The Hampstead Mystery

by John R. Watson and Arthur J. Rees

  CHAPTER XXIV

  Rolfe was spending a quiet evening in his room after a trying day'sinquiries into a confidence trick case; inquiries so fruitless that theyhad brought down on his head an official reproof from InspectorChippenfield.

  Rolfe had left Scotland Yard that evening in a somewhat despondent frameof mind in consequence, but a brisk walk home and a good supper had donehim so much good, that with a tranquil mind and his pipe in his mouth, hewas able to devote himself to the hobby of his leisure hours with keenenjoyment.

  This hobby would have excited the wondering contempt of Joe Leaver, whosefrequent attendance at cinema theatres had led him to the conclusion thatpolice detectives--who, unlike his master, had to take the rough with thesmooth--spent their spare time practising revolver shooting, and throwingdaggers at an ace of hearts on the wall. Rolfe's hobby was nothing moreexciting than stamp collecting. He was deeply versed in the lore ofstamps, and his private ambition was to become the possessor of a "blueMauritius." His collection, though extensive, was by no means of fabulousvalue, being made up chiefly of modest purchases from the stampcollecting shops, and finds in the waste-paper-baskets at Scotland Yardafter the arrival of the foreign mails.

  That day he had made a particularly good haul from thewaste-paper-baskets, for his "catch" included several comparatively goodspecimens from Japan and Fiji. He sat gloating over these treasures,examining them carefully and holding each one up to the light as heseparated it from the piece of paper to which it had been affixed. Hepasted them one by one in his stamp album with loving, lingering fingers,adjusting each stamp in its little square in the book with meticulouscare. He was so absorbed in this occupation that he did not hear theascending footsteps drawing nearer to his door, and did not see a visitorat the door when the footsteps ceased. It was Crewe's voice that recalledhim back from the stamp collector's imaginary world.

  "Why, Mr. Crewe," said Rolfe, with evident pleasure, "who'd have thoughtof seeing you?"

  "Your landlady asked me if I'd come up myself," said Crewe, in explaininghis intrusion. "She's 'too much worried and put about, to say nothing ofhaving a bad back,' to show me upstairs."

  "I've never known her to be well," said Rolfe, with a laugh. "Everymorning when she brings up my breakfast I've got to hear details of herbad back which should be kept for the confidential ear of the doctor. Butshe regards me as a son, I think--I've been here so long. But now you arehere, Mr. Crewe--" Rolfe waited in polite expectation that his visitorwould disclose the object of his visit.

  But Crewe seemed in no hurry to do so. He produced his cigar case andoffered Rolfe a cigar, which the latter accepted with a pleasantrecollection of the excellent flavour of the cigars the private detectivekept. When each of them had his cigar well alight, Crewe glanced at theopen stamp album and commenced talking about stamps. It was a subjectwhich Rolfe was always willing to discuss. Crewe declared that he was anignorant outsider as far as stamps were concerned, but he professed tohave a respectful admiration for those who immersed themselves in such afascinating subject. Rolfe, with the fervid egoism of the collector,talked about stamps for half an hour without recalling that his visitormust have come to talk about something else.

  "I've got a small stamp collection in my office," said Crewe, when Rolfepaused for a moment. "It belonged to that Jewish diamond merchant who wasshot in Hatton Gardens two years ago. You remember his case?"

  "Rather! That was a smart bit of work of yours, Mr. Crewe, in layingyour hands on the woman who did it and getting back the diamond."

  Crewe smiled in response.

  "The Jew was very grateful, poor fellow. He died in the hospital afterthe trial, so she was lucky to escape with twelve years. He left me adiamond ring and a stamp album that had come into his possession."

  "I should like to see it," said Rolfe eagerly. "It is more than likelythat there are some good specimens in it. The Jews are keencollectors. If you let me have a look at it, I'll tell you what thecollection is worth."

  "You can have it altogether," said Crewe. "I'll send my boy Joe roundwith it in the morning."

  "Oh, Mr. Crewe, it's very good of you," said Rolfe, with the covetousnessof the collector shining in his eyes.

  "Nonsense! Why shouldn't you have it? But I didn't come round here solelyto talk about stamps, Rolfe. I came to have a little chat about theRiversbrook case. How are you getting on with it?"

  "Why, really," said Rolfe, "I've not done much with it since, since--"

  "Since Birchill was acquitted, eh! But you are not letting it dropaltogether, are you? That would be a pity--such an interesting case.Whom have you your eye on now as the right man?"

  Rolfe, who thought he detected a suspicion of banter in Crewe'sremarks, evaded the latter question by answering the first part ofCrewe's inquiry.

  "Why hardly that, Mr. Crewe. But the chief is not very keen on the case.Birchill's acquittal was too much of a blow to him. He reckons thatnowadays juries are too soft-hearted to convict on a capital charge."

  "It's just as well that they are too soft-hearted to convict the wrongman," said Crewe.

  "Yes; you told me from the first that we were on the wrong track," wasthe reply. "I haven't forgotten that and the chief is not allowed toforget it, either. All the men at the Yard know that you held theopinion that we had got hold of the wrong man when we arrested Birchill,and he has had to stand so much chaff in the office, that he's pretty rawabout it." Rolfe spoke in the detached tone of a junior who had no sharein his chief's mistakes or their attendant humiliation, and he added,"That's once more that you've scored over Scotland Yard, Mr. Crewe, andyou ought to be proud of it." He glanced covertly at Crewe to see how hetook the flattery.

  "So you've done very little about the case since Birchill was acquitted?"was his only remark.

  "I've been so busy," replied Rolfe, again evading the question, andavoiding meeting Crewe's glance by turning over the leaves of his stampalbum. "You see, there has been a rush of work at Scotland Yard lately.There is that big burglary at Lord Emden's, and the case of the womanwhose body was found in the river lock at Peyton, and half a dozen othercases, all important in their way. There has been quite an epidemic ofcrime lately, as you know, Mr. Crewe. I don't seem to get a minute tomyself these times."

  "Rolfe," said Crewe drily, "you protest too much. You don't suppose thatafter coming over here to see you that I can be deceived by such talk?"

  Rolfe flushed at these uncompromising words, but before he could speakCrewe proceeded in a milder tone.

  "I don't blame you a bit for trying to put me off. It's all part of thegame. We're rivals, in a sense, and you are quite right not to lose sightof that fact. But as a detective, Rolfe, your methods lack polish.Really, I blush for them. You might have known that I came over here tosee you to-night because I had an important object in view, and youshould have tried to find out what it was before playing your owncards,--and such cards, too! You're sadly lacking in finesse, Rolfe.You'd never make a chess player; your concealed intentions are tooeasily discovered. You must try not to be so transparent if you want tosucceed in your profession."

  Crewe delivered his reproof with such good humour that Rolfe stared athim, as if unable to make out what his visitor was driving at.

  "I don't know what you are talking about, Mr. Crewe," he said at length.

  "Oh, yes, you do. You know I'm speaking about your latest move in theRiversbrook case, which you've been so busy with of late. And I've cometo tell you in a friendly way that once more you're on the wrong track."

  "What do you mean?" asked Rolfe quickly.

  "Why, Princes Gate, of course," replied Crewe cheerily. "You don'tsuppose that a fine-looking young man like yourself could be seen in theneighbourhood of Princes Gate without causing a flutter among femininehearts there, do you?"

  "So the servants have been talking, have they?" muttered Rolfe.

  "They have and they haven't. But that's beside the point. What I want tosay is that you're on the wrong track in suspe
cting Mrs. Holymead, and Istrongly advise you to drop your inquiries if you don't want to getyourself into hot water. She's as innocent of the murder of Sir HoraceFewbanks as Birchill is, but you cannot afford to make a false shot inthe case of a lady of her social standing, as you did with a criminallike Birchill."

  At this rebuke Rolfe gave way to irritation.

  "Look here, Mr. Crewe, I'll thank you to mind your own business," hesaid. "It's got nothing to do with you where I make inquiries. I'll haveyou remember that! I don't interfere with you, and I won't have youinterfering with me."

  "But I'm interfering only for your own good, man! What do you suppose I'mdoing it for? I tell you you're riding for a very bad fall in suspectingMrs. Holymead and shadowing her."

  Crewe's plain words were an echo of a secret fear which Rolfe hadentertained from the time his suspicions were directed towards Mrs.Holymead. But he was not going to allow Crewe to think he was alarmed.

  "If I'm making inquiries about Mrs. Holymead, it's because I have amplejustification for doing so," he said stiffly.

  "And I tell you that you have not."

  "Prove it!" exclaimed Rolfe defiantly.

  Crewe produced from his pocket a revolver and a lady's handkerchief, andhanded them to Rolfe without speaking.

  Rolfe's embarrassment was almost equal to his astonishment as he examinedthe articles. In the handkerchief with its missing corner, he speedilyrecognised something for which he had searched in vain. He had neverconfided to Crewe the discovery of the missing corner in the dead man'shand, and therefore the production of the handkerchief by Creweconsiderably embarrassed him. He longed to ask Crewe how he had obtainedpossession of the handkerchief, but he could not trust his voice to framethe question without betraying his feelings, so he picked up the revolverand examined it closely. Then he put it down and again gave his attentionto the handkerchief, bending his head over it so that Crewe should notsee his face.

  "You do not seem very astonished at my finds, Rolfe," said Crewequizzically. "Perhaps you've seen these articles before?"

  "No, I haven't," said Rolfe, still avoiding his visitor's eye.

  "Well, the torn handkerchief is not exactly new to you," said Crewe."You've got the missing part; you found it in Sir Horace's hand after hewas murdered."

  "You're too clever for me, and that's the simple truth, Mr. Crewe,"said Rolfe, in a mortified tone. "I did find a small piece of alady's handkerchief in his hand, and here it is." He produced hispocket-book and took out the piece. "How you found out I had it, ismore than I know."

  "Mere guess-work," said Crewe.

  Rolfe shook his head slowly.

  "I know better than that," he said. "You're deep. You don't miss much. Iwish now that I had told you about that bit of handkerchief at the first.But Chippenfield and I wanted to have all the credit of elucidating theRiversbrook mystery. I hunted high and low to get trace of thishandkerchief, but I couldn't. And now you've beaten me, although youcouldn't have known at first that there was such a thing as a missinghandkerchief in the case. I hope you bear me no malice, Mr. Crewe."

  "What for, Rolfe?"

  "For not telling you about the handkerchief, after I found this piece inSir Horace's hand."

  "Not in the least," said Crewe. "Why should you have told me? I don'ttell you everything that I find out. It's all part of the game. Thatpiece of the handkerchief was a good find, Rolfe, and I congratulate youon getting it. How did you come to discover it?"

  "I was trying to force open the murdered man's hand, and I found itclenched between the little finger and the next. Of course it was notvisible with his hand closed. Chippenfield, who missed it, didn'thalf like my discovery, and all along he underestimated the value ofit as a clue."

  "Well, he has had to pay for his folly."

  "He has, and serves him right," replied Rolfe viciously. "He's the mostpig-headed, obstinate, vain, narrow-minded man you could come across." Itoccurred to Rolfe that it was not exactly good form on his part tocondemn his superior officer so vigorously in the presence of a rival, sohe broke off abruptly and asked Crewe how he came into possession of therevolver and handkerchief.

  Crewe's reply was that he had obtained these articles under a promise ofsecrecy from some one who had assured him that Mrs. Holymead had noconnection with the crime. When he was at liberty to tell the story as ithad been told to him, Rolfe would be the first to hear it.

  "Mrs. Holymead had no connection with the crime?" exclaimed Rolfeimpatiently. "Perhaps you don't know that the morning after the murderwas discovered she went out to Riversbrook and removed some secret papersfrom the murdered man's desk--papers that he had been in the habit ofhiding in a secret drawer?"

  "Yes, I know that," said Crewe.

  "Well, doesn't that look as if she knew something about the crime?"

  "Not necessarily."

  "Well, to me it does. What were these secret papers? They were letters,I am told."

  "I believe so. And you, Rolfe, as a man of the world, know that a marriedwoman would not like the police to get possession of letters she hadwritten to a man of the reputation of Sir Horace Fewbanks."

  "I admit that her action is capable of a comparatively innocentinterpretation, but taken in conjunction with other things it looks to memighty suspicious. In Hill's statement to us he told us that on the nightof the murder, Birchill when hiding in the garden waiting for the lightsto go out before breaking into the house, heard the front door slam andsaw a stylish sort of woman walk down the path to the gate."

  "That was not Mrs. Holymead," said Crewe.

  "How do you know? If it was not her, who was it? Do you know?"

  "I think I know, and when I am at liberty to speak I will tell you."

  "Then there is a third point," continued Rolfe. "Look at thishandkerchief you brought. I saw a handkerchief of exactly similar patternat Mrs. Holymead's house when I called there."

  "Wasn't that the property of her French cousin, Mademoiselle Chiron?"

  "Yes, she dropped it on the floor while I was there. But it is probablethe handkerchief was one of a set given her by Mrs. Holymead."

  "Quite probably, Rolfe. But scores of ladies who are fond of expensivethings have handkerchiefs of a similar pattern. You will find if youinquire among the West End shops, that although it is a dainty, expensivearticle from the man's point of view, there is nothing singular about thequality or the pattern."

  "Perhaps so," said Rolfe, "but the possession of handkerchiefs of thiskind is surely suspicious when taken in conjunction with her removal ofthe letters. I wish I could get hold of that infernal scoundrel Hillagain. I am convinced that he knows a great deal more about this murderthan he has yet told us, and a great deal more about Mrs. Holymead andher letters. I've had his shop watched day and night since hedisappeared, but he keeps close to his burrow, and I've not been able toget on his track."

  "I'd give up watching for him if I were you," said Crewe, as he flickedthe ash of his cigar into the fireplace. "You're not likely to find himnow. As a matter of fact, he has left the country."

  "Hill left the country?" echoed Rolfe. "I think you are mistaken there,Mr. Crewe. He had no money; how could he get away?"

  Crewe selected another cigar from his case and lighted it beforeanswering.

  "The fact is, I advanced him the money," he said. "Technically it's aloan, but I do not think any of it will be paid back."

  Rolfe stared hard at Crewe to see if he was joking.

  "What on earth made you do that?" he demanded at length. "Hill may be theactual murderer for all we know."

  "Not at all," was the reply. "Before I helped him to leave England Isatisfied myself that he had absolutely nothing to do with the murder. Hedoes not know who shot Sir Horace Fewbanks, though, of course, he stillhalf believes that it was Birchill. When I got in touch with him afterhis disappearance he was in a pitiable state of fright--waking orsleeping, he couldn't get his mind off the gallows. There were two orthree points on which I wanted his assistance in clear
ing up theRiversbrook case, and I promised to get him out of the country if hewould make a clean breast of things and tell me the truth as far as heknew it. He made a confession--a true one this time. I took it down andI'll let you have a copy. There are a few interesting points on which itdiffers materially from the statement he made to the police when you andChippenfield cornered him."

  "What are they?" asked Rolfe.

  "In the first place the burglary was his idea, and not Birchill's,"replied Crewe. "After the quarrel between Sir Horace and the girlFanning, he went out to her flat and suggested to Birchill that he shouldrob Riversbrook. Hill's real object in arranging this burglary was to getpossession of the letters which Mrs. Holymead subsequently removed, buthe did not tell Birchill this. His plan was to go to Riversbrook themorning after the burglary and then break open Sir Horace's desk and openthe secret drawer before informing the police of the burglary. To thepolice and Sir Horace it would look as though the burglar hadaccidentally found the spring of the secret drawer. With these letters inhis possession Hill intended to blackmail Sir Horace, or Mrs. Holymead,without disclosing himself in the transaction.

  "When Sir Horace returned unexpectedly from Scotland on the 18th ofAugust, Hill had just removed the letters from the desk, being afraidthat when Birchill broke into the house he might find them accidentally.He was naturally in a state of alarm at Sir Horace's return. He tried toget an opportunity to put the letters back as Sir Horace might discoverthey had been removed, but Sir Horace dismissed him for the night beforehe could get such an opportunity. Then he went to Fanning's flat andtold Birchill that Sir Horace had returned. Birchill was in favour ofpostponing the burglary, but Hill, who had possession of the letters,and did not know when he would get an opportunity to put them back,urged Birchill to carry out the burglary. He assured Birchill that SirHorace was a very sound sleeper and that there would be no risk. Inorder to arouse Birchill's cupidity and to protect himself from thesuspicions of Sir Horace regarding the letters, he told Birchill that hehad seen a large sum of money in his possession when he returned, andthat this money would probably be hidden in the secret drawer of thedesk, until Sir Horace had an opportunity of banking it. He toldBirchill to break open the desk, and explained to him how to find thespring of the secret drawer."

  "What a damned cunning scoundrel he is," exclaimed Rolfe, in unwillingadmiration of the completeness of Hill's scheme. "Don't you think, Mr.Crewe, that, after all, he may be the actual murderer--that he told you alot of lies just as he did to us? Holymead in his address to the jurymade out a pretty strong case against him."

  "No one knows better than Holymead that Hill did not commit themurder," said Crewe. "Hill is an incorrigible liar, but he has no nervefor murder."

  "Did he put the letters back?" asked Rolfe. "He told me that Mrs.Holymead stole them the day after the murder was discovered. But he issuch a liar--"

  "I believe he spoke the truth in that case," said Crewe. "He told me heput the letters back in the secret drawer the night after the murder,when he went to Riversbrook to report himself to Chippenfield. He putthem back because he was afraid that if the police found them in hispossession, they would think he had a hand in the murder. His idea was toremove them from the secret drawer after the excitement about the murderdied down, and then blackmail Mrs. Holymead, but she acted with a skilland decision that robbed him of his chance to blackmail her."

  "How did you get hold of the cunning scoundrel?" asked Rolfe. "I've hadhis wife's shop watched day and night, as I've said. I made sure he wouldtry to communicate with her sooner or later, but he didn't."

  "It was Joe who found him," said Crewe. "I knew you were watching Mrs.Hill's shop, so it was superfluous for me to set anybody to watch it.Besides, I didn't think Hill would visit his wife or attempt tocommunicate with her, for he would think that the police, if they wantedhim, would be sure to watch the shop. I tried to consider what a man likeHill would do in the circumstances. He had no money--I knew that--and, sofar as I was able to ascertain, he had no friends who were likely to hidehim. Without friends or money he could not go very far. Finally itoccurred to me that he might be hiding somewhere in Riversbrook--eitherin that unfinished portion of the third floor, or in one of theoutbuildings. He knew the run of the rambling old place so well. Have youever been over it carefully? No. Well, there are several good places inthe upper stories where a man might conceal himself. I put Joe on thejob, and after watching for several nights Joe got him. Hill had made ahiding place in the loft above the garage. It appears that he subsistedon the stores that had been left in the house; he was able to make hisway into the main building through one of the kitchen windows. He was onone of these foraging expeditions when Joe discovered him--emaciated,dirty, and half demented through terror of the gallows."

  "So that is how you got him!" said Rolfe. "I never thought of looking forhim at Riversbrook. Sometimes I am inclined to agree with you that he hadno nerve for murder. But an unpremeditated murder doesn't want muchnerve. He might have done it in a moment of passion." Rolfe wasendeavouring to take advantage of Crewe's communicative mood and toarrive by a process of elimination at the person against whom Crewe hadaccumulated his evidence.

  "It was not Hill," said Crewe. "The murder was committed in a moment ofpassion, and yet it was far from being unpremeditated."

  "You are trying to mystify me," said Rolfe despairingly.

  "No; it is the case itself which has mystified you," replied Crewe.

  "It has," was Rolfe's candid confession. "The more thought I give it, themore impossible it seems to see through it. Was Sir Horace killed beforedusk--before the lights were turned on? If he was killed after dark, whoturned out the lights?"

  "He was killed between 10 and 10.30 at night," said Crewe. "The lightswere turned out by the woman Birchill saw leaving the house about 10.30.But she was not the murderer, and she was not present in the room, oreven in the house, when Sir Horace was shot. She arrived a few minutestoo late to prevent the tragedy. Turning out the lights was aninstinctive act due to her desire to hide the crime, or rather to hidethe murderer."

  "How do you know all this?" asked Rolfe, who had been staring at Crewewith open-mouthed astonishment.

  "That woman was not Mrs. Holymead," continued Crewe. "I had a visitto-day from the woman who did these things, and as evidence of the truthof her story she brought me the revolver and the handkerchief."

  "What did she come to you for?" asked Rolfe, with breathless interest."What did she want?"

  "She came to me to make a full confession," said Crewe, in even tones.

  "A confession!" exclaimed Rolfe. "She ought to have come to the police.Why didn't she come to us?"

  Crewe smiled at the puzzled, indignant detective.

  "I think she came to me because she wanted to mislead me," he said.