CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THE CLOSED DOORS
Alone of all the London morning newspapers, the _Watchman_ appearednext day destitute of sensationalism in respect to the Middle TempleMurder. The other daily journals published more or less vivid accountsof the identification of Mr. Stephen Aylmore, M.P. for the BrookminsterDivision, as the _ci-devant_ Stephen Ainsworth, ex-convict, once upon atime founder and secretary of the Hearth and Home Mutual BenefitSociety, the headquarters of which had been at Cloudhampton, inDaleshire; the fall of which had involved thousands of honest workingfolk in terrible distress if not in absolute ruin. Most of them hadraked up Ainsworth's past to considerable journalistic purpose: it hadbeen an easy matter to turn up old files, to recount the fall of theHearth and Home, to tell anew the story of the privations of the humbleinvestors whose small hoards had gone in the crash; it had been easy,too, to set out again the history of Ainsworth's arrest, trial, andfate. There was plenty of romance in the story: it was that of a manwho by his financial ability had built up a great industrial insurancesociety; had--as was alleged--converted the large sums entrusted to himto his own purposes; had been detected and punished; had disappeared,after his punishment, so effectually that no one knew where he hadgone; had come back, comparatively a few years later, under anothername, a very rich man, and had entered Parliament and been, in a modestway, a public character without any of those who knew him in his newcareer suspecting that he had once worn a dress liberally ornamentedwith the broad arrow. Fine copy, excellent copy: some of the morningnewspapers made a couple of columns of it.
But the _Watchman_, up to then easily ahead of all its contemporariesin keeping the public informed of all the latest news in connectionwith the Marbury affair, contented itself with a brief announcement.For after Rathbury had left him, Spargo had sought his proprietor andhis editor, and had sat long in consultation with them, and the resultof their talk had been that all the _Watchman_ thought fit to tell itsreaders next morning was contained in a curt paragraph:
"We understand that Mr. Stephen Aylmore, M.P., who is charged with themurder of John Marbury, or Maitland, in the Temple on June 21st last,was yesterday afternoon identified by certain officials as StephenAinsworth, who was sentenced to a term of penal servitude in connectionwith the Hearth and Home Mutual Benefit Society funds nearly thirtyyears ago."
Coming down to Fleet Street that morning, Spargo, strolling jauntilyalong the front of the Law Courts, encountered a fellow-journalist, aman on an opposition newspaper, who grinned at him in a fashion whichindicated derision.
"Left behind a bit, that rag of yours, this morning, Spargo, my boy!"he remarked elegantly. "Why, you've missed one of the finestopportunities I ever heard of in connection with that Aylmore affair. Amiserable paragraph!--why, I worked off a column and a half in ours!What were you doing last night, old man?"
"Sleeping," said Spargo and went by with a nod. "Sleeping!"
He left the other staring at him, and crossed the road to Middle TempleLane. It was just on the stroke of eleven as he walked up the stairs toMr. Elphick's chambers; precisely eleven as he knocked at the outerdoor. It is seldom that outer doors are closed in the Temple at thathour, but Elphick's door was closed fast enough. The night before ithad been promptly opened, but there was no response to Spargo's firstknock, nor to his second, nor to his third. And half-unconsciously hemurmured aloud: "Elphick's door is closed!"
It never occurred to Spargo to knock again: instinct told him thatElphick's door was closed because Elphick was not there; closed becauseElphick was not going to keep the appointment. He turned and walkedslowly back along the corridor. And just as he reached the head of thestairs Ronald Breton, pale and anxious, came running up them, and atsight of Spargo paused, staring questioningly at him. As if with amutual sympathy the two young men shook hands.
"I'm glad you didn't print more than those two or three lines in the_Watchman_ this morning," said Breton. "It was--considerate. As for theother papers!--Aylmore assured me last night, Spargo, that though hedid serve that term at Dartmoor he was innocent enough! He wasscapegoat for another man who disappeared."
Then, as Spargo merely nodded, he added, awkwardly:
"And I'm obliged to you, too, old chap, for sending that wire to thetwo girls last night--it was good of you. They want all the comfortthey can get, poor things! But--what are you doing here, Spargo?"
Spargo leant against the head of the stairs and folded his hands.
"I came here," he said, "to keep an appointment with Mr. Elphick--anappointment which he made when I called on him, as you suggested, atnine o'clock. The appointment--a most important one--was for eleveno'clock."
Breton glanced at his watch.
"Come on, then," he said. "It's well past that now, and my guardian's avery martinet in the matter of punctuality."
But Spargo did not move. Instead, he shook his head, regarding Bretonwith troubled eyes.
"So am I," he answered. "I was trained to it. Your guardian isn'tthere, Breton."
"Not there? If he made an appointment for eleven? Nonsense--I neverknew him miss an appointment!"
"I knocked three times--three separate times," answered Spargo.
"You should have knocked half a dozen times--he may have overslepthimself. He sits up late--he and old Cardlestone often sit up half thenight, talking stamps or playing piquet," said Breton. "Come on--you'llsee!"
Spargo shook his head again.
"He's not there, Breton," he said. "He's gone!"
Breton stared at the journalist as if he had just announced that he hadseen Mr. Septimus Elphick riding down Fleet Street on a dromedary. Heseized Spargo's elbow.
"Come on!" he said. "I have a key to Mr. Elphick's door, so that I cango in and out as I like. I'll soon show you whether he's gone or not."
Spargo followed the young barrister down the corridor.
"All the same," he said meditatively as Breton fitted a key to thelatch, "he's not there, Breton. He's--off!"
"Good heavens, man, I don't know what you're talking about!" exclaimedBreton, opening the door and walking into the lobby. "Off! Where onearth should he be off to, when he's made an appointment with you foreleven, and--Hullo!"
He had opened the door of the room in which Spargo had met Elphick andMiss Baylis the night before, and was walking in when he pulled himselfup on the threshold with a sharp exclamation.
"Good God!" he cried. "What--what's all this?"
Spargo quietly looked over Breton's shoulder. It needed but one quickglance to show him that much had happened in that quiet room since hehad quitted it the night before. There stood the easy-chair in which hehad left Elphick; there, close by it, but pushed aside, as if by ahurried hand, was the little table with its spirit case, its syphon,its glass, in which stale liquid still stood; there was the novel,turned face downwards; there, upon the novel, was Elphick's pipe. Butthe rest of the room was in dire confusion. The drawers of a bureau hadbeen pulled open and never put back; papers of all descriptions, oldlegal-looking documents, old letters, littered the centre-table andthe floor; in one corner of the room a black japanned box had beenopened, its contents strewn about, and the lid left yawning. And in thegrate, and all over the fender there were masses of burned and charredpaper; it was only too evident that the occupant of the chambers,wherever he might have disappeared to, had spent some time before hisdisappearance in destroying a considerable heap of documents andpapers, and in such haste that he had not troubled to put mattersstraight before he went.
Breton stared at this scene for a moment in utter consternation. Thenhe made one step towards an inner door, and Spargo followed him.Together they entered an inner room--a sleeping apartment. There was noone in it, but there were evidences that Elphick had just as hastilypacked a bag as he had destroyed his papers. The clothes which Spargohad seen him wearing the previous evening were flung here, there,everywhere: the gorgeous smoking-jacket was tossed unceremoniously inone corner, a dress-shirt, in the bosom of which valu
able studs stillglistened, in another. One or two suitcases lay about, as if they hadbeen examined and discarded in favour of something more portable; here,too, drawers, revealing stocks of linen and underclothing, had beentorn open and left open; open, too, swung the door of a wardrobe,revealing a quantity of expensive clothing. And Spargo, looking aroundhim, seemed to see all that had happened--the hasty, almost franticsearch for and tearing up and burning of papers; the hurried change ofclothing, of packing necessaries into a bag that could be carried, andthen the flight the getting away, the----
"What on earth does all this mean?" exclaimed Breton. "What is it,Spargo?"
"I mean exactly what I told you," answered Spargo. "He's off! Off!"
"Off! But why off? What--my guardian!--as quiet an old gentleman asthere is in the Temple--off!" cried Breton. "For what reason, eh? Itisn't--good God, Spargo, it isn't because of anything you said to himlast night!"
"I should say it is precisely because of something that I said to himlast night," replied Spargo. "I was a fool ever to let him out of mysight."
Breton turned on his companion and gasped.
"Out--of--your--sight!" he exclaimed. "Why--why--you don't mean to saythat Mr. Elphick has anything to do with this Marbury affair? For God'ssake, Spargo----"
Spargo laid a hand on the young barrister's shoulder.
"I'm afraid you'll have to hear a good deal, Breton," he said. "I wasgoing to talk to you today in any case. You see----"
Before Spargo could say more a woman, bearing the implements whichdenote the charwoman's profession, entered the room and immediatelycried out at what she saw. Breton turned on her almost savagely.
"Here, you!" he said. "Have you seen anything of Mr. Elphick thismorning?"
The charwoman rolled her eyes and lifted her hands.
"Me, sir! Not a sign of him, sir. Which I never comes here much beforehalf-past eleven, sir, Mr. Elphick being then gone out to hisbreakfast. I see him yesterday morning, sir, which he was then in hisusual state of good health, sir, if any thing's the matter with himnow. No, sir, I ain't seen nothing of him."
Breton let out another exclamation of impatience.
"You'd better leave all this," he said. "Mr. Elphick's evidently goneaway in a hurry, and you mustn't touch anything here until he comesback. I'm going to lock up the chambers: if you've a key of them giveit to me."
The charwoman handed over a key, gave another astonished look at therooms, and vanished, muttering, and Breton turned to Spargo.
"What do you say?" he demanded. "I must hear--a good deal! Out with it,then, man, for Heaven's sake."
But Spargo shook his head.
"Not now, Breton," he answered. "Presently, I tell you, for MissAylmore's sake, and your own, the first thing to do is to get on yourguardian's track. We must--must, I say!--and at once."
Breton stood staring at Spargo for a moment as if he could not credithis own senses. Then he suddenly motioned Spargo out of the room.
"Come on!" he said. "I know who'll know where he is, if anybody does."
"Who, then?" asked Spargo, as they hurried out.
"Cardlestone," answered Breton, grimly. "Cardlestone!"
The Middle Temple Murder Page 29
