Inspector French's Greatest Case

by Freeman Wills Crofts

  “Mr. Duke, sir? I am Inspector French of the Criminal Investigation Department of New Scotland Yard. I very much regret to confirm the news which you have already heard, that your head clerk, Mr. Gething, has been murdered, and I fear also that your safe may have been burgled.”

  It was evident that the old gentleman was experiencing strong emotion, but he controlled it and spoke quietly enough.

  “This is terrible news, Inspector. I can hardly believe that poor old Gething is gone. I came at once when I heard. Tell me the details. Where did it happen?”

  French pointed to the open door.

  “In here, sir, in your private office. Everything is still exactly as it was found.”

  Mr. Duke moved forward, then on seeing the body, stopped and gave a low cry of horror.

  “Oh, poor old fellow!” he exclaimed. “It’s awful to see him lying there. Awful! I tell you, Inspector, I’ve lost a real friend, loyal and true and dependable. Can’t he be lifted up? I can’t bear to see him like that.” His gaze passed on to the safe. “And the safe! Merciful heavens, Inspector! Is anything gone? Tell me at once, I must know! It seems heartless to think of such a thing with that good old fellow lying there, but after all I’m only human.”

  “I haven’t touched the safe, but we’ll do so directly,” the Inspector answered. “Was there much in it?”

  “About three-and-thirty thousand pounds worth of diamonds were in that lower drawer, as well as a thousand in notes,” groaned the other. “Get the body moved, will you, and let us look.”

  French whistled, then he turned to his men.

  “Get that table cleared outside there, and lift the body on to it,” he ordered; then to the doctor he added, “Perhaps, Doctor, you could make your examination now?”

  The remains were lifted reverently and carried from the room. Mr. Duke turned impatiently to the safe, but the Inspector stopped him.

  “A moment, sir, if you please. I am sorry to ask you to stretch your patience a little longer, but before you touch the safe I must test it for finger prints. You see the obvious necessity?”

  “I would wait all night if it would help you to get on the track of the scoundrels who have done this,” the old gentleman answered grimly. “Go on in your own way. I can restrain myself.”

  With a word of approval, Inspector French fetched one of the cases brought by his assistants, and producing little boxes of French chalk and of lampblack, he proceeded to dust over the smooth portions of the safe, using white powder on a dark background and vice versa. On blowing off the surplus powder, he pointed triumphantly to a number of finger prints, explaining that the moisture deposited from the skin held the powder, which otherwise dropped off. Most of the marks were blurred and useless, but a few showed clearly the little loops and whorls and ridges of thumbs and fingers.

  “Of course,” French went on, “these may all be quite useless. They may be those of persons who had a perfect right to open the safe—your own for instance. But if they belong to the thief, if there was one, their importance may be incalculable. See here now, I can open this drawer without touching any of them.”

  Mr. Duke was clearly at the end of his patience, and he kept fidgeting about, clasping and unclasping his hands, and showing every sign of extreme impatience and uneasiness. As the drawer opened, he stepped forward and plunged in his hand.

  “Gone!” he cried hoarsely. “They’re all gone! Thirty-three thousand pounds’ worth! Oh, my God! It means ruin.” He covered his face with his hands, then went on unsteadily. “I feared it, of course. I thought it must be the diamonds when the officer rang me up. I have been trying to face it ever since. I shouldn’t care for myself. It’s my daughter. To think of her exposed to want! But there. It is wicked of me to speak so who have only lost money, while poor old Gething has lost his life. Don’t mind me, Inspector. Carry on. What I want most now is to hear of the arrest of the murderer and thief. If there is anything I can do to help in that, command me.”

  He stood, a little stooped and with haggard face, but dignified even in his grief. French in his pleasant, kindly way tried to reassure him.

  “Now, you don’t need to give up heart, sir,” he advised. “Diamonds are not the easiest things to dispose of, and we’re right on to the loss at once. Before the thief can pass them on we shall have all the channels under observation. With any ordinary luck, you’ll get them back. They were not insured?”

  “Part of them only. About nineteen thousand pounds’ worth were insured. It was my cursed folly that the rest were not. Gething advised it, but I had never lost anything, and I wanted to save the money. You understand our trade has been difficult since the war, and our profits were not the same as formerly. Every little has counted, and we have had to economise.”

  “At worst, then, that is £14,000 gone?”

  “If the insurance companies pay in full, that is all, besides the thousand in notes. But, Inspector, it is too much. To meet my share of the loss will beggar me.” He shook his head despondently. “But never mind my affairs in the meantime. Don’t, I beg of you, lose any time in getting after the criminal.”

  “You are right, sir. If, then, you will sit down there for a few minutes I’ll get rid of the others, and then I shall ask you for some information.”

  The old gentleman dropped wearily into a chair while French went to the outer office. The policeman who had been sent to inform Gething’s family of the tragedy had just returned. French looked at him inquiringly.

  “I called, sir, at the address you gave me,” he reported. “Miss Gething was there, and I told her what had occurred. She was considerably upset, and asked me if I could get a message to her sister and brother-in-law at 12 Deeley Terrace, Hawkins Street, in Battersea. I said I would fetch them for her. The brother-in-law, name of Gamage, was from home in Leeds, being a traveller for a firm of fur dealers, but Mrs. Gamage was there and I took her across. It seemed the old lady had wanted to know what was up, and Miss Gething had told her, and she had got some kind of stroke. They asked me to call a doctor, which I did. The two daughters say they can’t get across here on account of being occupied with the mother.”

  “So much the better,” French commented, and having added the names and addresses of Mr. and Mrs. Gamage to his list, he turned to the doctor.

  “Well, Doctor,” he said pleasantly. “How do you get on?”

  The doctor straightened himself up from his position over the corpse.

  “I’ve done all I can here,” he answered. “I don’t think there’s any doubt the man was killed instantaneously by the blow on the head. The skull is fractured, apparently by some heavy, blunt weapon. I should think it was done from behind while the old fellow was stooping, possibly working at the safe, though that, perhaps, is your province.”

  “I’m glad of the hint anyway. Now, gentlemen, I think that’s all we can do to-night. Can your men remove the body, Superintendent? I want to stay for a moment to take a few measurements. You’ll let me know to-morrow about the inquest? Mr. Orchard, you might stay a moment also; there is a question or two I want to ask you.”

  The Superintendent had sent one of his men for a stretcher, and the remains were lifted on and carried slowly down to the waiting taxi. With an exchange of good-nights, the local men withdrew, leaving Inspector French, Mr. Duke, Orchard, and the two plain-clothes men from the Yard in charge of the premises.

  CHAPTER II

  THE FIRM OF DUKE AND PEABODY

  When Inspector French ushered the clerk, Orchard, into the inner office, they found Mr. Duke pacing the floor with an expression of utter mystification imprinted on his features.

  “I say, Inspector, here’s a puzzle,” he cried. “I happened to look behind the safe door, and I find it has been opened with a key. I thought at first it had been broken or forced or the lock somehow picked. But I see it is unlocked.”

  “Yes, I noticed that, sir,” French answered. “But I don’t follow you. What is the mystery about that?”


  “Why, the key, of course. To my certain knowledge there were only two keys in existence. One I keep on my ring, which is chained to my belt and never leaves me day nor night. There it is. The other is lodged with my bankers, where no one could possibly get at it. Now, where did the thief get the key that is now in the lock?”

  “That is one of the things we have to find out,” French replied. “You may perhaps think it strange, but a point of that kind, which at first seems to deepen the mystery, often proves a blessing in disguise. It provides another point of attack, you understand, and frequently it narrows down the area of inquiry. You haven’t touched the key, I hope?”

  “No. I remembered what you said about finger prints.”

  “Good. Now, gentlemen, if you will please sit down, I want to ask you a few questions. I’ll take you first, Mr. Orchard. I have your name, and your address is Bloomsbury Square. Now tell me, is that your home?”

  The young fellow answered the questions without hesitation, and French noted approvingly his direct glance and the evident candour with which he spoke. The Bloomsbury Square address, it appeared, was that of a boarding house, the clerk’s home being in Somerset. He had left the office at about half-past five that afternoon, Mr. Gething being then almost ready to follow. Mr. Gething was usually the last out of the office. Orchard had noticed nothing unusual in his manner that day, though for the last two or three weeks he had seemed somewhat moody and depressed. Orchard had gone from the office to Liverpool Street, where he had caught the 5.52 to Ilford. There he had had supper with a friend, a man called Forrest, a clerk in a shipping office in Fenchurch Street he had left about 9.30, getting back to town a little before 10. The rain had stopped, and as he did not get as much exercise as he could have wished, he resolved to walk home from the station. Hatton Garden was but little out of his way, and as he approached it he remembered that he had left in his desk a book he had changed at the library at lunch time. He had decided to call in and get it, so as to read for a while before going to sleep. He had done so, and had found Mr. Gething’s body, as he had already explained. The outer street door had been closed, and he had opened it with his latch key. Both the office doors were open, that between the landing and the outer office and that of Mr. Duke’s room. The lights were on everywhere, except that in the outer office only the single central bulb was burning, the desk lamps being off. He had seen no one about the offices.

  French, having complimented the young fellow on his clear statement, bade him good-night and sent him home. But as he passed out of the room he whispered to one of his men, who promptly nodded and also disappeared. French turned to Mr. Duke.

  “That seems a straightforward young fellow,” he observed. “What is your opinion of him?”

  “Absolutely straightforward.” The acting partner spoke with decision. “He has been with me for over four years, and I have always found him most conscientious and satisfactory. Indeed, I have been very fortunate in my whole staff. I think I could say the same of them all.”

  “I congratulate you, Mr. Duke. Perhaps now you would tell me something about your firm and your various employees.”

  Mr. Duke, though still extremely agitated, was controlling his emotion and answered in calm tones.

  “The business is not a large one, and at the present time is virtually controlled by myself. Peabody, though not so old as I am, has been troubled by bad health and has more or less gone to pieces. He seldom comes to the office, and never undertakes any work. The junior partner, Sinnamond, is travelling in the East, and has been for some months. We carry on the usual trade of diamond merchants, and have a small branch establishment in Amsterdam. Indeed, I divide my own time almost equally between London and Amsterdam. We occupy only these two rooms which you have seen. Our staff in the outer office consists, or rather consisted, of five, a chief and confidential clerk, the poor man who has just been killed, a young man called Harrington, who is qualifying for a partnership, Orchard, a girl typist, and an office boy. Besides them, we employ an outside man, a traveller, a Dutchman named Vanderkemp. He attends sales and so on, and when not on the road, works in the Amsterdam branch.”

  Inspector French noted all the information Mr. Duke could give about each of the persons mentioned.

  “Now this Mr. Gething,” he resumed. “You say he has been with you for over twenty years, and that you had full confidence in him, but I must ask the question, Are you sure that your confidence was not misplaced? In other words, are you satisfied that he was not himself after your diamonds?”

  Mr. Duke shook his head decisively.

  “I am positive he was not,” he declared warmly and with something of indignation showing in his manner. “I should as soon accuse my own son, if I had one. No, I’d stake my life on it, Gething was no thief.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that, Mr. Duke,” the other returned smoothly. “Now, then, your office staff eliminated, tell me is there any one that you suspect?”

  “Not a creature!” Mr. Duke was equally emphatic. “Not a single creature! I can’t imagine any one who would have done such a thing. I wish I could.”

  The Inspector hesitated.

  “Of course, sir, you understand that if you were to mention a name it would not in any way bias me against that person. It would only mean that I should make inquiries. Don’t think you would be getting any one into trouble.”

  Mr. Duke smiled grimly.

  “You needn’t be afraid. If I had any suspicion I should be only too glad to tell you, but I have none.”

  “When, sir, did you last see your late clerk?”

  “About half-past four this evening. I left the office at that time, about an hour earlier than usual, because I had a business appointment for a quarter to five with Mr. Peters, of Lincoln’s Inn, my solicitor.”

  “And you did not return to the office?”

  “No. I sat with Mr. Peters for about half an hour, then as my business was not finished and he wanted to square up for the night, we decided to dine together at my club in Gower Street. It was not worth while going back to my own office, so I went straight from Peters’ to the club.

  “And you did not notice anything peculiar about Mr. Gething?”

  “Not specially on that night. He seemed absolutely as usual.”

  “How do you mean, ‘not specially on that night?’”

  “He had been, I thought, a little depressed for two or three weeks previously, as if he had some trouble on his mind. I asked when first I noticed it if there was anything wrong, but he murmured something about home troubles, about his wife not being so well—she is a chronic invalid. He was not communicative, and I did not press the matter. But he was no worse this afternoon than during the last fortnight.”

  “I see. Now, what brought him back to the office to-night?”

  Mr. Duke made a gesture of bewilderment.

  “I have no idea,” he declared. “There was nothing! Nothing, at least, that I know of or can imagine. We were not specially busy, and as far as I can think, he was well up to date with his work.”

  “Is there a postal delivery between half-past four and the time your office closes?”

  “There is, and of course there might have been a telegram or a caller or a note delivered by hand. But suppose there had been something important enough to require immediate attention, Gething would never have taken action without consulting me. He had only to ring me up.”

  “He knew where you were, then?”

  “No, but he could have rung up my home. They knew there where I was, as when I had decided to dine at the club, I ’phoned home to say so.”

  “But were you in your club all the evening? Excuse my pressing the matter, but I think it’s important to make sure the man did not try to communicate with you.”

  “I see your point. Yes, I stayed chatting with Mr. Peters until almost 9.30. Then, feeling tired from a long day’s thought about business, I decided a little exercise would be pleasant, and I walked home. I reached my house
a minute or two after ten.”

  “That seems conclusive. All the same, sir, I think you should make sure when you reach home that no call was made.”

  “I shall do so certainly, but my parlourmaid is very reliable in such matters, and I am certain she would have told me of any.”

  Inspector French sat for a few seconds lost in thought, and then began on another point.

  “You tell me that you had £33,000 worth of diamonds in the safe. Is not that an unusually large amount to keep in an office?”

  “You are quite right, it is too large. I consider myself very much to blame, both for that and in the matter of the insurance. But I had not meant to keep the stones there long. Indeed, negotiations for the sale of the larger portion were actually in progress. On the other hand, it is due to myself to point out that the safe is of a very efficient modern pattern.”

  “That is so, sir. Now can you tell me who, besides yourself, knew of the existence of those stones?”

  “I’m afraid,” Mr. Duke admitted despondently, “there was no secret about it. Gething knew, of course. He was entirely in my confidence about such matters. Vanderkemp, my outdoor man, knew that I had made some heavy purchases recently, as he not only conducted the negotiations, but personally brought the stones to the office. Besides, there were letters about them, accessible to all the staff. I am afraid you may take it that every one in the office knew there was a lot of stuff there, though probably not the exact amount.”

  “And the staff may have talked to outsiders. Young people will brag, especially if they are ‘keeping company,’ as the Irish say.”

  “I fear that is so,” Mr. Duke agreed, as if deprecating the singular habits of the young.

  The Inspector changed his position uneasily, and his hand stole to his pipe. But he checked himself and resumed his questioning. He obtained from Mr. Duke a detailed list of the missing stones, then turned to a new point.