“Did you open the safe?” I asked.
“Mr M has a cracksman he uses for jobs like this. I brought him with me. He helped me find it and then popped it open.”
“Where are we taking all this?”
“Down to the study, to put with the rest.” I followed Lamb downstairs, carrying neatly tied bundles of paper and cash. “How did you know it was Drayton, sir?”
“The diamond cufflink. Truegood and I saw him wearing them on Thursday. I also know him from Bechuanaland: he carries a sword-stick and a Derringer. I had to think it through, but I’m absolutely certain. Drayton set up Carey for Lowenstein’s murder and then killed him. I’m also certain Drayton isn’t at Devonshire House at present, not after the bedlam this afternoon. Did you do all this?” In the den, the drawers of the desk and bureau were all open, with stacks of papers piled on every available surface.
“Yes, sir. Except for one of the desk drawers. It had been forced with that curved knife over there.”
“Do you know where Melville is now?”
“Yes, sir. He’s in Bermondsey Street with Inspector Hughes.”
“I’ll telephone him there, but I want to have another look at Carey’s papers first.”
“These are the ones from the desk; those are from the bureau; I haven’t had the time to look at any of them, yet. Just the one thing, sir. If you’re sure it’s Drayton, can’t we just collar him when he boards his ship tomorrow?”
“Only if we find some hard evidence. And I mean something more than a cufflink. Don’t forget he’s under the protection of the Duke of Devonshire.”
“Ah, yes, you’re probably right about that. I don’t s’pose His Grace would look too kindly upon us causin’ his guest to miss his passage.”
“Do you know if Truegood’s talking yet?”
“I don’t, sir. Last I heard he was in the clear, but still out cold.”
“Then we better get a move on.”
I started with the documents on the desk, skipping the schedule book and the other items I recognised, and concentrating on what must have been in the second set of drawers. I sat down at the desk and flicked through them: a ledger, several letters sealed in envelopes, a blank notebook, and some more papers concerning his properties. Nothing of particular interest. The stack from the bureau was huge: a series of weather-beaten notebooks bound in wrinkled leather, dozens of maps and charts covering most of the world, and several hundred loose pages of what looked like a rough draft of a manuscript. I recalled that in addition to his many other skills and accomplishments, Carey was a successful author. The notebooks all appeared to be from his travels, but I didn’t examine them in detail. I picked up his appointments book again.
“Did you say Drayton is T.D., sir?”
“Yes, why?”
Lamb was kneeling on the floor, more papers and notebooks scattered around him. “There’s a dossier on him here. It looks pretty thorough. There you are.” He handed me a folder with the initials T.D. on it, and half a dozen loose sheets inside. I paged through them. Carey had obviously researched his employer:
1884 University College Hospital London
1891 General practitioner, Pitsani, Bechuanaland Protectorate
1896 Jameson Raid
Second Matabeleland War
Various positions in BSAC, Salisbury, Southern Rhodesia
1898 Private secretary, Dr L.S. Jameson (Chief Mag, S. Rhodesia 91-93; Administrator, S. Rhodesia 94-96; SAR Raid — Rhodes/Chamberlain)
There were also notes on his associates and haunts in London:
…resident Devonshire House, apparently has patronage of Cavendish… Gen Sir Evelyn Wood VC …dines at the Savoy, Claridge’s… frequents the Café Royal and American Bar (Criterion)… Bartitsu Club, Soho…
And some cautionary notes:
…an expert swordsman by all accounts… crack shot… A killing gentleman.
The latter characterisation was ironic, in view of how Carey had died.
There wasn’t much in the dossier that I didn’t already know from either my earlier acquaintance with Drayton or my recent inquiries. It was, however, comprehensive, and it gave me an idea. Carey was nobody’s fool. He’d spent a large proportion of his life hunting beasts and men. He was quick-witted and savvy, and had probably kept a dossier on all his employers as a form of insurance. He would’ve known there was always the possibility at least one of them would try to get rid of him as a precautionary measure. Up until he decided to work for Drayton, he’d outfoxed them all. The shikari and The Doctor were in fact very well matched, and each had proved the other’s undoing. Drayton had killed Carey, but Carey had unmasked him as a murderer and conspirator.
They had stalked each other, Drayton knowing from the very beginning that the time would come when he must eliminate Carey. The theft of the penang lawyer — whenever it had been carried out — was proof that Drayton had been thinking ahead, but I knew him far too well to require evidence of his foresight. My idea took shape. First, Drayton would’ve known as much about Carey as Carey knew about him. Second, although he’d been over-confident this afternoon, he’d planned the murder with meticulous care. Drayton never left anything to chance, and always prepared for every eventuality. He would’ve anticipated pursuit and injury, and established a convenient bolthole nearby. It would be somewhere without a connection to him, Cavendish, or Murgatroyd; a place where he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed until he left for the docks. I wasn’t sure if it was intuition or my intimate knowledge of Drayton, but I knew the answer was within my grasp…
With mounting excitement, I rifled through the original papers I’d removed from the desk drawer. Property. Carey had property in Hoxton and Southwark. I found the Vine Lane address. Then I returned to the stack from the cabinet and started on the maps and charts. Central Africa, the Central Provinces of India, East Africa, Afghanistan… I flung them all aside. Eastern Europe, Gujarat, Punjab, Southern Africa... none of them any good to me. Lamb had interrupted his perusal to watch my performance. “Have you seen a map of London anywhere here?” I demanded.
“Can’t say I have, sir, what’re you after?”
“How well do you know the South Bank?”
“About the same as the rest of The Smoke. Try me.”
“Vine Lane, Southwark?”
“I know it.”
“It doesn’t happen to be anywhere near Butler’s Wharf, does it?”
“Yes, it does. It’s a couple of hundred yards the other side of Tower Bridge from the warehouse where we found Carey.”
“That’s it!” I punched the air. Carey has rooms there as well. That’s where he went!”
“You mean to say he doubled back, sir?”
“If that would’ve taken him to Vine Lane, then that’s exactly what I mean. Clever, too, because the logical conclusion would be that he was at the brothel.”
“If he’s the one who employed Murgatroyd, sir.”
“He is. Do you have the number for Bermondsey-street station?”
Lamb gave it to me and I raced downstairs to Carey’s telephone.
In less than a minute I heard a deep, reassuring voice say, “Is that you, Marshall?”
“Yes, I know who killed Carey and Lowenstein.”
“Dr Morgan Drayton would be my guess.”
“That’s right. I also know where he is now.”
“That is very welcome news. Inspector Hughes and a squad of men from Bermondsey Street raided Boustred’s brothel in Snowsfields, but there was no sign of Drayton, Murgatroyd, or even Boustred. Do you think he might have gone to roost in Devonshire House?”
“No, he’ll be at Carey’s rooms in Vine Lane. Lamb just told me it’s close to Shad Thames. Murgatroyd and Boustred are probably with him.”
“Lamb? So you’re in Upper Grosvenor Street?” asked Melville.
“Yes. Drayton and Carey were playing a game of cat-and-mouse with each other. I’m not a betting man, but I’ll bet all I have that Drayton planned to use Carey�
�s own rooms as a rendezvous after killing him. I reckon he’ll stay there until the steamer leaves tomorrow.”
“Yes, it makes sense. The scoundrel would want somewhere close, especially after Carey made a mess of him with the Bowie knife.”
“That’s what I thought. The address is 32B Vine Lane.”
“I’ll send a couple of men there now to keep the place under observation, but I need time, and the men need a break; some of them have been on duty for nearly eighteen hours. Tell Lamb to secure Carey’s rooms, leave a constable on guard, and report back to Bermondsey Street. You can go back to your hotel and take a couple of hours rest. I’ll meet you at half-past ten at Simpson’s.”
“Simpson’s?”
“Simpson’s in the Strand.”
“The restaurant, whatever for?”
“For supper, my dear sir. Supper and a good cigar!”
27. Supper at Simpson’s
I arrived at Simpson’s Grand Divan Tavern a few minutes late, but I was expected, and the maitre d’ escorted me across the coloured tile floor to a corner alcove. We passed a great bar window and a giant dumbwaiter laden with glasses and decanters, and I marvelled at the candelabra, twice as tall as me, which stood on either side of the dining area. The room was nearly full, even at this late hour, hazy with smoke, and noisy with the hum of excited conversation and the clinking of cutlery and crockery. Melville was waiting for me in a wood-panelled booth for two, made snug with a little curtain and brass rails. He rose as soon as he saw me and extended his flipper again. “Marshall, I’m so glad you could join me!”
“I’ve always wanted to eat at Simpson’s — ever since I was at Westminster.”
We shook and sat; then Melville poured me a glass of wine from the bottle of Liebfraumilch on the table. “No chess tonight?” I asked. Simpson’s was famous as the home of European chess.
“There’s always chess being played here, but the tables are upstairs, next to the ladies’ dining room. I’ll show you afterwards, if we have time. First, His Majesty King Edward the Seventh!”
“King Edward the Seventh!” I raised my glass.
“Now that the crown is at last firmly upon His Majesty’s royal head, and he and his guests are safe and sound in the Palace, I can turn my attention to the problems Mr Rhodes has caused for us. Please accept my thanks for looking after the Empire Loyalist League while I was otherwise occupied. Your very good health, and congratulations!”
“Thank you. Good health!” I replied.
Melville glanced to the side to check that our conversation was indeed private. “You were right. There’re at least two occupants in 32B Vine Lane, and I’ve no doubt one of them is the elusive Dr Drayton. Let’s order, then you can tell me how you solved this very complex case.”
We decided on a fish starter, cod for Melville, and turbot for me. Simpson’s beef and mutton were legendary, so I welcomed his suggestion of sirloin of beef for two. As soon as the waiter left, he continued. “As far as I can make out, everything seems to hinge on this Carey fellow, but how on earth did you construe that? Was it because of his involvement with your late sister?”
Melville was asking for more than I was prepared to divulge; I wasn’t ready to share everything with him yet. “That was what initially brought the man to my attention, but when Truegood and I questioned O’Donnell he suggested the Okhrana had set Carey up for Lowenstein’s murder.”
“That proved incorrect?” Melville took another drink from his glass.
“It did, but the wideawake hat pointed to the possibility that Carey had been involved in Lowenstein’s murder as well as Chamberlain’s accident during the Colonial Conference. It seemed to me that the accident was just the type of job Carey would take pride in.”
“His second accident in two months.”
I ignored the reference to Ellen. “Even though it turned out Carey had been falsely implicated for Lowenstein, I didn’t know that at first, so a connection was established in my mind.”
“Yes, I’m told you burgled Carey’s house. Rather risky, but an opportunity not to be missed.”
I smiled and took a small sip of wine. “By the time I realised the evidence in Tottenham Street pointed to Carey, I already knew he’d been in Bedfordshire when the crime was committed. Therefore, someone had manufactured the evidence to point to him, and who better than the man who’d employed him on the Chamberlain job? But I was a complete fool, for two reasons. First, I should’ve realised that whoever set up Carey intended to kill him. It would never do to have him stand trial and perhaps call some woman he’d spent the night with at Woburn to prove he never left. So I should’ve guessed Carey’s days were numbered. Second, I should’ve known that the initials ‘T.D.’ referred to Drayton. All of Rhodes’ cronies had nicknames, and I knew ‘The Doctor’ was Drayton’s. I didn’t realise it was him until I found the cufflink clutched in Carey’s fist.”
Melville nodded, but said nothing as the waiter appeared with our starters. Both dishes had large cuts of the fish, covered in steaming sauce. “Have some more wine.”
“No thank you. I’m going to restrict myself to the one glass. We have some dangerous work ahead of us if we’re going to take Drayton.”
Melville sliced off a large portion of his cod. “Yes, but don’t worry, I have three dozen men, counting ourselves.” He took his first bite. “Delicious as always. Yes, Hughes has nineteen men armed with rifles, revolvers, and shotguns, and there’re another dozen unarmed constables to secure the perimeter. Lamb and Macaulay — another of my gang — will join us as well. There’ll be no mistakes this time.”
The conversation ebbed as we did justice to the victuals. Once the waiter had cleared the table, Melville resumed. “It’s curious, but nearly eighteen months ago, I was in this very same place with a German gentleman. A couple of hours later, my hat was shot through in Whitechapel.” He grinned and poured another glass of wine for himself. “You sure I can’t tempt you to another? No? Then I won’t press you.”
“I don’t expect Drayton to come quietly.”
“With any luck we’ll collar him and Murgatroyd. Drayton for the murder of Lowenstein and Carey, and the attempted murder of Truegood; Murgatroyd as an accessory to the murder of Lowenstein and Sergeant Aitken. Murgatroyd is wanted for various other crimes as well, so there’s no doubt he’ll hang. As for Drayton, I’m not quite sure what we’re going to do with him…it’s a nasty business this League. Thank God so few know about it.”
“I didn’t mention the Society of the Elect to Truegood because I wasn’t sure if he was in your full confidence, but I had to tell him about the League to convince him of the need for Carey’s arrest.”
Melville smiled again. “No one is in my full confidence. Taciturnity is essential in this line of work. I make it my practice to pass on to my superiors and subordinates only as much as they require to perform their duties. It wasn’t necessary for Truegood to know about the Society of the Elect; it was necessary for him to know about the League. There’s no harm done. As for the Society, you think we were misinformed?”
“I thought so when I spoke to Armstrong; I’m certain of it now.”
“I shall have to have a word with Mr Akers-Douglas about that. Never mind, let’s toast to the success of our joint venture.”
I took up my glass again. “And our continued good health.”
“I agree!”
The waiter refreshed our plates and cutlery and then a portly chap dressed in a white coat wheeled over an immense joint of beef on a trolley. He ran the sharpener twice over his carving knife with a flourish, and asked where we would like our meat sliced. It was only because of the energetic work ahead that I decided not to join Melville in a second cut.
“There is no place to compare with Simpson’s when it comes to traditional English food,” said Melville. “Their beef, saddle of mutton, and steak and kidney pie are all the finest in the metropolis. My compliments to the chef as always,” he said to the carver. “I can recommen
d the syrup roly-poly for dessert. Yes? Two of those please, Charles. Thank you.”
As soon as Charles departed we continued the conversation in between mouthfuls of succulent meat and flavoursome vegetables.
“My initial comment was to focus on the murder rather than the will, and you did so admirably. Once you had a suspect for the murder — albeit the wrong one — and learned of his connection to Chamberlain, you then turned your attention to the League?”
“Yes. I found out about Chamberlain’s meeting at the Liberal Club on Empire Day, and that was when everything fell into place. Or it would’ve, if only I’d realised who T.D. was.”
“You say that Chamberlain and six others inaugurated the League?”
“Yes. Chamberlain and Cavendish were identified by name. From the descriptions I was given, I’m quite sure of the identity of two of the others. Drayton is clearly recognisable as Cavendish’s guest and Jameson’s secretary. His work with the League was what kept him in London, and why Jameson wanted Lowenstein to return to Cape Town instead.”
“Lowenstein must have changed his mind,” Melville said, almost to himself.
“That’s something else I was slow to realise. Lowenstein had bitten off more than he could chew. He went into hiding, petitioned Colonel Rhodes for assistance, and… and probably prayed a lot. So we have Chamberlain and Cavendish, with Drayton in Jameson’s place. From the description of the soldier, I’m certain it was Major Binstead, who is one of Kitchener’s band of boys.”
“Britain’s greatest soldier, another fine recruit.”
“As for the woman, I’m pretty sure it was Flora Shaw — another one involved in the Jameson Raid. I believe she’s engaged to Frederick Lugard, a high-ranking official in West Africa. So, aside from her own influence, she has her fiancé’s official status as well. As to the other two,” I shrugged, “two middle-aged men. I’ve no idea who they were.”
“I do, but let’s return to Miss Shaw for a moment. You’re quite right, it was her. Miss Shaw is engaged to the High Commissioner for the Protectorate of Northern Nigeria. But she wasn’t representing him, she was representing Alfred Lyttelton.”
The Architect of Murder Page 22
