Mr. Blagge assented with a gulp.
“Now, I want you to tell me in the first place, anything that you know about the whereabouts of Captain Wraile and Mr. Lessingham on the late afternoon of Thursday, October 24th—the afternoon on which Sir Garth Fratten met his end.” (Poole groaned in spirit at the expression, but he felt sure that it would be unction to the soul of Mr. Blagge.)
The manager, after a deal of head-scratching and note-book searching, and after being refused leave by Poole to consult the secretary or other juniors, at last evolved the information that Mr. Lessingham had not been to the office that day at all (he had come in late on the previous afternoon and remained talking to Captain Wraile after he, Mr. Blagge, had gone) and that Captain Wraile had been in in the morning but not at all in the afternoon—Captain Wraile was, the Inspector might not be aware, managing-director of the . . . the Inspector was aware and cut him short.
“And your secretary, Miss Saverel; where was she?”
Mr. Blagge looked at him in surprise but, receiving no explanation of this curious question, did his best to answer it. Miss Saverel never left the office before six; Mr. Blagge was certain that she had not done so on any occasion within the last three months or more. She occasionally stayed on late to finish some work—she was not one to rush off directly the hour struck. Whether she had done so on the day in question he could not say; she herself might remember, or, if the Inspector did not wish to question her, then Canting, the hall-porter, might do so—he was generally about and had a good memory.
This was as much as Poole could expect in this direction, so he switched to another. How regularly did Captain Wraile and Mr. Lessingham respectively attend at the office and what were their respective addresses? This was a comparatively simple matter and Mr. Blagge answered with more assurance. Captain Wraile came to the office about three times a week—generally from about four to five, but occasionally first thing in the morning. He attended all Board-meetings, which had been specially arranged so as not to clash with his own at the Ethiopian and General Development Company. Sir Hunter, the Chairman, relied a good deal upon Captain Wraile’s advice and seldom took an important decision without consulting him. Mr. Lessingham, on the other hand, came very seldom—often not for three weeks at a time and then generally only for an hour or so at the end of the day. Mr. Blagge believed that he was a gentleman with a good many irons in the financial fire, but knew very little about him. He had, in spite of his irregular attendances, been of great value to the Board, especially in the matter of loans, for which he had a “flair” that was almost uncanny.
“And the addresses?”
“Captain Wraile lives in the Fulham Road, No. 223A” (Poole pricked up his ears). “Mr. Lessingham has his communications sent to the Hotel Antwerp, in Adam Street—off the Strand, I fancy it is. I don’t know whether he lives there regularly or only when he’s in London; I believe, as a matter of fact, that he has a good deal of business in Brussels and is there as much as he is in London—if not more. What we send him doesn’t amount to much—notices and agenda of Board-meetings and any special business that the Chairman wants him to attend to. He said he didn’t want—Mr. Lessingham that is—he didn’t want prospectuses of every company and flotation that we were interested in sent after him—if there was anything important we were to send it—not otherwise.”
“And when was he in last?”
“Thursday evening, as a matter of fact, Inspector. He was here sometime and hadn’t left by the time I left myself.”