A Mysterious Disappearance

by Louis Tracy

  CHAPTER XXVII

  MR. WHITE'S METHOD

  The policeman spoke first. "Has Jane Harding been here, then?" he said.

  His words conveyed no meaning to his hearer.

  They were so incongruous, so ridiculously unreasoning, that Brucelaughed hysterically.

  "You must have seen her," cried the detective excitedly. "I know youhave learned the truth, and in no other way that I can imagine could ithave reached you."

  "Learnt what truth?"

  "That Sir Charles Dyke himself is at the bottom of all this business."

  "Indeed. How have you blundered upon that solution?"

  "Mr. Bruce, this time I am right, and you know it. It was Sir CharlesDyke who killed his wife. Nobody else had anything else to do with it,so far as I can guess. But if you haven't seen Jane Harding, I wonderhow you found out."

  "You are speaking in riddles. Pray explain yourself."

  "If Sir Charles Dyke had not been out of town, the riddle would havebeen answered by this time in the easiest way, as I should have lockedhim up."

  "Excellent. You remain faithful to tradition."

  "Mr. Bruce, please don't try to humbug me, for the sake of your friend.I am quite in earnest. I have come to you for advice. Sir Charles Dykeis guilty enough."

  "And what do you want me to do?"

  "To help me to adopt the proper course. The whole thing seems soastounding that I can hardly trust my own senses. I spoke hastily justnow. I would not have touched Sir Charles before consulting you. I wasnever in such a mixed-up condition in my life."

  Whatever the source of his information, the detective had evidentlyarrived at the same conclusion as Bruce himself. There was nothing forit but to endeavor to reason out the situation calmly and follow thebest method of dealing with it suggested by their joint intelligence.Claude motioned the detective to a chair, imposed silence by a look, andsummoned Smith. He was faint from want of food. With returningequanimity he resolved first to restore his strength, as he would needall his powers to wrestle with events before he slept that night.

  Mr. White, nothing loth, joined him in a simple meal, and by tacitconsent no reference was made to the one engrossing topic in theirthoughts until the table was cleared.

  "And now, Mr. White," demanded the barrister, "what have you found out?"

  "During the last two days," he replied, "I have been unsuccessfullytrying to trace Colonel Montgomery. No matter what I did I failed. I gothold of several of Mrs. Hillmer's tradespeople, but she always paid herbills with her own cheques, and none of them had ever heard of a ColonelMontgomery. That furniture business puzzled me a lot--the change of thedrawing-room set from one flat to another on November 7, I mean. So Idiscovered the address of the people who supplied the new articles toMrs. Hillmer--"

  "How?"

  "Through the maid, Dobson. Mrs. Hillmer has given her notice to leave,and the girl is furious about it, as she appears to have had a very easyplace there. I think it came to Mrs. Hillmer's ears that she talked tome."

  "I see. Proceed."

  "Here I hit upon a slight clue. It was a gentleman who ordered the newfurniture, and directed the transfer of the articles replaced from No.61 to No. 12 Raleigh Mansions. He did this early in the morning ofNovember 7, and the foreman in charge of the job remembered that therewas some bother about it, as neither Mrs. Hillmer nor Mr. Corbett, asMensmore used to be called, knew anything about it. But the gentlemancame the same morning and explained matters. It struck the foreman asfunny that there should be such a fearful hurry about refurnishing adrawing-room, for the gentleman did not care what the cost was so longas the job was carried out at express speed. Another odd thing was thatMrs. Hillmer paid for the articles, though she had not ordered them nordid she appear to want them. The man was quite sure that Mensmore'sfirst knowledge of the affair came with the arrival of the first batchof articles from Mrs. Hillmer's flat, but he could only describe themysterious agent as being a regular swell. He afterwards identified aportrait of Sir Charles Dyke as being exactly like the man he had seen,if not the man himself."

  "How did you come to have a portrait of Sir Charles in your possession?"

  "That appears later," said the detective, full of professional pride atthe undoubtedly smart manner in which he had manipulated his facts oncethey were placed in order before him.

  "Of course," he went on, "I jumped at the conclusion that the strangerwas this Colonel Montgomery. Then, while closely questioning the maidabout the events of November 7, she suddenly remembered that she lost anold skirt and coat about that time. They had vanished from her room, andshe had never laid eyes on them since. This set me thinking. Iconfronted her with the clothes worn by Lady Dyke when she was found inthe river, and I'm jiggered if Dobson didn't recognize them at once asbeing her missing property. Now, wasn't that a rum go?"

  "It certainly was," said Bruce, who was piecing together the story ofthe murder in his mind as each additional detail came to light.

  "Naturally I thought harder than ever after that. It then occurred to methat Jane Harding must have had some powerful reasons for so suddenlyshutting up about the identification of her mistress's underclothing.She was right enough, as we know, in regard to the skirt and coat, butshe admitted to me that the linen on the dead body was just the same asLady Dyke's. Curiously enough, it was not marked by initials, crest, orlaundry-mark, and I ascertained months ago that owing to some fad of herladyship's, all the family washing was done on the estate in Yorkshire.This explained the absence of the otherwise inevitable laundry-mark."

  "Thus far you are coherence itself."

  "Well," said Mr. White complacently, "I was a long time getting to work,Mr. Bruce, and had it not been for your help I should probably neverhave got at the truth, but I flatter myself that, once on the righttrack, I seldom leave it. However, as I was saying, I felt that JaneHarding knew a good deal more than she would tell, except underpressure, so I decided to put that pressure on."

  "In what way?"

  "I frightened her. Played off on her a bit of the stage business she isso fond of. This afternoon I placed a pair of handcuffs in my pocket andwent to her place at Bloomsbury, having previously prepared a boguswarrant for her arrest on a charge of complicity in the murder of LadyDyke."

  "It was a dangerous game!"

  "Very. If it had gone wrong and reached the ears of the Commissioner orgot into the papers, I should have been reduced or dismissed. But whatis a policeman to do in such cases? I was losing my temper over thisinfernal inquiry and never obtaining any real light, though alwayscoming across startling developments. It had to end somehow, and I tookthe chance. The make-believe warrant and the production of handcuffs fora woman--they are never used, you know, in reality--have often beentrump-cards for us when everything else failed."

  "This time, then, the 'properties' made up the 'show,' as Miss Hardingwould put it?"

  "They did, and no mistake. I gave her no time to think or act. I foundher sitting with her mother, admiring a new carpet she had just laiddown. I said, 'Is your name Jane Harding, now engaged at the JollityTheatre, under the alias of Marie le Marchant, but formerly a maid inthe service of Lady Dyke?' She grew very white, and said 'Yes,' whileher mother clutched hold of her, terrified. Then I whipped out thewarrant and the cuffs. My, but you should have heard them squeal whenthe bracelets clinked together. 'What has my child done?' screamed themother. 'Perhaps nothing, madam,' I answered; 'but she is guilty in theeyes of the law just the same if she persists in screening the guiltyparties.' Jane Harding was trembling and blubbering, but she said, 'Itis very hard on me. I have done nothing.' I trembled myself then, as Ifeared that she might offer to come with me to the police station, inwhich case I should have been dished. But the mother fixed the affairsplendidly. 'I am sure my daughter will not conceal anything,' she said,'and it is a shame to disgrace her in this way without telling what itis you want to know.' I took the cue in an instant. 'I am empowered,' Isaid, 'to suspend this warrant, and perhaps do away
with it altogether,if she answers my questions fully and truthfully.' 'Why, of course shewill,' said the mother, and the girl, though desperately upset,whimpered her agreement. With that I got the whole story."

  "Sir Charles Dyke inspired her actions, I suppose."

  "From the very beginning almost. At first Jane Harding herself believed,when she gave evidence at the inquest, that the body she saw was notthat of Lady Dyke; but afterwards she changed her opinion, especiallywhen she recalled the exact pattern and materials of the underclothing.Then my inquiries put her on the scent. Being rather a sharp girl, shejumped to the conclusion that Sir Charles knew more about the matterthan he professed. In any case, her place was gone, and she would soonbe dismissed, so she resolved on a plan even bolder than mine inthreatening to lock her up. She watched her opportunity, found SirCharles alone one day, and told him that from certain things within herknowledge, she thought it her duty to go to the police-station. He wasstartled, she could see, and asked her to explain herself. She said thather mistress had been killed, and she might be able to put the police onthe right track. He hesitated, not knowing what to say; so she hintedthat it would mean a lot of trouble for her, and she would prefer, ifshe had L500, to go to America, and let the matter drop altogether. Hetold her that he did not desire to have Lady Dyke's name brought intopublic notoriety. Sooner than to allow such a thing to occur he wouldgive her the money. An hour later he handed her fifty ten-pound notes."

  "What a wretched mistake," cried Bruce involuntarily. This unmasking ofhis unfortunate friend's duplicity was the most painful feature of allto him.

  "Perhaps it was," replied the detective, "but the thing is not yet quiteclear to me. That is why I am here. But to continue. The girl admittedthat she lost her head a bit. Instead of leaving the house openly,without attracting comment, she simply bolted, thus giving rise to thesecond sensational element attending Lady Dyke's disappearance. But sheresolved to be faithful to her promise. When you found her she held hertongue, and even wrote to Sir Charles to assure him that she had notspoken a word to a soul. He sent for her, and pitched into her about notgoing to America, but took her address in case he wished to see heragain."

  "He recognized her letter-writing powers, no doubt."

  "Evidently. She was surprised last Thursday week to receive a telegramasking her to meet him at York Station. When she arrived there he askedher to write the letter he handed to you and to post it in London onSaturday evening. He explained that his action was due to his keenanxiety to shield his wife's name, and that this letter would settle theaffair altogether. As he handed her another bundle of notes, andpromised to settle L100 a year on her for life, she was willing enoughto help him. During your interview with her you guessed the reason whyshe wrote Lady Dyke's hand so perfectly. She had copied it for threeyears."

  "All this must have astonished you considerably?"

  "Mr. Bruce, astonished isn't the word. I was flabbergasted! Once shestarted talking I let her alone, only rattling the handcuffs when sheseemed inclined to stop. But all the time I felt as if the top of myhead had been blown off."

  "I imagine she had not much more to tell you?"

  "She pitched into you as the cause of all the mischief, and went so faras to say that she was sure it was not Sir Charles who killed Lady Dyke,but you yourself."

  Bruce winced at Jane Harding's logic. Were he able to retrieve the pastthree months the mystery of Lady Dyke's death would have remained amystery forever.

  "Now about the photograph," said the detective. "After I had left JaneHarding with a solemn warning to speak to no one until I saw her again,I made a round of the fashionable photographers and soon obtained anexcellent likeness of Sir Charles. I showed it to Dobson, and she said:'That is Colonel Montgomery.' I showed it to the foreman of thefurniture warehouse, and he said: 'That is the image of the man whoordered Mrs. Hillmer's suite.' Now, what on earth is the upshot of thisbusiness to be? I called at Wensley House, but was told Sir Charles wasnot in town. Had he been in, I would not have seen him until I haddiscussed matters with you."

  "That is very good of you, Mr. White. May I ask your reason for showinghim this consideration?"

  The policeman, who was very earnest and very excited, banged his hand onthe table as he cried:

  "Don't you see what all this amounts to? I have no option but to arrestSir Charles Dyke for the murder of his wife."

  "That is a sad conclusion."

  "And do you believe he killed her?"

  "Strange as it may seem to you, I do not."

  "And I'm jiggered if I do either."

  "I--I am greatly obliged to you, White."

  Claude bent his head almost to his knees, and for some minutes there wascomplete silence. When he again looked at the detective there were tearsin his eyes.

  "What can we do to unravel this tangled skein without creating untoldmischief?" he murmured.

  "It beats me, sir," was the perplexed answer. "But when I came in Iimagined that Jane Harding or some one had been to see you. Surely, youhad learned something of all this before my arrival?"

  "Yes, indeed. I had reached your goal, but by a different route.Unfortunately, my discovery only goes to confirm yours."

  Bruce then told him of his visit to the lawyer's office, and its result.Mr. White listened to the recital with knitted brows.

  "It is very clear," he said, when the barrister had ended, "that LadyDyke was killed in Mrs. Hillmer's flat, that Sir Charles knew of herdeath, that he himself conveyed the body to the river bank at Putney,and that ever since he has tried to throw dust in our eyes and preventany knowledge of the true state of affairs reaching us."

  "Your summary cannot be disputed in the least particular."

  "Well, Mr. Bruce, we must do _something_. If you don't like tointerfere, then _I_ must."

  "There is but one person in the world who can enlighten us as to thefacts. That person obviously is Sir Charles Dyke himself."

  "Unquestionably."

  Bruce looked at his watch. It was 10.30 P.M. He rose.

  "Let us go to him," he said.

  "But he is not in London."

  "He is. I expect you will find that he gave orders for no one to beadmitted, and told the servants to say he had left town to make thedenial more emphatic."

  "It will be a terrible business, I fear, Mr. Bruce."

  "I dread it--on my soul I do. But I cannot shirk this final attempt tosave my friend. My presence may tend to help forward a final and fullexplanation. No matter what the pain to myself, I must be present. Come,it is late already!"