CHAPTER LI.—HEY, PRESTO!
Coutts having seen that his father and sisters were provided with all necessary comforts, hastened to the city. He had an appointment which could not be postponed; he could do nothing more at Ringsford; in town he could arrange with some contractor to send out a band of men to make the least injured portion of the Manor again habitable, and to clear away the débris as quickly as possible.
The appointment was to meet Philip and Wrentham at Mr Shield’s apartments. Coutts was confident that the bill he held was a forgery. He had no doubt Philip had been fooled into it somehow, but that was no reason why he should be fooled out of it. The way Shield had received him plainly indicated that he would give him no place in his will; whilst he was anxious to avoid scandal which would involve Philip.
‘Well, if the old fellow won’t give me a slice of his fortune, I’ll screw a plum out of it,’ was Coutts’s agreeable reflection. ‘I have the forged bill, and unless he hands me over double the amount, I don’t give it up.’
That was a ‘smart’ stroke of business, which delighted Coutts almost as much as the prospect of gaining such a large sum of money, and of making the ‘old fellow’ stump up in spite of himself. There was, too, in his mind a kind of moral fitness in the transaction; for it would be paying out this precious uncle for some of the annoyance he had caused his father. In addition, there was to be reckoned the satisfaction of outwitting one of the cutest scamps he had come across—a fellow who had overreached even him—for with the same move which was to checkmate Shield, Wrentham would be paid out too. He gave little consideration to his brother, having no doubt that he would escape all right somehow.
He had secured the services of a detective who possessed the highest qualifications for his office, namely, he was not like a detective at all in manner, appearance or speech. Meeting Sergeant Dier in an ordinary way, you would regard him as a successful commercial man. There was not the slightest flavour of Scotland Yard about him. He was a good actor, a good singer, and a capital story-teller. Some of his most important discoveries were made whilst he was entertaining a roomful of company with his merry anecdotes. The secret of his success lay partly in a natural gift for his business, his enthusiasm, and the good-nature which underlay it all. He never allowed a scoundrel to escape; but he dealt very gently with any poor creature who might be betrayed into a first crime.
When Coutts reached his office, Sergeant Dier was waiting for him. Any one looking at the detective as he stood, bareheaded, reading a newspaper, would have imagined that he was one of the bank officials. He accompanied Coutts to his private room.
‘Well, what news have you?’
‘Our man has everything prepared for a holiday abroad,’ was Dier’s smiling reply.
‘Can he get away?’
‘O dear, no; he is at present under the eye of one of my friends, and he has been obliged to delay his departure until to-morrow, owing to a difficulty he has found in collecting his funds on such short notice.’
‘Is that all?’
‘There is a little more,’ said Dier complacently. ‘I have found a man who can identify his writing under any disguise.’
‘Who is he?’
‘Our man’s brother. It was not easy to persuade him to help us, but he consented at the last moment, and is to meet us at Mr Shield’s place.’
‘Capital,’ said Coutts. ‘You understand, I do not wish to proceed to extremities unless we are forced to it.’
‘So you informed me; but the case is turning out such a pretty one that it would have been an honour to explain it in court.’
‘Never mind the honour; we’ll balance that somehow. I shall be ready in twenty minutes, and will meet you at the hotel.’
Sergeant Dier bowed and left. Outside the room he nodded and smiled to himself as he placed a glossy hat jauntily on his head. Mentally and cheerfully he was saying: ‘I don’t care about that chap—not much. I should not be surprised to find him coming my way sometime with the positions changed.’
Coutts examined letters, signed papers brought to him by his chief clerk, and punctually at the expiration of twenty minutes was on his way to Mr Shield’s hotel. At the door he found Sergeant Dier and Bob Tuppit waiting. The poor little conjurer was nervous, and evidently required all the robust encouragement of the good-natured detective to sustain him in going through with the task he had been persuaded to undertake.
They were immediately conducted to Mr Shield’s sitting-room. Coutts was a little surprised and not pleased to find that Philip and Wrentham had arrived before him; and beside Mr Shield stood Mr Beecham—for whom he entertained an instinctive dislike, not to mention that on the few occasions of their meeting his wittiest cynicisms had been silenced by the quiet searching gaze of the elder man.
Philip had not yet heard of the previous night’s events at Ringsford. He was pale, but calm, and he greeted his brother somewhat coldly. Wrentham was apparently at ease and playing his part of devoted and therefore anxious friend to perfection. He had not yet caught sight of Bob Tuppit, who easily hid himself behind the broad shoulders of Sergeant Dier.
‘I expected,’ said Coutts after formal salutations, ‘to have had the pleasure of a few minutes’ private conversation with you, Mr Shield, before we proceeded with this disagreeable business.’
‘I don’t think it necessary,’ answered Shield in his brusque way.
‘As you will, sir,’ continued Coutts with a slight inclination of the head. ‘I have brought with me two persons who will, I believe, aid us materially in the inquiry we are about to make.’
‘Who are they?’ was the blunt query, indicating Mr Shield’s usual impatience of palaver.
‘This is Mr Dier, who is interested on my behalf; and this’——
‘Is a friend of mine,’ interposed Dier blandly, ‘who is an expert in distinguishing handwriting.’
Wrentham was the only one who showed surprise at these introductions, and he moved a little backward at sight of Bob Tuppit, covering his uneasiness by a slight cough, as if clearing his throat. Shield looked at Beecham, and the latter spoke.
‘A very good idea, Mr Hadleigh, and as I have some acquaintance with Mr Tuppit, I can vouch for his ability to discharge any task he undertakes. I presume you have shown him specimens of the different handwritings?’
‘I do not understand your position in this affair, Mr Beecham,’ said Coutts superciliously; ‘I can only address myself to Mr Shield, or if he chooses, I can retire, and let the matter take the ordinary legal course.’
‘I am here as the friend of Mr Shield,’ was the reply, without the least symptom of irritation at the manner and words of Coutts.
‘You can speak to him as you would to me,’ growled Shield.
‘Oh, very well,’ said Coutts, shrugging his shoulders. ‘I thought you wanted to keep the affair as quiet as possible. But, please yourself. Then, I have not submitted any writing to Mr Tuppit, whose name I learn from Mr Beecham. He, being perfectly acquainted with the penmanship of one of the persons concerned, I thought it would be more satisfactory to you to have the investigation made in your presence.’
He glanced at Wrentham as he spoke, and that gentleman assumed an air of curiosity and interest.
‘Begin with Tuppit at once: that will cut the thing short,’ said Shield, as if already impatient of the delay caused by these preliminaries.
‘Then here is a sheet of paper which Mr Shield has already signed,’ said Mr Beecham. ‘Will you put down your name, Mr Philip, and you, Mr Wrentham?’
They signed at once, and there was no reluctance apparent on the part of either, but the grand flourish which Wrentham was in the habit of drawing under his signature was not quite so steady as usual.
‘Now,’ proceeded Mr Beecham, ‘here is a scrap of paper on which Mr Shield has written a few words. Will you both write something on separate slips, and that will enable us to test Mr Tuppit’s skill in distinguishing the writers.’
This having been done, the sheet bearing the three signatures was first given to Tuppit, and it shook slightly in his hand as he advanced to the window to inspect it carefully. He then laid the paper on the table.
‘I think I know the character of the writings now,’ he said.
The three slips were next handed to him, and he named the writer of each correctly.
‘Clever chap—knows what he is about,’ was Shield’s comment. Then looking almost fiercely at Coutts: ‘Suppose you have brought your paper with you?’
‘Certainly.’
‘Show it then, and let us hear what he has to say about it.’
Coutts slowly took out his pocket-book and looked inquiringly at Sergeant Dier. The latter had been observing the whole proceedings with that kind of interest which a skilful player bestows on an exciting game at cards or billiards. He responded promptly to Coutts’s look.
‘Best thing you can do, sir. It will settle the whole business at once.’
But Coutts did not want to settle the whole business until he had spoken to Shield in private, and explained the terms on which publicity might be avoided. So he put in a hypocritical protest which he hoped would aid him in making his bargain by-and-by.
‘You are aware, Mr Shield, that there are reasons why I do not wish this matter to go beyond ourselves; and I believe you have the same desire. On that account we need not regard Mr Tuppit’s decision as final.’
‘I shall,’ answered Shield, frowning. ‘Hand him the paper.’
Coutts obeyed with the reluctant air of one who is compelled to do something he dislikes. He did not look at Philip, who was watching him with pitying eyes.
‘It is rather a serious thing, gentlemen,’ said Tuppit, speaking for the first time, and now as coolly as if he were on his conjuring platform, ‘a very serious thing to give a decided opinion in a case of this sort without very careful examination. You will permit me to compare the signatures on this paper with the writing on the different papers you showed me.’ He gathered them up in his hand as he spoke. ‘I must use a magnifying glass.’
He whipped one out from the tail-pocket of his coat. Then with its aid he carefully compared the writings. After ten minutes he rose, and instead of giving his decision, he advanced to Philip with the bill in his hand.
‘That is your signature,’ he said.
‘It is,’ replied Philip, quietly.
Coutts gave a slight shake of the head, as if this was no more than he expected although he deplored it. Wrentham’s eyes moved restlessly from one face to the other.
Tuppit next advanced to Mr Shield.
‘This is the signature of Mr Austin Shield.’
‘That is the signature of Austin Shield,’ was the answer after a brief glance at the writing.