The Greatest Murder Mysteries - Dorothy Fielding Collection. Dorothy Fielding
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Название: The Greatest Murder Mysteries - Dorothy Fielding Collection
Автор: Dorothy Fielding
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4064066308537
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"As unlike him as they could make it," agreed Pointer. "We've asked the Colonial papers to copy the picture, but much good a smudge like that will do."
"Something unforeseen may turn up from it, though," suggested Watts.
"Not in this case," corrected Pointer with conviction. "Everything unforeseen will have to be looked for with a searchlight, in my opinion;" and Watts was too much impressed by the medicine-bottle clue which Pointer had picked out to answer.
"Now, then, Watts"—the Chief Inspector turned to business again—"I want you to find out whether Beale, or the manager, or anyone corresponding to the description of Cox, has been buying any morphium in London. Take Eames' snapshot, too, though that's hardly likely to be needed." He went into careful details of the men and taxis he could have to help him.
For two days Watts searched London, but found nothing to prove that any of the three men had ever been near a chemist save Cox, that one time when he had bought the fatal bottle. Meantime nothing transpired at the Yard about Eames. Letters flowed in by the score purporting to recognize the printed likeness, but all the patient investigations of the police only proved that the recognition was mistaken. In Canada a terrific forest fire was raging, and under the circumstances the Yard could hardly press for larger space to be given to the picture of an unknown Englishman. At the Enterprise there had been practically no changes—at least from the first floor, and nothing had as yet transpired which could give the casting hither and thither police any definite trail.
"How's the manager developing?" O'Connor asked the night of Watts' return. "Been getting any deeper into your black books?"
"I've had a man look up his record—"
"Ah, well, that would be about the same thing with a policeman. Heaven help us all!"
"The report came in this afternoon. About a year ago he bought rather heavily of securities which are today a mere fraction of what he gave for them. He's slightly in the hands of money-lenders, and is altogether by no means as happily placed as might have been expected; for though the hotel is full, the running expenses are higher under him than were allowed for, and as his salary is only paid on net profits he must be pretty badly put to it sometimes. However, we've not been able to trace any previous acquaintance between him and Mr. Beale—not as yet.
"That scrap of green and white paper"—Pointer seemed to see it before him—"the manager isn't particularly quick-witted, but he certainly was quick-footed, for he was standing on it before you could say Jack Robinson—on the one and only piece of evidence the room contained. By the way, a jeweler to whom I showed Eames' studs says they're unusually fine pearls—for their size. Question is shall we ever learn what other things of value he may have had with him?" There was a pause. "Our analyst reports that there were the ashes of two cigars and twelve cigarettes in the little lot I took him. That amount couldn't have been smoked in five minutes."
O'Connor had risen and laid an old copy of the Era before him. "I thought I vaguely remembered something of the kind, so I hunted these up. What d'ye think of them?" he asked in would-be careless tones.
Pointer examined them. They were pictures of Miss Leslie taken four years back, in the character of an old man.
CHAPTER V
IT was late on the afternoon of Thursday that the Chief Inspector again went meticulously over every article of Eames' which he had in his safe. The watch he lingered over longest. His advertisement had brought in no helpful replies. He had taken the watch to a neighboring goldsmith, who had only been able to tell him that the maker, a very poor one, had long ago given up work and life itself. Pointer laid it on one side for a moment and took up the waistcoat. It was a well-worn garment, with very small pockets, one of which—the watch-pocket—had a permanent bulge. He fitted the watch into it. As he looked at it attentively it struck him that the watch did not conform at all to the outline supposed to have been made by it. An idea came to the police officer. He put on a pair of magnifying glasses and scrutinized the inside of the back of the case long and minutely. Finally he rose, with a faint flush in his cheek, and took a taxi to the largest watchmakers and goldsmiths in London.
"Sorry," the manager said patronizingly when Pointer, after asking for a private room, had shown him the watch; "it's not the kind of article we ever deal in. Not our class at all." He handed back the watch contemptuously, and endeavored to look over the other's head.
Pointer, unruffled as ever, opened the case again.
"Then you don't know that mark? Those crossed semicircles?"
He pointed to two almost invisible pin scratches.
The manager started, and took the watch again quickly.
"Two semicircles crossed? By Jove, so there are I The marks are so old and worn that I didn't notice them. You've good eyes, Inspector."
"I look at what is before me," was the quiet reply, which the salesman greeted as a sally of wit.
"Ha, ha! We all do that, I suppose. Well, to tell you the truth, that happens to be an old private mark of our own."
"Just so. You changed it some twenty years ago."
"Oh—ah! You certainly are well up in your work! If you sit down again for a moment I'll make inquiries."
Some time went by before the manager returned.
"I can't trace the watch in the least. I think that mark must be a mistake, or a joke, though it's our own mark right enough." He was obviously puzzled.
"Could it be a watch you lent a customer in place of one left to be mended? Or what about your branch establishment in Bond Street?"
The manager left him alone again and returned to say that he thought the Chief Inspector's suggestion highly probable, but that they had no record, even so, of the watch on their books. He recommended him to try their branch.
Pointer thanked him and took another taxi.
At Bond Street he found that the manager had 'phoned, and he was shown at once into a little room where he found a salesman waiting for him.
"Chief Inspector Pointer? We've been going over our books. I think I may be able to help you."
The police-officer handed him his treasure. The man opened the case.
"Yes, this is a watch I let a young gentleman have"—he laid it down and ran his finger along a ledger—"last Saturday morning. As a rule, we furnish no watches to our customers, but in this case we supplied him with one as a makeshift for his own very valuable repeater."
"Was this the young gentleman?" Pointer held out Eames' photo. The salesman identified him after a long scrutiny. "He wore a brown tweed suit and a soft brown felt hat."
"That's him," muttered Pointer, drawing a deep breath.
"He gave the name of Eames. But his repeater, I have it here, has another family's coat of arms engraved on the back. Do you know anything about heraldry, Inspector?"
"A little."
"Well, СКАЧАТЬ