Who Killed Dick Whittington?

by E.

  It was his job that morning to get busy on the task of tracing the lady who was masquerading as Mrs. da Costa. The scientist had suggested that he should make a round of the theatrical agents of the Metropolis to ascertain whether they had any knowledge of the lady. Here, again, the inspector saw no reason for the particular choice. Why pick on the theatrical profession? Why not a shop assistant of some kind. There must be some very sound reason for the choice—Kenway knew Doctor Manson too well to suppose that the scientist was guessing or making inquiries at hazard.

  However, it was no use surmising. He settled down to the routine task in front of him in the form of correspondence and police reports which had come in during the night. That concluded, he wandered out into the Embankment, and on to Hippodrome Corner, the home of theatreland. The search, unless he was lucky, would, he knew, take him the greater part of the day, for there were nearly a hundred theatrical agents listed in the police register as being congregated round Leicester Square, Soho, and the other haunts of the Profession. He began with the imposing firm of Frasers, probably the oldest and biggest firm of agents, in Leicester Square. His card gave him access to Mr. Harry Fraser himself.

  “Identify a certain person in the theatrical profession, Inspector?” queried Mr. Fraser from behind a cigar. He waved a diamond-adorned hand. “I should think it possible. I know most of the members of the Profession and most of ’em have come up these stairs at some time or another.”

  Kenway produced the photograph, and handed it over. Mr. Fraser eyed it in silence for a few moments. He laid back in his chair and searched his mind and recollection. But without tangible result.

  “No, I can’t say who she is, Inspector,” he announced. “I’ve a feeling I’ve seen her sometime, but where it was I can’t say. She isn’t well-known; I can assure you of that. Is she still in the Profession?”

  “That is one of the things I want to know,” the inspector replied. “As a matter of fact, we don’t even know that she is in the profession at all; it is a suspicion on our part.”

  “Well, have a go at some of the little agents,” suggested Mr. Fraser. “I’d know her if she was an artiste of any reputation. She’s probably one of the smaller people and they are usually handled by the little ’uns.”

  Thanking him, Inspector Kenway left, and proceeded towards his next port of call.

  While Kenway was plying his inquiries round the West End, Doctor Manson was waiting in his Laboratory for what might be washed into his net of inquiry, now being trawled by the police of four cities. So important did the scientist think the result of the inquiries, that he had asked that the C.I.D. of the various towns should telephone to Scotland Yard any information they might chance to gather.

  First result to arrive, however, was from the detective deputed to visit the manager of the late firm of Silks, Ltd., a Mr. Anstruther. The officer announced that the manager had been unable to recall seeing either of the two ladies, either as friends of the proprietors, or as customers to the shop. The detective added that he had particularly impressed upon Mr. Anstruther the picture of Miss Norma de Grey, because of the scientist’s discovery, told to him, that she had possessed two dust sheets bearing the name of Silks, Ltd., which sheets were not sold by the company but were used solely for covering over their own goods at night time. He had insisted that he had never, to the best of his belief, seen the lady.

  He had, however, something more tangible to relate when he was shown the photograph of Mr. da Costa. He identified it as that of a Mr. Onslow, who had on several occasions visited Silks, Ltd., and had been shown round the premises by Mr. Bessing, one of the partners. Mr. Onslow had, he said, taken so much interest in the place that he, Anstruther, gained the impression that he was considering purchasing the business. The same impression was gained by other members of the staff of the firm, and it had caused some consternation at the time.

  The detective added that, supplied with the names and present places of business of two of the assistants, he had visited them, and they, too, had recognized the portrait of Mr. Onslow.

  The detective had hardly left the room when the first of the telephone reports arrived. It came from Liverpool, and dealt with the Paris Show Rooms, Ltd. An assistant who had been previously interviewed on behalf of Doctor Manson, on being shown the photograph of Miss de Grey identified it as that of a lady who accompanied a gentleman to the shop on two occasions, and inspected the premises and stock. Confronted with the picture of Mr. da Costa, she said without hesitation that he was the man who had been with the lady, and whom they (the assistants) thought was a possible subscriber to the depleted funds of the business, since they knew that the proprietors were seeking new capital in return for a partnership. Asked for the approximate time of the visit, the assistant put it as some time in early September. It was within a week or so of her return from her annual holiday, which she had taken in the last two weeks of August.

  The next report came from Welsborough. There, the only two assistants formerly employed by London Fashion Modes who could be traced, expressed the emphatic view that they had on one occasion seen the foreign-looking gentleman of the photograph. He was a man who had visited Fashion Modes a few days after the opening of the business. He stayed with Mr. Montague for some time, and inspected the premises. They thought at the time that he was a man from the insurance company. They could not recognize either of the two women. The Welsborough inspector added that the date of the visit was approximately the middle of December, and Mr. Montague and the gentleman had been seen in the town during the late evening. Accordingly, he had thought of inquiring in the hotels for any traces of the stranger. He had been unexpectedly fortunate. At the Bull Hotel the photograph of Mr. da Costa had been recognized by the reception clerk and a chambermaid as Mr. Sylvester, who had stayed at the hotel for one night on December 19th. They were unable to identity Miss de Grey’s photograph, but at once recognized the second photograph as that of Mrs. Sylvester, who had occupied the room with her husband.

  From Sheffield the police reported that the photographs of Mr. da Costa and Miss de Grey had been identified as those of the man and woman who had visited Fines and Howards about August. They were taken to be husband and wife, and had spent some time looking over the place. Miss Fountains, who had been previously interviewed, expressed the opinion that the man had invested capital in the business, as the notice given to employees of dismissal, because the premises were to be closed down, was rescinded within a few days of the visit of the man and woman. A considerable amount of new stock was ordered following the withdrawal of the notices.

  The only other area from which any satisfactory report was forthcoming was from the Fur Warehouse at Nottingham, where a former member of the staff, who had occupied a position in the office, said that she thought she recognized the man as a representative of the insurance company who came to inspect the premises. She could not remember the date, but thought that it was some time in the autumn. She could not identify either of the two women. A member of the staff of the Poultry Hotel, however, thought that the taller of the ladies was one who accompanied a gentleman at lunch one day in the hotel some months back.

  That represented the sum total of the urgent inquiries asked for by Doctor Manson, and the scientist proceeded to sum them up. A certain suspicion had been running through his mind when he considered all the facts that had transpired from the many inquiries which had been instituted into the riddle of the fires. He had decided that the information which had now been forthcoming from the various areas would either confirm those suspicions, or dispose of them altogether. If the former, then there were certain other lines which might be undertaken in the way of further inquiries If the latter, then he would have been working on entirely erroneous lines, and a complete new line of investigation would have to be started. He did not think, however, that he had gone wrong. A detailed examination of the reports would, he hoped, prove that to be the case. To begin his examination he wrote down on a piece of paper a p
récis of the various reports. This, when finished, read as follows:

  Mr. Onslow (da Costa) visited Silks, Ltd., on several occasions. No mention of the ladies.

  Mr. da Costa and Miss de Grey were visitors to the Paris Show Rooms, Liverpool, in the summer.

  Mr. Sylvester (da Costa) visited the shop at Welsborough with his wife on December 19th. Wife identified as the present Mrs. da Costa.

  Mr. da Costa and Miss de Grey visited Fines and Howards, Sheffield, during the month of August.

  Mr. da Costa visited the fur warehouse at Nottingham some time in the autumn. Miss de Grey stayed for lunch in an hotel.

  Mr. da Costa and the present Mrs. da Costa believed to be the two people who were outside the Shepherd's Bush shop, one night, at a late hour.

  After studying the tabulation for a minute or two, the scientist took a fresh piece of paper and drew a line across the centre of it, horizontally. At the top of the upper half, and on the left-hand side, he wrote the name Miss de Grey. In the same position on the bottom half he wrote the words, other woman, alias Mrs. da Costa. He then added in the respective positions the points of the précis he had just concluded. The finished product presented the following appearance:

  MISS DE GREY:

  At Liverpool during the summer.

  At Sheffield in August.

  At Nottingham in Autumn.

  OTHER WOMAN:

  At Welsborough, on December 19th.

  At Sheffield in January.

  What, if anything, could be gained from the date-line between the appearances of the two women? Doctor Manson asked himself the question. And were they in any way connected? Looking them over, he realized the fact that throughout the summer and the autumn, the companion of the man who was, undoubtedly, da Costa, was Miss de Grey. After the autumn she appeared to fade out of the picture; and from December 19th, the other woman seemed to have been the gadabout companion of da Costa.

  Was there anything to be surmised from this point? It was at this stage that the scientist suddenly remembered the evidence of Miss Prue, the Principal Girl of the pantomime. She had said that during the first week of the pantomime the picture of a tall, handsome gentleman friend stood on the dressing table of Miss de Grey. Then, during the second week, it vanished. Miss Prue had said, in reply to a question, that the photograph had not been stolen, or Miss de Grey would have raised hell about it. Now, the pantomime opened on Boxing Day. It was less than a week previously that the second lady, who was now masquerading as Mrs. da Costa, was at Welsborough with da Costa. Might it not be surmised, Doctor Manson asked himself, that Miss de Grey had learned that she had been supplanted in her gentleman friend’s affections, and had removed the photograph of him from her presence? Also Miss de Grey had given up her luxury flat in December.

  A fortnight later Miss de Grey died—murdered.

  “But the link . . . the link?” Doctor Manson said to himself. “Where is the link?”

  It was at this precise moment that Inspector Kenway began his return journey to Scotland Yard after a tiring morning and afternoon of patient search. Twelve agencies had been combed without any trace of the identity of the lady friend of Mr. da Costa coming to light. Then, casually glancing at a doorway while on his way to the thirteenth of his recorded addresses, the inspector noticed a white name standing out from a black background board.

  FRED FLECKMAN

  Theatre, Variety and Concert Parties

  On the spur of the moment he entered and asked for Mr. Fleckman, if he was not too busy.

  The pert girl at the desk grinned. “Sure, he’ll see you,” she said.

  Mr. Fleckman, after overcoming his disappointment that the visitor was not a long anticipated client, expressed himself as willing to help the Law if it was at all possible. From his briefcase the inspector produced the picture of his unknown lady and handed it across.

  “Can you tell me who this woman is?” he asked.

  Mr. Fleckman took the photograph and glanced at it.

  “Why, it’s little Nina Francetti,” he said. “Bless my soul, what do you want with her?”

  Inspector Kenway cast a wary glance at him. “So far as I know, we don’t want her for anything,” he replied. “Only thing we are concerned with is who she is. The photograph cropped up in some matters we are inquiring about, and nobody seemed to know who is the owner of the face. You do. Well, who is Nina Francetti, Mr. Fleckman?”

  “Well, Inspector, I don’t know very much about her. She came to me about five years ago and I found her a small part in a show. I had a better part for her some months later, but she told me that she had left the stage and had retired. Apparently somebody was looking after her. Then, when I’d almost forgotten all about her, she turned up again. I got her a part in Alice, the children’s play, you know.”

  “The gentleman got tired of her, I suppose?” suggested the inspector.

  “That would be about the size of it, I reckon,” was the reply. “Anyway, she appeared in Alice for a couple of years, and then turned down another job, saying that she had gone into business. I heard that she was in the studios of a well-known advertising photographer, where she was posing for advertisement pictures half the time and working in his dark-room the other half. I haven’t seen her since she started in that game.”

  “Do you happen to know the name of the firm?”

  “Not sure of it, but I think it was Slesmans.”

  The inspector’s next inquiry was of her nationality, and did she dance?

  “Sure. She was a damned fine dancer. Her parents were Italian. Came over here with an opera company and stayed. Madame Scarlatina, her mother was. About the best mime artiste we ever had. Treat to watch her. The goods, she was. Played every part in Alice. Lord love us, versatility was her middle name. Taught little Nina herself.”

  Kenway’s inquiries at Slesmans confirmed the agent’s story. They had, they said, employed Miss Francetti for some time, but she had left them to enter business as the manageress of a gown shop. They knew nothing more about her.

  With that story, Inspector Kenway returned to Doctor Manson. The latter listened attentively to the recital.

  “So you see, Doctor, she’s just another theatrical. Gets more and more muddled, doesn’t it?”

  Doctor Manson ignored the question. Instead, he asked one himself.

  “You say that Fleckman found her one or two small parts. Did you happen to inquire what sort of parts they were?”

  Kenway chuckled. “I did, Doctor,” he said. “Always very careful to miss nothing when I’m on a job for you. The most minute detail, you know.”

  A smile from the scientist acknowledged the ‘dig’.

  “And what kind of parts did she play, then?”

  “Several dancing parts, a small imitations role in a revue, and two Christmasses in the kids’ play, Alice.”

  “What!”

  The ejaculation made Kenway jump at the suddenness and fierceness of it.

  “A part in the kids’ Christmas play, Alice.”

  “What part?”

  “That I don’t know, Doctor.”

  Doctor Manson pointed to the telephone. “Ring up your Mr. Fleckman and ask him,” he said.

  Kenway dialled a number, and put the question. He listened to the reply and, asking the agent to hold on for a moment, turned to Manson.

  “He says one or two minor parts,” he announced.

  The Doctor motioned for the mouthpiece to be handed to him. He spoke to the waiting man at the other end. Had Miss Francetti played a certain part. He was specifically interested in that, he said.

  “Well, she has done, but it’s not her best line,” was the answer. “Ma was the one for that. It wants a bit more than Nina has.”

  The scientist asked another question.

  “Oh lord, yes,” replied Mr. Fleckman. “She don’t do it now. Bit too stiff, you gather. But she’s still in the business.”

  Manson replaced the receiver. A grim smile played about his li
ps. He turned to the inspector.

  “Keep this under your hat, Kenway,” he said. “Is the Dick Whittington company still at the Old Sussex?”

  “It is their last few days, Doctor.”

  “Pop down there and see the stage-manager. Ask him if any of the girls were off on the night that Miss de Grey died. Tell him to think carefully, as it may mean a lot to us. I want to know if anybody was off, and if so who they were, and why they were away. Go in a Squad car, and hurry back.”

  The journey, however, seemed to be wasted. Mr. Trimble, the stage-manager, was emphatic that there could have been nobody missing from the stage during the evening.

  “I’d have spotted a blank space or an odd number in a trice, old man,” he said. “Dammit, that’s part of my job. I can assure you that there was nobody short on the stage that night, or any other night. I’d have raised hell had there been.”

  “Doctor Manson attaches the greatest importance to this, Mr. Trimble,” insisted Kenway, in an attempt to upset the memory of the stage-manager. “Is there any way in which anybody might have been absent—any conceivable way?”

  The stage-manager ruminated over the question in the silence of painful thought. He had deliberated for a couple of minutes and was about to shake his head when an idea occurred to him.

  “As a matter of fact. Inspector, there might be a chance. A very slight one, but a possible chance. I’ve heard of it happening once before. Not with the regular company, mind you. The only way an absence could be possible without me or the manager knowing it would be through the local girls. Every pantomime company, you know, engages a few local girls as extras. It could happen there. It would be like this. . . .”