklace worth about four thousand pounds by means of a worthless check, and Blankensop suddenly rose from his chair, holding up a hand. "'A moment, if you please,' he said. "'Pentany,' 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 them, Mr. Heatherwick. "'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 Heatherwick, what do you mean? What I say, answered Matherfield, bluff, done to prevent somebody from bringing up that old slithwaite 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 will listen. If you have to do any more talking, Matherfield, said Heather.

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 Rivers-Reed, got a genuine interest in the work there, and wants to stop. A 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 Hanifers' name out, so do they want to keep Lady Rivers Reed's name out. I know the signs. Blankensop and Pentonie suddenly came back and seated themselves, Blankensop at his desk, and Pentonie close by, and Blankensop 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

with confidentiality. 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 Rivers-Reed is not the woman who was known as Mrs. Whittingham at Sallathwaite ten years ago, nor did Hannaford believe that she was either. What? exclaimed Matherfield. but he turned to Heatherwick. You hear that, he went on? Why, we know.

Let Mr. Blankensop go on, said Heatherwick, quietly. He's explaining, I think. Just so, agreed Blankensop. And I'm beginning by endeavoring to clear away a few mistaken ideas from your minds. Lady Rivers-Reed is not Mrs. Whittingham. Haniford did not think she was, Mrs. Whittingham. It was not Lady Rivers-Reed's portrait that Haniford 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. Blankensop stooped and drew out a drawer from his desk. From a bundle of documents, produced a newspaper, carefully folded and labeled. Opening this, he laid it before the two visitors, pointing to a picture marked with blue pencil. And Heatherwick at once saw that here was a duplicate of the portrait in his own pocketbook. But there was this important difference. While Haniford had cut away the lettering under his picture, it was there in the one which Blankensop exhibited, he saw that. He started again as he read it.

Madame Anita Listern. That's the picture which Hennifer had out of the paper, said Blankensop. It is not that of Lady Rivers-Reed. 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 Rivers-Reed,

if that's her picture, they'd swear it is. I see, said Heatherwick, disregarding his companion's outburst, that this purports to be a portrait of a Madame Listerrel, 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 Listerrand?

Blankensop smiled oracularly. Madame Listerrell, he replied, is the twin sister of Lady Rivers Reed. End of Chapter 15. Chapter 16 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Libre Box recording is in the public domain. Still more. Blenkinsop's sudden announcement, hot altogether unexpected by Heatherwick, as a result of the last few minutes proceedings, seemed to strike Matherfield with all the force of a lightning-like illumination. His mouth opened, his eyes widened, he turned on Heatherwick, as if, having been lost for a while in a baffling maze, he had suddenly seen a way pointed out to him.

"'Oh, that's it, is it?' he exclaimed. "'A twin sister, eh?' "'Then—but go on, Mr. Blankensop. "'I'm beginning to see things.' "'The matter is doubtless puzzling. "'Two outsiders,' responded Blankensop. "'To clear it up, I shall have to go into some family history.' "'Lady Rivers-Read and Madame Listerrel are, I repeat,

twin sisters. They are the daughters of a man who, in his time, was captain of various merchant ships, the old sailing ships, and who knocked about the world a good deal. He married an American woman, and his two daughters were born in Galveston, Texas. They were educated in America, but there's no need to go into the particulars of their early lives. There's a certain particular that I should like to have some information about, if you please, interrupted Heatherwick. The Mrs. Whittingham, who was at Saliswight ten years ago, had the figure of a snake tattooed round a wrist in various colors. She wore a black velvet band to cover it. Now Blankensop turned to his partner with a smile.

I thought that would come up. he said, well, Mr. Heatherwick, if you want to know about that matter, both sisters are tattooed in the same fashion. That was a bit of work of the old sea dog, their father, a fancy and a very foolish one of his. He had the children tattooed in that way when they were quite young, much to their disgust when they grew older. Each lady wears a covering velvet armlet.

as I know. Proceed, if you please, said Heatherwick. That's cleared up. I gather that you've been making inquiries on your own account, observed Blankensop. Well, since we're determined to tell you everything, we'll be as good as our word. So let's come to the Sellithwaite affair. You've probably heard only one version. You may have got it from Haniford.

you may have got it from old newspapers. You may have got it on the spot. It's immaterial to us. But you haven't heard the version of the lady who was then Mrs. Whittingham. That puts rather a different complexion on things. For reasons of her own, with which we've nothing to do, Mrs. Whittingham, her proper and legal name at that time, stayed at Saliswight for a while. She had various transactions with a jeweler there. Eventually she brought from him a diamond necklace at a price, £3,900. She gave him a check for the amount, fully expecting that by the time it reached her bankers in Manchester, certain funds for her credit would have reached them from America. There was a hitch. The funds

didn't arrive. The check was returned. The jeweler approached the police. Hanford, their superintendent there, got out a warrant and tracked down Mrs. Whittingham. He arrested her, and she got away from him, left England, and returned to America. For some time she was in financial straits, but she did not forget her liabilities, and eventually she sent the sell-a-thwaite jewelers, the agreed price of the diamond necklace, and eight years' interest at five percent. She holds his formal receipt for the money she sent him. So much for that episode. Whether Haniford ever knew of the payment or not, I don't know. We are rather inclined to believe that he didn't, but the necklace was paid for, and paid for handsomely.

I may as well say that I'm aware of that, remarked Heatherwick. I have been informed of the fact at first hand. Very good. I see you have been at Celethwaite, said Blankensop, with another of his shrewd smiles. Now then, we come to what is far more pertinent, recent events. The situation, as regards Lady Rivers-Reed and Madame Listerer, some little time ago, say when Haniford came to town, was this. Lady Rivers-Reed, widow of Sir John Rivers-Reed, had inherited his considerable fortune, and was settled at Rivers-Reed

court in Surrey, and had founded a home for wounded officers close by, of which my friend and partner, Mr. Pantany there, is London representative. Her sister, Madame Listern, had a flat at Paddington and another in New York. She was chiefly in New York, but she was sometimes in London and sometimes in Paris. As a matter of fact, Madame Listerrelle is an expert in precious stones and a dealer in them, but she has recently become engaged to be married to a well-known peer, an elderly, very wealthy man, which possibly has a good deal to do with what I am going to tell you. Probably, I think, Blankensop, not possibly.

Suggested Pentany. Probably, decidedly. Probably, then, probably, assented Blankensop. He leaned forward across his desk toward the two listeners. Now, gentlemen, your closest attention. for I'm coming to the really important points of the matter, those that affect the police particularly. About a fortnight ago,

Lady Rivers-Reed, being in her private office at her home, close by Rivers-Reed Court, was waited upon by a man who sent in a card bearing the name of Dr. Cyprian Bazeveri. Lady Rivers-Reed thought that the presenter of this card was some medical man who wished to inspect the home, and he was admitted to see her. She soon found out that he had come on no such errand as she had imagined, he told her a strange tale.

He let her know, to begin with, that he was fully conversant with that episode in her sister's life, which related to Selethwaite and the diamond necklace. Lady Rivers-Reed, who knew all about it, felt that the man's information had been gained at first hand. He also let her know that Madame Mistorin's whereabouts and engagements were familiar to him. In short, he showed that he was well up in the present family history, both as regards Lady Rivers-Reed and her sister. Then he let his hand be seen more plainly. He told Lady Rivers-Reed, a certain gang of men in London, had become acquainted with the facts of the Salithwaite matter,

the warrant, the arrest, the escape, and that they were also aware of Madame Lestorre's engagement to Lord, we will leave name out at the present, or referred to him as Lord X, and that they wanted a price for their silence. In other words, they were determined to blackmail, if they were not paid their price they were going to lord x with all the facts to tell him that he was engaged to a woman who as they would put it was still liable by the law of the land to arrest and prosecution for fraud isn't she asked maddafield suddenly no time limit in these sort of cases i think mr blenkinsop liable ten or twenty or thirty years at

I think. I've already said that the Salithwaite affair was one of a count, replied Blankensop. There was no intent to defraud, and a full amount and interest on it was duly paid. But that's not the point. We're dealing with the presentment of this to Lady Rivers-Reed by the man Buzz Vailene. Of course, Lady Rivers-Reed didn't know. how the law might be, and she was alarmed on her sister's account. She asked Basvary what he wanted. He told her plainly then that he could settle these men

if she would find the money. He had, he said, a certain hold over them, which he could use to advantage. Lady Rivers-Reed wanted to know what that hold was. He wouldn't tell her. she then wanted to know how much the men wanted, he wouldn't say. What he did say was that if she would be prepared to find the money to silence them, he, during the next week, would exert pressure on them to accept a reasonable amount and would call on her on the following Friday and tell her what they would take. She made that appointment with him. "'And, I hope, took advice in the meantime,' muttered Matterfield,

"'not to have handed him over there and then.' "'No, she took no advice, in the meantime,' continued Blankensop. "'Madame Listerrell was in Paris. "'Major Pentany was away on business in the country. "'Lady Rivers-Reed awaited Basverie's next coming. "'When he came, he told her what his gang wanted. 30,000 pounds. He specified, too, the way in which it was to be paid, in a fashion which would have prevented the payment being traced to the people who received it. But now Lady Rivers-Reed

was more prepared. She had had time to think. She expected Major Pentany next day. She also knew that her sister would return from Paris on the following Monday. So, she told Basveli that that she would give him an answer on Monday evening if he would make an appointment to meet her at some place in London. Eventually, they made an appointment at Vivians in Candlestick Passage. Bazvalli went away. Next day, Lady Rivers-Reed told Major Pentany all that had happened. As a result, he went with her to Vivians on Monday evening.

They waited an hour beyond the fixed time, Basvary made no appearance. Just so, muttered Matterfield. He wouldn't, the Major being there. Perhaps, assented Blenkinsop. Anyway, he didn't materialize. So, Lady Rivers-Reed went away, leaving Major Pentany behind her.

I may say that he stopped there for some further time, keeping a sharp lookout for the man whom Lady Rivers-Reed had described in detail, a remarkable man in appearance, I understand, but he never saw him. No, exclaimed Matherfield cynically, of course he didn't, but she would have done if she'd gone alone. Well, there it was, continued Blankensop, now for Lady Rivers Reed. She drove to her sister's flat in Paddington, and found Madame de Starrick. Listerrelle just returned from Paris. She told her all that it happened.

Madame Listerrein determined to go to New York at once and get certain papers from her flat there, which would definitely establish her absolute innocence in the Saliswage affair. Leaving Lady Rivers-Reed in the flat, Madame Listerrein set off for Southampton before five o'clock next morning. Yes? Matherfield, uttering a deep groan, smote his forehead. Aye, he muttered just so to be sure, but go on, go on, sir.

You seem to be highly surprised, said Blankensop. However, at Southampton she booked a passage in a name she always used when traveling, her maiden name, by the Tartaric sailing that afternoon. That done, she went to hotel for lunch. She then began to think things over more calmly, and in the end, instead of sailing for New York, she went back, canceling her booking, and set off by train to Lord X's county seat in Wiltshire,

and told him the whole story. She wired to her sister as to what she had done, and in the evening wrote to her. Meanwhile, Lady Rivers-Reed had returned early in the morning to Rivers-Reed Court. Major Pentany went with her. He was confident that Basvaly would turn up. He did turn up. But he did not see Lady Rivers-Reed.

He saw Major Pentany alone. And Major Pentany, after a little plain talk to him, metaphorically kicked him out and told him, him to do his worst. He went, warned that if he ever showed himself there again, he would be handed over to the police. Matherfield groaned again, but the reason of his distress was obviously of a different nature. A mistake, sir, a great mistake, he exclaimed, shaking his head at Pentany. You shouldn't have let that fellow go like that. You should have handed him over there, and then. Go, you don't know where he may be. Oh, well, we're not quite such fools as we see Matherfield, he replied, when I went down to Dorking with Lady Rivers Read on Tuesday morning,

I had with me a smart man whom I can trust. He saw Buzz Verre arrive, he saw Buzz Verre leave. I think we shall be able to put our fingers on Basvary at any moment. Our man won't lose sight of him. Oh, well, that's better, sir. That's much better, said Matherfield. That's all right. That chap like that should be watched night and day. But now, gentlemen, about this reward, your notion of offering it sprang, of course, from this Basvary business, but how exactly? Did he mention Hannaford to Lady Rivers-Reed? No, replied Blankensop. I'll tell you how we came to issue the advertisement.

All Sunday afternoon and evening, and for some time on Monday morning, Lady Rivers-Reed, Major Pentany, and myself were in close consultation about this affair. I'll tell you at once how and why we connected it with the poisoning of Henna. of which, of course, all of us had read in the newspapers. I how now, asked Matherfield. Because of this, answered Blankenssel. He tapped his desk to emphasize his words, watching Matherfield keenly as he spoke.

Because of this. Bazveri told Lady Rivers-Reed that the gang of black menors had in their possession the original warrant for Mrs. Whittingham's arrest. Heatherwick felt himself impelled to jump in his chair to exclaim loudly. He repressed the inclination, but Matherfield was less reserved. Ah, he exclaimed sharply. Ah!

Buzz Verrie made a false step there, continued Blankensop. He should never have told that. But he did. No doubt he did. thought a rich woman easy prey. Now, of course, when we came to consult, we knew all about the Southwaite affair. We knew, too, that Hanford was superintendent at the time, and that he had the warrant. It was not at all improbable that he had preserved it in his pocketbook, and had it on him when he came to London. What then was the obvious conclusion? That the men, who now held that

warrant had got it, probably by foul means, from Hannaford, and were concerned in his murder? And more than that, did the gang of which Basvalley spoke really exist? Wasn't it likely that the gang was Buzzvilly? I muttered Matherfield. I've been thinking of that. Yet, said Blankensop, it was on the card. that there might be a gang. We searched all the newspapers accounts thoroughly. We found that next to no information could be got as to Haniford's movements between the time of his arrival

in London and the night of his death. The one man who might have given more information about Haniford's doings on the evening preceding his death, Granite, was dead, evidently poisoned, as Hanford was poisoned. These were circumstances, they probably occurred to both of you, which led us to believe that Haniford had formed the acquaintance of folk here in town, who were a shady sort. And one thing was absolutely certain. If the gang, or if Buzz Verie, had really got the warrant,

they had got it from Haniford, eh? and that may be taken as certain assented heatherwick either directly or indirectly it must have been from him we think they or he got it directly from him our theory is that if there is a gang basvalley is an active perhaps the leading member that hanniford was previously acquainted with him or of some other member that Haniford was with him or them on the evening preceding his death, that he jokingly told them that he had discovered the identity of Madame Listerrelle with Mrs. Whittingham, and that they poisoned him and granite as being present, in order to keep the secret to themselves, and to blackmail Madame Listerreel and her sister, Lady Rivers Reap.

That's our general idea, and that's why, on Monday noon, we issued the advertisement. We meant to keep things to ourselves at first, and if substantial evidence came, to pass it over to the police. Now you know everything. It may be, if there is a gang, that one member will turn traitor for the sake of 5,000 pounds, and if he can exhalpate himself satisfactorily, it may be, too, that matters will develop until we're in a position to fasten things on Basvary. I still wish that either Lady Rivers-Reed or Major Pentony

had handed him over to custody, said Matherfield. You see, you've got to remember that Bazvary never demanded anything for himself, He interrupted Pentany. He represented himself as a go-between. But our man's safe enough, a retired detective, and... Just then, a clerk opened at the door and entered with a telegram. Blankensop tore open the envelope, glanced hurriedly at the message,

and flung the form on his desk with an exclamation of annoyance. this is from our man he said sent from dover followed basverie down there and basveris slipped him end of chapter sixteen chapter seventeen of the charing cross mystery by j s fletcher this librivox recording is in the public domain torn labels pentany strode forward and picked up the telegram a moment later he passed it over to heatherwick that's most unfortunate he exclaimed and unexpected too of course the fellow slipped off to the continent matherfield looked over hetherwick's shoulder and read the message followed him down here last night put up at the same hotel but he slipped me and got clear away early this morning returning now you should have employed two men gentlemen said matherfield one's not enough in a case of that sort but it's as i said before this man should have employed two men gentlemen said matherfield one's not enough in a case of that sort but it's as i said before this man should have been given given into custody at once. However, he got up from his chair, as if there was no more to be said, and moved towards the door. But halfway across the room, he paused. You'll let me know if

anybody comes forward about that reward, he suggested. It's more of a police matter, you know. The two partners, who were obviously much annoyed by the telegram, nodded. we shall let you know at once answered blankensop of course you'll regard all we've told you as strictly confidential oh to be sure sir replied matherfield it's not the only private and confidential feature of this affair i assure you outside he turned to heatherwick well he said we've cleared up a few things mr heatherwick or rather those two have cleared them up for us but we aren't necessarily nearer answering the question that we really want answering who poisoned robert "'I think we are,' replied Heatherwick. "'I am, anyhow. "'Either Bazvary he poisoned him, or he knows who did.' "'Knows who did,' repeated Matherfield.

"'Ah, that's more like it. "'I don't think he did it. "'He wouldn't be so ready about showing himself forward.' "'I'm not so sure of that,' remarked Heatherwick. "'From what we've heard of him, "'he seems to be a bold and daring sort of scamp. probably he thought he'd have a very easy prey in lady rivers reed probably too he believed that a woman who's got all that money would make little to do about parting with thirty thousand pounds one thing sure however bazvilly knows what we want to know and he's gone perhaps perhaps said matherfield and perhaps not this

man of Pentonies no doubt tracked him to Dover, and there he'd lost him, but that isn't saying that Basvalli's gone on the continent. If Basvalli's a cute customer that he seems to be, he'd put two and two together when Major Pentany warned him off Rivers Reed Court. He'd probably suspect Pentany of setting a watch on him. He may have spotted the very man who was watching. then, if he'd any sense, he'd lead that man a bit of dance. Eventually, he'd double on him. No, I should say Bazaville's back here in town. That's about it, Mr. Heatherwick.

But what's this? Here's one of my men coming to meet us. I left word where I should be found. Heatherwick looked up and saw a man who was obviously a policeman in plain clothes coming towards them. He was a quiet-looking, stodgy-faced man, but he had news written all over his plain face. Well, Marler, inquired Matherfield, as they met, got something. There was nobody about in that quiet corner of Lincoln's Inn Fields,

yet the man looked round him as if anxious to escape observation, and he spoke in a whisper. I believe I've got that chemist, he answered. Leastways, it's like this. There's a chemist I tried this morning, name of Macpherson, in Maiden Lane. I showed him the facsimiles of the lost labels on the medicine bottles, and I asked him if he could give me any information.

He's a very cautious sort of man, I think. He examined the facsimiles a long time, saying nothing. Then he said he supposed I was a policeman and so on, and of course I had to tell him about. bit, only a bit. Then he said all of a sudden, look here, my friend, he said, you'd better tell me straight out, has this to do with that Hanford poisoning case? So, of course, I said that between ourselves, it had. Isn't Matherfield in charge of that, he said. Of course, I said you were. Very well, he said, you send Matherfield to me. I'm not going to say anything to you, he said,

what I've got to say, I'll say to Matherfield. So, I went back to headquarters, and they told me you'd gone to Lincoln's in Fields. All right, my lad, said Matherfield. If you found the right man, I'll remember you. What's his name, Macpherson, Maiden Lane? Very good, then I'll just step along and see him. Not a word to anybody, Marler, he added, as the man turned away. Keep close.

a bit of all right, Mr. Heatherwick. He continued, chuckling and rubbing his hands. This beats all we heard at Pentonese. Only let me get the name and address of the man for whom that bottle of medicine was made up, and I think I shall have taken a long stride. But come along, we'll see the chemist together. The shop in Maiden Lane, before which they presently paused, was a small, narrow-fronted, old-fashioned, establishment, with little in its windows beyond the usual coloured bottles, and over the front no more than the name Macpherson, in faded gilt letters on a time-stained sign-board. It was dark and stuffy within the shop, and Hetherick had to strain his eyes to see a tall,

thin, elderly, spectacled man, very precise and trim in appearance, who stood behind the single counter silently regarding him and Matherfield. Mr. McPherson, inquired Matherfield, just so. Good morning, sir. My name is Matherfield, Inspector Matherfield. One of my men tells me, one moment, interrupted the chemist. He stepped behind a screen at the rear of his shop, and presently returned with a young man, to whom he whispered a word or two, then he beckoned to his two visitors, and, opening a door at the further corner, ushered them into a private parlor.

"'We shall be to ourselves here, Mr. Matherfield,' he said, "'and I've no doubt your business is of a highly confidential nature.' "'Something of that sort, Mr. McPherson,' assented Matherfield, as he and Hetherwick took chairs at a centre table. but my man will have prepared you a bit no doubt he tells me he showed you the photographed facsimiles of certain torn labels that are on a medicine bottle which figures in the hanniford case and that in consequence of your seeing them you asked to see me well sir here i am i just so mr matherfield just so precisely replied the chemist turning up the gas-jet which hung above the table i to be sure he too sat down at the table and folded his thin long fingers together ay and you'll be thinking mr matherfield that your bottle has something to do with the poisoning of hannahford i'll be candid with you mr mcpherson answered matherfield but first you'll be candid with you mr mcpherson answered matherfield but first Let me ask you something. Have you read the newspaper accounts of this affair?

I've done that, Mr. Matherfield. Yes, all I could lay hands on. Then you'll be aware that there was another man poisoned, as well as Hannaford, a man named Granite, who was in Haniford's company on the night when it all happened. This gentleman here is the one that was in the underground train and saw Haniford die,

and Granite make off, as he said, to fetch a doctor. That'll be Mr. Heatherwick, I'm thinking, said the chemist with a polite bow. Ah, just so. I see you've read the reports of the inquest, remarked Matherfield with a smile. Very well, as I say, Granite was found dead later. I discovered a medicine bottle and a glass at his bedside. there had been whiskey in both, but according to the medical experts, there had also been poison. The traces, they say, were indisputable.

Now, on that medicine bottle, were two torn labels. On the upper one, as you see from the facsimile photograph, there's been a name written. All that's left is the initial C, and the first letter of a surname, A. All the rest's gone. and what i want to know is are you the chemist that made up the medicine or tonic or whatever it was that was in that bottle and if so who is the customer for whom you made it and whose christian name begins with c and surname with a do you comprehend me i ay i mr matherfield answered the chemist eagerly i'm appreciating every word you're saying and very lucid it all is and i'm willing to give you all the information in my power but first i'd just like to have a bit myself on a highly pertinent matter now you'll be aware mr matherfield if you've seen the newspapers of this last day or two that there's a firm of solicitors in lincoln's in fields that's offering a reward of five thousand pounds i'm well enough aware of it mr mcpherson interrupted matherfield with a laugh and a sly glance at heatherwick mr heatherwick and myself have just come straight from their office

and what you want to know is if you give me information will it turn out to be the same thing as giving it to them you want to make sure about the reward precisely mr motherfield precisely assented the chemist eagerly you've hit on my meaning exactly for of course when there's a reward like yon if you give us information mr macpherson that'll lead to the arrest and conviction of the guilty party you can rest assured you'll get that reward said matherfield and mr heatherwick will support me in that I'm sure. I'm satisfied, I'm satisfied, gentlemen, exclaimed McPherson, as Heatherwick murmured his confirmation. Well, it's a strange black business, and I'd no idea that I would come to be associated with it until that man of yours called in this morning, Mr. Matherfield.

But then I knew, and I'll shorten matters, by telling you, that once, I made up the tonic that was in the bottle. Matherfield rubbed his hands. Good, he said quietly. Good. Now, the critical question for whom? For Adapter

Charles Ambrose from a prescription of his own, replied McPherson. It's a sort of pick-me-up, tonic. I first made it up for him two years ago. I've made it up for him several times since.

The last occasion was about six weeks ago. I have all the dates, though, in my books. I can show you them. Wait a bit, said Matherfield. That's of no great importance, yet. Dr. Charles Ambrose, eh? Have you his address? Aye, to be sure, answered the chemist.

His address is 38, number 59, John Street. Adelphi, suggested Matherfield. Adelphi. precisely. 38, number 59, John Street, Adelphi, repeated McPherson. That's in the books, too. Matherfield suddenly became silent, staring at the floor. When he looked up again, it was at Hetherick.

Didn't Granite exclaim that he knew a doctor close by when he rushed out of that train at Charing Cross Underground, he asked, gave the impression that he knew of one close by anyway he said distinctly close by answered heatherwick why are you thinking matherfield interrupted him with a wave of the hand and turned again to the chemist you've seen this dr charles ambrose he asked abruptly oh i have mr matherfield many a time and often replied mcpherson but now i come to think of it, not lately. When last, demanded Matterfield. I should think last when he called in and told me to make him another bottle of this tonic, answered Macpherson after some thought.

As I said just now, perhaps about six weeks ago, but the books, never mind the books yet. What's this Dr. Charles Ambrose like? A tall, handsome man. distinguished-looking, I should say, about forty years of age, a dark man, hair, eyes, beard. He wears his mustache and beard in, well, sort of foreign fashion. In fact, he's more like a Spaniard than an Englishman. But is he an Englishman?

He was always taken by me for an Englishman. He speaks like one, that is, like an Englishman of the uppermen. classes. He once told me he was an Oxford man. We'd been talking about universities. Well-dressed, man? I, he was that a smart, fine man. Did you ever see him in a big, dark overcoat with a large white silk muffler about his neck at the lower part of his face? I, I've seen him like that on chilly evenings. Indeed, that's another thing he told me. He was subject to bronchial attacks. Muffled himself well up, eh? suggested Matherfield. I, just so. He's been in here like that. Matherfield turned to Heatherwick with a significant

glance. That's the man who met Hannaford at Victoria Station that night, the man that led bit her saw, and that nobody's seen since, he exclaimed. A million to one on it. Now then, who is he? You know his name and his address, remarked Heatherwick. Yes, and I know, too, that Mr. McPherson here hasn't seen him lately, retorted Matherfield, dryly. How often now Mr. McPherson did you used to see him? I mean, did you used to see him at other times than when he came into your shop?

Oh, yes, I've seen him in the street outside, replied the chemist. I've seen him, too, going to you. in and out of rules and in and out of Romano's. In other words, remarked Matherfield, he was pretty well known about this end of the strand. I'm not sure now that I don't remember such a man myself. Black, silpy, carefully trimmed beard, always a big swell, but Mr. McPherson hasn't seen him lately.

Hmm. Do you know if he was in practice, Mr. McPherson? i could not say as to that mr matherfield seeing that he called himself dr ambrose i supposed he was a medical practitioner but i don't know what his degrees or qualifications were at all matherfield glanced at a row of books which stood over a desk at the side of the parlour have you got an up-to-date medical directory he asked good let's look the man up you turn up his name mr Hetherwick, he went on as the chemist handed down a volume. You were more used to books than I. Find out if there's anything about him. Heatherwick turned over the pages of the directory, and presently he shook his head. There's no Charles Ambrose here, he said, look for yourselves. Matherfield glanced at the place indicated and said nothing. McPherson made an exclamation of

surprise. I, well, he may be a foreigner, after all, he observed, but I shouldn't have considered him one, and he certainly told me he was an Oxford graduate. Farner or Oxforder, I'm going to know more about him, declared Matherfield, rising and grasping his stick with an air of determination. Well, Mr. McPherson, we're obliged to you, and if this results in anything, well, you know, but for the moment, a bit of that caution that you Scotsmen are famous for, eh? Outside, Matherfield laid his hand on Hetherwick's elbow. Mr. Hetherwick, he said solemnly, we're on the track at last.

Sure as my name's Matherfield, we've hit the trail. Now we're going to John Street, Adelphi, and I'll lay a lay. you anything you like that the man's vanished. End of Chapter 17. Chapter 18 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. The Telegram Heatherwick followed his companion across the strand

into the Adelphi and to the house they wanted, an old Adam's mansion, now divided into flats. Matherfield did not take the trouble to ascend to the upper regions. He sought and found a caretaker and put a question to him. The man shook his head. Dr. Ambrose, sir, he replied. Oh, yes, Dr. Ambrose lives here, 38, but he ain't in, sir, ain't at home, in fact. He's been away three weeks or so. Don't know where he is. With a meaning look at Heatherwick, Matherfield drew the caretaker aside, and talked to him for a few moments.

The man presently turned and went downstairs to the basement, from which they had summoned him. That's all right, remarked Matherfield with a wink. He's going to let us into Ambrose's flat. Didn't I tell you we shouldn't find Ambrose here? Not he. I should say he's off. "'Supposing he returns while we're here,' asked Hetherwick.

"'Wish he would,' chuckled Matherfield. "'Nobody I want to see more, if he did, why I should just ask him to take a little walk with me, to explain a few matters. But he won't. Here's the man. We'll go up.' The caretaker reappeared with a bunch of keys and led the way to a flat at the top of the old house. He unlocked a door and stood aside.

You needn't wait, said Matherfield. I'll shut the place up again when we leave and let you know. All right. He walked in, with Heatherwick at his heels, as soon as the caretaker had gone, and once inside closed the door carefully upon himself and his companion. but heatherwick after a first glance at the sitting-room into which they had entered a somewhat untidy shabbily furnished place went straight to the hearth and pointed to a framed photograph time-stained and faded which hung over the mantelpiece there's a striking and significant piece of evidence at once he exclaimed do you know what that is matherfield Matherfield looked in the direction indicated and shook his head. Not the slightest idea, he answered. I see it's a photograph of some old church or other, that's all.

That's the famous parish church of Selethwaite, said Hetherwick, one of the very finest in England. I had a look at it, only a mere look, when I was down there. Now then, what's this man doing with a picture of of Salithwaite parish church in his rooms. Hanford came from Selethwaite. That's a mighty significant thing anyway, agreed Matherfield. We're getting at something this morning.

He looked more carefully at the photograph. Grand old building, as you say, he continued. Of course, the mere fact of his having it put up there shows that he's some interest in it. Selethwaite man likely, but we'll find that all out. Now let's look around. There was little to see, Heatherwick thought. The flat consisted of a sitting-room and bedroom and a small bathroom. The furniture was plain, old, rather shabby. The whole place suggested that its occupant was not over well to do.

The only signs of affluence to be seen were manifested in the toilet articles on the dressing-table, in a luxurious, if well-worn dressing-gown, which hung on the rail of the bed, and in the presence of carefully folded and pressed garments laid out in the bedroom. There were a few books, chiefly medical treatises, in shelves in the sitting-room, a few personal pictures, mainly of college and school groups on the walls, and a desk in the centre, littered with more books, writing materials, and papers. Matherfield began to turn them over. See that? He exclaimed suddenly, pointing to a movable calendar which stood on the top ledge of the desk.

Notice the date, March 18th. That's the day on which Haniford got his quietus. At least strictly speaking, it was the day before. Haniford actually died on the 19th, about what was it? Very early in the morning, anyway. What's one to gather from this? That Ambrose hasn't been here since the 18th. So, how low, turning over the loose papers that lay about the blotting-pad, he had suddenly lighted upon a telegram. Just as suddenly he thrust it into Atherwick's hands.

Look at that, he exclaimed. Now that is a find, biggest-true. we've ever had so far. Heatherwick read the apparently innocent message. All right, we'll meet you, Victoria Bookstall, this evening, as suggested, Hannaford. See the date, said Matherfield excitedly? March 18th.

Now we've got at it. Ambrose was a man that met Haniford at Victoria, the tall muffled up man that led bitter saw. That's certain. Seems so, agreed Heatherwick. He was still studying the telegram. Sent off from Fleet Street, 12.15 that day, he muttered. Yes, there doesn't seem much doubt about this. I wonder who this man, Ambrose, is. We'll soon get to know something about that, Mr. Heatherwick, exclaimed Matherfield, briskly. Now I'm just going to put that wire into my pocket.

lock up this flat again, have another word or two with that caretaker chap, and go in search of the information you refer to. Come with me. Later, I shall get a search warrant and make a thorough examination of this flat. Let's be moving. Downstairs again, Matherfield called up the caretaker. You say Dr. Ambrose has been away for a bit, he asked. Is there anything unusual in that? Well, not so very, answered the man. Ever since he came here two or three years ago, he's been used to going away for a while. I believe he used to go over to Paris, but I never remember him being away more than a week at a time before.

Evidently, he's a doctor, suggested Mantherfield. Did he ever have patients come to see him here? The caretaker shook his head. No, he replied. He never had anybody much come to see him. Never anybody that I remember, unless it was somebody he brought in at night for a smoke, you know. He generally went out early in a morning and came home late, very late. What about his meals? asked Matherfield. He'd no meals here, unless he made himself a cup of coffee or so in the morning, said the caretaker, all his meals out, breakfast two, Sundays as well as weekdays. We saw very little of him.

Who does up his rooms, makes the bed and so on? Inquired Matherfield. My wife, answered the caretaker. She does all that. And she hasn't had anything to do for how long? Well, it'll be three weeks, I'm sure. He never used to say anything at any time when he went off, just went. He'd crawl downstairs when he came back to let us know he was back, you see? But we never thought he'd be as long as this. It was only this morning, just before you came, that my missus said to me that it seemed queer. Why, queer? Because he's taken nothing with him. However, a short time he might be away for, he would always take a suitcase, clean linen, shaving things, so on. He was a very particular gentleman about his appearance, always dressed

like a swell, and had a clean shirt every day. Used to have a nice heavy washing bill, anyhow. Did he seem to be pretty well supplied with money? asked Matherfield, or the opposite. Couldn't rightly say, sir. replied the caretaker, always paid his rent, and us and the washing regular. But as for anything else, why we'd no means of knowing. Of course, as I tell you, he always looked to the gentleman. I see, said Matherfield. All right, you'll see me again this afternoon.

He strode away towards the Strand, and there ushered Heatherwick into the first empty taxi-cab they met. Where now? asked Heatherwick, as Matherfield followed him into the cab, after a word to its driver. We're going now, sir, to Hallam Street, to the offices of the General Medical Council, answered Metherfield promptly. I've had experience of inquiring into the antecedents of medical men before, and I know where to find out all about any of them. I'm going to find out all about this Dr. Charles Ambrose. that is, of course, if he's an English doctor. Probably he isn't, remarked Heatherwick, any more than Basvary is.

Ah, Bazvary, exclaimed Matherfield. I'd forgotten that man for the time being. Well, while we're about it, we'll see if we can unearth a bit of information concerning him. We've done a bit of good work this morning, you know, Mr. Heatherwick? He went on, rubbing his hands, with him. satisfaction. We've practically made certain that Ambrose was the man who met Hannaford at Victoria, and we're sure he's the man whom Macpherson supplied the bottle in which the poison was discovered at Granite's room, and now we'll hope for a bit more in illumination in the darkness.

Heatherwick presently found himself closeted with Matherfield and a grave official who, after seeing Matherfield's credentials and listening to his reasons for his visit of inquiry, began to consult various books of reference. Presently he left the room and was away some time. When he returned, he brought with him two slips of paper, which he handed to Matherfield. I have had the particulars you require written out for you, he said, so you can examine them at your leisure.

I hear he smiled frostily. I gather that you are somewhat anxious to get in touch with these men? I think it's extremely probable, sir, that before the day's over I shall be exceedingly anxious to get in touch with both, answered Matherfield, with something like a wink, more than anxious. The grave official nodded and smiled again, and Matherfield and Hetherwick went away.

Outside, Matherfield looked right and left. Mr. Hetherwick, he said, It's well past twelve, and I'd my breakfast before eight. I'm hungry. Let's turn into the first decent place we see, and get a bite and a sup, and we'll examine these papers. He presently led Hetherwick into the saloon bar of a tavern, and remarking that he had a taste for ale and bread and cheese

at that time of day, provided himself with these matters, and retreated to a snug corner, whither Heatherwick followed him with a whiskey and soda. Here's success to our endeavors, Mr. Heatherwick, said Matherfield, lifting his tankard. I'm now firmly under the impression that we're adding link after link to the chain. But let's see what we've got here in this crabbed writing. He laid the slips of paper on the table at which they sat, both bent over them. There were not many words on either, but to Heatherwick they were significant enough in their plain straightforwardness. Charles Ambrose M. B. Medical Officer of Health, Crayport, Lancaster, 1903 to 4.

In practice, Whiteburn, Lancaster, 1904 to 9. Police surgeon, Salithwaite. W.R. Yorks, 1909 to 12. In practice, Bronsbury, London, 1912 to 18. Struck off register by General Medical Council for Unprofessional Conduct, 1918 So much for him, muttered Matherfield,

his cheek bulging with bread and cheese. I thought it would be something like that. Now, the other. Cyp. L-R-C-P-L-R-C-S. In practice, Birmingham, 1897 to 1902, at Wyborough, North Hance, 1902 to 11, at Dalston, North, 1911 to 17.

Convicted of fraud at Central Criminal Court, 1917, and struck off register by General Medical Council, 1918. Ho! ho! exclaimed Matherfield. Been in the dock already, has he? Well, well, Mr. Heatherwick, we continue to learn, sir. We know still more. Buzzveries, a convicted criminal.

Both have been struck off the register. Ambrose was certainly at Saliswate, and he'd be there, according to these dates, at the time of the Whittingham affair. A promising pair for our purposes, what do you think? I'm wondering if the two men know each other, answered Heatherwick. Shouldn't wonder, said Matherfield. Probably they do.

Probably they're mixed up together in this affair. Probably they're actual partners in it, accessories to each other. But now that I know this much about them, I can find out more, especially about Ambrose, as he was a police surgeon. I can find out, too, what BuzzVare's particular crime was, defrauding a patient, I should imagine, but I'll put one or two men onto working up particulars and records of both Buzzvilly and Ambrose this afternoon, and of course I shall go back and thoroughly examine that flat in John Street. and I suppose, in view of the evidence, supplied by Macpherson, set up a search for Ambrose, suggested

Heatherwick. To be sure, we'll get out a tract by the police notice, describing him to the best of our power, replied Matherfield, but I'll tell you, in my opinion, it'll be a stiff job getting hold of him. If you want my opinion, as a private individual, he's probably got to that secret invention of Hannaford's, and gone off across the Atlantic with it, to turn it into money. That's very likely, assented Heatherwick. But what about Basvili? I'm not so much concerned about him now, said Matherfield.

Ambrose seems to be the man I want, first, anyway, but I shall do what I can to get hold of Basvili. if these Pentany and Blankensop people had only come to us instead of laying plans of their own some good would have been done I shouldn't have let the man get away my belief observed Heatherwick is that Bavere and Ambrose

are partners in this affair and how do we know that they didn't meet at Dover and that they haven't gone off together Still wondering about this, Heatherwick next morning went round to Lincoln's Enfields and asked to see one of the partners. He was shown into the room in which he and Matherfield had had their interview on the previous day, but he found Major Pentany alone. Blankensop remarked the junior partner had business in the courts that morning. I called, explained Heatherwick, to ask you.

if you had any more information about Buzz Bailey's disappearance at Dover. Pentany made a wry face. More vexed than ever about that, he answered. Most inexcusably stupid conduct on the part of our man, man we've always found so reliable previously. He came back yesterday afternoon, crestfallen, told us all about it, and got a jolly good wigging. he'd done well at first tracked his man from rivers reed court to dorking and thence to redhill and thence to dover after one or two changes

bosvili put up at some hotel i forget which near the harbour our man certain that basvili was quite unconscious that he was being followed put up there too nothing happened he saw basveli at dinner that night saw him in the smoking room after. In fact, he had a game of billiards with him and saw him retire to bed. Their rooms were adjacent. He felt sure of seeing him at breakfast, but when he went down, he found that the bird had flown. Flown, said the night porter, before six o'clock.

He didn't know where. Nor could our man trace him at station or pier or anywhere. careless sort of watching said heatherwick worse than careless agreed pentany as i said he caught it hot but now the telephone bell on blenkinsop's desk rang with a word of excuse pentany turned to it a moment later a smothered ejaculation of surprise came from him followed by a sharp interrogation on his part suddenly he turned on heathered "'Good heavens!' he exclaimed. "'What's all this? "'This is Lady Rivers-Reed speaking. "'She says her sister, who came yesterday,

"'and Miss Featherstone, have been kidnapped. "'Kidnapped this morning!' "'Hetherwick leapt to his feet with a sharp exclamation, "'half amazed, half incredulous, "'but already his thoughts were with Rona. "'He saw the dangers of the situation "'for her as Pantany could not. not see them. Impossible, he said, kidnapped in broad daylight, and from there? But Pentany was still

busy at the telephone, giving and receiving rapid answers. Yes, yes, he was saying, to be sure, police, yes, I'm coming straight there. Car, tell the police to get busy. He turned sharply to Heatherwick as he laid down the instrument. Fear, there's no impossibility of about it he said lady rivers reed says they were carried off as they crossed from the court to the home she's heard something of a big car with a strange men in it i'm going down there at once there's more in this affair than one sees at first i'll come with you said heatherwick where can we get a car a fast one garage close by at king's way answered pentany hurriedly seizing on one of several great-coats that hung in in a recess. Here, get into one of these. You're about my height, and the air is still nippy, motoring. Now come on. We'll be there in under an hour. You know, he continued as they left the office and hastened toward Kingsway. I think I see through something of this already,

Heatherwick. These fellows probably believed they were kidnapping Lady Rivers Reed, and got her sister in mistake for her. Ransom, you know. The blackmailing Dodge failed. Now they're trying this. A desperate and dare-devil lot, evidently. Heatherwick nodded a silent assent. He was wondering whether or not to tell Pentany that the Miss Featherstone, of whom he had just spoken, was in reality the granddaughter of the man whose mysterious murder appeared to be the starting point of the more recent, equally mysterious events. That fact, it seemed to him, would have to come out sooner or later, and there might be possible complications, perhaps unpleasantness, when Lady Rivers-Reed

discovered that Rona had gone to her as a spy. Might it not be well to take Pentany and his confidence and explain matters? But on reflection, he decided to wait until they knew the exact situation at Rivers-Reed Court. So far, in spite of Lady Rivers-Reed's news, he felt it difficult to believe that two women, one of them, to his knowledge, a girl of character and resource, and the other, a woman of the world, used to traveling and to adventure, could be carried off in broad daylight, in immediate prospect of two large houses. The thing seemed impossible. End of Chapter 18 Chapter 19 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher.

This Libervox recording is in the public domain. The London Road Some 50 minutes later, the big powerful car, which Pantany had commissioned in Kingsway, dashed up to Riversbury Court. Heatherwick found that there had been no exaggeration in Lady Rivers-Reed's telephone message. She herself came hurrying out to meet them. There were men standing about the terrace outside, and others visible in the park. A couple of uniformed policemen followed Lady Rivers-Reed from her study, where Heatherwick supposed her to have been in

consultation with them, and her first glance was directed on Heatherwick himself. She addressed him before Pentony could go through any hurried introduction. "'I've seen you before,' she exclaimed, abruptly. "'You were with my secretary, Miss Featherstone, at Victoria Sunday morning. "'Are you engaged to her?' "'No,' replied Heatherwick, "'but we are close friends.' "'Well, Miss Featherstone's been run away with,

"'and so has my sister, Madame de Starelle,' continued Lady Rivers read. That's the long and short of it. You seemed almost incredulous when I rang you up, she continued, turning to Pentany, but there's no doubt about it. They've been kidnapped under my very windows, and we haven't a single clue, a trace of any sort. So far, you mean, answered Pentany coolly, but come, but let me hear all about it. What are the details? details exclaimed lady rivers reed we don't know any details all i know is this my sister came here from hampshire yesterday evening to stay a few days this morning after we had breakfasted she and miss featherstone set out across the park for the home leaving me here i meant to follow in a few minutes i did follow i wasn't ten minutes behind them but when i got to follow i was ten minutes behind them but when i got to follow i got to follow it got to the home, they weren't there. And Mitchell, the men at the door, said they hadn't come.

They didn't come. Eventually, I came back here to find out if something had happened, and they'd returned by some other way. But they weren't here. Then I began to make some inquiry. One of the housemaids, who'd been looking out of the top window, said she'd seen a cargo at a great rate down the middle drive in the direction of the high road, soon after Madame Listerrelle and Miss Featherstone left the house. And, of course, there's no doubt about it. They've been carried off in that. This is more work of that man, Baz Verrises. You said something over the phone about strange men being seen in the car, remarked Pentany. Oh, that, yes, the same girl said she thought that she could see two men sitting in the car,

entered Lady Rivers' Reed. Of course they'd be strange. Pentany turned to the policemen, at the same time, tapping Heatherwick's arm. I think we'd better go across the park and see for ourselves, if there are any signs of a struggle at any particular place, he said, I don't think either, Madame Listerrelle, or Miss Featherstone, likely persons to be carried off without making a fight of it. have you been across the grounds yet he added to the elder of the two men i mean by the path they took not yet sir we've only just arrived answered the man come along then said pentany he lingered a moment as heatherwick and the policeman left the hall and said a few words to lady rivers reed then he hurried out and headed his party this way he continued leading hessing hestherw Hetherwick along the terrace. I know the usual route to the home, plain sailing, from here to there, except at one spot, and there I conclude, whatever has happened, did happen.

Heatherwick paid particular attention to the route along which Pentany led his party. The path went straight across the park, from the end of the terrace at the court, to near the front entrance of the home, and from the court itself it looked as if there was no break in it. But about halfway between the two houses, there was an important break, which could not be seen until pedestrians were close upon it. Transsecting the park from its southern to its northern boundaries was a sunk roadway, the middle drive to which Lady Rivers-Reed had referred, gained from the park above, on each side, by ornamental steps. Whatever happened in that roadway, Heatherwick saw at once, could not have been seen from the

higher ground above, save by anyone close to its edge. But two or three hundred yards or so from the steps, which made a continuation of the path, the embankments of the sunk road flattened out into the lower stretches of the park, and there the road itself could be seen from the top windows of the court, and from those of the home also. Pentany paused at the top of these ornamental steps. If these two ladies have been carried off, as they certainly seem to have been, he said, turning to his companions, this is the spot. Now just let me explain the lie of the land. The main road edges the park at the northern

end, as you all know. But there is a good road at the southern extremity, and the sunk road runs down from it. A car could come down from there, be pulled up here, and kept waiting until the two ladies came

along. They would have to descend these steps across the road and ascend the steps on the other bank to get to the other half of the park. Now suppose they're forced into a car at the foot of the steps. The car goes off for the main road and gets clear away within a minute or two of the kidnapping taking place. There is the difficulty.

The thing would be easy to do, granted force. Probably the two captives were forced into the car at the point of revolvers. That's about it, sir, agreed the elder of the policeman. no choice of the matter for things and as you say they'd be in and off miles off before they fairly knew what had happened come down and let's see the roadway said pentany but there was nothing to see at the foot of the steps the road like all roads and paths on rivers reed court property was in a perfect state of repair and there was scarcely a grain of dust on its sea spic and span, artificially treated and smoothed surface. Certainly, there were no signs of any struggle. That's how it's been done. You may depend on it, observed Pentony to Heatherwick, as they looked about. The men were waiting here with revolvers. They forced them into the car,

and get in after them. A third man, an accomplice, would drive off. If only we had some more definite information about the car and its occupants. There's an old chap coming down the road who seems to have his eye on us, remarked Heatherwick looking round. He must have something to tell. After all, some of the people hereabouts must have seen the car. The old man, evidently a labourer, came nearer, looking inquiringly from one to the other. He had the air of one who can tell him.

something on occasion. Be you gentlemen inquiring about a motie car that was round here this morning, he asked as he came up. I hear there was somebody asking questions

that way, so I just come down long like. We are, answered Pentany. Do you know anything? The old man pointed up the sunk road to a part of the park where it was lost amongst trees and coppices.

Lives up there, I do, he said. My cottage, it be just behind the trees to other side of the road, what this here runs into. My garden, it runs down to the edge of that road. When I was a garden in this morning, maybe about half past nine o'clock that was, I sees a motie car what come along from you, your way, and turns into this here sunk road. Maybe that's what you're talking about.

No doubt, agreed Pentany, and we're much obliged to you. Now what sort of car was it? Closed or open? Oh, twas closed up. Same as one of the old cabs, what us don't see no more now, said the old man, but I see inside it for all that, two gentlemen. "'Gentlemen, eh?' repeated Pentany. "'Just so. And a driver outside, of course?' "'Oh, I, there was a driver outside, to be sure. In livery he was, "'like a gentleman's servant. Smart feller.' "'Could you describe the gentleman?'

"'No, surely. Two gentlemen, though. A sitting back, I seize him, "'and sees the moody car, too, turned down this here very road.' "'What sort of a car was it?' inquired Pentany. "'What color was it painted?' "'Well, now, you beats me. "'It may be a sort of greyish color. "'Or again, it meant be a sort of yowler, "'lightish yowler, or it meant be drabish.

"'I couldn't exactly go for to say what it was proper, "'but a lightish color. "'Lightish, grey, yellow, or drab, something of that sort? Surely. Her wasn't to darken, anyhow, but the feller what drove, now he were in a dark livery. I took particular notice of he, because he was so smart as never was. Green, that was his color, and gold lace. Looked like a dude he did, and I thought, here and as there was them in the park as was inquiring like as ow i'd come and telly pentany rewarded the informant with some silver and turned to his companions with a shake of the head a light-colored car with two men in it driven by a man who wore a dark green livery with gold lace on it he remarked that's about all we're likely to get and if this has been

in a carefully planned affair, the chauffeur would change his livery before they'd gone far, slip on another coat. However, they went back to the court, consulting together. Obviously, there was nothing to do but send out inquiries in the surrounding country. Pentany was skeptical about the success of these. When one considers the thousands of cars to be seen in any given area, During one morning, he said, How can one expect that anybody, even rustics, should give special attention to any particular one? There's no doubt about it.

They've got clean away. It seemed as if nothing could be done but to give the kidnapping full publicity through the police and the press. In the neighborhood of the court, nobody beyond the housemaid and the old cottager appeared to have seen the car and its occupants. But during the afternoon, as Heatherwick and Pentany were about to set out for London,

a man came to the house and asked to see Lady Rivers-Reed. Lady Rivers-Reed went out to him, the two men accompanied her, and found at the hall door, an elderly, respectable-looking fellow, who had driven up in a light cart. He had heard, he said, of what had happened at Rivers-Reed court, morning, and he believed he could tell something, for he was sure that he had seen a car, such as that the police were inquiring after, pass his house. And where is that? asked Lady Rivers-Reed. About two miles the other side of dorking, my lady, on the London road. I'm a market gardener, name of Thomas Chillam, and I was outside my garden gate this morning, about near as I can reckon, ten o'clock, when I saw a car, light-colored, coming from dorking at a

particularly high speed, a good deal faster than it had any right to do. I watched it carefully, my lady, but just as it got near to my place, there was a man drove some sheep out of a by-lane, a few yards past my garden, and the car was obliged to slow down. And so, I saw the folks in it. Yes, said Lady Rivers-Reed, and who was in it? There was a couple of men, my lady, on the front seat, and a couple of ladies in the back. Of course it was a closed car, but I saw him plain enough, all four. It seemed to me as if they were all either quarreling or having high words.

They were all talking together, anyhow. but though the car had slowed down because of the sheep it was still moving at a fair pace and of course they were gone still moving at a fair pace london way in a minute as it were all the same i saw him clearly enough to see that one of the men inside was a man i've seen before about here exclaimed lady rivers reed no my lady answered chillam in london It's this way, my lady. Me and my missus, we've a grown-up daughter, what's in service in London, Grovener Gardens. Now and again, we go up to see her and stop a night or two close by, and of course we take a look around.

Now I've seen that man two or three times about Victoria Station. I knew him at once when I saw him this morning, and just tell us what he's like, will you? interrupted Pentany, as near as you can. Well, sir, I ain't good at that, but he's a tall, good-looking, smart-dressed gentleman with a beard and a mustache, taller nor what you and that other gentleman is, sir. I've seen him in Victoria Street. Maybe it was his height, made me notice him. And you're sure that was the man you saw in the car this morning?

Make no doubt on it, sir. I'm as certain as that I see yourself. Oh, yes. Heatherwick put in a question. The second man in the car, did you notice him? Can you remember him? Chillam reflected for a while. I remember that he was a white-faced chap, he said at last, wore a top hat, silk. When Chilham had gone away, Heatherwick turned to him. to his companions. That sounds like Ambrose for one man and Basvelli for the other. He said, What devilry are they up to now?

Pentany, we must get back to London. End of Chapter 19. Chapter 20 of the Charing Cross Mystery This Librevox recording is in the public domain. The Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. converging tracks It was an hour later when they pulled up at Matherfield's headquarters and went in to find him. Matherfield brought to them after some search, rubbed his hands at sight of them.

Come at the right moment, he exclaimed, I've got news, of Ambrose. Matherfield evidently expected his visitors to show deep interest, if not past enthusiasm in respect of this announcement, and he stared wonderingly on seeing that their faces showed nothing but gloom and concern. But you, you look as if you'd have bad news, he exclaimed, something gone wrong. I forgot that we might have telephoned you from Rivers Reed Court, replied Heatherwick, suddenly realizing that Matherfield seemed to know nothing of the days happening. But I thought the dorking police would do that.

Gone wrong. Yes. And it may have to do with Ambrose. We've heard news that seems to fit in with him. But it's this. He went on to give Matherfield a brief account of the day's events. There you are, he concluded. I've no doubt whatever that Buzz Vailie and Ambrose,

are in at this, kidnapping in broad daylight. Matherfield, you've got to find them. Matherfield had listened with close attention to Heatherwick's story, and now he looked from him to Pentany, from Pentany to a printed bill which lay on his desk at his side. I think I see what all this is about, he remarked after a pause. Those chaps think they've got, or they thought they got Lady Rivers' Reed, to hold for ransom, of course. They took Miss Haniford because she chanced to be there.

What they really kidnapped, and there's more of that done than you gentlemen might think, I can tell you, was Lady Rivers' reed's sister. but however sisters, twin sisters may closely resemble each other, there comes a time when difference of identity is bound to come out. By this time, perhaps long before, those men must have discovered that they laid hats on the wrong woman, and the question is, what would they do then? It seems to me that the more immediate question is, where are the two women? Where are the two women, exclaimed Heatherwick. Think of their danger. Oh, well, Mr. Heatherwick, I don't suppose they're in any personal danger, answered Matherfield. They're in the hands of Briggins, no doubt, but I don't think there

will be any maltreatment of them. Set your mind at rest about that. They don't do that sort of thing nowadays. It's all done politely, and with every consideration, I believe. As to where they are, why, somewhere in London. And there are over seven millions of other people in London, and hundreds upon hundreds of thousands of inhabited houses. A lot of needles in that bundle of hay, gentlemen. They've got to be found, repeated Heatherwick, doggedly. You'll have to set all your machinery to work. This can't wait a bit, Heatherwick, interrupted. Pentany. He turned to Matherfield. You said you had news of this man, Ambrose? What news? Matherfield attached the printed bill, which lay on his desk. I had that circulated broadcast this

morning, he answered, and then, of course, the newspapers have helped. Well, not so very long before you came in, I was called to the telephone by a man named Killiner, who told me he was the landlord of the Green Archer Tavern in Wood Street, Westminster. Westminster again, exclaimed Heatherwick. That seems to be the center point. And a very good thing to have a center point, Mr. Heatherwick, said Matherfield. When things begin to narrow down, one gets some chance. Well, I was saying, this man rang me up to say that if I go down there,

he thought he could give me some information relative to the bill about the missing man. What he'd got to say, he said, was too long for a telephone talk. I answered that I'd be with him shortly, and I was just setting off when you arrived. Of course, I don't know what he can tell. It may be nothing. It may be something. Perhaps you gentlemen would like to go with me, and hear what it is. I would, but I mustn't, replied Pentany. I must go to my office and hear if Lady Rivers read or the local police have had any fresh news. Keep in touch with me, though, Matherfield.

Let me know what you hear. I'll go with you, said Hetherwick. Westminster, he muttered again, when Pentany had gone. It looks as if this man, Ambrose, was known in that district. Likely, assented Matherfield. But you know, Mr. Heatherwick, there are some queer spots in that quarter. people who know the purely ornamental parts of Westminster, such as the Abbey and the Houses of Parliament and Victoria Street and so on,

don't know that there are some fine old slums behind them, but I'll show you when we get down there. We shall go through one or two savoury slices. He was putting on his overcoat as he spoke, in readiness for setting out, but before he had buttoned it, a constable entered, with a card. Wants to see you particularly and at once,

he said, waiting outside. Bring him in, straight, answered Meadowfield. He pushed the card along his desk in Heatherwick's direction. Lord Moradale, he exclaimed. Who's he? The man who's engaged to Madame Listerrell, replied Heatherwick in an undertone, Hapshire Magnate.

Matherfield turned expectantly to the open door, a shortish, stoutish person, who looked more like a typical city man, prosperous and satisfied, came hustling in and gave Heather Wick and his companion a sharp inquiring glance, which finally settled on Matherfield. Mr. Matherfield, he asked, just so.

I'm Lord Morrowdale. Oh, of course, I sent in my car. Just so. Well, Mr. Matherfield, I've had an extraordinary communication from Lady Rivers Reed. She telephoned to my house in Hill Street this morning, but I was down in the city and didn't hear of her message till late this afternoon. She says, Madame Listerrand has been kidnapped. Kidnapped? Preposterous. I am afraid it's neither preposterous nor improbable, my lord, answered. motherfield i'm quite sure madame is torel has been kidnapped and lady riversveed's secretary miss featherstone with her i've been down at riversford court most of the day and there's no doubt about it the two ladies were carried off from there by three men in a fast car which was driven toward london that's a fact "'God bless my soul!' exclaimed Lord Morredale, in broad daylight.

"'Twentieth century, too. And there is no clue?' "'None so far, my lord. Of course, we've noised the affair as much as possible, and all our people are on the lookout. But it's a difficult case,' continued Matherfield. The probability is that the ladies have been rushed to some house in London, and that they're there in captivity. Of course, one theory is that the kidnappers took Madame Listerrel for her sister. They meant to get Lady Rivers' reed and hold her ransom.

Lord Mordale pursed his lips. Then he rubbed his chin. Then he shook his head. Finally, he gave Hetherwick a shrewd glance, eyeing him from head to foot. Hmm, he said, Ah This gentleman

Not one of your people I think, Matherfield? No, my lord This gentleman is Mr. Hetherwick of the Middle Temple, who is interested very deeply in certain matters connected with the affair. Mr. Hetherwick has been down to Rivers-Reed

with me, and your lordship can speak freely before him. Lord Mordale gave Hetherwick a friendly, knowing, nod, and then he glanced at the door, and Matherfield made haste to close it. Thanky, said Lord Mordale, just as well to be in private. Hmm, I think I'd better tell you something, Matherfield. I dare say, that's a reasonable supposition of yours, that these villains took Madame Ristogne for

her sister, but I don't think they did. I think they knew very well whom they were seized, mind you, they'd have seized Lady Rivers Reed, too, if she'd happened to be there, but it was Madame they were after. If your lordship would explain, suggested Matherfield, I'm going to. It's what I came here for. I think I can just put you on the right scent. You may have heard that Madame Mistorel and I are about to marry? Well, I accordingly knew a good tea.

about her affairs. Now, I don't know whether you know or not that Madame Listerrelle is actively concerned or has been in buying and selling jewels on commission. That's her specialty. Heard something of it, my lord, replied Matherfield. Very well. Now, quite recently, Madame Mistorel bought up in Paris a magnificent set of stones, which has been at one time the property of a member of the Russian imperial family. She brought them here to London, meaning shortly, either to send or take them personally to America, to her customer. This deal, unfortunately, got into the papers. Now, it's my belief that these fellows have kidnapped Madame in order to get hold of these jewels. Do you see? Ah, exclaimed Madhiel.

"'I see, my lord. That puts a new aspect on the case. "'But surely, Madame Listerall wouldn't have the stones on her.' "'Lord Mordale winked deliberately at both his hearers. "'No, he said no, she wouldn't. "'But the scoundrels would figure on this, "'that when she was fairly in their power, "'they would be in a position to make her give them up, "'to force her, in short,

to disclose their whereabouts if they're desperate villains not likely to stick at anything i think they'll have forced madame to compliance and in doing so give you a chance to lay hands on them how my lord asked matherfield eagerly lord morredale gave the two men a confidential glance this way he replied the jewels were deposited for safety by a Madame Listern at the Imperial Safe Deposit. She rents a safe there. Now, don't you see what I'm suggesting? These men may force her to give them the necessary key

and assigned order to the safe people to let the bearer open Madame Safe and take away a certain case in which the jewels are packed. That's what I think will be done. And what you want to do is the Imperial Safe Deposit officials

at once, warn them of what I suggest may happen, and take your own means of watching for such a messenger arriving, and for tracking him when he departs, eh? Or arresting him then and there, said Manifield. No, no, I shouldn't, declared Lord Moradale. I'm not a policeman, you know, but I can give a hint to one. instead of arresting the man, who you must remember, will be sure to have Madame's written authority on him, that is, if things turn out, as I suggest, I should carefully follow him. For he'll probably go back to where Madame and the young lady, Miss what's her name,

are detained, eh? Matherfield shook his head. I should doubt that, my lord, he answered. if things work out as you suggest, and is a highly probable theory, that's about the last thing he would do. Once the jewels were in his possession, you forget this, interrupted Lord Moradale. They may use a cat's-baw, eh? Well, there's that in it, certainly, assented Matherfield. However, I'll see that the imperial safety-posit people are warned,

and that this entrance is carefully watched tomorrow morning. but the thing may have been done already there's been plenty of time since the ladies were carried off no said lord moradale nothing's happened so far i called in at the imperial safe deposit as i came here they had neither seen madame listerrelle nor had any communication from her to-day and now the place is closed for the night did you warn them then inquired motherfield i didn't I thought it best to see you first, replied Lord Moradale. The warning and the rest of it will come best from you. Very good, my lord. Much obliged to your lordship for looking in, said Motherfield. We'll keep you posted up in anything that happens at Hill Street.

Now, he continued, when Lord Moradale had left the office, we'll get along to Westminster, Mr. Hetherwick, to the Green Archer and its landlord Killiner. The Green Archer proved to be a respectable tavern, which boasted a saloon bar. Behind the glass screens of this, they found a middle-aged, sharp-eyed man, who, at the sight of his visitors, immediately opened the door of a parlor in the rear, and ushered them into privacy. He pointed silently to a copy of the bill, asking for news of Amber.

I, said Meatherfield, just so. I had your message. You think you know this man? From this description of him in that bill, yes, replied the landlord. I think he's a man, gentlemen, by all appearances, who used to come into my saloon pretty regularly during this last six months, since the end of last summer, I should say, up to about three weeks or so ago. "'Not since then, eh?' asked Matterfield. "'Three weeks?' "'How about that?' "'No, he hasn't been in for quite that.

"'But up to then he'd been in, well, "'four or five days in a week. "'Hansom, fine man. "'In fact, you've described him exactly there. "'I never knew who he was. "' Used to pass the time of day with him, you know, "'but that was all. "'He always came in about the same day.

time, one to one-thirty. He'd have sometimes a glass of bitter ale and a sandwich or two, sometimes a whiskey soda, and two or three biscuits, stood and had his snack and went away. Never talked much. I took him for some gentleman that had business hereabouts and just wanted a bite and a sup in the middle of the day and turned in here for it. But I don't know what business he could be concerned in round here. He hadn't the tradesman's look on him, you understand. I should have said he was a professional man of some sort, always very well-dressed, you know, smart.

However, I did notice one peculiar thing about him. What now? asked Matherfield. It all helps. Well, said the landlord, I noticed that his hands and fingers were stained. all sorts of colors sometimes it was more noticeable than at others but there it was hmm remarked motherfield he exchanged a knowing glance with heatherwick and when a few minutes later they left the tavern he turned to him with an air of assurance i beginning to feel the end he said feel it if i don't see it stained fingers eh we've heard of them before, Mr. Heatherwick, and I'll tell you what it is. Somewhere about this very spot, there's some place where men are dabbling, secretly I should think, with chemicals,

and Ambrose is one of them, and perhaps Basvalley another, and it was there that Haniford and that man Granite had been that night, and where they were poisoned. And there, There, too, no doubt, these two ladies are at this minute. Well, come to my place first thing in the morning. Heatherwick, at a loss what to do further that night, went away and dined, and that done, strolled home to his chambers. There was light in his parlour, and when he opened the door, he found Mapperly, evidently awaiting him, and with Maverley,

a curly-headed, big-nosed, beady-eyed young Jew. End of Chapter 20. Chapter 21 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. The Order in Writing Heatherwick realized at once that Maperly had news and was waiting there to communicate it.

But he looked not so much at Maperly as at Mapperly's companion. Mapperly, as Heatherwick had remarked to more than one person in the course of those proceedings, concealed his sharpness under an unusually commonplace exterior. He looked, as a rule, like a young man whose ideas rarely soared above a low level. But the Jew was of a different aspect. Heatherwick was not quite sure whether he was rat or ferret. There was subtlety and craft written all over him, from his bright, beady eyes, to the long, thin, dirty fingers.

And before Mapparly spoke, his employer felt sure that in this son of Israel, the clerk had found a valuable associate. "'Hello, Mapperly!' exclaimed Hederwick. "'Waiting for me? You've some news, I suppose.' mapperly grave and formal pointed a finger at the jew mr isidore goldmark sir he said friend of mine i got him to give me a bit of assistance in this basvili and vivian affair The fact is, sir, he knows Vivians, don't you, Issy? Thumb, replied Mr. Goldmark, with a grin. And he knows Basvary, too, continued Mapperly. By sight, anyhow.

So I got him, for a consideration, to watch for Basveri's next appearance on that scene, and then, when he did come, to keep an eye on him, trick him, in fact, and if he's seen him tonight, Mr. Hetherwick, and followed him. Then, if he came to me, and I brought him here. Good, said Hetherwick. Sit down, both of you, and I'll hear about it. He dropped into his own easy-chair, and again regarding the Jew, decided that he was probably a creditable witness.

What do you do at Vivience, he asked, employed there? Mr. Goldmark glanced at Maperly, and smiled knowingly. Vapperly nodded. All confidential, is he, he said reassuringly. Going no further. Of course, this is all confidential and secret, remarked Heatherwick.

I only want to know the precise connection between Vivian's and Mr. Goldmark. Is that sort of semi-official matter, answered the Jew. Fact is, I do a bit of commission work for Vivian's customers, turf, you know. so i'm in and out of an evening day i see all right and you know pasraeli as well as i know my own nose replied goldmark how long have you known him some time

do you know what he is ain't an idea mister and nobody else that i know of lives on his wits i should say if you ask me wrongon door where he lives? No, myer. All I know is that he comes to Vivian's now and then. And you saw him tonight? I did, Mr. Tonight, as ever was. What time was that? About eight o'clock, Mr. nearest I can fix it. Well, what happened? This, Mr. He came in about eight, as I say. I was there doing a bit of business with another customer, but very he didn't stop. He wasn't in the place three minutes, and while he was in, he seemed to me to be a bit fidgety, and suspicious, like looked round and about him, crosses. Then he went, and I followed him, according to instructions from Mr. Mapley there. Where did he go? Well, Mr. I'll give you the particulars in full,

when I says out and a dove of that sort, I do it proper. He turned out a candlestick passage into the lane, and he had a drink at our bar there. Then he went to Trafalgar Square Tube. I was close behind him when he booked a moment. Does he know you? May just know me by sight, Mr. But not enough to excite any suspicion in him

that he saw me behind him. I never had no truck with him, never spoke with him. Well, go on. Where did he book to? Warwick Avenue, mister. So did I, of course. When we got there, I followed him out at a safe distance. He turns down to the canal, cross the bridge,

and went down to St. Mary's Mansfields, and there he went in. Hetherwick glanced at Mapperly. Mapperly permitted himself to wink at his employer, respectfully but knowingly, went into St. Mary's Mansions, A, said Hetherwick, walked straight in. Straight in, Mr. Front Entrance. I see him from across the road, talking to the man in Liffrey, Porter, or whatever he is, I could see through the glass door. Then I see both of them go up in the lift.

So I waited about a bit just to see if he'd come out. He did. Soon, asked Hetherwick, he was inside about ten minutes, then he came out alone. This time he went in the other direction. I followed him across Paddington Green to Edgeware Road, too. And there, well, to tell you the truth, mister, there I lost him. There was a lot of people about, and I made sure he'd be going. through. But he must have got wet. Anyhow, I lost him altogether. Well, I think you saw enough

to be of help, said Heatherwick. Now, just keep this to yourself, Goldmark. He motioned Maparly into another room, gave him money for his assistant, and waited until the Jew had gone, shown out by the clerk. Eleven o'clock, he remarked, glancing at his watch, as Maperly came back. Maperly, we're going out to St. Mary's Mansions. And after we've been there and made a call, you'd better come back here with me and take a shakedown for the night. I shall want you in the morning, unless I'm mistaken. It was one of Mapperly's chief virtues that he was always ready to go anywhere and do anything,

and he at once accompanied Hetherwick to the top of the Middle Temple Lane, found a taxi-cap within five minutes, and proposed himself to sit up and shake down that night and the next, if necessary. "'Sense getting hot, I think, sir,' he remarked as they drove off. After bidding the driver, carry them to Paddington Green, things seem to be coming to a head. "'Yes, but I don't think you know everything,' answered Heatherwick. He proceeded to give the clerk an epitomized account of the day's doings, as they had related to himself, concluding with Mazurfield's theory as expressed after leaving the Green Archer, you're a smart chap, Mapperly, he added what to you think.

I see Matherfield's point, answered Mapperly. I can follow his line. He thinks like this. Haniford, when he came to London, wanted to get rid advantageously of that formula of his about a new ink. He got into touch with Amber. whom, of course, he'd known before at Salithwaite, Ambrose introduced him to some men who deal or dabble in chemicals, of whom one, no doubt, is Basvary, and who seemed to have a laboratory or something of that sort somewhere in the Westminster District.

On the night of the murder, Ambrose met Haniford by appointment at Victoria, and took him there. Probably Haniford left a sealed packet, opened by that time with these fellows. Probably two, while there he told them, jokingly, likely, what he'd discovered from the picture in the papers about the identity of Mrs. Whittingham and Madame Istorrell.

And now comes in Granite. Heatherwick gave an exclamation that denoted two or three things. Surprise, for one. Ah, granite, to be sure, I'd forgotten, Granite. I hadn't, remarked Mapperly with a cynical laugh. Granite and his murder is an essential factor. What I think is this.

We know that Hanneford met Ambrose at Victoria Station, that all-important evening. Ambrose, without doubt, took him to the place I hinted at just now, the exact location of which is a mystery. I think Haniford stopped there until late in the evening. but I also think he went back again with Granite. Ah, exclaimed Heatherwick, I see. We know, continued Maprily, that Granite went that evening to see the chemist who gave information about him. We know, too, that he and the chemist went and had a drink together and parted at about closing time.

Granite then, according to the chemist, going towards Victoria Street. Now I think that Granite then met Haniford accidentally. They'd known each other in Salithwaite. They talked. Granite told Haniford he was down on his luck. Haniford, evidently, was a kind-hearted man, and I think he did two things out of kindness for Granite. He gave him that five-pound note.

That was got at Vivians, interrupted Heatherwick quickly. To be sure. But we know that Haniford had been at Vivians. with Basvili, undoubtedly, taken thereby Basriri, which makes me certain that for two or three days before his death, he'd been in touch with both Basvili and Ambrose. Haniford got that fiver in change and Vivience, and he gave it to granite on hearing his story. But he did something else, something that was far more important, that is far more important to us. What? asked Hetherwick. He turned back to the place he just left and took

Granite with him, answered Mappily with confidence. He knew Granite was a trained and qualified chemist. He thought he could get him a job without these men who presumably were going to take up his own invention. It would be little more than half-past ten then. Where else than at this place? are Haniford and Granite likely to have been between that time and the time at which they got into your carriage at St. James's Park? Of course they were there, with Ambrose and Basvili. As you put it, highly probable, said Heatherwick, two and a half hours. Doing what? Ah, now we come to the real thing, exclaimed Maperly. my own belief is that Haniford was fatally poisoned when he left those two men the first time.

They'd two objects in poisoning him, or, to put it another way, he'd entrusted them with two secrets, one about Madame Listerrel, the other about his invention. They wanted to keep both to themselves and to profit by both. The invention, no doubt, has considerable value. Aniford believed it had, anyway. They thought they could blackmail Madame and her sister, Lady Riversfried. So, before Aniford left them the first time, they poisoned him, cleverly, subtly, devilishly, knowing that so many hours would elapse before the poison worked,

and that by that time he'd be safe in bed at his hotel and would die in his sleep. But he went back to them again and took another man with him. So that man had to die, too. Heatherwick thought a while in silence. Oh, very good theory, Mapperly, he said at last, but it may be nothing but theory. Why did Granite run off at Charing Cross? Because Granite knew that Ambrose lived in John Street, close by,

replied Mapparly with promptitude. He may have known it before. He may not have known it until that evening, but he knew it. Most likely, he thought that Ambrose had returned home from the place in Westminster. Ambrose may have left there before Hanford and Granite did. Anyway, we may be reasonably certain that when Granite left you with the dying or dead man, he ran off to Ambrose's flat a few minutes away. Why didn't he come back? demanded Heather Wick. only wanting to get at probabilities. I've thought of that, too, replied Maprily. I think he found Ambrose out, but by that time he'd had time to reflect. He knew something was wrong. He knew that if he went back, he'd find the police there and would be questioned. He might be suspected.

And so he went home, with the bottle in which Ambrose had given him a drop of whiskey for himself. and died in his sleep as they thought Hanford would. Why should Ambrose have that bottle down at Westminster? asked Heatherwick. Why shouldn't he? exclaimed Mapperly. A man who's taking a tonic takes it at least three times a day regularly. He'd have his bottle with him. Probably there are several similar empty bottles there at that place. Where is that place? exclaimed Heatherwick.

Where? Got to be found, said Mapperly, as the cab came to a stand. But here's this. Heatherwick led his companion across Paddington Green and to the house from which Ian Matherfield had watched the flats opposite. Late as it was, the lodging housekeeper was up and lent a willing ear to Heatherwick's request that he should go with him to his friend the caretaker of the mansions.

that functionary was at supper he continued to sup as heatherwick morally supported by the lodging-house man explained matters to him but at last he allowed his cheek to bulge with unswallowed food and turned a surprised and knowing eye on his principal visitor blamed if i didn't wonder whether it was all okay with that chap he said banging the table with the haft of his knife for all he was quite the gentleman gentleman, I somehow suspicioned him, and yet he'd a straight tale to tell. Come here, on madame's behalf, to get something for her out of her rooms, had her keys, and give me a note from her, saying as how I was to allow the bearer to go up to her flat. What more could I expect? And what could I do on the Cirque's? I ask her. Oh, he had a note, had he? inquired Heatherwick.

In Madame's writing, the caretaker laid down his knife, and, thrusting his hand in his breast pocket, drew forth an envelope, and silently handed it over. It was an azure-tinted envelope of a very good quality of paper, and the sheet inside matched it in tint and quality. But Hetherwick at once noticed something about that sheet, so too did Maperly, appearing at it from behind his elbow, about an inch and a little. a half had been rather roughly cut off at the top. Obviously, some address had been engraved or embossed or printed on the missing portion. As for what was written on the sheet, it was little, a simple order that the caretaker should allow bearer to go into Madame Listerreuse flat. You recognized that, as Madame's handwriting, suggested Heatherwick. Oh, that's her fist, right enough, that is, replied the caretaker. I knew it at once, and no wonder, I ain't no scholar,

not me, but I knows enough that it'd puzzle one of them here forgers, as he reads about, to imitate that their sort of writing, more like as if it had been done with a wooden skewer than a Christian pen. Oh, that's hers. Heatherwick handed the letter and envelope to him who was holding out a hand. Well, he said, I wish you'd just let me have a look into Madame's flat. There's something seriously wrong, and, oh, you can do that long as I'm with you, said the caretaker readily. He rose, and led the way to the left, and presently ushered them into a small flat,

and turned on the electric light. Don't see nothing wrong here, he observed. That chap wasn't here ten minutes. and he carried nothing heavy away, whatever he had in his pockets. Heatherwick and Mappardly looked round. Everything seemed correct and in order. The surroundings were those of a refined and artistic woman, obviously one who loved order and system,

but on a desk that stood in the center of the sitting-room, a drawer had been pulled open, and in front of it lay scattered a few sheets of Madame Listeau-in's private note-paper with her engraved address and crest. Nearby lay some envelopes, similarly marked. And with a sudden idea in his mind, Heatherwick picked up a sheet or two of the paper

and a couple of envelopes and put them in his pocket. A few minutes later, once more in the cab, which they had kept waiting, and on the way to Hill Street, whither Heatherwick had been the driver to go next, mapperly turned to his employer with a sly lap, and held up something in the light of a street lamp by which they were passing. What's that? asked Hetherwick.

The order, written by Madame Listerle, answered Mapperly, chuckling. The caretaker didn't notice that I carried it off, envelope and all, under his very eyes, but I did, and here it is. What do you want to do with it? demanded Hetherwick. what's your notion. But, Maperly, only chuckled again, and without giving any answer, restored the azure-tinted envelope and its contents

to his pocket. End of Chapter 21. Chapter 22 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. The highly respectable solicitor. Lord Moradale, who kept up honest, country squire habits, even in London, had gone to bed when Heatherwick and Mapperly arrived at his

house, but he lost little time in making an appearance, in pajamas and dressing-gown, and listened eagerly to Heatherwick's account of the recent transactions. Force! He muttered, nodding his head at each point of the story, Force. Got it out of her by force. That is, if the order's genuine. Mapperly produced the sheet of paper, which she had filched under the caretaker's eyes, and silently handed it over. "'Oh, that's Madame de Sarelle's handwriting,' exclaimed Lord Moradale. "'Hurs, without doubt.

"'Difficult to imitate, of course. "'Oh, yes, hers.' "'Well, that proves what I've just said, Mr. Heatherwick, force. "'She's in their power, with the young lady, Miss Featherstone, to be sure, and they've made her write that. Next, they'll make her write an order on the Imperial safe deposit. We must be beforehand with them there, early, early as possible in the morning. Meet me at Matherfields.

I think he's pretty keen. Bless me, what a pack of villains. Now, I wonder where, in all London, these unfortunate ladies are. That's precisely what all this ought to help us find out, remarked Heatherwick. I'm not so much concerned about the valuables these men are after as about the safety of Lord Mordale gave him a quick understanding glance. Of Miss Featherstone, eh? He said, I see, I see. And I'm concerned, too, about Madame Listerrell. Well, this, as you say, ought to help. But look here, we must be cautious, very cautious. We mustn't let Matherfield.

you know what the police are we mustn't let him be too precipitate probably if a man comes to the safe place he'll go away from it to where those scoundrels are we must follow follow i agree said heatherwick nine o'clock then at matherfield's concluded his lordship and may we have a strong scent a rousing one and a successful kill with this bit of sporting phraseology in their ears heatherwick and mapperly returned to the middle temple and retired for the rest of the night one to bed the other to a shakedown on the sitting-room sofa but when heatherwick's alarm clock awoke him at seven thirty and he put his head into the next room to rouse the clerk he found that mapperley had vanished the cushions rugs and blankets with which she had made him comfortable for the night, were all neatly folded and arranged. On the topmost was pinned a sheet of brief paper with a message scrawled in blue pencil. You won't want me this morning off on an important notion of my own. Look out for messages from me about new. M. muttering to himself that he hadn't the least idea as to what his clerk was about, Heatherwick made a hurried

toilet and an equally hurried breakfast, and hastened away to meet Matherfield and Lord Moradale. He found these two together, and with them a quiet, solemn-faced individual, clad in unusually somber garments, whom Matherfield introduced as Detective Sergeant Quigman. Matterfield went straight to business. His lordships just told me of your adventure last night, Mr. Hetherwick, he said, and I'm beginning to get a sort of forecast of what's likely to happen. It was, of course, Basvary, who went to Madame's flat last night. That's settled.

But what do you suppose he went for? Can't say that I've worked that out, answered Hazzerwick with a glance at the others, but I imagine that he went there to get, say, certain keys, having forced Madame Lestorel to tell him where they were, the keys of her safe. at the deposit place, I should think. No, replied Matherfield, shaking his head knowingly, and with a sly smile at Quigman.

No, not that. I'll tell you what he went for, a very simple thing. He went to get some of Madame's private note paper. He knew well enough that if he was to take an order on that safe deposit, to allow the bearer access to Madame safe, it would have to be what the French, I believe, call a regle, eh, written on her own note-paper, in her own handwriting, and so on. See? I think you're right, and I think he got it, said Heatherwick. A drawer in her desk,

containing boxes of stationery, had been pulled out, and so of its contents lay about the desk. As a matter of fact, though I scarcely know why I did it, I put some paper and some envelopes in my pocket. Here they are. I had a faint idea. that they might be useful somehow. Well, that's the notion depend upon it, asserted Matafield, glancing at the paper which Hetherwick produced. I've no doubt that somebody, representing Madame Listerrand, and bearing an authorization from her,

written on her notepaper in her own writing, will present himself at the Imperial Safe Deposit this morning. But it won't be Basvary, and it won't be Ambrose. "'A stranger, eh?' suggested Heatherwick. "'We shall see. "'Now,' continued Matherfield, glancing at the clock, "'will be off to the scene of operations. "'This imperial safe deposit is in King's Way, Holborn End,

"'and very fortunately situated for our job, "'being close to the tube station. "'There will be lots of people about there, "'and we shan't attract attention. "'And this is the way of it. "'His lordship and myself will, go into the safe deposit, see the people in charge, explain matters, and get them to tell us at once if and when the expected ambassador arrives. We shall let him or her, interrupted Quigman

solemnly. Just so, my lad, it might be a she, assented Matherfield, quite likely. We shall let him or her get what is wanted from the safe and go away, closely followed by all four of us. While Lord Mordale and I are inside, you and Quigman, Mr. Heatherwick, will be outside, talking casually when we come out, and you'll both keep a sharp watch on the entrance hall. I'll give you the office as to the particular person we're following, and wherever that person goes, you two will go. but don't come near us. We'll keep on one side of the street, you the other. If the person takes a cab or a bus, well, we'll have to do the same. But I've reasons for thinking he or she will stick to his feet. How do we go altogether? asked Hetherwick, because it's a mere idea. How do you know, Meatherfield, that these people, there would appear to be more than one, concerned, aren't keeping an eye on you. I've thought of that, answered Matherfield.

No, we're all going separately. It's now 9.15. That Imperial Safe Deposit doesn't open its doors till ten. Nobody can get in there until that time, anyway. We all four go out of this office on our own hook. Each takes his own method of getting to the top of Kingsway. As soon as I get there, I go straight in and ask for the manager. As soon as Lord Moradale gets there, he follows suit.

He and I, for gather, in the manager's room. As for you two, go how you like, fly if it suits you, or wander around the side streets, but you meet right opposite the safe deposit entrance at precisely 10 o'clock, and under pretence of casual meeting and conversation, keep your eyes on it, noticing everybody who goes in and comes out. That clear? Then we all clear out, one by one. Outside and left to his own devices, Heatherwick walked a little way and then hailed a taxi cab. He gave his driver a confidential smile. You can just help me to employ 40 minutes, he said, as he got in, drive around, anywhere you like, up and down,

as long as you put me down at the corner of the Holborn restaurant, precisely two minutes to ten. Got that? The driver comprehended, and began a leisurely journey round certain principal streets and thorough fares. Two minutes before ten, he pulled up at the Holborn Kingsway corner and gave his fare a grin. Done it to the second, sir, he announced, nodding at an adjacent clock.

Good man, said Heatherwick. handing out something over the registered fare. Then an idea struck him. Look here, he continued, confidentially. I, and another man, may have to follow somebody from here, presently. Just drive down the street here, keeping your flag down, and wait. If I want you, I shall be close at hand. The driver showed his understanding by a nod and a wink,

and moved a little distance off to the curbstone. heatherwick walked slowly down the west side of king's way and precisely as the clock struck ten he saw lord moradale come from one direction and enter the formidable looking and just opened door of the safe deposit and matherfield appear from the other looking round again he was aware of the solemn-faced quidman who sauntered round the corner of parker street and came towards him hetherwick went on to meet him there you are he said doing a little acting in case any inimical eyes were on him to the minute we'd better appear to be doing a bit of talk eh the others have just gone in i saw him sir replied quigman coming to a halt on the curb and affecting an interest in anything rather than on what he was really working ah but the question is when will they come out might be in a few minutes, so to speak. Mightn't be for hours, as it were. You seem to be a melancholy chap, observed Hetherwick.

Melancholy job, muttered Quigman. Watching isn't my line, but Matherfield, he particularly wanted me to be in at this. Why? asked Hetherwick. Peculiar knowledge of solicitors and their clerks in this part of London, replied Quigman. My line. Matherfield, he's an idea that the order to open this safe will be presented by a solicitor. Good Lord, Patsy, exclaimed Hetherwick. I wonder, but big help to these chaps, don't you see?

If they can make a solicitor do the cat's paw work, suggested Quigman, who suspect a solicitor of the High Court. And as I know pretty nearly all of them, there's one I know now coming up to the side of the street. he continued suddenly. That tallish, thin, pale-faced chap. See him? Look at him without seeming to look.

Now, I wonder if he's the party we want. Hetherwick looked in the direction indicated. He saw a youngish, spectacled man in a silk hat, morning coat, and the corresponding additions of professional attire, who was walking rapidly along from south to north. He was a very mild, gentle-looking person, not at all the sort to be concerned in dark plots and mysterious aims, and Heatherwick said so. I, well, you never know, remarked Quigman, lugubriously, but, as I say, I know him, Mr. Garrowell.

Mr. Octavius Garrowell solicitor of St. Martin's Lane, that is, been in practice for himself about four years or so. Nice young fellow, quiet, and he is going in there, see? heatherwick saw there were several people men and women entering the safe deposit just then but mr garrowell's silk hat and sloping shoulders made him easily identifiable i de say it's him observed quickman with a sigh just the sort to be took in he is innocent unsuspecting sort of gentleman however it mayn't be steal o people use these safe deposits nowadays Mr. Garrowwell disappeared. The two watchers waited. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes went by. Then Mr. Garwell came out. He came out just as any man would come out after transacting his business, quietly. Nobody followed him. Nobody seemed to be watching him from the safe deposit. But Hetherwick noticed at once that, whereas he had entered, carrying nothing but an umbrella,

he now carried a small square leather-covered box. With this in his left hand, he crossed the roadway and advanced straight towards Hetherwick and Quigman. "'No need to move, sir,' whispered the detective. "'Take no notice. Spot him, though.' Mr. Garrowell, seen at close quarters, looked to be somewhat absent-minded, but chancing to look up as he stepped on the pavement, his eyes encountered Quigman, who took to look at, touched his hat. Morning, Mr. Garrowell, said the detective. Nice morning, sir.

Morning, Quigman, responded, Mr. Garrowell, a very nice morning. He nodded smilingly and went on his way and round the corner into Parker Street. Quigman glanced at Hetherwick and shook his head. Not him, he said. Metafield's not following, and, as I said, we may have to wait hours. but at the end of another ten minutes Matherfield and Lord Mordale came together out of the entrance hall opposite. An official, smiling and talking, accompanied them to the threshold. When they left him, they came straight across the road,

and it was obvious to Hetherwick that each was in a state of surprise, possibly of perplexity. Matherfield hailed them as soon as he was within speaking distance. here's a queer business he said did you see a professional-looking chap come away just now who carried a small leather box we saw mr garrowell solicitor st martins lane answered quigman i know him gone down parker street it was garwell assented matherfield i know him too well he turned to heatherwick it's a queer business they knew garwell across the there. He's been to Madame de Stere's safe for her before. He came there just now with the usual authorization on her notepaper, went to the safe, got that small box, and went. Garrowell, a highly respectable legal practitioner. Why didn't you stop him and ask him questions? inquired Heatherwick. Matherfield exchanged a glance with Lord Moradale. Not there, he said. said, it—well, it looks as if Madame really had sent him, her business.

"'Of course she'd sent him,' exclaimed Heatherwick, "'sent him under compulsion. The whole thing's a clever plant. These fellows probably know that she's employed Garrowell now and then, and they forced her to write a letter to him, authorizing him to come here again, and enclosing an order on the safe deposit people. don't you see. By gad, there's something in that, Matterfield, said Lord Moradale. Didn't strike me, though. Upon my honour, I really thought he had come direct from her.

Couldn't think why exactly, but then, as Matterfield says, a highly respectable solicitor, eh? We'll soon settle it, exclaimed Mathelfield suddenly. We'll go to Garwell's office. Better discuss it there than have tackled him here. anyway he'll have the square box quigman call a taxi there's a man here waiting for me said heatherwick he signalled to his former driver who quickly came alongside for anything we know he continued as all four took their seats and were driven off garrowell may have gone straight away somewhere to hand that box over we ought to have followed i don't think so replied matherfield though things queer and not at all what i expected lord moradale says that he never heard of madame employing garwell and yet the safe people say he's been here two or three times on her business but we'll soon have it out of him end of chapter twenty two

Chapter 23 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. The Landlady of Little Smith Street Garrowell's office proved to be up to flights of stairs in St. Martin's Lane. They were dark and dingy stairs, and none of the four men clambering up them, noticed that an office boy, rushing unceremoniously downward, carried a small parcel with which he fled out of the door and away down the street they were indeed thinking of garrowell and within five minutes they were all in his private room for another five minutes matherfield was explaining matters explaining to an obviously startled and much astonished listener that's how it stands concluded matherfield you've evidently got the explanation mr

Garrowell. Now, but you surprised me, broke in the solicitor. I've acted for Madame Listerrell in two or three matters. I've got things from her safe for her before, once or twice, and I saw nothing unusual in the letter she sent me this morning. Here it is, you can see it. Her usual note paper, certainly her handwriting. Nobody, I think, could imitate that successfully. You see what she said. You see what She says, I was to give the enclosed authorization to the safe people, take out a small square, brown leather-covered box from the safe, pack it up, and send it off to Mr. C. Basing, post office, Southampton, at once by express delivery. Nothing unusual in all that, I think. Of course, I carried out her wishes, but look at the letter. All four men were looking at the letter.

It was, as Garrowell described, and whether it had been written under duress or not, the writing was bold and firm. But Matherfield seized on the envelope, and after a glance at it, pointed to the postmark. See that, he exclaimed, posted in the S.W. district late last night. If Madame had been at home in Paddington, the postmark would have been different. Well, but the squabre. Where box, Mr. Garrowell? You've got it, of course. Do you know that that box probably contains jewels? Or the box? ejaculated Garrowell. Got it? Of course not. It's gone. The boy went off to the post office with it. Oh, just before you came. Gad, muttered Lord Moradale. Well, the post office at once, Matherfield. But Matherfield suddenly laughed,

throwing up both hands, as if with a sudden inspiration. No, my lord, no, he said no, the box is safe enough in the post. It's off to Mr. C. Basing, post office, Southampton. And when Mr. Basing calls to collect it, he'll find me. There was triumphant conviction in Matherfield's tone. There was the impulse to immediate action in the way in which he pulled out a railway guide from his pocket, and rapidly turned its pages. But Heatherwick and Lord Moradale looked at each other, and each saw that the other was dubious.

Yes, said Lord Moradale slowly. No doubt, Matherfield, but I say, you know, those jewels are worth no end. Safe enough, perhaps, in the hands of the postal authorities, now they are there, but there's many a slip, you know, and you might take the postal authorities into your confidence, suggested Heatherwick. These people are up to all sorts of wily tricks. Matherfield laughed quietly. It was the laugh of a man who knows his own business thoroughly, and is a little impatient of outside criticism. I know what I'm doing, gentlemen, he answered. Leave it to me as to what I do with the post office, people. I've as good as got the handcuffs on Basvary or on Ambrose, perhaps on both.

This is how I figure the thing. He went on with a final glance at the timetable. These two men have got Madame Listerrelle and the young lady's secretary in their power, safe somewhere in London. They forced Madame last night to write that letter to Mr. Garrowell here. We know what they made her right. Mr. Garrowell got the small box containing the jewels, and he's sent it off already by express delivery to Southampton. It will be there early this evening, and one or other of the men will be there to meet it. If Buzz Vali calls for it, Ambrose will be round the corner. If Ambrose calls for it, Basvili will be close at hand.

Probably they're already in Southampton. they'd go this morning to be on the spot. As soon as the box is in their hands, they'll be off, probably to the continent by Southampton and of. They won't try the Atlantic. The five days' voyage would be too risky. They'll make for France, but they won't get to France. They'll find themselves in the lock-up at Southampton before bedtime. You see if that doesn't come off, gentlemen.

as sure as my name's what it is. Now, Quigman, you come with me. We've just nice time to catch the one-thirty and to get in touch with the Southampton Police and lay our plans and make our arrangements. Sometime to-night, gentlemen, you'll hear from me. Then Matherfield hurried Quigman away, and the three men left behind looked at each other.

Mr. Garwell was obviously much concerned, and his hands, thin and nervous, trembled as he began to arrange the papers on his desk. This is a most distressing business, gentlemen, he said. It is very painful to me to think that I have been made an instrument in a crime of this sort, however innocent a one. But how could I tell that this letter was forced out of Madame de Stourell? On the face of it, oh, there's no blame attaching to you, Mr. Garwell, interrupted Lord Moradale. On the face of it, the letter's genuine enough. But I wanted to ask you a question.

How much do you know of Madame Listerrel? I mean, how often has she employed you? Two or three times only, replied Garrowell. She came to me first about an agreement which I had had to send her on behalf of another client. she seemed very friendly and was kind enough to say that next time she had any legal business, she would remember me, as she hadn't any regular solicitor of her own. I think, he added, with a deprecating smile, she probably saw that I was beginning and hadn't much to do. I see, said Lord Moradale, looking round at the somewhat humble appointments of the office, and you've been to that safe deposit place on her behalf, how often? Twice. On each occasion,

Madame Listerrand wrote her instructions from abroad. Once she was in Paris, the other time she was at Nice. The instructions were similar on both occasions. I was to go to the safe deposit, get a certain parcel or article, and post it to an address given. The first time I sent a small parcel to Amsterdam. I have the exact address and name, the second to New York. So that, of course, when I got Madame's letter this morning, I saw nothing unusual in it. Just so, agreed Lord Moradale. You wouldn't. Well, I hope Matherfield will clap the irons on the man who forced her to write it, eh, Heatherwick? With all my heart, responded Heatherwick. But I too want to ask Mr. Garrowell a question. How long, he continued, have you been here in St. Martin's Lane?

Oh, four or five years, replied Garrowell. Then you know this district pretty well, of course. Have you ever come across a man whom I'll try to describe to you? He went on to give an accurate, if concise, description of Basbury. That man, he concluded, is sometimes seen around here. Garrowell nodded. I know him, he said. In fact, he's been in this very room to see me,

but I don't know his name nor anything much about him. He was brought here by another man, and he only stayed a few minutes. How much do you know about him, however little? asked Hetherwick. This much, you know that people who have invented things come to solicitors for legal advice and sometimes to get information as to how they can best dispose of their inventions, Well, about nine months ago, a man came to me who claimed to have invented a drop bottle

that is a bottle from which you could only drop one drop of stuff at a time. He said such a thing was badly wanted, and that there ought to be a pile of money in it. He wanted to know how best to get it on the market. I didn't know, but I mentioned the matter to one or two people, and a man I knew at that time, for he's since dead, unfortunately, said that he knew a man who was a sort of commission agent for inventions, took up a good idea, don't you see, and introduced it, and he promised to bring him to see me. He brought him. The man he brought was, without doubt, the man you describe. His name was not mentioned, but I'm sure he was that man. I don't know what your man is, but I felt. I feel. I felt sure that the man I am talking about either was or had been a medical man. Ah, exclaimed Heatherwick, what made you think that? From his conversation, from the remarks he made about the bottle.

He didn't take it up. He said my client was too late and was wrongly informed into the bargain. There was such a thing and a superior one already on the market. He went away then, and, as I say, I never heard. his name, and I've never seen him since. That's the man we want, said Heatherwick. If Matherfield can only lay hands on him, but we shall know more by midnight. Outside, he turned to Lord Morrowdale with a shake of his head. We're no nearer to any knowledge of where the two women are, he exclaimed.

Oh, I don't know, responded Lord Mordale. I think we are, you know. you see if Matherfield nabs those chaps, or even one of them, he or they, will see that the game's up and will give in and say where their captives are. Odd business, Hetherwick, that people can be kidnapped and imprisoned in broad daylight in London. I don't think there's anything impossible or odd in London, answered Hetherwick, dryly. if one had only the least idea as to which quarter of the town that car was driven, one might be doing something. Lots of subsections in every quarter, and subsections again in each of those, replied Lord

Mordale, with equal dryness. Take some time to comb out this town. No, I think we must trust to Matherfield, nothing else to trust to, in fact. But Hetherwick suddenly thought of Mapperly. He began to wonder what the clerk was after, what his notion had been. Then he remembered Maperley's admonition to look out for a message about that time, and excusing himself from Lord Moradale, he jumped on a bus and went along to the temple. There, in the letter-box, he found a telegram.

Meet me Victoria, three o'clock, Mapperly. Heatherwick sent off for Victoria there and then, but it was only a quarter-past two when he got there, and as he had had no lunch, he turned into the restaurant. There, when he was halfway through a chop, Mapperly found him, and slipped into a chair close by before Hetherwick noticed his presence. Thought I might find you in here, sir, said Mapperly.

They were alone in a quiet corner, but the clerk lowered his voice to a whisper. Well, he continued, bending across the table, I've done a bit, anyhow. In what way? asked Heatherwick. Maparly produced from his breast pocket some papers, and from amongst them selected an envelope, the azure-tinted envelope,

which he had picked up from the caretaker's supper table at St. Mary's Mansions. You recognize this, he said, with a sly smile. You know where I got it. This is the envelope which Basvili took to the caretaker with the order to enter Madame de Storin's flat. You knew that I carried it off from under the man's nose last night, but you didn't know why.

I only laughed when you asked me. Well, why, then, inquired Hetherwick. This reason, replied Mapperly. We both noticed that the sheet of paper on which the order had been written by Madame had been shortened. There was no doubt that a printed or embossed address had been trimmed off rather roughly, too. We noticed that, I say, both of us, but I don't think you notice something far more important, far, far more important, for our purposes.

No, admitted Heatherwick, I didn't, what? This, said Maverly, turning back the broken flap of the envelope. You didn't notice that here on the envelope is the name and address of the stationer, who supplied this stuff. There you are W. H. Calkin, 85, Broadway, Westminster. You never saw that, Mr. Heatherwick, but I did. Heatherwick began to comprehend. He smiled gratefully. Smart of you, mapperly, he exclaimed. I see. And you've been there. I've been there, answered Mapperly. I saw a chance of tracking these men down. I couldn't get hold of. of Calcan till nearly noon, but got on like a house of fire when I did get him. You see, he went on, that paper is, to start with, of an unusual tint in color.

Secondly, it's of very superior quality, though very thin, intended chiefly for foreign correspondence. Thirdly, it's expensive. Now, I felt certain its use would be limited, and what I wanted to find out from the stationer was to whom he'd supplied it. That was easy. He recognized the paper and envelope at once. Of the handwriting on the paper, he knew nothing whatever, Madame's writing, you know,

that he'd never seen before, but he said at once that he'd only supplied that particular make of paper and envelope to three people, and for each person he'd prepared a dye to emboss the address. The embossing had been done at his shop, and he showed me specimens of each. One was for the Dowager Lady Markentry, 120 Grosvenor Gardens.

That was no use. The second was for Miss Chalandry, 87 Ebury Street. That was out of count two. But the third was what I wanted. It was just the address, 56 Little Smith Street, Southwest 1. As soon as I saw it, I knew I got onto the right track. Go on, said Heatherwick. The stationer, Calkin, didn't know the name of the man who ordered this paper and gave this address, continued Mapperly.

He knew him well enough as a customer, though, and described him. Basvary, without a doubt. Calkin says that Bazvary, during the last few months, bought various items of stationery from him, notebooks, duplicating paper, office requisites, and so on. He never knew his name, but as he always carried away his own purchases and paid spot cash for them, that didn't matter. Calkin supplied him with ten choirs of this paper and envelopes to match a couple of months ago. So there you are.

And there I was, sure at last, that Bazvili's mysterious hiding place, was 56. Little Smith Street. Good, good, said Heatherwick. What next? Well, I thought we could do with a bit of help, replied Mapperly, smiling. So I left Calkin, bound to secrecy, of course, and telephoned to Issy Goldmark. Issy is just the sort of chat for games of this sort. Issy came, and he and I took a stroll round. Do you know Little Smith Street? Not I. answered Heatherwick, never heard of it.

Oh, well, but it is a street, said Maverley. It lies between Great Smith Street and Tuffton Street, back at the church house, not so far from the Abbey. Bit slummy down those quarters, roundabout, sort of district that seemed decidedly better days. Still, there's good, solid houses there. 56 is one of them. From outside, it looks the sort of house you can't get in.

to dark, silent, heavily curtained windows, sort of place in which you could murder anybody on the quiet. Very substantial front door, painted dark green with an old-fashioned brass snocker, that sort of house. We took a good look at it. See anything? asked Heatherwick. Nothing but what I've told you, lifeless sort of place, answered Mapperly. However, having once seen it, I wasn't going to leave it on what. So I posted Issy there in the window of a convenient public house and came away to telegraph to you. And there Issy is, either in his pub or loafing around. And now we ought to go and hear if he's anything to report.

And if he hasn't, what then? Just so, said Heatherwick. That's it. What then? But before we do anything at all, Maverley, I'd better post you. you up as to what's happened elsewhere this morning. You see, he continued when he had finished his story, if Matterfield's theory is correct, and Bazaverey has already gone to Southampton to collect that parcel on its arrival, and if Ambrose has gone with him, we shan't find Basvalli

at this address, but we might inquire if he's known there. Mapperly reflected a while, then an idea seemed to suggest itself. Pay your bill, sir, and let's get out to a post-office directory somewhere. He said, we'll get the name of the occupier, a 56 Little Smith Street. Ten minutes later, they were looking down the long columns of names in a directory. Mapperly suddenly pointed to what they wanted. There we are, he said. Mrs. Hannah Mallet, boarding-house proprietor.

Come along, said Heather Witt. Rick. We'll see Mrs. Mallett, anyhow. But on arrival at Little Smith Street, Mapperly looked round first for his friend Mr. Goldmark. Mr. Goldmark materialized suddenly, apparently from nowhere, and smiled. "'Afternoon, Mr,' he said politely to Heather Rick. "'Lovely weather, isn't it? Ain't seen nothing, Mapperly, old bean? Ain't been a soul in or out of that house since you hopped it. Seems to me it's locked up. We'll see about that, remarked Heatherwick. Come with me, Maverley. You stay here, goldmark, and keep your eyes as open as before. He advanced boldly, with the clerk at his heels, to the door of number 56, and knocked loudly

on the stout panel, supplementing this with a ring at the bell. The dual summons was twice repeated, with no result. Somebody coming, whispered Mapperly suddenly, bolted inside as well as locked. Heatherwick distinctly heard the sound of a stout bolt being withdrawn, then of a key being turned. The door was opened, only a little,

but sufficiently to show them the face and figure of an unusually big woman, an Amazon in appearance, hard of eye and lip, who glared at them suspiciously, as soon as she saw that there were two of them narrowed the space through which she inspected her callers but heatherwick got a hand on the door and a foot across the threshold mrs mallet he inquired in a purposely loud voice just so is dr buzzverie in both men were watching the woman keenly and they saw that she started a little involuntarily but her head shook a ready negative nobody of that name here, she answered. She would have shut the door, but for Heatherwick's foot. He advanced

it further, giving Mrs. Mallet a keen, searching glance. Perhaps you know Dr. Buzzvallie by another name, he suggested. So is Mr. Basing in? But the ready shake of the head came again, and the hard eyes grew harder and more suspicious. Nobody of that name here either, she said, don't know anybody of those names. I think you do, persisted Heatherwick, sternly. He turned to Mapperly, purposely. We shall have to get the police. Look out, sir, exclaimed Mapperly,

snatching at Heatherwick's arm, your fingers. The woman suddenly banged the door, too, narrowly missing Heatherwick's hand, which he had closed on the edge. A second later, they heard the bolt slipped and the key turned. And Heatherwick, as with a swift illumination, comprehended things and turned sharply on his clerk.

Mapperly, sure as fate, he exclaimed, those ladies are in there, trapped. Shouldn't wonder, sir, agreed Mapperly, and, as you say, the police, come back to Goldmark, said Hetherwick. Going lower down the street and retreating into the shelter of a doorway, the three men held a rapid consultation, suddenly interrupted by an exclamation from the Jew,

who still kept his eyes on the house. Help me, if the woman ain't leaving the house, he said. See, see? Locking the door behind her, going up the street. Heatherwick looked and saw, and pushed Goldmark out of the doorway. Follow, he said, and for God's sake, don't miss her. End of Chapter 23. Chapter 24 of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher.

This Librevox recording is in the public domain. The house in the yard. The Jews silently and promptly set out in the wake of the hurrying woman. Presently, she and her pursuer disappeared round a corner. That's the result of power call, Maverley, said Hetherick. She's gone somewhere to tell somebody. Likely, assented Meperly, but wherever she's gone, is he gold-markle-spotter? He's the eyes of a lynx. he let buzzerie slip in the other night though remarked hetherick well there was some excuse for that said nepperly to begin with he was only instructed to find out where buzzabby went and to end with he had found out he'll not let this woman slip in she's good to follow plenty of her i wish we knew what she'd left in that house said hetherwick we'll have to find out somehow "'That's a police job,' replied Mapperly.

"'Can't walk into people's houses without a warrant. "'And you say Matherfield's on the other track?' "'However, I should say that this woman's gone off now "'to find somebody who's principally concerned. "'She looked afraid, in my opinion, when she saw me.' "'She's in it somehow,' muttered Hetherick. "'That house looks mysterious enough for anything. "'We'll keep a close watch on it, anyway,

until Goldmark comes back, however long that may be. But the Jew was back within 20 minutes, so was the woman. She came first, hurrying up the street quicker than when she had left it. As far as the watchers could make out from their vantage point, 20 yards away from her door, she looked flustered, distressed, upset. After her, on the opposite pavement, came Mr. Issey Goldmark, his hands in his pockets. The woman re-entered the house. They heard the door bang. A moment later, the Jew turned into the entry in which Heatherwick and Napoli stood,

half hidden from the street. He smiled inscrutably. See her go back to her half? He asked. Well, I follow. I saw where he'd been, too. Where, then? demanded Heatherwick impatiently. Goldmark jerked his head in the direction from whence he had come.

round that corner, he said, you get into a regular slum, little streets, alleys, passages, and so on, in one of them, a narrow place, where there's a sort of open-air market, with a good, this piece-blank wall, with an iron-fathened door on it. Well, the woman went in there, let herself in with a key that he took from her pocket.

As soon as he'd gone in I took a closer look, the door fastened with iron or steel. As I said, it's always strong. There ain't no name on it and no keyhole that you can look through. The walls, a good nine or ten feet high, and it's covered with broken glass at the top. Not a nice place to get into know how. Well, inquired Heatherwick. She went in. Went in, as I say.

Miss her, and the door closed on her. After I'd taken a glimpse at the door, I got a pause behind one of the soles in the street and watched. She came out again in about ten minutes, looked to me, too, as if she hadn't had a very pleasant time inside. Upset, and she set off back here faster than but she came. Now she's gone into her house again, as soon o'adap saw, and that's all. but if i with you mister concluded issie i should just find out what is behind that door and the wall in there i should do that though that's a police job said mapperley once more if we'd only got matterfield with us we could hetherwick paused thinking look here mapperley he continued with a sudden inspiration i know what we'll do you get a taxi-tag as quickly as possible. Drive to the police station where I usually meet Matterfield. There is another man there

whom I know, and who's pretty well up in this business, Detective Sergeant Robmore. Ask for him. Tell him what we've discovered, and ask him to come back with you, to bring another man if he thinks necessary. Now then, Goldmark, tell Maverly exactly where this place is. The Jew pointed along the street to its first corner. Round that corner, he's said first turning to the right then first to the left then first to the right that's the spot lost the little fels in a giddy crowded place did you notice the name demanded mapperly half scoldingly to be sore i did grinned goldmark pen cove street but it's better to describe it than name it and don't you go tell a no taxi driver to take you in there cause there ain't room mapperly gave no answer to this piece of advice he shot off in the direction of victoria street and heatherwick turned to the jew we'll go and have another look at this place gold mark he said but we'll go separately as long as we're in this street anyway you stroll off to that first corner and i'll join you he crossed the street when the jew had lounged away and once more took a narrow look at the house into which the big woman had vanished

it was as close barred and curtained as ever the veritable place of mystery for a moment hetherwick doubted whether he ought to leave it unwatched but the descriptions of the wall and door in pencove street had excited his imagination and he went on turned a corner and rejoined goldmark goldmark at once went in front piloting him into a maze of unusually dirty and crowded streets and finally into one narrower than the rest, on each side of which were tent-like stalls, whereon all manner of cheap wares were being offered for sale by raucous-voiced vendors. He saw at once that this was one of those open-air markets, of which there are many in the poorer neighborhoods of London, and wherein you can buy a six-penny frying-pan as readily as a paper of fried fish and a gay neckerchief alongside a damaged orange. Threading his way behind Issey, and between the thronged stalls and miserable shops that lined the pavement,

Heatherwick presently came to the piece of blank wall, which the Jew had told him about. The houses and shops around were old and elapidated, but the wall was either modern or had been rebuilt and strengthened. It stretched between two low houses, one used as a grocer's, the other as a hardware shop. In length it was some thirty feet. in height quite ten its coping as goldmark had said was liberally embattled with broken glass the door set flush with the adjoining masonry was a solid affair faced with metal newly painted and the lock was evidently a patent one a significant fact struck heatherick at once there was no sign of a bell and none of a knocker you say the woman let herself in here

he asked, as he and Issy paused. That's it, Mr. Heatherwick, let herself in, replied Issy. I see her take the key from her pocket. Heatherwick glanced at the top of the wall. I wonder what's behind that, he muttered. Building, of some sort, of course. He turned to a man who stalls to adjust in front of the mysterious door, and who at that moment had no trade.

Do you know anything about this place? he asked, do you know what's behind this wall, what's building it is? The stall-keeper, I'd hetherwick over, silently and carefully. Deciding that he was an innocent person, and not a policeman in plain clothes, he found his tongue. I don't, governor, he answered. Ain't a bloomin notion. I've been coming here or hereabouts this three year or more,

but I ain't never seen behind that wall, nor in at that their doorway self me. but I suppose you've seen people go in and come out of the door, suggested Hetherwick. It must be used for something. I reckon it is, Governor, but I don't call nobody to mind, though. To be sure, I see a woman come out of it a while ago, big, heavy-jaw woman she was, but queer as it may seem, I don't call to mind ever seen anybody else. You see, Governor, comes here at about ten o'clock of a morning, and I packs up and knobs it at five.

If there's folks come in and out of that spot, it must be early in a morning and late at night, so I shouldn't see him. But it's my belief this year we all endure is back premises to something. The front of the place will be on the other side. That's a good idea, said Heatherwick, with a glance at Coldmark. Let's go round. But there was no going round.

although they tried various alleys and passages and streets that ought to have been parallel to pencove street they failed to find any place that could be affrontage to the mysterious wall at its close-set door but the jews alert faculties asserted themselves we can see what's behind that wall miss sir easy enough if we get one of them shopkeepers opposite to let us go upstairs to the first floor look right across the street there stalls and all into whatever there is try that one he said pointing to a greengrocer's establishment which faced the close-set door tell him for doing a bit of land surveyin which is true hetherwick made his request the greengrocer's lady showed him and gold mark upstairs into a bow-windowed apparel one of those dismal apartments which are only used on sundays for for the purpose of adding more gloom to a gloomy day. She observed that there was a nice view both ways of the street, but Heatherwick confined his inspection to the front. He saw across the wall easily enough now.

There was little to see. The wall bounded a yard, bounded on its left and right sides by the walls of the adjoining houses, and at its further extremity by a low squat building of red brick. erected against the rear of a high windowless wall beyond from its mere aspect it was impossible to tell what this squat flat-roofed structure was used for its door closed was visible visible too were the windows on either side but it was easy to see that they were obscured as to their lower halves by coats of dark paint there was no sign over the building no outward indication of its purpose in the yard however were crates boxes and carboys in wicker cases a curiously shaped chimney projecting from the roof above suggested the presence of a furnace or forge beneath and heatherwick after another look felt no doubt that he was gazing at the place to which hennford had been taken and where he had been skilfully poisoned goldmark suddenly nudged his arm and nodded at the crowded street below

mapperly he whispered and two men with him heatherwick glancing in the direction indicated saw rob more and another man both in plain clothes making their way down the street between the stalls and shops with them and in close conversation was a uniformed constable he turned to leave the room but goldmark again touched his elbow before we go mister he said just take another glance at that place opposite and its surroundings. I see where we can get in. Do you see, Mr. Hethwick, the wall between that yard and the next house, the right-hand side one, is fairly low at the far end. Now, if the man in that house would let us go through to his backyard, what? I see, agreed Heatherwick. We'll try it. But Rob Moore first. Come along. He slipped. He slipped. some silver into the hand of the Greengrocer's lady, and went down to the street. A brief explanation to the two detectives supplemented the information already given them by Mapparly,

and then Rob Moore nodded at the constable who stood by, eagerly interested. We've been talking to him, Mr. Heatherwick, he said, he's sometimes on day duty here, and sometimes he's on night. He says he's often wondered about this place, and it's a very queerer. thing that, though he's known this district more than a year, he's never seen a soul go in or out of that door, and hasn't the least notion of what business, if it is a business, is carried on there. Never seen anything or anybody, corroborated the constable, at any time day or night. When I first came on this beach, maybe 15 months ago, that door had been newly set and painted, and the glass had just been stuck at top of the wall.

But it's a fact I've never seen anybody go in or come out. I propose to go in, said Heatherwick. I think we've abundant cause, knowing what we do. It may be that the two missing ladies are there. I've been having a look into the yard, and we could get into it easily by going through the grocer's shop there on the right and climbing the wall from his back premises.

What do you say, Rob Moore? oh i think so agreed robmore now we're on the job we'll carry it through better let me tackle the grocer mr heatherwick i'll see him first and then call you in the other waited while robmore entered the shop and spoke with its owner they saw him engaged in conversation for several minutes then he came to the door and beckoned the rest to approach that's all right he said and aside to hetherick we can go through to his back yard and he'll lend us a step-letter to get over the wall but he's told me a bit he knows the two men who have this place in the next yard and there's no doubt at all from his description of the wall but he's told me a bit he knows the two men who have this place in the next yard and there's no doubt at all from his description of the them, that one of them's Ambrose and the other is Basbury. He says they've had the place almost 18 months, and he thinks they use it as a laboratory, chemicals, or something of that sort, but he says they're rarely seen, sometimes he's never seen them for days and even weeks together. Usually, they're there of a night. He's seen lights in the place at all

hours of the night. Well, come on. The posse of investigative. filed through the dark little shop to a yard at its rear the grocer's apprentice going in front with a step-letter which he planted against the intervening wall at its lowest point one by one the uniformed constable going first the six men climbed and dropped over but for their own presence the place seemed deserted and lifeless as heatherwick had observed from the greengrocer's parlor the windows were obscured by thick coats of paint. Nevertheless, two or three of the men approached and tried to find places from which the paint had been scratched in an effort to see what lay inside. But the constable, bolder and more direct, went straight to the entrance. "'Doors open,' he exclaimed, not even shut. He pushed the door wide, and went into the building, the rest crowding after him. "'Hello!' he shouted, "'Hello!' No answer came to the summons. The constable. The constable,

crossed the lobby, in which they were all standing and opened an inner door, and Heatherwick saw at once that the grocer's surmise as to the purpose to which the place was put had been correct. This was a chemical laboratory, well equipped, too, with modern apparatus, but there was not a sign of life in it. Nobody here, apparently, murmured one of the men, flown. Rob Moore went forward to another door, and opening it revealed a room furnished as an office. There was a roll-top desk in it, and papers and documents lying there. He and Hetherick began to finger and examine them, and Hetherick suddenly saw something that made a link between this mysterious place

and the house he had called at earlier in the afternoon. There, before his eyes, lay some of the Azure-tinted note-paper, Mappily had traced with the embossed address on it, of which the stationer had told. There is no doubt we've hit the place at last, Robmore, he said. I wish we'd had Matherfield here, but, before he could say more, a sudden shout came from Goldmark, who, while the others were investigating the lower regions, had courageously and alone, gone up the low staircase to the upper rooms. Mr. Hetherwick, come up here.

come up all of you here's a man here a sitting in its air and to help me if i don't believe he's a stiff un dead end of chapter twenty four chapter twenty five of the charing cross mystery by j s fletcher this librivox recording is in the public domain dead the rest of the searchers hearing that startled cry from the jew with one accord made for the upper part of the building. Rob Moore and Heatherwick reached him first. He was standing at the half-opened door of a room into which he was staring with eager eyes. They pushed by him and entered. Heatherwick took in the general aspect and contents of that room at a glance.

It had been fitted up recently, he thought, from certain small evidences, as a bed sitting-room. A camp-bed stood in one corner, there was a washstand a dressing-table a chest of drawers two or three pictures a shelf of books a small square of carpet in the centre of the floor the outer edges of which had been roughly and newly stained on the bed lay open a suit-case already packed with clothes and linen by it lay an overcoat hat gloves umbrella it was evident that the man to whom it belonged had completed his preparations for a departure and had nothing to do but to close and lock the suitcase put on his overcoat and hat pick up the other things and go away but the man himself there was a big old-fashioned easy-chair at the side of the bed a roomy comfortable affair a man lay rather than sat in it in an attitude which suggested that he had dropped there and as with a sudden weirdness, laid his head back against the padded cushions, and gone to sleep.

But the men knew, all of them, as they crowded into that room, that it was no sleep that they had broken in upon. It was death. This, as the Jew had been quick to see, was a dead man. Dead. Heather Wick took him in as quickly as he had taken in his surroundings, his head lay quietly against the padding of the chair a little inclined to his left shoulder the face was fully visible it was to hetherick the face of a stranger in all his and matherfield's investigations it had not been described to them yet he was certain that he was looking on the man known to them by repute as ambrose disguised of course he had shaved off the dark beard and moustache of which they had heard and he could see at once that the loss of them had made a remarkable difference in his appearance but nothing could disguise his height and general build this without doubt was the man matherfield and he had hunted for

the man who had met hannahford at victoria who had disappeared from his flat in meadalphi the man who was associated with basverie and who dead as a door-nail muttered robmore and he's been dead a good bit too some hours anyhow stiff do you know him mr heatherwick heatherwick said what he thought robmore pointed to the things on the bed dead. Looks as if he'd been taken with a seizure, just as he was about to set off somewhere, he remarked, well, if this is the Dr. Ambrose we've been seeking, but let's see if he's got anything on him to prove his identity. While the rest of the men stood by watching, he put his hand into the dead man's inside breast pocket. He was wearing a smart, brand-new, gray-tweed suit. Heatherwick, later on remembered how its newness struck him as being incongruously out of place somehow, and drew out a pocketbook, touching Heatherwick's elbow and motioning him

to follow him, he went over to the window, leaving the others still staring wonderingly at the dead man. This is a queer business, Mr. Heatherwick, he whispered as they drew apart. You think this is the ambrose we were after? sure of it, answered Heatherwick. He's shaved off his beard and mustache, and that's no doubt made a big difference in his appearance. But you may depend upon it. This is the man, but what's caused his sudden death. Then a keen, vivid recollection flashed in upon him, and he turned sharply, glancing at the rigid figure in the background. What is it? asked Rob Moore, curiously. Something strikes you? Heatherwick pointed to the dead man's attitude. That's just how Hanford looked when he

died in the railway carriage, he whispered. After the first son, you know, he laid back and died just like that, as if he dropped quietly asleep. Can it be that? I know what you're thinking, muttered Rob Moore, poisoned. Well, what about the other man? man. Vasverri, explained Heatherwick. Why not? To rid himself of an accomplice? But this pocket-book, said Rodmore, let's see what's in it. Doesn't seem to be anything very much by the thinness. From one flap of the pocket-book, he drew out a wad of carefully folded banknotes and rapidly turned them over. 150 pounds there, he remarked, and what's this paper? A judge. A judge. A while. A draft on a New York bank for 200. New York, eh? So that's where he was bound. And this, he went on,

turning out the other flap. Ah, see this, Mr. Hetherwick? He got his passage booked by the Meratic, sailing to night. Hmm, and Matherfield's gone to Southampton after Buzz Vali. I'm beginning to see a bit into this, I think. What? you see asked hetherwick well it looks to me as if basveri had gone ahead to collect that box containing the jewels and that ambrose was to follow later join him there when basveri had secured the loot and that they were then to be off with their harvest but do you notice this the name under which the passage is booked not ambrose charles andrews esquels Andrews, and Basvary is Basing, Basing and Andrews. Now I wonder if they carried on business here under those names. That's an important detail, said Hetherick.

The important thing surely is that. How did that man come by his death? Well, but I don't think that is very important just now, replied Rob Moore. after all he is dead and whether he died as the result of a sudden seizure or whether vasbury cleverly poisoned him before he left is a question we'll have to settle later but i'll tell you what mr hetherwick i'll lay anything he didn't poison himself look round there isn't a sign of anything he's been drinking out of no sir the other man's done this and if natherfield has the luck to lay hands on him to-night Ah. But now, what was this your clerk, Maperly, told us as we came along about the Little Smith Street landlady coming in here this afternoon? She was followed here by Goldmark, replied Heatherwick. Goldmark saw her admit herself by a key, which she took from her pocket. She stayed inside a few minutes, came out, looking much upset, and hurried away to her own house. and now you and i'll just hurry after her said rodmore after all she's living and will make her find her tongue of course she came in here expecting to find this man and to tell him somebody was on the lookout and she found him dead

come round there with me mr hetherwick at once he turned to the other detective and the constable and after giving instructions left the room heatherwick after a word or two with matherley following him but before they had reached the outer door they heard steps in the yard and suddenly two men appeared in the doorway if hetherwick and his companion looked questioningly at these two men they on their part looked questioningly at robmore and and Everwick. They were youngish men. Heatherwick set them down as respectively dressed partisans. That they were surprised to find anyone confronting them at the door, whereat all four now stood, was evident. Their surprise indeed was so great that they came to a sudden halt, staring silently. But Rob Moore spoke. Wanting somebody? He asked sharply. The two strangers exchanged a glance, and the apparently elder one replied, Well, no, he said, not that we know of, but might we ask if you are, and how you got in here?

Because this place happens to be ours. Yours, exclaimed Rob Moore, your property? Well, if buying it, paying for it, and taking a receipt and papers makes it so, answered the man. bought it this morning and settled up for it, too. Anyway, Rodmore produced and handed over a professional card, and the faces of the two men fell as they read it. The elder looked up quickly. I hope there's nothing wrong, he said anxiously. Detectives, eh? We've laid out a nice bit on this savings, too. And I don't suppose there's anything wrong that way, replied Rob Moore, but there's something uncommonly wrong in other ways. Now look here. Who are you to, and from whom did

you buy this place? My name's Marshall. His is Wilkinson, answered the leader. We're just starting business for ourselves as electrical engineers. We advertised for a likely place hereabouts, and Mr. Andrews came to us about this, said he and his partner, Mr. Basing, were leaving, and wanted to sell it, just as it stood. We came to look at it, and as it's just the place we need to start with, we agreed to buy it. They said it was their own property, and to save law expenses, we carried out the purchase between ourselves, and we paid over the purchase money this morning, and got the papers, and the key. What time was that? asked Robmore. "'Ten o'clock, or thereabouts,' replied Marshall.

"'By appointment, here.' "'Did you see both men, Basing and Andrews?' "'Both, in that little room to the right. "'We settled the business, paid them in cash, settled it all up. "'It was soon done.' "'And then they stood us a drink and a cigar, and we went.' "'Stood you a drink, eh?' said Robmore. "'Where?'

"'Here.' pazing he pulled out a big bottle of champagne and a cigar-box and said we'd wet the bargain we'd a glass apiece wilkinson and me and then we left him to finish the bottle we were in a hurry but is anything wrong what is wrong my lad is that the man you know as andrews is lying dead upstairs replied rodmore poisoned most likely by his partner but-ixtrined by his partner but-shaired the man you know as andrews is lying dead upstairs replied rodmore poisoned most likely by his partner but But, as I said just now, I don't suppose there's anything wrong about your buying the property, providing you can show a title to it. You say you've got the necessary papers? Marshall clapped a hand on the pocket of his coat. Got them all here now, he said.

But did you say Andrews was dead, poisoned? Why, he was as alive as I am when we left the two of them together. They were finishing the bottle. Look here, interrupted Rob. more wait a while until we come back we've some important work close by there are people of ours upstairs tell them i said that you were to wait a bit now mr hetherwick outside the yard and in the crowded street rob more turned to his companion with a cynical laugh champagne to wet the bargain left them to finish it eh and no doubt what finished ambrose was was in that champagne, slipped in by Buzz Verde when his back was turned. I'll tell you what it is, Mr. Heatherwick.

That chap's a thorough paston. He goes the whole hog. I only hope he won't be too deep for Matterfield at Southampton. I shall be anxious till I hear. Is it possible for him to escape, Motherfield? exclaimed Heatherwick. How can he? I look on him as being as good as in custody already.

He's bound to call at the post office for that box. Is he, though? Interrupted the detective with another incredulous laugh. I'm not so sure about that. Vasily is evidently an accomplished scoundrel and full of all sorts of tricks. I'll tell you what I'm wondering. Will that parcel have got to the Southampton Post Office

where it's to be called for? Whatever do you mean? demanded Heatherwick. It's in the post, posted this morning. No doubt, agreed Rob Moore dryly. By special delivery, eh? And when it gets to Southampton Station, it's got to be taken to the hand post office, hasn't it? Well, there's many a slip twixt cup and lip, so the old saying goes, replied Rob Moore. That parcel may slip. But isn't this the number your clerk mentioned? The door of Mrs. Mallett's house looked more closely barred than ever, if possible, and no answer came to several summonses by bell and knocker. But presently Rodmore tried the handle. The door

opened at his touch. "'Hello,' he exclaimed. "'Open. Hmm. That seems a bit queer. Well, inside.' For the second time that afternoon, Heatherwick walked into a place. that seemed to be wholly deserted. End of Chapter 25. Chapter 26 of the Charing Cross mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Waterloo The detective, walking a little in advance of his companion,

stepped forward to a hall table and knocked loudly on its polished surface. No answer came. He went further along to the head of a railed stair, which evidently communicated with a cellar kitchen. Again he knocked, more loudly than before, on an adjacent panel, and again got no reply. And at that, turning back along the hall, he opened the door of the room which faced upon the street, and he and Heather Rick looked in, a musty-smelling, close-curtained room that, a sort of Sunday parlor, little used, cold and comfortless in its formality, but the room behind it, to which Rob Moore turned next, showed signs of recent occupancy and life.

There was a fire in the grate, with an easy chair drawn near to it, on the table close by lay women's gear, a heap of linen with needle and thread thrust in, a work basket, scissors, thimble. it required no more than a glance to see that the owner of these innocent matters had laid them down suddenly suddenly interrupted in her task i'll tell you what it is mr heatherwick exclaimed rob more abruptly this house is empty empty of people anyway silent enough to be sure agreed heatherwick the woman you've frightened her by calling here said rodmore then Then she slipped around to Pencote Street, and there she found Ambrose dead. She's some connection with him and Bazvary, because she possesses a key that admits you to that yard. And finding Ambrose dead, she came back here, got her things, and cleared out.

There isn't a soul in this house. I'll lay anything on that. It struck me that this might be the place where the two ladies were detained, remarked. to Heatherwick. We'll soon see about that, declared Rob Moore. Come upstairs. We'll search the place from top to bottom, but stop downstairs first. He ran down the stair to the cellar kitchen, with Heatherwick at his heels, and at the door he laughed, pointing within. Look there, he exclaimed. I told you you'd interrupted things. See, there's one tea tray, laid out all ready for two cups and saucers teapot bread and butter cut cake there's another for one and there's the kettle singing away like a bird on a bow what's that mean the woman was going to carry up tea for two somewhere tether tray was for herself well you nip that in the bud she'll have to get her tea somewhere but the others come upstairs going to

back to the hall, he led the way up the main staircase. There were two stories above the ground floor. On the first were rooms, the doors of which, being opened or being found open, revealed nothing but ordinary things. Of these rooms, there were three opening off a main landing. But on the next floor, there were only two rooms. One was unfurnished. At the door of the other, a few inches ajar, the detective immediately paused. Look you there now, Mr. Heatherwick, he said, pointing here and there. Here's recent work. Do you see that a strong bolt, more like a bar, has been fitted on the outside of this door?

And the door itself fitted with a new patent lock? Ah, good lord, a chain as well. Might as well be in jail. but what's inside. We pushed the door open and revealed a large room fitted with two small beds, easy chairs, a table on which books, magazines, newspapers lay. On the table, too, one's fancy work, which it was evident, had been as hastily laid aside as the sewing downstairs.

Heatherwick bent over the things, but Rob Moore went to the one window. jail, did I say, he exclaimed. Why, this is a jail. Look here, Mr. Heatherwick. Window mortised inside and fitted with iron bars outside. Even if whoever's been in here could have opened the window, and if there'd been no bars there, they couldn't have done anything, though,

for there is nothing but a high blank wall opposite, back of some factory or other, apparently. but what's this? He added, opening a door that stood in the corner. Hmm, small bathroom. And this, he continued, going to a square hatch, set into the wall next to the staircase. Ah, a trap big enough to hand things like small trays through, but not big enough for a grown person to squeeze through.

Well, I shouldn't wonder if you're right, Mr. Hetherwick. this probably is where these ladies were locked up but they're gone heatherwick was looking round suddenly his eyes lighted on a familiar object he stepped forward and from a chair near one of the beds picked up a handbag of green silk he knew it well enough that settles it he explained they have been here this is miss han I mean Miss Featherstone's bag. I've seen her carry it often. These are her things in it. Purse, card case, and so on. She's left it behind her. I just so, agreed Rob Moore.

As I say, they all left in a hurry. I figure it out like this. The woman, who, of course, acted as a sort of jailer to these unfortunate ladies, when she made that discovery, round yonder, came back here, got her outdoor things, and cleared off. But before she went, she'd the decency to slip up here, undo that chain, slip the bolt back, and turn the key. Then, no doubt, she made tracks at express speed, leaving ladies to do what they liked.

And they, Mr. Heatherwick, having a bit of common sense about them, did what I should have done. they hooked it as quick as possible. That's that, sir. Heatherwick thrust Rona's handbag into his pockets and made for the door. Then I'm off, Rob Moore, he said. I must try to find out where they've gone. I've an idea, probably they go to Pentany's office. I'll go there.

But you? Oh, I'm going back to Pencog Street, answered Robmore. Plenty to do there. But off you go after the ladies, Mr. Heatherwick. There is nothing you can do round here now. I'll keep that clerk of yours a bit, and the Jew chap they might come in. We shall have some nice revelations in the papers tomorrow morning, I'm thinking, especially if Matterfield has the luck he expects.

What are you going to do about this house? asked Heatherwick, as they went downstairs. think the woman will come back? Bet your life she won't, answered Rob Moore. Not she. I should think she's halfway across London, north, south, east, or west by this. House, my, I shall just lock the front door and the key in my pocket. We shall want to search this house narrowly. Heatherwick bade him good day for the time being

and hurried off to Victoria Street to fling himself into the first disengaged taxi cab he encountered, and to bid its driver go as speedily as possible to Lincoln's Inn Field. He was anxious about Rona, and yet he felt that she was safe, and he was inquisitive, too. He wanted to hear her story to find out what had happened behind the scenes. He felt sure of finding her at Pentonie's office. she and Madame Listerrell, once released from their prison, would naturally go there.

But the clerk whom he encountered, as soon as he rushed into the outer office, dampened his spirits at once by shaking his head. Mr. Pentonies not in, sir, he answered. He was in until not so long ago, but he got a telephone call and went out immediately afterwards. No, I don't know who it was that rang him. him up, Mr. Heatherwick, nor where he went. Seemed a bit excited when he went out and was in a fearful hurry. Heatherwick concluded that Madame Miss Darrell had summoned Pentany and that he had gone

to meet her and Rona. He went away, somewhat at a loss, then remembering that Matafield had promised to wire from Southampton, he turned towards his chambers. At the foot of the stairs, he met his caretaker. been a young lady here inquiring for you mr heatherwick said the man been here twice i said i didn't know when you'd be in any time she said but there is the young lady sir coming back heatherwick turned sharply and saw rona coming across the square hurrying to meet her and disregarding whatever eyes might be watching them he took both her hands and his in a fashion that brought the colour to her cheeks "'You're all right, safe?' he asked quickly. "'Sure?'

"'I'm all right and quite safe. "'Thank you,' she answered. "'I've been here twice before, but you were out. "'I came to borrow some money. "'I left my bag and purse in the place where we were locked up, "'and Heatherwick pulled out the handbag and silently gave it to her. "'She stared at him. "'You've been the...

There, she exclaimed. How? Got in this afternoon. An hour ago, he answered. Here, come up to my rooms. We can't stand talking here. Madame Lestoreau, where is she? I left her at Victoria,

telephoning to Major Pentany, replied Rona. She, too, had no money. She wanted me to wait until Major Pentany arrived, but I wouldn't. I walked here. I thought you'd want to know. that we've got out at last. Heatherwick said nothing until they had entered his sitting-room.

Then, staring silently at her, he put his hands on Rona's shoulders, and, after a long look at her, suddenly and impulsively bent, and kissed her. By gad, he said in a low voice, I didn't know how anxious I was about you until I saw you just now, but now I know. Then, just as suddenly, he turned away from her, and in a matter-of-fact manner, lighted his stove, put on a kettle of water, and began preparations which indicated his intention of making tea.

Rona, from an easy chair into which she had unceremoniously thrust her, watched him. Liberty, she said suddenly, we're both discovering something. When you've been locked up day and night for a while. How was it, he asked, turning on her? Of course we know all about the kidnapping, but the rest until today. Basveri, of course? Basvary and another man, she answered. A tall, clean-shaven man whose name we never heard.

But Basvary was the chief villain. As to how it was, they met us at the Sunk Road at Rivers' Creed. forced us at the point of revolvers into a car and drove us off to london to westminster and into a house there-the house you've been in there a moment said heatherwick who was finding cups and saucers the driver of that car he must have been an accomplice no doubt but we never saw him again we only saw those two and a woman who acted as jailer and brought our meals we were fed all right and they give us books and papers and actually provided us with fancy work but they were inexorable about madame and her jewels. They must have known all about them, because they had got her own note paper. I know all about that, said Heatherwick. I'll tell you my side of it when you've had some tea. Forced her, I suppose, to write the letters? They forced her to do that, just as they

forced us into the car, said Rona, with revolvers. And they meant it. I suppose they've got the jewels now? Remains to be seen, said Heatherwick. Did Madame Busterell happen to tell you what those jewels were worth? She talked about little else, between 80,000 and 90,000 pounds. She's in an awful state about them, but it was literally a question of her life for her jewels. I don't know what they'd have done with me, but now I'm all right. Heather Rick opened a tin box, and produced a plum cake, held it up for Rona to inspect. What do you think of that for a cake? He asked, admiringly, present from my old aunt in the country.

Real proper cake, that? Yes, he went on, setting the cake on the table. Yes, yes, you're all right now. But, my George, Rona said nothing. She saw that his relief at seeing her was greater and deeper than he cared to show. She poured out the tea, they sat discussing the recent events, until dusty shadows began to fall over the whole room. I ought to be getting back to Rivers Reed, she remarked at last. It's late. Wait a bit, said Heatherwick, who by that time had told her all he knew.

There will be a wire from Matherfield before long. Don't go down to Rivers Reed tonight. Telephone to Lady Rivers' Free. that you're staying in town. Her sister will be there by now and will have told her everything. Wait till we get the wire from Matterfield. Then we'll go and dine somewhere, and you can put up at your old hotel in Surrey Street for the night.

I want you to know what's happened at Southampton, and he broke off as a knock came at his outer door. That'll be Matterfield's wire, he exclaimed, now then. A moment later, he came back to her with the message in his hand. It is from Matterfield, he said, handed in Southampton West 619. It doesn't say if he's got him. All he says is, Meet Me Waterloo, arriving 8.20. Well, I wonder, said Rona, but Bavere is just what Robmore says,

muttered Heatherwick. However, he looked at his watch, come along, he continued, we've just time to get some dinner at Waterloo and to be on the platform when the 820 comes in. If only we could see Basra-Vili in charge of Matherfield and Crigman, it would give me an appetite.

The vast space between the station buildings and the entrance to the platform at Waterloo was thronged, when Heatherwick and Rona came out of the restaurant at ten minutes past eight. Hetherwick was inquiring as to which platform the Southampton train would come in at when he felt a light touch on his arm. Turning sharply, he saw Robmore. Robmore gave him a quiet smile coupled with an informing wink.

Guess you're on the same job, Mr. Hetherwick, you said. Wire from Matterfield, eh? yes replied heatherwick and you same here assented rodmore just to say i was to be here for the eight-twenty with help he added significantly i've got the help there's four of us roundabout heard anything of those ladies mr hetherwick here is one of them replied hetherwick indicating rona they're safe you'll hear all about it later but this business what do you make of Matterfield's wire? Has he failed? I'll tell you what I make of it, answered Rodmore. I think you'll find that Basveli is on the train, with Matterfield and Quigman in close attendance. For some reason of his own,

Matterfield means to arrest Basveri here. Here. That's how I figure it. They've seen Basvili there and decided to follow him back to town. as soon as that train is in, a sudden, sharp exclamation from Rona interrupted him, and made both men turn to her. She clutched Heatherwick's arm, at the same time pointing with the other hand across the space behind them. Vasvery himself, she said, there, under that clock, see, he's going towards the gates. With a swift and unceremonious gesture, Rob Moore,

laid a hand on Rona's shoulder, twisted her round, and drew her amongst a group of bystanders. Keep out of sight, Miss, he muttered. He'll know you. Now, again, which man? That with the pale face and I had? I see him. Good to remember, too. All right. Stop here, you two. If he moves in this direction, Mr. Hetherick, move away. Anywhere. Wait. Rob Moore slipped away. A moment later, they saw him speak to a couple of quiet-looking men, who presently glanced at Vasverri. Heatherwick was watching Vasveli, too. Basvary, quiet, unconcerned, evidently wholly unsuspicious, had taken up a position at the exit through which the Southampton passengers must emerge. He was smoking a cigar, placidly, with obvious appreciation.

You're certain that's the man? whispered Heatherwick. Vaseri, positive, declared Rona. As if I could mistake him. I've too good reason to remember his whole appearance. But here, daring. Well, said Heather Wick, something's going to happen. Keep back. Keep well back. We can see things from here without being seen.

If he caught sight of you, Rob Moore came strolling back and joined them. All right, he murmured. Four pairs of eyes besides ours. That's three pairs more on him. My men are close up to him, too. See him? One, two, three, four.

All round him, though he doesn't know. I shan't let him go, whether Matherfield turns up or not. Cool customer, eh? The trains, too, said Heather. he had rona's hand within his arm and he felt it tremble yes he whispered bending down to him and that's how i feel tense moment this that that scoundrel there buzzfilly was glancing at the big clock he turned from it to the platform behind the gates looking expectantly along its lighted surface the others looked too a minute passed then Out of the gloom at the further extremity of the vast station, an engine appeared, slowly dragging its burden of carriages, and came sighing like a weary giant up the side of the

platform. The passengers in the front compartments leapt out and began filing towards the exit. Now for it, muttered Rob Moore, Keep back you two. My men'll watch him, and whoever's here to meet him, for he's expecting somebody nothing happened for the first minute the crowd of discharged passengers men and women civilians soldiers sailors filed out and went their ways gradually it thinned then heatherwick's arm was suddenly gripped by rona for the second time and he saw that she was staring at something beyond the barrier there she exclaimed there the man in the grey coat and fawn hat that's the man who drove the car see basverie sees him hetherick looked and saw basverry lift a hand in recognition of a young fresh-faced man who was nearing the ticket collectors and who carried in his right hand a small square parcel but he saw more close behind this young man came natherfield on one hand and quigman on the other they drew closer as he neared the gate and on its other side the detectives drew closer to

now then whispered rob more and stole swiftly forward it was all over so swiftly that neither hetherick nor rona knew exactly how the thing was done before they had real that the men were trapped, or the gaping bystanders had realized that something was happening under their very noses. Vasvery and his man were two safely handcuffed prisoners in the midst of a little group of silent men who were hurrying both away. Within a moment, captors and captives were lost in the outer reaches of the station. Then the two watchers suddenly realized that Matherfield, holding the square parcel in his hand, was standing close by, a grim but highly-subsified smile in his eyes.

He held the parcel up before them. Very neat, Mr. Heatherwick. Very neat indeed, he said, uncommonly neat, eh? But Heatherwick knew that he was not referring to the parcel. End of Chapter 26. of the Charing Cross Mystery by J.S. Fletcher. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. The Assurance

Rona went back to her old quarters at the little hotel in Surrey Street for that night, and next morning Heather Wick came round to her with an armful of newspapers. Finding her alone, he laid them on the table at her side, with a significant nod of his head, at certain big black letters, which topped the uppermost columns. Matherfield must have given plenty of informing news to the pressmen last night,

he remarked with a grim smile, it's all in there, his own adventures at Southampton yesterday, mine and Rob Moors in Westminster, and all the rest of it. I believe the newspaper people call this sort of thing a story and a fun, story at Mace, winding up, of course, with the dramatic arrest of Basveri at Waterloo. I'm afraid we're in for publicity for a time, worse luck. Shall we, shall I have to appear at that man's trial? asked Rona. That's unavoidable, I'm afraid, and at other things before that, answered Heatherwick.

There will be the proceedings before the magic. and the adjourned inquest and so on can't be helped and there'll be some satisfaction in knowing that we're ridding the world of a peculiarly cruel and cold-blooded murderer that chap basveri is certainly as consummate a villain as i ever heard of a human spider and clever in his web spinning but i wish one had a few more particulars on one point, and yet I don't see how ones to get them. What point? asked Rona. That sealed packet containing the details, or formula, or whatever it is, of your grandfather's invention, replied Heatherwick. Where is it?

What precisely is it? Did Ambrose get it from him? Has Basvetti got it? So far as I can make out, though. whole thing began with that, whether it was really worth a farthing or a fortune, your grandfather brought to London something which he honestly believed to be of great value. And there's no doubt that he got into the hands of those two men, Ambrose and Vasveri, because of it.

There's no doubt either that in conversation with them, he told them, perhaps jokingly, what he knew about Madame de Strait. nor is there any doubt that these two murdered him nor is there any doubt in my mind as to how they murdered him you must remember that both men were trained medical men and obviously of a scientific turn of mind into the bargain each had doubtless made a deep study of poisons such a knowledge is of value to such men as they were men of criminal tendencies probably they knew of a subtle poison easily administered the effects of which would not be evident for some hours no doubt they timed their work so that their victim should die swiftly and suddenly when well away from their laboratory and of course they did the same thing in the case of granite granite paid the penalty of being with your grandfather but for once did they murder your grandfather did they get rid of him so that they could keep his secret about madame mistorrel to themselves and blackmail her and her sister or that they could rob him of his invention and turn it to their own profit if the latter Then he paused, looking inquiringly at Rona as if he expected her to see what he was after.

But Rona shook her head. I don't follow, she said. What then? This, replied Hetherwick, if their desire to get hold of Grandfather's Secret was their motive, then that secret's worth a lot of money, money which ought to come to you, don't you see? where is the secret? Where's the sealed packet? I suppose the police would search Basviri last night. Perhaps they found it on him. We shall hear. But anyway, it's yours. Rona made a gesture of aversion. I should hate to touch or have anything to do with it, if it had been in that man's possession, she said.

But I don't think there's any doubt that they murder. my grandfather because of that secret. Only, I think, too, made a double motive. The secret about Madame Listerre was their second string. Probably, they believed that Lady Rivers Read would be an easy prey, and I think she would have been, if she hadn't had Major Pentony to fall back on. I know she was dreadfully upset after Basra's first visit. So I put it this way. Always have done, they thought they could sell grandfather's invention for a lot of money and get another lot out of Lady Rivers' Reed, and Madame Ristogne as blackmail. Black money indeed, all of it, exclaimed Heatherwick.

Well, a woman's servant put her head into the little parlor in which they were sitting, and looked significantly at Roma. There's a policeman downstairs, Miss, asking for you, she announced. leastways he wants to know if you can tell him if mr hetherwick's here or been here hetherwick went to the head of the stair a policeman standing in the hall below looked up and touched his helmet inspector matherfield's compliments sir and could you step round and bring miss hannahford with you he asked there's new developments mr hetherick important we'll come at once assented hetherick Ten minutes. He went back and hurried Rona away. What now, he asked as they hastened towards Matherfield's office. Perhaps they've extracted something out of Basvary,

or possibly the newspapers had attracted the attention of somebody who can give further news. The last suggestion strengthened itself when, on entering Matherfield's room, they found him closeted with two strangers, whose appearance was that of responsible and well-to-do commercial men. All three were discovered in what looked like a serious and deep conversation, and Heatherwick was quick to notice that the two unknown men looked at Roma with unusual interest. Matterfield made haste to introduce her as the late ex-superintendant Hanford's granddaughter, and Heatherwick as a gentleman who had been much concerned in the recent.

recent proceedings. These gentlemen, Miss Hanford and Mr. Heatherwick, he proceeded waving his hand at the others, are Mr. Cuthwaite and Houseover, manufacturing chemists of Easton. Incidentally, they've also a big place in Lancashire. And having seen this morning's paper, in which you've no doubt notice, there's a good deal about our affair, they've come straight to me with some news, which will prove uncommonly useful when Bosvalli is put in the dock before the magistrate this afternoon. The fact is, Mr. Heatherwick, these gentlemen have supplied a missing length. What link? asked Heatherwick eagerly. Matherfield nodded at the elder of the two men, Huthwaite, who produced a pocketbook and extracted from it a sheet of paper.

silently he passed over to Mathfield, who turned to Rona. Now Miss Haniford, he said with a note of triumph in his voice, I dare say you can positively identify your grandfather's handwriting and his way of making figures. Can you swear that this has been written by him? Rona gave but one glance at the paper before looking up with a glance of positive assertion. Oh, yes, she said. exclaimed, that is his writing without a doubt. Nothing could be more certain.

Mathield turned to Hetherwick. That's the formula for the ink, he said. Now we've got the big thing we wanted, and Mr. Cuthwaite will tell you how he got it. Cuthwaite, after allowing Heverwick to look at the paper, carefully replaced it in his pocketbook. There was an air of anxiety about him and about his partner concerning which Heatherwick began to make guesses. They looked as if they were uncertain and uneasy, but Cuthwaite was ready enough to tell his story. We got it in this way, he said, and I may as well say, as I've already said to you, Mr. Matterfield, that I don't think we should have got it at all if your police people hadn't been so reticent on that one particular point. If you'd noised it abroad about Hanford's secret, we might have been

forewarned. However, some little time ago, a man whom we knew as basing, and whom I firmly believe to be the bas-verie that we've read about in the papers this morning, a man, mind you, that we'd done business with now and then during the last year or so, came to us and offered us the formula for a new black ink, which he asserted, would drive every known ink off the market all over the world. He made extravagant claims for it. He swore it was the first absolutely perfect writing fluid ever invented. He brought a sample of it, which he'd made up himself. He put it to various tests.

But he did more. He offered us the use of the secret formula so that we ourselves could make and test it before deciding whether we'd fall in with his suggestion, which was that we should offer him a lump cash sum for the formula. Well, we did make the ink from the formula, and we did test it, and there is no doubt about it. It is all, and perhaps more, than Basing or Bazveri claimed for its excellence. I needed to go into the drawbacks attaching to most well-known ink,

this has none of them. And when Basing came back to us a few days ago, we decided to buy the formula from him. We agreed upon a cash price, and day before yesterday, we paid the amount over at our office in East Ham. Yes, said Heather Wick quietly, and what was the price agreed upon? The two partners exchanged a glance. It seemed to Rona, He was watching them intently, that they looked more uneasy than before, but Cuthwaite replied with promptitude. "'10,000 pounds.' "'How did you pay him?' asked Hetherwick, in cash.

"'No, by open check at his own request. "'That, of course, was as good as cash, but,' continued Cuthwaite, "'as soon as we read the newspapers this morning, we, that is, I, for I read the whole thing on my way to business, went at once to our bank to see if the check had been catched. It had, an hour or two after we'd handed it to Basing. He'd taken the amount in Bank of England notes. Heatherwick looked at Matterfield.

Of course, he remarked, as if he were asking a question, that formula belongs to Miss Hanifer. Basbury had no right to sell it. He stole it. that's the fact, Mr. Heatherwick, assented Matterfield. These gentlemen, innocently enough, bought stolen property. But I've just told them something that I'll tell you now. We found the money, notes, on Basvary last night, intact in his pocketbook.

Of course, with that, and the jewels, which his accomplice succeeded in getting at Southampton, he'd got a nice hall. but now we can easily prove how he came by that ten thousand, and it'll go back to Monsieur Cuthwaite and houseover there. We can prove, too, from their evidence, that Basvili poisoned Mr. Hannaford for the sake of that formula. Bosvary's done. These gentlemen will recover their ten thousand pounds, then, said Heatherwick.

In that case, he turned to the two partners, I don't see that you've anything to worry about, he suggested. The formula, of course, must be handed over to... Well, now, that's just it, Mr. Heatherwick, interrupted the partner, who until then had kept silent. The fact is, sir, we don't want to lose that formula. We gave this man bearing, or Buzzverie, ten thousand pounds for it, but but you really believe it to be worth more eh said hetherick with a smile i see then in that case if we get back our ten thousand sir we shall be pleased to treat with the rightful hunger said cuthwait after an exchange of looks with his partner in the meantime the formula is safe and secret with us we are well-known people we'll leave it at that just now

answered Heatherwick. Miss Hanford will trust you to keep your word about safety and secrecy, and later, business. He got up, and Rona rose with him. Shall you want us today, Matterfield? He asked. If not, no, replied Matterfield. Merely formal business today, then this afternoon they'll be brought up. Only evidence of arrest and application of adjournment. You can go away, Mr. Heatherwick. We'll let you both know when you're wanted. Heatherwick let Rona out, and, once clear of the police precincts, smote his stick on the pavement.

When we're through with this business, I'm hanged if I ever dabble in crime affairs again, personally, he exclaimed. Buzz Vali has been a pretty vile example to tackle, and that you should be dragged into it, too, he added. suddenly, that upset me more than anything. However, it's getting to an end. And then, he paused while she looked up at him with a little wonder at his vehemence. Then, and as they were at the moment walking along a quiet stretch of the less frequented side of the embankment, she timidly laid a hand on his arm. He turned sharply, laying his hand on hers. I think, you've been very considerate and thoughtful for me, she said. After all, it wasn't quite near interest in crime that made you. Good Lord, no, he exclaimed quickly. At first, perhaps,

half that, half you, I felt somehow that I got to look after you. And then, and when you disappeared, but I believe I'm a bit muddle-headed. I'll tell you something. All that time that you were lost, I—well, I scarcely ever slept, wondering, you know, and when you turned up yesterday afternoon. But I want to ask you something that I'm not quite clear about. I was certainly muddled just then. What is it? she asked. Etherwick bent down to her and dropped his voice.

I was so glad, so relieved to see you yesterday afternoon, he said. that that i felt dazed eh and i want to know did i kiss you rona suddenly looked up at him and laughed oh how really amusing you are why of course you did twice that's good he exclaimed i-i thought perhaps i had dreamt it but did you kiss me do you really want to be dead sure asked roe rona mischiously very well i did that's better said heatherwick end of chapter twenty seven end of the charing cross mystery by j s fletcher