Macdonald went over once again the evidence which Long had collected, with its baffling results. Further inquiries had substantiated that Paul Mallowood had been seen driving away from Wulfstane in his Rolls Royce by a considerable number of persons, that he had left Croydon by plane, reached Lisbon, and changed into a plane for Tunis. From here he had gone by pre-arranged transport into the interior, and had since been out of touch with the world of radio and other modern communications. Martin Mallowood had been seen in Rolf Spinney, intent with a birdglass, at 11.0 o’clock on the morning of his brother’s death. Basil Mallowood had been seen and spoken to by the maid, Ada Brown, more than two hours after Paul had left in his car for Croydon. He had also been seen by Richard Mallowood, and had spoken to Veronica through his bedroom door. Basil had been heard by Ada Brown “galumphing round” up in the playroom at the same time that Martin had been seen in Rolf Spinney and Richard had been seen in the village of Wulfstane. Veronica, alone of the family, could not bring any evidence forward that she had been where she said she had been. Macdonald looked forward to seeing Veronica: Long had quoted Beach’s unkind comment about her resembling “something in the Natural History Museum,” and had justified it by saying that in spite of her undoubted handsomeness she had put him in mind of “something prehistoric” himself. “I can imagine her playing Druids – human sacrifices and that sort of thing,” he said, and Macdonald had replied, “Were there she-Druids? I doubt it.”
After some consideration, Macdonald decided to begin his own investigation at the nearest point, namely at the places where Paul and Basil Mallowood had lived and worked in London. Paul had a flat in St. James, and thither went the Scots detective, intent on collecting what information he could concerning the eldest of the Mallowood family. The front door was opened by a manservant in a linen coat, and the smell – or variety of smells – in the entrance lounge of the flat told their own story. The place was in the hands of the painters and decorators. Macdonald produced his official card, and said that he was in charge of the inquiry into Mr. Basil Mallowood’s death. The man asked him to come in, apologising civilly for the state the place was in. His master had given orders to Harrods before he left town, and the whole flat was being redecorated. Morrow (the manservant) further explained that he was only staying there until the decorators had finished their work, and then he was going into the country “on board wages” until his master returned to town.
“A very satisfactory arrangement, I should say,” said Macdonald sympathetically, and the man nodded.
“Suits me, sir. I’m just encouraging the men to get on with it as fast as they can. Not that it’ll make much odds to me now,” he added rather despondently. “Mr. Mallowood will have to come back home, I expect, with all this shocking business about his brother.”
“Well, it’s not actually incumbent on him to come back,” replied Macdonald conversationally, and Morrow looked round the dismantled lounge with a worried air.
“If you wouldn’t object to stepping into my sitting-room, sir, I can at least offer you a chair,” he said, and Macdonald accepted the invitation cordially. When they were seated in the small back room in the kitchen quarters, Macdonald continued in his pleasant unhurried way:
“You see, your master left the Manor House some hours before his brother’s death, so his evidence could have added nothing to what was already known. Also, in some cases, a man might be glad to avoid the notoriety attaching to a case of this kind. I can imagine it would be very galling to Mr. Paul Mallowood to hear the case discussed in the city. It’s a deplorable business.”
“So I gather, sir. He must have been a real bad hat, that Mr. Basil. Been on the make for years it seems. Still, his own brother. You’d think… well, sir, if you’ll believe me, I never so much as knew he’d got a brother in London, the master that is. Five years I’ve been here, and never heard of a brother till I saw the papers on Thursday.”
“It looks as though your master were a very reticent man, kept his own counsel,” observed Macdonald, and Morrow nodded.
“He was that, sir, and then some.”
“What I really came for was to inquire if you’d had any message from your master, or if he had sent you any further address,” went on Macdonald, and Morrow replied:
“I had a cable from Lisbon, sir, telling me to redirect any personal letters to his bankers in Cairo. Nothing else. I take it he’d left Tunis and gone off into the wilds, same as he meant, before any news about his brother reached him.”
“So it seems,” agreed Macdonald, “and it may be some time before we get into touch with him.” He got up, adding, “I suppose that all the silver and other valuables were sent to the bank before your master left.”
The other nodded, with a quickly repressed grin.
“Yes, sir. Mr. Mallowood was what you’d call a very careful gentleman. He had all the silver, and his own private papers, taken away and put in a Safe Depository. There’s not much left here, barring the furniture and some of his clothes. There’s the safe, of course – but I don’t think he left much in that, either. Had a great clear out before he went. Between you and me, he was a very suspicious gentleman. Always afraid of any one seeing any of his private papers.”
Macdonald looked at him inquiringly: “It doesn’t sound as though he were the easiest of masters,” he observed, and Morrow replied:
“I’ve known worse, sir. He pays well, he knows what he wants and sticks to it without chopping and changing, he’s punctual and reasonable within reason. I’ve got a good job here and I know it.”
“Sensible man,” said Macdonald. “Well, if you get any further message from Mr. Mallowood, let me know immediately.”
“I will, sir,” replied Morrow. “I reckon I shall be here best part of a month before all this work’s through.”
As Macdonald passed through the entrance lounge again, he glanced through the open doors of the various rooms. All of them were dismantled and shrouded in dust sheets, the furniture being pushed to the centre of the room, pictures taken down, and in three of the rooms, one being the bedroom, the painters were already busy on walls and paintwork. In fact, the whole luxurious suite of rooms offered no point of interest to a detective at all. Macdonald felt that there were quite a number of questions he could have asked Morrow, but decided that it would be wiser to postpone them to a later date. Since he was also pretty certain that Morrow had a large number of questions which he, in his turn, would like to ask, Macdonald felt pretty certain of a welcome on the next occasion he chose to call.
Leaving St. James’, the Chief Inspector made his way to the city, where Paul Mallowood’s offices were situated. He was a director of several companies, but his main income was derived from an import business concerned principally in wood pulp. Macdonald felt himself on rather difficult ground here. At the coroner’s inquest, the jury had been satisfied that there was abundant motive for Basil Mallowood’s suicide, and the evidence proved so clearly that he had died by his own hand that it had not seemed necessary to adjourn proceedings until Paul Mallowood could be brought back to England. In fact, as Long said, it was such a blatantly obvious case that it became more difficult every time you thought about it. Macdonald had thus no obvious grounds for making inquiries about Paul Mallowood, and he had to trust to his own discretion to make contact with the latter’s business associates. He sent up his card to Mr. Bernard Lathom, Paul’s fellow director, and was eventually shown in to the latter’s office. Lathom was a man of about 60 years of age, thin, grey, harsh faced, with marble-like grey eyes which were steady and absolutely expressionless. Macdonald was careful to avoid giving too great weight to first impressions, but his immediate reaction to Lathom was one of dislike, despite the even courtesy with which the man received him. Sitting opposite the financier, in an office whose furnishings showed good taste as well as wealth, Macdonald explained that he was in charge of further inquiries into the death of Mr. Basil Mallowood.
Lathom replied, “Indeed. I g
athered that the jury’s verdict was unanimous.”
“Certainly, but further points have arisen which the Commissioner considers should be investigated,” replied Macdonald, “and I thought it possible that Mr. Paul Mallowood might be able to throw some light on them.”
“I think it improbable that your opinion is correct in that matter,” replied Lathom. “I have no knowledge at all of Basil Mallowood at first hand – fortunately for me, perhaps – but I do know that his brother has had no dealings with him for many years. I once mentioned Basil Mallowood to his brother in connection with a possible directorate in a subsidiary firm, and the reply was very definite. Neither in the way of business nor of social life did the two brothers have any contact with one another.”
“Then you think it quite improbable that Mr. Paul Mallowood would have any letters from his brother among his files?” queried Macdonald, and the other replied:
“Most improbable. If the matter is of any interest to you I do not mind telling you in strict confidence that Mr. Paul Mallowood’s interest in this firm has been mainly academic, shall I say, for some weeks past. He had been thinking of retiring for some time. The technical side of the matter involved a considerable transfer of shares, of course, and the retirement does not become operative until after our annual meeting. In point of fact, Mr. Mallowood removed all his personal effects from this office before he went abroad, so even though I went to the extreme length of allowing you access to his papers in his absence, which, quite frankly, I should not contemplate doing, you would find nothing pertaining to him personally.”
“Thank you very much for giving me the information,” said Macdonald, and the other replied:
“You will see my point when I say that I believe I am following the wisest course in telling you the facts. As a police officer of high standing you will, of course, respect the confidential nature of what I have told you. Frankly, we are in an unpleasant position, Inspector. Of the probity of Mr. Paul Mallowood there can be no doubts. He has our highest respect and our fullest confidence, and it is due to his acumen and integrity that our firm stands where it does. Nevertheless, it is obvious that the name Mallowood is in bad odour to-day. The last thing we want here is any rumour concerning the impending retirement of Mr. Paul Mallowood. Uninformed or previous reports on the matter could do us an infinitude of harm.”
Macdonald nodded. “Yes. I understand that well enough, but you can see for yourself that it is desirable for the police to have early information as to his movements. I have no doubt you are anxious on the same score yourself.”
The other shook his head. “As matters stand now, his presence here is immaterial. If necessary, an extraordinary meeting could be convened to put the facts before our shareholders. I regret, of course, that Mr. Paul Mallowood’s retirement was not made public before he left England, but the state of the market made such a course impolitic.”
Macdonald left the office pretty clear in his own mind as to Mr. Latham’s concern about his fellow-director’s retirement. Lathom had doubtless acquired for himself the block of shares which had given Paul Mallowood his standing as chief director, and Lathom was concerned lest the scandal of Basil Mallowood’s transactions should send his own shares falling pell-mell down the slippery slope of loss of confidence. If Lathom announced Paul Mallowood’s retirement precipitately, that announcement might have an undesired effect on the price of shares. It was a difficult situation for him.
Leaving Mr. Lathom and his preoccupations out of the matter, Macdonald found much food for thought in this latest development of the Mallowood case. It seemed to him more than a little odd that Paul should have retired and gone abroad at the very moment that Basil’s misdealings should have been unmasked. To ask Mr. Lathom for further direct information at this stage would be useless in Macdonald’s opinion, but he wondered whether an extensive audit had not been set on foot regarding Paul Mallowood’s dealings in his own firm. Mr. Lathom did not look the type to omit such a precaution, despite his affirmation of confidence in his fellow-director.
From the city Macdonald made his way westwards again. Inquiries had already been set on foot at Basil’s chambers, and Macdonald knew what he would find there, but he went to get an impression at first hand. Basil had lived in a house just off Manchester Square, the house being run as a combination of hotel and men’s chambers, the proprietor being an ex-hotelier from Switzerland, recently naturalised. There was a general lounge and dining-room in the house, and a number of rooms were let as bedrooms only. In addition were certain suites, including bedroom, sitting-room and bathroom, with service provided. The whole place was admirably furnished – lighting, heating and plumbing being of the most up-to-date, and the furnishing of the most luxurious variety. The proprietor, who now styled himself Mr. John Dubois, looked at Macdonald with patient resignation when he announced his business, and replied:
“I am at your service, Inspector, but anything I tell you can but be a repetition of what I have already said. Mr. Mallowood’s rooms are still locked and sealed. You can examine them for yourself.”
Macdonald nodded, and replied, “Yes, but it occurred to me that if I had a talk with you, Mr. Dubois, you might be able to help me more than you yourself think possible. Shall we go upstairs together to Mr. Mallowood’s rooms, and I can then ask you anything which occurs to me on the spot?”
“As you will, Inspector,” said Dubois, with a shrug, “but I think it probable that we shall but waste our time.”
The proprietor preceded Macdonald to the lift, and while they ascended, the C.I.D. man studied his companion at close quarters. Dubois was taller than most Swiss, and very fair, his sleek hair brushed back over a head as round as a bullet. His eyes were grey blue, his chin square and somewhat aggressive, his neck short and shoulders very broad and powerful. He was an unusual type of man, and one with whom Macdonald felt on his guard.
Basil Mallowood’s chambers were in effect a self-contained flat. A front door opened into a small lounge, from which doors gave in turn on to a fine spacious sitting-room, whose ceiling and fireplace, overmantel and mouldings, were unspoiled work of the Adam’s period. The bedroom was smaller, with a bathroom opening from it, and the room which had been converted into the entrance lounge had been subdivided to make space for a kitchenette and further lavatory accommodation. Macdonald, after a brief inspection of the rooms, turned to Dubois.
“This flat, I gather, was let furnished?”
“Yes, that is so.”
“Is there anything here which was Mr. Mallowood’s private property?”
“Apart from the clothes in the wardrobe, nothing.”
“How long had Mr. Mallowood lived here?”
“For four years, since I first advertised the chambers after reconditioning the house.”
Macdonald studied the other closely. “For four years a wealthy man has made this place his home, and yet there is nothing here which is his personal property, barring a few suits of clothes? ”
Dubois met his eyes squarely. “The phrase ‘has made this place his home’ is of your choosing, Inspector, not mine. To put the matter more accurately, I should have said that Mr. Mallowood has been a tenant here since four years.”
“I see. It can be assumed that he had another home, elsewhere.”
“I do not make assumptions about my tenants, Inspector. I can tell you that Mr. Mallowood was a good tenant. He paid his accounts promptly, he was generous to the servants, he gave no cause for complaint to other tenants. He entertained here occasionally, he had a certain amount of correspondence addressed here, he spent a certain amount of his time here, but he was frequently away – sometimes for long periods, sometimes for short.”
“It is a matter of great importance to me to learn where he spent those periods, Mr. Dubois.”
“There I cannot help you, Inspector. Mr. Mallowood was of a type the most secretive. He had his own private line put in to this flat, so that his phone calls should not go through the switchboard
in the office. He had a patent lock on his letter box. He never left a sheet of paper nor an envelope on his desk. He locked all his drawers. You can ask the man who valeted him. Servants notice these things. You may well say ‘These rooms were let furnished.’ I have never had a tenant like him. No photographs, no books, no pictures, no small personal properties such as men collect. His rooms always looked just as you see them now. Furnished rooms, handsome, you will admit, but the furnishing was my choice, not his.”
“Was he in the habit of taking a suitcase with him when he went away?”
Dubois shrugged his shoulders. “On rare occasions I believe he did so, but we had no reason to observe his comings and goings. He came and went at his pleasure. There was no need for him to inform us. He had his meals in the restaurant as a rule. His apartment was cleaned by contract with my service staff. Sometimes he was here, sometimes he was away. If he wanted the valet or the porter, he used the house telephone.”
“What proportion of his time would you say he spent here? Was he away for half the time, roughly speaking, or less?”
Again Dubois shrugged. “About that, Inspector. He was generally away for week-ends – Fridays until Monday or Tuesday. Not always, but frequently.”
Again Macdonald pondered. Then he said:
“When a police search was first made here, the drawers of that writing bureau were empty, save for unused stationery. The telephone directories were new and unused. There were none of the usual books of reference – railway time-tables, directories, maps – the inevitable belongings of any man who lives in town. Surely Mr. Mailowood must have had some such properties?”
“Doubtless he had, Inspector, though I think I am right in saying that he never left anything about. I have the right to inspect these apartments, to see that the cleaning is properly done and the appointments are in order. During the first months that Mr. Mallowood was my tenant here, I was exercised in my mind about him.”
Rope's End, Rogue's End Page 7
