CHAPTER IX.
[CAPTAIN MANUEL]
The Spaniard was even darker than is usual with people of his race; also he had an eagle nose and hair very straight, glossy and black. His eyes were large and brilliant, his mouth rather full and a trifle sensual, and his lean, alert figure was peculiarly straight and upright. Added to these advantages he wore a heavy black moustache, which he twirled at times with an insolent air; so that on the whole he was a remarkably handsome man. But there was something uncivilised about him--a strange, wild look, which suggested the soldier of fortune. Probably he was what he represented himself to be--a Peruvian gentleman serving as a captain in the army of the Republic; but to Torry--who was well read for a man of his position--he seemed like a buccaneer or filibuster. It was Captain Kidd in a frock-coat.
At the present moment he seemed much agitated, and, leaning on his stick with both hands, challenged the regard of Leighbourne and Torry. Vass had thrown himself into a chair, and, as his pale face testified, seemed to be overcome with consternation. On the unexpected surprise of this sudden arrival there ensued a short silence; so finding that no one spoke, Captain Manuel addressed himself to all three on the subject of the robbery.
"I gave Mr. Grent ten thousand pounds some three weeks ago," said he, his foreign accent becoming more pronounced in his excitement, "and I went to your bank this day to obtain it. Dios! what do I find!"
"You find that Mr. Grent is dead," said Torry smoothly.
"Yes sir; and my money gone, sir!" to Leighbourne. "I know you are a master in this bank. You will return to me my money."
"That entirely depends on the circumstances of the case, Señor Manuel," replied the banker, who looked pale but composed. "Vass, perhaps you can throw some light on this subject?"
"On my soul I can't, sir," cried Vass, starting to his feet. "I only know that Mr. Grent told me he had received in bank notes the sum of ten thousand pounds from Captain Manuel some three weeks ago. He kept the money for some time down at Wray House; but as he was going to Italy, he did not think it would be safe to leave it there; so he brought it up to the bank and told me to place it in his private safe. I did so in his presence, and he locked the door. Afterwards he went away, and I heard nothing more of him until the news of the murder came."
"If this is true, my money should be right," said Manuel sharply.
"It is not in the safe!" cried Vass wildly. "When Captain Manuel came to-day to ask for his money, I told him that I could not give it to him as I had no authority to do so. He wished then to see if it was all right, so in his presence I opened the safe, only to find that the notes were gone."
"Well Mr. Grent could not have taken them," said Leighbourne.
"No, no," said Vass; "He did not. I tell you he locked the safe in my presence."
"Could he not have returned?" asked Torry.
"Not without someone in the bank seeing him."
"But after office hours?"
"Even then the porter would have seen him," groaned Vass, who seemed very wretched. "There are only two entrances to the bank, and James, the porter has the keys of both. No one can go or come without passing him; he is bound to see all who enter."
"Did you ask him if Mr. Grent returned?"
"Yes--but he says no! Like myself, he saw Mr. Grent last on Friday."
Here Captain Manuel interposed sharply. "All this is well, sirs, but to me unnecessary. My money is what I wish. You give it to me."
"I'll speak to my father about it," said Leighbourne quickly. "You shall not lose your money if I can help it. But I would point out to you, sir, that the bank is not responsible for the amount."
"Not responsible?" echoed Manuel, striking his stick furiously on the floor.
"No!" answered the banker firmly. "Your money was not deposited with our firm, but placed by you in the keeping of Mr. Grent. He, therefore, was responsible for its safety."
"But he is dead; and cannot repay me."
"His estate is no doubt large enough to repay you. I shall speak to my father, as I said before. He is one of the executors; and I have no doubt he will refund this ten thousand pounds out of the property left by Mr. Grent, on receiving proof that you paid the money."
"I have a paper signed by Mr. Grent stating that he received the money," said Manuel sullenly, "and this gentleman," waving his stick towards Vass, "was told by Mr. Grent that the money was mine."
Vass looked up eagerly. "Mr. Grent said that the money belonged to some society," said he.
"It does. To a society of which I am the representative."
"Oh! oh! oh!" cried Torry, in three different keys; he was struck by a new idea, and looked directly at Manuel. "Has your society anything to do with Peru?"
"Possibly," returned Manuel superciliously; "but my society, sir, has nothing to do with you."
"Ah!" said the detective ironically; "I am not a Blue Mummy!"
This time Captain Manuel was fairly taken by surprise. Evidently the random shot of the detective had unexpectedly hit the mark. The Spaniard flushed a dusky red; stepped forward; on second thoughts stepped back; and recovered his former serenity with an effort.
"I don't know what you mean," he said sullenly. Torry whistled softly, but said nothing. The attitude of the Spaniard confirmed the suspicions he entertained concerning the Blue Mummy. Evidently it was the badge of some secret society to which Manuel belonged. If so, as the token of the Blue Mummy had been found near both the victims, they must have been murdered by order of the association. But for what reason? Plainly because the ten thousand pounds which represented the funds of the society had been stolen. But who was the thief? Here Torry came to a pause, as his reason or imagination could lead him no further. However, to discover more, he determined to have Manuel watched; but in the meantime he was wise enough to hold his tongue.
Seeing that the detective made no reply, Manuel turned his back on him with a shrug of contempt, and walked smartly towards the door. There he turned and addressed Leighbourne.
"I shall expect repayment of that money within a fortnight," he said coldly. "Otherwise----"
"Well," cried the banker defiantly, "otherwise?"
"You will have to deal with the society," replied Manuel with grim significance, and disappeared as suddenly as he had entered. The three men left behind looked at one another.
"What does he mean by that threat?" asked Leighbourne uneasily.
"He means assassination, I fancy," said Torry coolly.
"Assassination!" cried Vass, staring up. "You mean----?
"Well," said the detective thoughtfully, "of course I may be wrong; but it strikes me that this secret society to which Manuel refers, and of which he apparently is the treasurer, is an association somewhat after the fashion of the Italian Carbonari. That society was founded for patriotic purposes tempered by assassination. Probably Manuel's association is formed to overturn the present Government of his beloved country. To do so funds are needed, and the ten thousand pounds given to Mr. Grent are doubtless the moneys of the society. Failing Mr. Grent, who is dead, the society represented by Manuel will no doubt hold the bank responsible; and if the moneys are not refunded, may attempt to kill those who represent the bank. Stay you, Mr. Leighbourne, and Mr. Vass here."
"Bah!" cried Leighbourne, with a forced laugh. "You are trying to frighten us. People don't do such things nowadays."
"Don't they?" rejoined Torry drily. "What about the Anarchists? But I'll tell you one thing, gentlemen: whichever one of you is killed, the image of a Blue Mummy will be found beside him."
"What?" cried Vass aghast--"do you think that this society you speak of killed Mr. Grent?"
"Going by circumstantial evidence, I do."
"But for what reason?"
"Because I fancy Mr. Grent stole that money, and intended to bolt to America with it."
"Impossible!" said Vass. "I tell you I saw the money in the safe after he left."
"Well, if he did not take it himself, someone who had the key of the safe must have done so, by his order."
The secretary rose with a very red face. "Do you mean to say that I took the money?"
"I was not aware that I accused you, Mr. Vass," said Torry.
"But you do accuse me. Only Mr. Grent and myself can open that safe, which is in his private room. I swear he did not take the money, and on my oath I declare that I am guiltless. Don't you believe me, sir?" cried Vass, turning appealingly towards Leighbourne.
"Yes, I believe you," replied the banker emphatically. "I am sure you never took the money out of the safe."
"Would I be such a fool?" said Vass, turning again towards Torry. "The money was in bank-notes, in two bundles of five thousand pounds each. Twenty notes of five hundred pounds each--ten in one bundle, the same number in the other. Manuel has the numbers of these notes, so is it unlikely that I could do anything with bank-notes of such value of which the numbers are known to their owner. I could not change a single one without being found out, and then what benefit would the theft do me. I am neither a fool nor a criminal, Mr. Torry."
The detective could not but be struck by this reasoning, which was feasible enough. In the face of the known value and known numbers of the notes, it was ridiculous to suspect Vass. To steal the money under the circumstances would have been simply to court arrest, and the detective, taking a common-sense view of the question, acquitted Vass of the robbery.
"I believe you to be innocent," he said genially; "but who is guilty?"
"I do not know," said the secretary gloomily, "other than myself and Mr. Grent, no one could have stolen these notes. Mr. Grent did not, I did not; so I can't see how they have disappeared."
"Might not the key of the safe have been stolen?"
Vass produced a bunch of keys out of his pocket and selected one. "Here is my key," said he holding it up. "It is never off this chain, or out of my possession."
Torry nodded and crossed over to the desk on which Mr. Grent's bunch of keys still lay. Amongst them he found a key similar in all respects to that shown by Vass.
"So here is Mr. Grent's key," he said, comparing it with the secretary's, "and safe on his chain, in his rooms which no one could have entered since the murder. It is very strange. I don't exactly see my way," he scratched his chin thoughtfully, then cried: "The hat!"
"What hat?" asked Leighbourne, amazed at the irrelevancy of the remark.
"The hat of the dead woman which was made for Donna Maria Sandoval. I must question her at once about that, and then, and then--well, we'll see."