CHAPTER VIII.
[THE ROBBERY]
The rooms which belonged to Jesse Grent were in Duke street, St. James's, and were very comfortably furnished, in a plain and unpretentious manner. Evidently the dead man had been simple in his tastes, and, notwithstanding his wealth, had refrained from indulging in luxury. These chambers were looked after by the landlord of the house, a retired butler, who appeared dignified enough to be a bishop, yet who was plainly afraid of the law as personified by Torry. He answered the many questions of the detective with anxious humility, but the information he gave was worth little.
Mr. Grent was a good tenant, he said, but capricious in his comings and goings which, in the butler's opinion, might be due to the fact that his house at Wraybridge was no very great distance from town. It was only when Mr. Grent was very late, that he remained all night at his chambers. On the day of the murder--it was a Saturday--Mr. Grent had notified that he was going to Italy, and would probably be away two weeks. It was at five o'clock that he had said this; then he had dined at his club, and evidently had gone to the theatre. The butler saw him when he returned at 10.30 in the evening. That was the last he saw of him, and he did not know if Mr. Grent had gone out that night.
"But he did go out," said Torry, "and never returned. Could you not see in the morning that his bed had not been slept in."
"Beg pardon," replied the butler--Meek was his name and Meek his nature--"but Mr. Grent was a very peculiar gentleman, sir. He told me never to go into his rooms unless he rang the bell, so, as he did not ring the bell, I did not venture into his rooms. When I heard that he was murdered I did."
"And found the bed unslept in?"
"Yes, sir. He must have gone out about eleven, but I did not hear him."
"Did Mr. Grent ever receive visitors here?"
"Sometimes, sir," replied Meek. "He had one in the afternoon of the Saturday--a tall dark gentleman who looked like a foreigner. He was in some foreign army, too," added garrulous Mr. Meek, "for when I took up his card to Mr. Grent I saw he was a Captain."
"Captain Manuel?"
"It was Captain something sir, but I really can't remember the exact name."
"H'm," said Torry thoughtfully, "I have no doubt it is the same person I have in my mind. Any other visitor?"
"A lady came sometimes, sir. She came shortly after the Captain on that Saturday."
"And what was her name?"
"I can't say. She never gave her card, and always wore a heavy veil."
"You could not identify her in any way?"
"Not by her personal appearance, sir; but she did wear a peculiar ring. On Saturday she was paying her cab, and took off her right-hand glove to find a piece of gold which had slipped into a corner of her purse. I then noticed that on the third finger she wore a silver ring set with three blue stones."
"Turquoise stones, no doubt," said Torry. "I'll make a note of that, as I should like to know who this woman is."
"But, sir!" cried Meek in dismay, "you don't think this lady has had anything to do with the murder?"
Torry shrugged his shoulders. "As to that," he remarked tritely, "I can only say that a woman is at the bottom of every trouble. This may be the woman concerned in this especial affair."
At this moment Mr. Leighbourne arrived according to appointment, and, with Torry, he was conducted up stairs into the chambers of the late Mr. Grent. These had a damp musty smell as though they had been uninhabited for some time, and both bedroom and sitting-room were in a state of great confusion. Travelling-rugs, dressing-bags, and portmanteaux were scattered about the sitting-room, and in the bedroom there were piles of shirts, heaps of clothes, and all the impedimenta of a man bound on a long journey. What particularly struck Torry was the presence of a large American trunk, half full of wearing apparel.
"That is a big box to take on a short journey," said he thoughtfully.
"I don't call a journey to Italy a short one," replied Leighbourne, who looked worried and ill, and spoke sharply. "It takes two days and two nights to reach Florence."
"Maybe, sir. But Mr. Grent intended to stay only two weeks according to Meek, here."
"Yes, sir," chimed in the deferential butler, "Only two weeks."
"In which case," continued the detective, "he would hardly need so many clothes. A portmanteau of that size and a dressing-bag would have contained ample, unless," added Torry, looking at Leighbourne, "Mr. Grent was a masher."
The young banker laughed. "No, indeed," said he, with assumed lightness, "my poor friend cared nothing for dress."
"Then," said Torry decisively, "you may be sure, he intended to take a much longer journey than you suppose."
"But he said he was going to Italy."
"He might have said so as a blind, but he certainly did not intend to go there, or," added Torry, with emphasis, "if he did it was to reach Naples or Brindisi and catch an out-going liner to Australia. Ha!" Torry stopped speaking and slapped his thigh.
"What's the matter, sir?" asked the butler nervously.
"Oh, you are there," said Torry turning sharply on him. "Then you can go downstairs. If I need you I'll ring."
"But can't I be of service here sir," urged Meek who was filled with curiosity.
"If I need you I'll ring," repeated Torry, and pointed towards the door. The butler was obliged to go, and withdrew with manifest unwillingness. Torry saw him descend the stairs, and locked the outer door of the chambers, after which he returned to Leighbourne, who watched this conduct with ill-concealed nervousness.
"Why do you send Meek away?" he asked with some hesitation.
"Because I wish to speak to you privately," replied Torry promptly. "You are not open with me Mr. Leighbourne."
"What do you mean?" demanded the young man, flushing.
"Is your bank solvent?" asked Torry, in his turn.
The other jumped to his feet in a violent rage. "Solvent!" he cried, "of course it is solvent. How dare you hint that anything is wrong with our business."
"I hint," replied Torry, "because I wish to know the reason Mr. Grent intended to run off to South America."
"To South America!" repeated Leighbourne, in a stupified tone. "How do you know he thought of going there?"
"Because I believe Mr. Grent intended to go to Genoa, and take the first boat to Peru."
"Why Peru?"
"Oh, that is a fancy of mine," rejoined Torry with a shrug. "Mr. Grent has a Spanish wife; the murder was committed with a Spanish knife; and two tomb images from Peru are mixed up in the matter; therefore I believe that if Mr. Grent chose any place to fly to, he would go to Lima."
"But why should he fly?"
"This is what I ask you," said the detective coolly.
"I am sure you will be able to supply the reason; so to give you time to make up your mind, I'll look for the ticket to Italy."
Leaving Leighbourne sitting much astonished in the chair, Torry crossed the room to a writing-table placed directly under the window, so as to get all available light. On this lay many papers tossed about in confusion; and through these Torry looked rapidly, but without finding any ticket to Italy. The middle drawer was not locked, and in this the detective discovered a bunch of keys, one of which fitted all the drawers of the escritoire. Within were letters and bills and memoranda; but none of these did Torry examine very closely, as, at the present moment he was bent on discovering the ticket to Genoa or Naples. All his search proved futile, so he desisted with a lowering race and glanced round the room. Leighbourne, who had been biting his fingers, brightened up at this failure, and sneered.
"You see, things are not as you think," he said in a tone of relief.
"One moment," returned Torry. "I am not yet at the end of my resources."
His keen eye had caught sight of a fur travelling-coat hanging up in a distant corner; and towards this he walked. On purchasing the ticket, he thought, Mr. Grent would probably put it in the breast pocket of his travelling-coat, so as to run no risk of leaving it behind. As he had been disguised on the night of his murder, it was improbable that he would have taken it with him.
"If anywhere," said Torry, putting his hand into the breast-pocket of the fur coat, "it will be here. Hullo!"
The exclamation was drawn from him in sheer astonishment. He had found not one ticket, but two; and both were made out by Cook, from London to Genoa.
"Two tickets!" cried Torry in amazement. "Then he intended to take someone with him."
Leighbourne jumped up and looked at the two tickets over Torry's shoulder. "It is very strange," said he at length. "You are right, Mr. Torry; Mr. Grent intended to go away. But why to Genoa?"
"To catch the boat to Lima, of course."
"There is no line to Lima from Italy."
"There is a line of steamers to Buenos Ayres, however," said Torry briskly. "I know that for a fact. I wonder who the woman is?"
"The woman?"
"Yes. You needn't tell me Mr. Grent intended to take a male companion. I have it!" cried Torry suddenly. "He intended to bolt with the woman he met."
"With the woman who killed him? Impossible."
"Bah! the woman did not kill him. It was the man who struck the blow. Yes, yes," murmured the detective, his eyes lighting up with joy. "I see it all. Grent met this woman in order to bring her back here and fly with her. While they were talking in Mortality-lane they were interrupted by the man--probably the lover or the husband of the woman--and out of jealousy he killed Grent. It is as plain as day."
"But it is impossible, I tell you!" cried Leighbourne furiously. "Mr. Grent was devotedly attached to his wife; he would not leave her for another woman."
"Then he must have contemplated bolting because of money troubles," said the detective promptly. "Own the truth, Mr. Leighbourne. Was Grent in difficulties?"
Before the banker could reply, there came a furious knocking at the outer door, and the two men looked at one another in a startled manner. Torry recovered himself at once, and without a word and ran to the door and threw it open. To his surprise, Vass, the secretary, looking much agitated, ran past him into the room. He was followed at a more leisurely pace by a tall, dark man, who looked like a foreigner; and who was also agitated; but in a lesser degree than Vass.
"Captain Manuel!" cried Leighbourne quickly. "Mr. Vass, what is the matter?"
"Robbery!" gasped the secretary. "Robbery!"
"What are you saying?" said the banker, while Torry listened attentively.
"Mr. Grent's private safe has been robbed!" cried Vass--"robbed of ten thousand pounds in notes!"
"Yes," said Captain Manuel in very good English, "and that money belongs to me."