“Let’s have it, then,” declared Bannister, “my ears are open. Sit down.”
“At the present time,” proceeded Stark, “I hold the position of Manager of the Westhampton branch of the Mutual Bank. But you know that, of course.”
“One moment,” came the quick interruption, “how long have you held that position?”
“I came here in May—the May of last year. What I have to tell you will not take me very long. I read in this morning’s paper that the young lady found murdered at the dentist’s at Seabourne has now been identified as a Miss Sheila Delaney of Tranfield—the village adjoining Westhampton. Am I correct in that statement, Inspector Bannister?”
“We have good and substantial reasons to believe so,” conceded Bannister.
“Well then, you may be interested to hear that Miss Delaney, who was a client of ours of some years’ standing cashed a cheque at our bank on the morning of the very day that she was murdered, value a hundred pounds. The cheque was made payable to ‘self’ and was of course drawn against her current account.” He paused as though to measure thoroughly the full effect of his statement.
“Go on,” said Bannister, a grim note sounding in his voice. Stark looked at him quickly and went on as ordered.
“The notes handed to the lady by my cashier were partly ‘tens’—partly ‘fives’ and the remainder ordinary currency notes. There were ninety pounds in bank notes. Those are the numbers.” He handed across to the Inspector an envelope upon which the information was written. Bannister beamed and rubbed the palms of his hands in unmistakable pleasure.
“Splendid,” he cried, “you’ve done us a great service, Mr. Stark, there’s no doubt about that. This should help the course of our investigations tremendously.”
“I thought it would,” said Stark, flushed with pleasure at Bannister’s approbation, “but please wait a minute—I haven’t finished yet. There’s more to come.” He rose from his chair and walking to the door opened it and looked sharply outside. Then he closed it again, came back to his chair and drew it a little distance nearer to the Inspector. “After Miss Delaney had received her money,” he was now speaking very quietly and intensely, “she asked the cashier who attended to her—Churchill by name—to show her in to me. Into my private room! He did so. She came into my private office and made what I considered to be an extraordinary request. You are doubtless aware that Banks often keep in their strong-rooms certain valuables belonging to their clients. Miss Delaney not only has a Deposit account with the ‘Mutual’ as well as the ordinary current account but we have also had lodged with us for some years, I believe, a legacy left her by her father the late Colonel Daniel Delaney. I refer, Inspector, to what is always described in the Deposit-Note as ‘The Peacock’s Eye.’ ”