Crime at Tattenham Corner (26 page)

Downstairs Stoddart went straight to the manager's room, where he found that functionary awaiting him, anxious, perturbed and more than a little wrathful.

“I hope you are satisfied, inspector?” he began.

Stoddart looked him gravely in the face.

“Satisfied that matters are as I thought. I understand that her ladyship will be home to lunch?”

“Usually she is, not invariably.”

The manager's face had whitened visibly.

“Well, we must have patience an hour or two longer if she is not. You have seen to it that the private telephone is disconnected. And the men will be stationed as I have directed. All of them will show my red check.”

“Yes, yes. All your instructions will be carried out. But, once more, I must appeal to you. Is it really necessary that this – this” – he paused as if searching for a word – “this affair should take place here?”

The inspector looked at him.

“Absolutely. Can't you see for yourself that no other course is possible? I must ring up the Yard without delay; but perhaps I had better go to a public office. In the meantime, no one but Lady Burslem and anybody with her is to enter her rooms. Should any callers come, they all – including Mrs. James Burslem and Miss Burslem – are to be told that Lady Burslem is not receiving to-day. After Lady Burslem has returned no one is to be allowed to leave her suite until you hear from me. My men will see to this, but it will be necessary for you to give the orders to your own staff. You understand that the hotel is surrounded and every exit guarded. The front door into the lounge is the only one through which visitors will be allowed to pass unquestioned. So it will probably be as well to make certain that the others are not used.”

The manager groaned. “It is terrible, terrible. I rely upon you, inspector, to carry the whole affair out as quietly and as expeditiously as possible.”

“You may rely upon me,” the inspector told him.

He waited for no more, but went quickly to the nearest call office and rang up his own department at Scotland Yard. Then he asked for Harbord.

“I have decided that I must stay here,” he said, when he got on. “Join me at once and ask for Miles Rashton.”

He went back to Stormount's and waited, his sharp eyes scanning the faces of the crowd of guests. Then when he thought Harbord was about due, he went outside and walked up and down on the opposite side of the street, keeping meanwhile a sharp look-out on all who went in and out of the hotel and on one of his own men who was occupied apparently on a little job at the street lamp. He had timed Harbord well. He had not been out five minutes when a taxi drove up with his assistant. Harbord's usually pale face was flushed this morning. His eyes were bright and excited as he sprang out and joined the inspector.

“I met the slavey, sir, and showed her the photograph. She thinks it is that of Mr. Ellerby.”

The inspector looked a trifle disappointed. “She is not sure?”

“Well, she did not seem quite certain, sir. She said it was like him, but that when he was with Mrs. Johnson he was growing a beard and his face always looked rough. And he was whiter than the man in that photograph.” 

“Oh!” The inspector glanced at him. “Did you see it yourself?”

“Yes.'' Harbord nodded, eyeing his superior keenly.

“Did you recognize it?”

“I think so, though there were a good many – alterations.”

“And you were surprised?”

“I was never so amazed in my life.”

“And the Burslem Mystery is a mystery no longer to you?” the inspector went on.

“I would not say that, sir,” Harbord dissented. “In some ways it seems to me more mysterious than ever. But this main fact is so stupendous, so extraordinary that – that – well, I hardly seem to have grasped that yet. How did you discover it, sir?”

“Really, I hardly know.” The inspector looked even a little puzzled himself. “I think the vaguest suspicion of it flashed across my mind in that first minute at Hughlin's Wood. I really think it must have been intuition. Then a succession of the veriest trifles seemed to confirm my theory. Straws which show which way the wind blows, you know.”

Harbord coughed. “I wish they had shown me which way it was blowing.”

“Well, my lad, you can't be right every time,” the inspector observed comfortingly. “Remember that North Withers case. You were perfectly marvellous there. And you have done some real good spade-work in this Burslem affair. I would sooner have you at my side than any man I know.”

“You are very good, sir.” And Harbord looked intensely gratified at this tribute from his chief. “I suppose the – the arrest is to be made this morning. I heard at the Yard that some of our best men were detailed for special duty to-day.”

“The arrest or arrests may be made any minute now,” the inspector said, his eyes never relaxing their watch over the entrance to the hotel. “I am merely waiting for her ladyship to return from business. I had to let her go before I was certain of my facts, but I thought she would have been back again before this. I only hope nothing has occurred to warn her. Of course we might have followed her to the City. But, as I could not be in two places at once, I thought it better to wait here and get the whole thing over at one fell swoop. Oh, by Jove, there she is, and the last woman on earth I wanted to see with her!”

To Harbord's amusement he whisked out of sight behind a waiting taxi and watched as a car drove up with Lady Burslem inside, and Mrs. Jimmy sitting next her in luxurious ease.

The car drew up at the lounge entrance and both ladies got out. The commissionaire threw open the glass swing doors and they passed in. The inspector rubbed his handkerchief across his heated brows.

“My hat! Who would have thought of this? There'll be the devil to pay! Just find out what they are doing, Alfred – whether they are staying in the lounge.”

Harbord went to investigate and returned with the information that neither of the ladies was to be seen, and that having interviewed the lift man he was able to report that both had gone up to Lady Burslem's rooms.

The inspector drew a deep breath.

“Well, well, it can't be helped. We must put a bold face upon it. Come along, Alfred. You have the darbies, of course?”

By way of answer Harbord put his hand in his over-coat pocket and just let the inspector catch the gleam of bright metal. Then he dropped his hand with a clink of chains.

The detectives passed in through the lounge. And it was noticeable as they got in the lift that a couple of men who had been taking a cup of coffee together near the door followed them, while two others went quickly up the stairs at the side.

For a moment the manager appeared under the archway that was the entrance to the larger dining room. His face was white, his eyes were dark with fear as he looked after them. Altogether he might have stood for a tragic figure of despair.

Two men in plain clothes were standing in the passage leading to Lady Burslem's rooms. As the inspector knocked at the door the two who had walked upstairs joined them breathlessly.

The door was opened fairly quickly by the French maid. Her face brightened as she saw the inspector.

“Ah! It ees you,” she began, then, as she caught sight of the men behind him, she broke off; her smiles vanished. “But it ees impossible dat you can come in now. Milady, she 'as just come in and she is ver' angry dat I let you look at de electric before. She say she will have no workmen in her rooms at all. And she is going to write to ze manager.”

“Quite the best thing she can do,” the inspector said equably. “But I am not after repairs this time, mademoiselle. I must see her ladyship at once and also Señor Jaime da Dominiguez.”

“You cannot see Milady. I have told you dat she will not 'ave me let you in. Also de Señor. Nevaire, nevaire will he see anyone or go out. You cannot come in, monsieur,” giving the door a little angry shake in an endeavour to shut it as the inspector put his foot inside.

“No use, mademoiselle,” the inspector said firmly.

He took her hand from the door, and pushed it wide, then beckoned to Harbord and two of the other men to follow. Marie stared at them with wide-open eyes.

In the first room he came to he heard the sound of voices, both of them familiar – Lady Burslem's and Mrs. Jimmy's. He heard the echo of the latter's loud laugh. He hesitated near the door for a moment, then signed to the two men behind to take up their position outside it, while he and Harbord went on to the next. He tried the handle, but the door was locked. Then he knocked loudly on the panel with his bare knuckles. There was silence for a minute, then a man's deep voice with a Spanish accent, the one the inspector had heard earlier in the day, said in clear tones:

“Who's there? No one can come in here.”

The inspector's answer was to knock again louder than before.

“Open at once!” he ordered. “Or we break down the door.” 

Another silence, then footsteps were heard crossing the room, the door was unlocked and a tall, gaunt man stood facing them, his back to the light.

“What is the meaning of this intrusion? Who are you?” he asked; and it was noticeable that there was no trace of any foreign accent; the voice was entirely English now.

“I am Detective Inspector Stoddart of Scotland Yard,” the inspector began, then he drew a paper from his pocket.

“I thought as much,” the man in the doorway said quietly. “The man to attend to the electric light too, are you not? I have been expecting this visit. Will you come in?” He moved away from the door.

The inspector and Harbord stepped inside.

“You know my errand. I arrest you, John Victor Burslem, alias Jaime da Dominiguez, for the murder of your brother James Burslem on June 3rd last at Hughlin's Wood. And it is my duty to warn you that anything you say in answer to the charge will be taken down and may be used in evidence against you.”

He made an almost imperceptible sign to Harbord, and in another moment the younger man with the dexterity of long practice had snapped the handcuffs on the secretary's thin wrists.

“Was this necessary?” the prisoner said reproachfully. “I shall not attempt to escape.”

“I think it is necessary,” the inspector returned grimly. “As for the rest, there is more than one way of escape, you know, Sir John.”

There was a faint smile on Sir John's face.

“I know. But I shall not try them, inspector. I wonder whether you will believe me when I tell you that I am rather glad to see you to-day? Life has been intolerable since – since that 3rd of June. I should have given myself up long ago, but for my dear wife's sake.”

As the last word left his lips the door on the opposite side opened and Lady Burslem looked in.

“Are you there, Señor da Dominiguez? There is some copying to be done about that transfer. And I want you to –”

“Not to do any more writing, I hope, my dear,” Sir John said with the same sad smile. “Sophie dear, this is the end. You have done everything that a woman could and more than I ought to have let you. Be brave for a few weeks longer, and then your life can be lived in the open again.”

Lady Burslem stood like a statue during this speech. Every drop of colour ebbed slowly from cheeks and lips. Then like an avenging fury she sprang between her husband and his captors.

“You shall not! You shall not! I tell you –”

“Sophie!” Sir John made a motion as though he would have caught her in his arms but for his manacled wrists. “We can do nothing but submit to the inevitable.” Then he turned to Stoddart again. 

“Take me away, please. This is getting more than either of us can stand.”

Glancing at Harbord, Stoddart made a sign to the door behind. With one last lingering look at his wife, Sir John Burslem went with his captors.

“The side-door. You will meet no one. I have arranged for that,” Stoddart said quietly, as they passed.

Lady Burslem did not speak. She had slipped back against the wall, staring at the detective.

Stoddart looked at her with pity.

“I do not suppose you will believe me, Lady Burslem; but I am more sorry to do what I have to do now than I can say.”

Lady Burslem made no reply though her eyes followed the detective's every movement. He came near her and spoke in a slow, gentle voice.

“Sophie Charlotte Ann Burslem, I arrest you as an accessory after the fact to the murder of his brother James Burslem by your husband John Victor Burslem. And it is my duty to tell you that anything you say will be taken down in writing and may be used in evidence against you.”

Lady Burslem made no reply. Her eyes looked straight at him with a glassy, unnatural stare.

The inspector waited awhile then he touched the electric bell. When the maid appeared he said:

“Will you put just a few things such as her ladyship will need for one night in a suit-case, please, mademoiselle.” 

The maid tossed her head, her cheeks were red, and her eyes looked back at him defiantly.

“Ees it zat you tink I take orders from you, monsieur?”

Then at last Lady Burslem spoke:

“Please put the things together. I shall need enough for a week-end visit, Marie. Later I will send for them, and for now I shall take just the things I shall need for the night, as monsieur says.”

“
Oui
, milady.” Marie looked at her, pointedly turning her back to Stoddart. “And for me, milady, do I come wiz you?”

“Certainly not!” Lady Burslem was pulling herself together now. Her voice was so restrained and cool that the inspector glanced at her with approval. “Bring me my black pull-on hat and my black marocain coat, now. And then – you can go on with the lace you are mending. You will find another piece that wants doing on the shelf in the wardrobe.”

Marie disappeared in search of the required garments and very soon reappeared with them. As soon as she had put them on her mistress and handed her her gloves and fur stole, she burst out: