THE FOURTH MAN

Evening Star, Issue 20697, 21 January 1931, Page 2

THE FOURTH MAN

By R. A. J. WALLING [Author ot ‘The Mcraticld Mystery,’ ‘The Third Degree,’ etc., etc.]

CHAPTER XIX. The three days succeeding the funeral yielded only one incident that 1 need record. Pinson had other business on the Thursday and Friday, and it was not till Saturday morning, a week after Schvyu’s death, that J learnt how his mind was travelling. Ho rang mo up while I was at breakfast, said we should both have to go eastward, and that 1 might as well take Adam street in my stride. So 1 picked him up there. I supposed we were going to iiishopsgate street. “No,'’ said Pinson, “we'll give poor old Parsons a rest this morning. We’re going further cast.” And ho boarded a bus for Fenchurch street. “ You’re a fairly observant young man, Quilter,” iio remarked; “ but one or two things don’t seem to have occurred to you Or you’ve said nothing to me about them.” “As how?” I asked. “ For example, you’ve not expressed any gratitude to me for my conduct in re Olver. You have not observed, apparently, that I’ve never said a word about Olver in all this.” “ Oh. yes, I had noticed it. But 1 put it down to your promise: that was understood between us.” “That was different. I agreed not to chase Olver But I think w© might shorten our job by making inquiries about Olver without chasing him. I’m pretty certain it’s not occurred to you.” It had, indeed, occurred to me more than once, but I was not at all anxious for Pinson to take that line. 1 feared it. Not that I had any doubt about Giver’s innocence; but something in his face and tone of voice when ho said to me that Marplo had “told him horrors ” held me back. It was a sorb </f instinctive reticence. It kept me now from saying anything on the subject to Pinson. “ You may be right,” I said. “I haven’t considered it- You know the reasons why I want Olver kept out of the picture.” “ Very well. There’s one other thing. Think of something Olver said to you last Saturday, something Parsons said on Wednesday morning, the date of Selwyn’s death, and something we heaid at Kensal Green; do these come together in your mind and suggest anything? ” I tried to follow the drift of the question, but failed. “No,’ I said; “I cannot say that i'vo seen any combination.” “ Well, again I may bo wrong. Bub a combination suggests itself to mo,” said Pinson, “ and that’s what I mean to test out this morning. That’s why wc’ro going from Fcnclnircli street to the East India Docks.” He then laid the combination before mo. First, Olver hud said to mo on the Saturday when wo were discussing Selwyn’s attitude towards him and Evelyn that Marple and Sehvyn had been closeted together in Bisbopsgate street two days that week, and that the more he was closeted with Marple the fussier Sehvyn became. Second, Parsons had said quite casually that Solwyn during that week asked him to loolc up a ship arriving from Buenos Aires. Third, the death of Sehvyn occurred at the end of that week. Fourth, a man speaking Spanish, which was the language of Buenos Aires, was at the funeral of Selwyn searching for Marple. “I conclude,” said Pinson, “that possibly tho arrival of a ship from Buenos Aires last week may not he unconnected, as.they say in Parliament, with the events of Saturday at Waller House., Anyhow, we’re going to find out. A dark man in thick goggles on a ship which arrived from the River Plato somewhere towards the end of the week.” “It sounds rather difficult,” I said, “ to search the port of London for that.” “It would have been but for Parsons. Old Parsons, though not much of a deductive observer, is an excellent recorder. He was able to remember the name of the ship—tho Whitehall Palace—and that she reached the docks on Thursday. Whitehall Palace is not so palatial as her name—not a mail boat or a liner, so Sehvyn could not have been expecting mail or parcels. Just a tramp, going out with coal and coming home with meat. Sehvyn might have been interested in a meat cargo, because I find among tho directors of the company that owns tho Whitehall Palace tho name of Mr Marple. Oh, ycsl”—in reply to my start of surprise —“ nothing astonishing in that. Marple I should judge to bo a wealthy man, with lots of irons in tho fire. But if we could find Goggles among tho ship's company of the Whitehall Palace, I should leap to the conclusion that tho meat about which Selwyn was concerned was alive and walking on two legs. However, we shall see.” As indeed we did see. It took a little time to find the berth at which the Whitehall Palace was tied iip, and then the captain and tho mate were not on board. But at last wo ran down the second officer, a bright young follow who was quite amenable to Pinson’s wiles. Pinson said he was a lawyer making inquiries about a man who was supposed to have travelled as a member of tbe crew of the Whitehall Palace from Buenos .Aires on the last trip. What name? Ah, that was the pity. Ho did not know tho name. “Bather difficult to trace him without some name,” said tho bright young officer. “Englishman or dago?” There, again, Pinson’s information was sadly incomplete. Anyhow, the man spoke Spanish. “That’s nothing,” was the reply, “ wo all do after a style. Anything further to identify him by—appearance or so on?” The only identification mark that Pinson could mention was that the man wore notably thick glasses. “ All!” said the second officer. “ I’ve soon that chap. Where now? I remember. Stoker. I’ll ask James.” He whistled through a tube and asked for - the attendance of Mr Maconachic. When Mr Maconachie entered tho stateroom ho turned out to be tho usual Scoch engineer. “ Yon had a dago stoker last trip, James,” said tho second officer, “looking like nothing on earth, with glasses like two alley taws—remember?” “ Vcera week Only lie wasna a. dago,” said Mr Maconachie. “ What name? ’ asked Pinson. “Whiles they called him Pedro; other Owd Four-Eyes.” “Pedro?” said the second officer. “ Sounds like a dago ’’ “ If ye'll hide a meenit,” said Mr .Maconachie, “ I’ll fetch up the list.” Ho rami! back with a paper. “ Hero ye have the mon,” said he. “Pedro

Estcvan, Calle San Antonio, 67, Buenos Aires.” “ Sounds like dago from beginning to end,” said the second officer. “ Ah, ye never know. I’d stake my life yon Pedro was no dago but an Englishman. I. never hearrd a dago crack English like him. My own prronunciation isna bettor.” “You knew nothing about him, I suppose?” Pinson asked. “ Naething. Ho was quiet enough. Sullen, ye may say. Paid him oft hero. Ho had"a grreat deesadvantage, being so short-sigkhted ho couldna’ tell a man's face three yards away.” “Ab!” said Pinson. ‘That is a great disadvantage in more ways than one. Well, gentlemen, you’ve been very kind. No doubt I shall bo able to find out all I want to know about Pedro from the address you’ve given. And good morning, and thanks once more.” Pinson and I parted at Fcnchurch street 1 “So far, Quiltcr,” he said, “ I’m keeping my promise. I disregard both Give'’ and" Marple. and devote myself to the dago with the goggles. But you novel know.” He Avent off to keep an appointment with Mrs Pinson, and I spent the afternoon Avith Joan and Ea-glvu. CHAPTER XX. ' Parsons had been to see Evelyn in order to tell her about Selwyn’s will. I now understood why Parsons had refused to give us the names of the executors before avo made our private raid on the deed-box, for the executors were Parsons and himself and—of all men in the ivorld—Marple! Selwyn left them ample remuneration, and made one or tAvo bequests to friends, including Pinson, avlio Avas to select any hundred books ho liked from Sehvyn’s library. Ho left Waller House and its contents to Evelyn, and his interest in Burns, Selwyn, and Sehvyn wont to his partner, Giver. He divided tho residue of his property betAvcen Evelyn and Giver. Parsons thought it would bo a substantial fortune for each of them. No conditions as to Evelyn’s marriage was laid down.

Evelyn’s emotions were torn between gratitude to Selwyn, grief for his loss, and fear for Bernard. Wo avoided discussion of tho subject. It always led either nowhere or to futile speculations about Giver. I said he was undoubtedly all right, and that everything iVould bo cleared up before long. “ Are you sure, Paul?” was Evelyn’s question whenever wo arrived at that point. “ Aro you quite sure?” As my rooms when I returned I found a policeman waiting—in no very good temper. Ho had been kept there lor several hours. He bore a subpoena from tho coroner demanding my attendance at the adjourned inquest ,on Monday. Mr Loniax was making certain that I did not go out of town this time. Therefore, on tho Monday afternoon 1 escorted Evelyn to Waller House. H was queer to find tho familiar place still in the custody of the police, though it had been kept as beautifully as over by the maids, who almost wept over Evelyn, The inquest was held in the dining room, I was glad wo had not to_ sit in tho library where Lomax bad raised that sheet from Selwyn’s face to let mo see it Tho coroner told his jury that he would have to take another adjournment, as the police were not through tlicir inquiries. They were on tho track of fresh evidence, and it was at their request that he would not ask for a verdict the*' To my surprise, the name of the first witness called was my own. I went to the table wondering what Lomax bad in store for me; but I bad agreed with Pinson that if I were called the story I should tell would be exactly what I had said to Lomax himself—no more, no loss. Pinson had considered this deeply. In view of our new line of inquiry, ho thought it nnnecesnry for mo to reveal anything about my meeting with Giver in tho hall—the one substantial, fact 1. had withhold from the police. To my great relief, however, the point was not raised. Nor did Lomax dwell on ray absence from the inquest a week ago. No doubt ho did not want to draw special attention to his omission to warn me to bo there. I was put in as a witness merely to corroborate what Evelyn had told the jury about the events of the atternoou and evening. Nest the coroner recalled Evelyn. They were ail very gentle with her. The" affection existing between her and Giver and Selwyn’s 'objection to their engagement had been brought out before, and this was part of the case against Giver. All the world loves a lover, as the saying goes. That coroner's jury and those policemen certainly loved Evelyn. She was quite composed, though pale and subdued, as she looked to the coroner for bis questions. “I am sorry to trouble you again, Miss Akastcr. Wo would not have recalled you if it had not been necessary. 1 want to ask you something on one point, and 1 believe ,Mr Lomax has a question to put to you. Then wo can release you.” “Thank you,” said Evelyn. “You told us last Monday that Mr Solwyii and Mr Marple wero not only neighbours, but great friends. Now, do you know how long that friendship had lasted ? ’ ’

“A very Joim time,” said she. “ 1 can’t tell how long. Before I was old enough to know anything about it. I’ve heard them talking of their youth, mid oh correspondence they had while Mr Marple was abroad.” “ And so far as you know, that friendship has never been disturbed? They did not eve - quarrel?” • “Never, no far as I know. They were men chums—bachelors together. They talked plainly enough to each other, and disagreed violently about till sorts of things. But they were always on good terms—even affectionate.”

“ You Avero not here wlicn Mr Marplc bought Milton If on,so? You don’t know why ho bought it?” “That was some year* ago, while 1 was at school. But I’vo had u sort of understanding that ho bought it in order to bo near Mr Selwyn. They walked in and out of each other’s gardens and houses freely. In fact, they had an opening made in the Avail botAveen the two gardens, with a gate, just for that purpose.” “Quite so. Put Avhtvn Mr Marple left Waller House on Saturday night, as you and Mr Quiltor have ‘told us, he did not go out by tho garden gate, jbut by the front door.” “Yes, ho did. The reason Avonld be that, tho gate is right at the bottom of the garden, by the tennis hnvn, and for anyone in the house it Avonld bo

(To be continued)

quicker to go round by the front door. Bu; I thought Mr Marple said that when bo left hero be went to Acton without returning to his oavu house.” “Ho told ns so,” said the coroner. “Well, thank yon, Miss Akaster. I think Mr Lomax A\ould like to ask you one question.” Lomax pushed a leather wallet across tho table. “Do you recognise that?” he asked. Evelyn picked it up and handled it. “Yes,” she said. “It’s Mr Selwyn’s. Ho used it pretty often Avben ho wanted to carry any considerable sum of money. It has his initials, ‘J.S..’” “Will you open it and tell us what is there?” She spread the Avallet open. It was full of bank notes. “Money,” she said. “1 have counted it, and it amounts to a thousand pounds—fifty twentypound notes,” said Lomax. “You will confirm that if you look.” “Yes,” said Evelyn, after she had counted the notes. .Next the coroner called a clerk from the City Bank Avherc Sehvyn had an account. He Avas asked to remark the numbers of tho notes and say if ho kneAv anything about thorn. He said Mr Sehvyn called at the bank on Friday afternoon quite late, presented a cheque Avhicli be bad draAvn for a thousand pounds, and took cash: those notes. It Avas unusual for Mr SelAvyn to draw money at the bank in his own person. The last witness Avas Lomax himself. He said an attempt had been made to serve Mr Marple ivith a subpeena to attend the coroner’s court that day, but Mr Marple could not bo found and he was not present. He Avas informed that Mr Marple bad left London on the Monday evening after the inquest. His whereabouts Avere not known to bis household, Avhich consisted only of a housekeeper and a maid. Lomax added that in pursuit of his inquiries ho had taken a Avarrunt to examine Marple’s premises, and in a bureau in Marple’s study ho had found the wallet just produced. “ You do not Avish to say Avhat was tho object of your inquiry? ” the coroner asked. “ I may say this much, that tho wallet was one object of our inquiry. But 1 do not want to say at present how it became so. A warrant has been issued for the arrest of Mr Marple on a charge of being in possession of property suspected of having been stolen or obtained by menaces.” The coroner then adjourned his court for another Aveek. CHAPTER XXI. 1 felt stunned. It Avas an almost unbelievable turn of affairs. As for Evelyn, she was outraged, indignant to tho point of fury at tho. suggestion made against Marple,in Avbora she thoroughly believed. Joan, too, Avben we got back to tho Boltons and told her what had happened. I was not positiA'e enough, nor angry enough for them. They sniffed Avheu I said it Avas all a ghastly tangle and Avould be cleared up in time. They remarked with irony that I had ono formula for everything. What promised to be a tiff Avas cut short by a telephone call from Pinson. “ Thought you’d probably bo there,” he said. “ I’ve just seen tho evening papers with the inquest report. _ This is very serious, Quilter. It needs immediate action. You tell tho girls I Avant to consult you, and that you may bo too busy to see them to-morroAV. Wait, though—ask Miss Evelyn to speak to me herself.”

I called Evelyn to the telephone. She returned, with a new expression on her face. , “ You’d better get along, Paul,” said she. “ Mr Pinson says he’ll be at your rooms in a quarter of an hour. He wants you urgently.” Joan came down in tho lift with me ai> my request. 1 had been obliged to neglect Joan during these days, and she did not like it. But I told her that Pinson and 1 were on tho track of news that might mean everything to Evelyn and Bernard, and that if she did not see mo again for a day or two she must believe the best. “ Between ourselves, Joan,” said T. it was wonderful how even that little rag of a secret shared with her lightened the landscape for Joan, and our parting in tho hall was entirely satisfactory, at any rate to me. Pinson was already at King’s road. My landlady had shown him into rny living room, where he had heaped a, huge coat on the settee and a dressing case stood on tho floor. “Ah! here you aro at last, Quilter. What pernicious fools tho police have been! But get on packing, man. All you want for a couple of days.” “This is so sudden!” said I, still suffering a little from the elation of my two minutes alono with Joan. “ What shall 1 pack, and where are wo going?” Pinson stared at mo with surprise. “ You’re rather on top of yourself this evening, Quilter. Not been drinking, have you? ” I reassured him. “We 11, get on with the packing. I’ve brought my gear. Chuck thing.! you may want in two days into n bag. And bring some food. Now’s our chance to do a good turn to Marple and Giver if I’m not mistaken. That is, provided we’re not already too late.” I was fishing a bag out of a cupboard. " 1 can't quite see what you propose.” said I. “ Well, now we know that tho police aro after Marple, don’t we? And doesn’t that make all tho difference? ” “ I 'hoy’s been after him for a Week.” “ Yes,” said Pinson, with a note of impatience in his_ voice. “ They have. But privately. Now it’s all out in the newspapers. Every newspaper in the country. Lomax footling round lor Marple from Acton is one thing. Every police station in the country and every newspaper reader on tho look-out is another. tluee! Didn’t you say that Marple seemed to bo well known in Bodmin? When they get this news in Bodmin, my dear Quilter, they’ll he’ gin to wake up and take notice. They’ll remember tho name Marple, It’s not tiio commonest name. 'Then, as ho can’t possibly have had Hie news up in his" fastness, adieu Marple. unless wo can got there first.”