The inspector nodded. Cyril B. Carnthwacke's name and his millions were well known to the man in the street.
“When we were married he gave the most gorgeous jewels,” Mrs. Carnthwacke went on. “And he made me an enormous allowance. Americans are always generous—bless you, I thought I was going to have the time of my life. But I—I had never been rich. Even when I got on on the stage and had a big salary I was always in debt. I suppose I am extravagant by nature. Anyway, when I was married it seemed to me that I had an inexhaustible store to fall back upon. I spent money like water with the result that after a time I had to go for more to my husband. He gave it to me, but I could see that he was astonished and displeased. Still, I could not change my nature. I gambled at cards, on the racecourse, on the Stock Exchange, and I staked high to give myself a new excitement. Sometimes I won, but more often I lost and my husband helped me again and again. But more and more I could see I was disappointing him. At last he told me that he would pay no more for me; he hated and mistrusted all gambling and I must make my huge allowance do. I couldn't—I mean I couldn't give up gambling. It was in my blood. And just as I was in a horrible hole the worst happened. A—a man who had been my lover years ago began to blackmail me. I gave him all I could but nothing satisfied him.” She stopped and passed a tiny lace-trimmed handkerchief over her lips.
“Why did you not tell your husband?” the inspector inquired. “I guess Mr. Carnthwacke would have settled him pretty soon.”
“I—I daren't,” she confessed. “And I have been an awful ass. He—this man—had letters. They were silly enough, goodness knows, and they might have been read to mean more than they did, and my husband is jealous—terribly, wickedly jealous of my past. At last he—the man—said that if I would pay him a large, an enormous sum, he would go abroad and I should never hear of him again. If I did not he swore he would send the letters to my husband in such a fashion that the worst construction would be placed upon them. What was I to do? I hadn't any money. I dared not tell my husband. I made several attempts to pull off a grand coup, and only got worse in the mire. I made up my mind to sell my diamonds and substitute paste. A friend of mine had done so and apparently had never been suspected. But I couldn't take them to the shop myself—we were too well known in London. And, when I was at my wit's end to know what to do with them, I happened to hear a woman saying how she had disposed of hers quite legitimately and openly through a solicitor, Mr. Luke Bechcombe. I thought perhaps he might do something for me, and I rang him up.”
“Well?” the detective said interrogatively; his face was as expressionless as ever, but there was a veiled eagerness in his deep-set eyes as they watched Mrs. Carnthwacke's every movement.
“I told him what I wanted. And he said it would be necessary to have them valued. We talked it over and made an appointment for two days later, the very day he was murdered. I was to take them to him myself. And he told me to go down the passage to his private door so that none of his clients should see me, because I explained that it must be kept a real dead secret.”
“What time was your appointment for?” the inspector asked.
“A quarter past twelve,” Mrs. Carnthwacke answered. “But I was late—it must have been quite half-past when I got there. He looked at the diamonds and said that they were very fine and he would have them valued at once and get them disposed of for me if I approved of the price. He was to ring me up at twelve o'clock the next day. But of course he didn't, and I couldn't think what had happened, until I saw this dreadful thing in the papers. Oh, you will keep my name out of it, won't you?”
She broke off and looked appealingly at the inspector. He did not answer. For once in his long experience he was thoroughly taken aback. The woman had told her story calmly and convincingly enough, but—and as the inspector looked at her he wondered if she had no idea of the horrible danger in which she stood.
“I will do my best for you in every way,” he said at last. “But you must first answer all my questions straightforwardly. You have at least done the right thing in coming to us now, though it might have been better if you had come earlier. Now first will you tell me exactly what time you reached Mr. Bechcombe's office?”