“Immediately upon my arrival I spoke to M. Ferraro, the manager. He sent my coat to the cloak-room, and I occupied a table in the restaurant till about half past eleven. When I was leaving. M. Ferraro informed me that two gentlemen wished to speak with me. On going to the small lounge I found the Duc de Richleau and Mr. Van Ryn. It seems that the latter knew me by sight and had come on to the Berkeley in the hope of finding me. These gentlemen accepted my invitation to supper, and later I agreed to remain in their company until I could consult my solicitor as to if it was my duty to visit the police. I returned, therefore, with the Duke to his flat, where I passed the night and have there remained until the arrival of my solicitor this morning. I hereby take oath that the foregoing is a full, true and accurate statement in every particular, in witness whereof I place my hand this 23rd day of November, 1931.”
The Superintendent paused for breath, then looked up. “IF it was your duty to visit the police indeed! I should have thought anybody might have known that.”
“Really?” Simon Aron shook his head with a little nervous jerk, he seemed just mildly interested.
Marrofat’s ruddy face lit up suddenly with a bright smile. “Come on now, Mr. Aron—what else do you know about this job?”
“Nothing,” Simon regarded him evenly. “You’ve got my statement.”
“Nothing, eh? All right—I’ll hold you. If you don’t mind we’ll step along to the Yard.”
“Look a bit silly, tomorrow, won’t you?” Simon suggested quietly. “What about the papers?—‘Wrongful arrest of partner in Schöchild Brothers!’ We can trace that ’phone call at my club; somebody must have answered it, and I can prove knowing Lady Shoesmith and her son. Why shouldn’t I call? The door happened to be open. Is that all the evidence you’re going to bring that I was unlawfully upon enclosed premises? If you’re not careful you’ll be in a muddle—or do you—er—enjoy giving stories to the Press?”
The Superintendent pursed his lips together. “Yes. I’d like to be left alone on a desert island with some of those newspaper chaps for a bit,” he glowered. “It’s a wonder we ever get anybody with them about. All the same, that won’t stop me holding you—if I’ve a mind to!”
“I don’t think Mr. Aron would mind answering any reasonable questions, Superintendent.” Mr. Schatz tactfully bridged the gulf.
“Oh, not at all,” Simon agreed.
“That’s better.” Marrofat sat down on the arm of an easy-chair. “Let’s have that conversation of yours on the telephone in detail—as near as you can.”
Simon complied.
“Now, about your visit to the flat. Did you see anybody other than Miss Eaton, or see anyone coming in or out, or hear any suspicious noises?”
“Ner—not a thing.”
“Right. Now you’re a friend of Mr. Eaton’s, aren’t you? Just what was the financial business you were so interested in?”
“Oh, no, I wasn’t interested.” Simon shook his head.
“Well, let’s hear about it, anyhow.”
“It’s this way. Lady Shoesmith thought of selling some property to assist Richard in his business.”
“I see. Why?—is he hard up?”
“Don’t know; most businesses are doing pretty badly these days—shouldn’t think he’s an exception!”
“And why did you choose this time of night to go and see a man you’d never seen before—on business?”
“Well—er—it wasn’t my business. I work pretty hard during the day—so does Sir Gideon, I believe. As a matter of fact I was fixed to dine with my mother last night, but she put me off, so I thought it was rather an opportunity to drop in and see him.”
Marrofat nodded his mop of ginger curls. “Now do you mind telling me just what your reason was for not coming down to the Yard last night. You could have saved us a lot of trouble.”
“Really? I’m so sorry.” Simon was meekness itself. “You see, I didn’t feel I could tell you anything—so I just didn’t—-that’s all!”
“You’re a very clever gentleman, aren’t you?” said the Superintendent with a shade of bitterness. “Not feeling you could tell us anything, and then turning up with your solicitor as a sort of keeper!”
“Ner—I’ll tell you,” Simon smiled. “I’m just careful— that’s all. You see, I didn’t have anything to do with this business and—er—I want to keep out of it!”
“Well, I suppose I can’t blame you,” the Superintendent spoke in a more cordial tone, “but it would make crime detection a sight easier if the public would come forward at once and help the police by telling them what they know. We never give names to the papers when we can possibly avoid it—it’s just because they’re bone lazy most of the time.”
“I’m sorry,” said Aron again sweetly. “I hope I haven’t put you to a lot of trouble?”
“Well, in a way you have, sir. I had six of my men out all night, getting a line on a chap we thought was you, and when they brought him in early this morning we find he’s all snug and warm now—going straight for the time being, that is. He was playing the flute at the Excelsior Electric in a job he’s got between six o’clock and midnight. Talk about injured innocence—my hat!” He laughed suddenly. “He was great, wasn’t he, Gartside?”
The Inspector grinned. “You’re right there, sir. As good as a play, Silky was, when we brought him in. You gentlemen should have seen him. He did the real high horse about spoiling his Sunday in the bosom of his family. Going to complain, he was —to the Society for the Protection of Reformed Criminals—and I don’t know what else!”
“Well, anyhow,” Marrofat turned to the Duke. “It was very much my own fault. If I’d taken your tip last night, sir, I understand we should have had this gentleman’s story a long time ago. We shan’t hold him, of course, but I take it, Mr. Aron, you’ll be available any time? I expect we shall want to see you again.”
“Of course, Superintendent,” Simon nodded. “You can always get me at my office or the club.”
“If you’ll sign the statement then, sir, we won’t trouble you any more for the time being.” He handed the paper back to Mr. Schatz, who went over with Simon to the desk, where the latter made the usual declaration and appended his signature.
“May one ask what your next move is to be, Superintendent?” the Duke inquired casually.
The big man made a grimace. “Now that’s a question, sir, but I’ll tell you one thing, I’m not proud. If Your Grace has any more pointers, I’d be glad to hear them this time.”
“That’s very nice of you, Superintendent, but I fear I can’t help you very much. You will yourself have seen the necessity of hearing what Richard Eaton has to say.”
“Richard Eaton? Yes—he was the last person to see his mother alive. I sent Gartside down to his flat last night to get his statement, but he wasn’t in—hasn’t been in all night.”
“So I understand. I telephoned to his flat a little over half an hour ago, and he had not then returned. Tell me, Superintendent, did your fingerprints prove of any interest?”
“Not a thing—Lady Shoesmith’s, Sir Gideon’s, Miss Eaton’s —I took impressions of all three last night before I left, in order that we might eliminate them, and be able to pick out any strange markings this morning; but so far we’ve had no luck.”
“The hall porter?” suggested the Duke. “Naturally, you questioned him. I take it he saw no other person who might be implicated in this matter?”
“No, he seems a sensible sort of chap. He was in his chair in the hall reading from eight o’clock till we came on the scene. He’d taken one or two people up in the lift before nine, but afterwards is a quiet time. He remembers Eaton leaving, and is pretty positive about the time he left; and he confirms Aron’s statement in every particular as far as he is concerned. There was nobody else about at that time. He’s certain of that. The gentleman in Flat Six came down with a lady in the lift, and the housemaid from No. Four went out to the post; but apart from that—nothing.”
> “And was there no sign of burglary?” the Duke inquired.
“You heard, of course, that Lady Shoesmith’s pearls had gone. You’ll have seen that in the paper. They’re said to be worth £7,000 too.”
“Yes, of that I was aware; but I was thinking of actual signs of housebreaking. If Aron is ruled out, and for the time being Eaton also—because after all he is the dead woman’s son— and the porter tells us that no one went upstairs, surely it suggests that somebody must have broken in or come down from the roof perhaps?”
“No, I’ve been into that pretty thoroughly. There wasn’t a sign. The bedroom and dressing-room windows were both locked on the inside. There’s a sheer drop below them of twenty feet, and no access to the roof. This wasn’t a cat burglar business.”
“Have you considered the fire escapes on the other side of the building?”
“Yes, but you know yourself how they work. A series of galleries under the windows of each floor, with iron gates at the end of each before you come to the ladder. Those gates have got spring locks, which are worked from inside the building, rather like the area gates they used to have to protect basements. There’d be a switch in each flat, and a main switch down in the hall that would release the lot in case of fire. Of course a man who knew his job could get past one of those gates. He could pick the lock easy on a foggy night, and very little likelihood of being spotted from the mews at the back. But I’ve examined the whole system and there’s not a sign of anything having been tampered with.”
“You don’t think it possible that our suspect managed to gain this roof from another, then lowered himself from gallery to gallery?”
“No, I was up early this morning, and after I’d had my talk with Silky, I came along here to have a thorough look round. I went over every gate and gallery in the building, but they’re all in perfect order.”
The Duke spread out his slim hands. “In that case it doesn’t seem that there’s much else to be done. I take it that you’re perfectly satisfied as regards the servants?”
“Quite—they couldn’t have passed the sewing-room where Miss Eaton was sitting, without her seeing them. She sits with her door open, it seems, in case Lady Shoesmith calls her. And then, they were together at the time. It’s very improbable that they’d both be in it; the housemaid was devoted to the lady, too, been with her twenty years; I’m afraid it looks to me like the young man.”
Van Ryn, Schatz and Simon had been listening with silent interest, but now the latter spoke—quietly but seriously, with his head cocked on one side. “You’re wrong, Superintendent, I know Richard Eaton. He’s one of the most normal men I’ve ever met. I shouldn’t think he’s ever lost control of himself in his life. You can take it from me, it isn’t Richard.”
“It would be a particularly atrocious crime if it were,” said the Duke. “But I fear, Mr. Aron, that your friend’s situation will prove a very difficult one. There can be no doubt that the murder was committed between the time when Miss Eaton left Richard with his mother and the time that Miss Eaton discovered the body. Who else except Richard Eaton was present at that time? In addition, there is his strange disappearance. Even if we accept your theory that he spent the night ‘on the tiles’, as you sometimes say, surely he would have returned home by half past ten in the morning?”
“I don’t know about that!” Rex laughed. “A fellow doesn’t go making whoopee all on his own if he has a sweetie. Maybe she’s handing him his morning tea at this moment. After all it’s Sunday —and we know he’s got his day clothes on.”
“My dear fellow,” urged the Duke, “you forget that he had an appointment with Aron for supper last night, and failed to turn up—and it should have been a meeting of some importance, I understand?”
“You didn’t mention this, Mr. Aron,” said Marrofat quickly.
“Didn’t I?” Simon looked up. “Sorry. Yes Richard was to meet me at the Berkeley at eleven. He never turned up.”
“And why was the appointment an important one?” Marrofat asked with an air of persistency.
“Oh, only that we were to talk over the final arrangements between him and his mother—that was why I was anxious to see Sir Gideon first, really.”
“You seem to have been, very interested, Mr. Aron!”
“Well, you see, I think Richard valued my advice, in a way.” Simon spoke deprecatingly.
“And he never turned up for his supper party, eh?” The Superintendent rose to his feet. “I think I understand now, why you didn’t feel you could tell us anything last night, Mr. Aron. It won’t be your fault if Richard Eaton’s not out of the country by now—will it? But it’s not as easy as all that,” he spoke with unaccustomed harshness. “We’ll bring him back, don’t you worry.”
Simon smiled again. “I’m afraid you’ve been reading some of Mr. Edgar Wallace’s detective novels, where people smuggle one another out of England. I’ll tell you—I couldn’t do that sort of thing if I tried, and honestly, I think you’re wrong about Richard.”
“Well—we’ll see.” Marrofat turned to the Duke. “I’m very grateful, sir, for all you’ve done for us. We’ll be getting along now. The inquest will be at eleven o’clock tomorrow. You’ll receive official notices in the morning. I’d like both yourself and Mr. Van Ryn to attend. We needn’t trouble you, Mr. Aron, but I expect we shall see each other again before the case is finished. Good morning, gentlemen.”
Amid a chorus of polite “good mornings” the police officers made their exit, and the Duke sank back once more in his big arm-chair, his embroidered robe like a flowing cascade of colour about him.
“D’you know!” said Simon, with his jerky little laugh, “he doesn’t like me—I don’t believe he likes me one little bit!”
Mr. Schatz laughed for once. “He couldn’t hold us.” he said triumphantly, “and what a time we’d have had tomorrow if he’d tried!”
“I think all the same,” De Richleau remarked, “that you’re fortunate, in that it’s the police of Britain with whom you have to deal, Mr. Aron. Abroad they treat these things somewhat differently. They lack that marvellous sense of the liberty of the individual from which you have so benefited today.”
Simon nodded vigorously. “I know, abroad I’d have been terribly scared of this muddle. As things are here, I wouldn’t even mind about a few days in prison, as a matter of fact; I’m only worried as to what’s become of Richard.”
“Yes, that seems to be the key to the mystery now.”
“I wonder.” Simon looked down at his dragon-covered garment. “I wonder if you’d mind if I dressed now? I think I’d like to make a few inquiries about Richard, on my own.”
“By all means,” De Richleau pressed the bell. “Have Mr. Aron’s clothes arrived from his club?” he asked his man, who appeared as silently as usual.
“Yes, Your Excellency, the chauffeur got back with them a little time ago. I did not like to disturb you while those—er— gentlemen were here, but the chauffeur brought a message for Mr. Aron.”
“Indeed, please give it to Mr. Aron then.”
The discreet valet turned to Simon. “The chauffeur was asked to say, sir, that there is a gentleman who is waiting to see you at your club. He said, sir, that the matter was urgent, and he would wait there until you could come.”
“Did he say anything else?” asked Simon quickly.
“No, nothing else, sir, except the gentleman’s name. It was Mr. Richard Eaton.”
CHAPTER XIV - A PAGE FROM THE LIFE OF RICHARD EATON
Less than half an hour afterwards, Simon Aron led the way into his club. Owing to the manner in which he had learnt of Richard’s arrival there, it had been impossible for him to conceal it from the Duke, Van Ryn, and Mr. Schatz, even if he had wished to do so. In consequence he and the Duke had dressed with all speed, and it had been agreed that since Richard Eaton’s situation could not be made worse by the presence of the others, and Mr. Schatz, at least, might prove useful, the whole party should accompany Aron rou
nd to the National.
At this hour of Sunday morning, the club, was almost deserted. They found Richard Eaton all alone in the big, cheerless, guests’ waiting-room. Simon went forward to greet him, and the others remained in a little group near the door.
“Hallo, Richard!” Simon Aron’s rather toneless voice did not altogether hide his suppressed emotion. He held out his hand. “I’m awfully pleased to see you.”
Eaton took it quickly. He was a young man of medium height, with rather an attractive smile, but his smile was a little tired as he said: “I’m in a muddle, my boy, in fact I’m in the hell of a mess!”
“Um—I know,” Simon nodded quickly.
A puzzled expression crossed Eaton’s face. “How can you? Oh, of course, you’ve seen about Mother in the papers.”
“Yes,” Simon nodded again.
“It’s pretty ghastly, isn’t it? I was terribly fond of her, though it hasn’t had time to sink in yet, and I shall feel it frightfully later on, I know. But as a matter of fact, when I said I was in a muddle—I didn’t just mean that I was cut up by her death. This is a special muddle that I’ve got myself into by going round to see her last night.”
“I know,” said Simon Aron once again.
“My dear fellow, how can you know?” said Richard Eaton, almost sharply.
“Well—er—I happen to know a bit about it, anyhow,” affirmed Simon. “But I’d like to introduce you to these friends of mine.” He jerked his head in the direction of the others, who at his glance had moved over to join him. “This is Mr. Granville Schatz, my solicitor—the Duke de Richleau—Mr. Van Ryn— —er—Mr. Eaton.”
Richard Eaton gave a pleasant nod to each in turn. He was polite, but obviously found it difficult to restrain his annoyance at their presence. He turned to Simon: “Look here, you don’t think me rude, old chap, but what I want to talk to you about is rather urgent. Can you spare me five minutes alone?”
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