The Yellow Claw

by Sax Rohmer

  VII

  THE MAN IN THE LIMOUSINE

  The house of the late Horace Vernon was a modern villa of prosperousappearance; but, on this sunny September morning, a palpable atmosphereof gloom seemed to overlie it. This made itself perceptible even to thetoughened and unimpressionable nerves of Inspector Dunbar. As he mountedthe five steps leading up to the door, glancing meanwhile at the loweredblinds at the windows, he wondered if, failing these evidences and hisown private knowledge of the facts, he should have recognized that thehand of tragedy had placed its mark upon this house. But when the doorwas opened by a white-faced servant, he told himself that he should, fora veritable miasma of death seemed to come out to meet him, to envelophim.

  Within, proceeded a subdued activity: somber figures moved upon thestaircase; and Inspector Dunbar, having presented his card, presentlyfound himself in a well-appointed library.

  At the table, whereon were spread a number of documents, sat a lean,clean-shaven, sallow-faced man, wearing gold-rimmed pince-nez; a manwhose demeanor of business-like gloom was most admirably adapted to thatplace and occasion. This was Mr. Debnam, the solicitor. He gravelywaved the detective to an armchair, adjusted his pince-nez, and coughed,introductorily.

  "Your communication, Inspector," he began (he had the kind of voicewhich seems to be buried in sawdust packing), "was brought to me thismorning, and has disturbed me immeasurably, unspeakably."

  "You have been to view the body, sir?"

  "One of my clerks, who knew Mrs. Vernon, has just returned to this houseto report that he has identified her."

  "I should have preferred you to have gone yourself, sir," began Dunbar,taking out his notebook.

  "My state of health, Inspector," said the solicitor, "renders itundesirable that I should submit myself to an ordeal so unnecessary--sowholly unnecessary."

  "Very good!" muttered Dunbar, making an entry in his book; "your clerk,then, whom I can see in a moment, identifies the murdered woman as Mrs.Vernon. What was her Christian name?"

  "Iris--Iris Mary Vernon."

  Inspector Dunbar made a note of the fact.

  "And now," he said, "you will have read the copy of that portion of myreport which I submitted to you this morning--acting upon informationsupplied by Miss Helen Cumberly?"

  "Yes, yes, Inspector, I have read it--but, by the way, I do not knowMiss Cumberly."

  "Miss Cumberly," explained the detective, "is the daughter of Dr.Cumberly, the Harley Street physician. She lives with her father inthe flat above that of Mr. Leroux. She saw the body by accident--andrecognized it as that of a lady who had been named to her at the lastArts Ball."

  "Ah!" said Debnam, "yes--I see--at the Arts Ball, Inspector. This is amysterious and a very ghastly case."

  "It is indeed, sir," agreed Dunbar. "Can you throw any light upon thepresence of Mrs. Vernon at Mr. Leroux's flat on the very night of herhusband's death?"

  "I can--and I cannot," answered the solicitor, leaning back in thechair and again adjusting his pince-nez, in the manner of a man havingimportant matters--and gloomy, very gloomy, matters--to communicate.

  "Good!" said the inspector, and prepared to listen.

  "You see," continued Debnam, "the late Mrs. Vernon was not actuallyresiding with her husband at the date of his death."

  "Indeed!"

  "Ostensibly"--the solicitor shook a lean forefinger at hisvis-a-vis--"ostensibly, Inspector, she was visiting her sister inScotland."

  Inspector Dunbar sat up very straight, his brows drawn down over thetawny eyes.

  "These visits were of frequent occurrence, and usually of about aweek's duration. Mr. Vernon, my late client, a man--I'll not deny it--ofinconstant affections (you understand me, Inspector?), did not greatlyconcern himself with his wife's movements. She belonged to a smartBohemian set, and--to use a popular figure of speech--burnt the candleat both ends; late dances, night clubs, bridge parties, and otherfeverish pursuits, possibly taken up as a result of the--shall I saycooling?--of her husband's affections"...

  "There was another woman in the case?"

  "I fear so, Inspector; in fact, I am sure of it: but to return to Mrs.Vernon. My client provided her with ample funds; and I, myself, haveexpressed to him astonishment respecting her expenditures in Scotland. Iunderstand that her sister was in comparatively poor circumstances,and I went so far as to point out to Mr. Vernon that one hundredpounds was--shall I say an excessive?--outlay upon a week's sojourn inAuchterander, Perth."

  "A hundred pounds!"

  "One hundred pounds!"

  "Was it queried by Mr. Vernon?"

  "Not at all."

  "Was Mr. Vernon personally acquainted with this sister in Perth?"

  "He was not, Inspector. Mrs. Vernon, at the time of her marriage, didnot enjoy that social status to which my late client elevated her. Formany years she held no open communication with any member of herfamily, but latterly, as I have explained, she acquired the habit ofrecuperating--recuperating from the effects of her febrile pleasures--atthis obscure place in Scotland. And Mr. Vernon, his interest inher movements having considerably--shall I say abated?--offered noobjection: even suffered it gladly, counting the cost but littleagainst"...

  "Freedom?" suggested Dunbar, scribbling in his notebook.

  "Rather crudely expressed, perhaps," said the solicitor, peeringover the top of his glasses, "but you have the idea. I come now to myclient's awakening. Four days ago, he learned the truth; he learned thathe was being deceived!"

  "Deceived!"

  "Mrs. Vernon, thoroughly exhausted with irregular living, announcedthat she was about to resort once more to the healing breezes of theheather-land"--Mr. Debnam was thoroughly warming to his discourse andthoroughly enjoying his own dusty phrases.

  "Interrupting you for a moment," said the inspector, "at what intervalsdid these visits take place?"

  "At remarkably regular intervals, Inspector: something like six times ayear."

  "For how long had Mrs. Vernon made a custom of these visits?"

  "Roughly, for two years."

  "Thank you. Will you go on, sir?"

  "She requested Mr. Vernon, then, on the last occasion to give her acheck for eighty pounds; and this he did, unquestioningly. On Thursday,the second of September, she left for Scotland"...

  "Did she take her maid?"

  "Her maid always received a holiday on these occasions; Mrs. Vernonwired her respecting the date of her return."

  "Did any one actually see her off?"

  "No, not that I am aware of, Inspector."

  "To put the whole thing quite bluntly, Mr. Debnam," said Dunbar, fixinghis tawny eyes upon the solicitor, "Mr. Vernon was thoroughly glad toget rid of her for a week?"

  Mr. Debnam shifted uneasily in his chair; the truculent directness ofthe detective was unpleasing to his tortuous mind. However:--

  "I fear you have hit upon the truth," he confessed, "and I must admitthat we have no legal evidence of her leaving for Scotland on this, oron any other occasion. Letters were received from Perth, and letterssent to Auchterander from London were answered. But the truth, thepainful truth came to light, unexpectedly, dramatically, on Mondaylast"...

  "Four days ago?"

  "Exactly; three days before the death of my client." Mr. Debnam waggedhis finger at the inspector again. "I maintain," he said, "that thispainful discovery, which I am about to mention, precipitated my client'send; although it is a fact that there was--hereditary heart trouble.But I admit that his neglect of his wife (to give it no harsher name)contributed to the catastrophe."

  He paused to give dramatic point to the revelation.

  "Walking homeward at a late hour on Monday evening from a flat inVictoria Street--the flat of--shall I employ the term a particularfriend?--Mr. Vernon was horrified--horrified beyond measure, toperceive, in a large and well-appointed car--a limousine--his wife!"...

  "The inside lights of the car were on, then?"

  "No; but the light from a street lamp shone directly into
the car. Atemporary block in the traffic compelled the driver of the car, whom myclient described to me as an Asiatic--to pull up for a moment. There,within a few yards of her husband, Mrs. Vernon reclined in the car--orrather in the arms of a male companion!"

  "What!"

  "Positively!" Mr. Debnam was sedately enjoying himself. "Positively, mydear Inspector, in the arms of a man of extremely dark complexion. Mr.Vernon was unable to perceive more than this, for the man had his backtoward him. But the light shone fully upon the face of Mrs. Vernon, whoappeared pale and exhausted. She wore a conspicuous motor-coat of civetfur, and it was this which first attracted Mr. Vernon's attention. Theblow was a very severe one to a man in my client's state of health; andalthough I cannot claim that his own conscience was clear, this openviolation of the marriage vows outraged the husband--outraged him. Infact he was so perturbed, that he stood there shaking, quivering,unable to speak or act, and the car drove away before he had recoveredsufficient presence of mind to note the number."

  "In which direction did the car proceed?"

  "Toward Victoria Station."

  "Any other particulars?"

  "Not regarding the car, its driver, or its occupants; but early on thefollowing morning, Mr. Vernon, very much shaken, called upon me andinstructed me to despatch an agent to Perth immediately. My agent'sreport reached me at practically the same time as the news of myclient's death"...

  "And his report was?"...

  "His report, Inspector, telegraphic, of course, was this: that no sisterof Mrs. Vernon resided at the address; that the place was a cottageoccupied by a certain Mrs. Fry and her husband; that the husband was ofno occupation, and had no visible means of support"--he ticked off thepoints on the long forefinger--"that the Frys lived better than anyof their neighbors; and--most important of all--that Mrs. Fry's maidenname, which my agent discovered by recourse to the parish register ofmarriages--was Ann Fairchild."

  "What of that?"

  "Ann Fairchild was a former maid of Mrs. Vernon!"

  "In short, it amounts to this, then: Mrs. Vernon, during these variousabsences, never went to Scotland at all? It was a conspiracy?"

  "Exactly--exactly, Inspector! I wired instructing my agent to extortfrom the woman, Fry, the address to which she forwarded letters receivedby her for Mrs. Vernon. The lady's death, news of which will now havereached him, will no doubt be a lever, enabling my representative toobtain the desired information."

  "When do you expect to hear from him?"

  "At any moment. Failing a full confession by the Frys, you will ofcourse know how to act, Inspector?"

  "Damme!" cried Dunbar, "can your man be relied upon to watch them? Theymustn't slip away! Shall I instruct Perth to arrest the couple?"

  "I wired my agent this morning, Inspector, to communicate with the localpolice respecting the Frys."

  Inspector Dunbar tapped his small, widely-separated teeth with the endof his fountain-pen.

  "I have had one priceless witness slip through my fingers," he muttered."I'll hand in my resignation if the Frys go!"

  "To whom do you refer?"

  Inspector Dunbar rose.

  "It is a point with which I need not trouble you, sir," he said. "It wasnot included in the extract of report sent to you. This is going to bethe biggest case of my professional career, or my name is not RobertDunbar!"

  Closing his notebook, he thrust it into his pocket, and replaced hisfountain-pen in the little leather wallet.

  "Of course," said the solicitor, rising in turn, and adjusting thetroublesome pince-nez, "there was some intrigue with Leroux? So much isevident."

  "You will be thinking that, eh?"

  "My dear Inspector"--Mr. Debnam, the wily, was seeking information--"mydear Inspector, Leroux's own wife was absent in Paris--quite a safedistance; and Mrs. Vernon (now proven to be a woman conducting a loveintrigue) is found dead under most compromising circumstances--MOSTcompromising circumstances--in his flat! His servants, even, are gotsafely out of the way for the evening"...

  "Quite so," said Dunbar, shortly, "quite so, Mr. Debnam." He opened thedoor. "Might I see the late Mrs. Vernon's maid?"

  "She is at her home. As I told you, Mrs. Vernon habitually released herfor the period of these absences."

  The notebook reappeared.

  "The young woman's address?"

  "You can get it from the housekeeper. Is there anything else you wish toknow?"

  "Nothing beyond that, thank you."

  Three minutes later, Inspector Dunbar had written in his book:--ClariceGoodstone, c/o Mrs. Herne, 134a Robert Street, Hampstead Road, N. W.

  He departed from the house whereat Death the Gleaner had twice knockedwith his Scythe.