The Charing Cross Mystery

by J. S. Fletcher

"Before we go, mithter," he said, "jutht take another glanth at that plathe oppothite, and it'ths thurroundin'th. I thee where we can get in! D'ye thee, mithter Hetherwick, the wall between that yard and the next houth—the right-hand thide one—'ith fairly low at the far end. Now, if the man in that houth would let uth go through to hith back-yard—vhat?"

"I see!" agreed Hetherwick. "We'll try it. But Robmore first—come along."

He slipped some silver into the hand of the green-grocer's lady, and went down to the street. A few brief explanations to the two detectives supplemented the information already given them by Mapperley, and then Robmore nodded at the constable who stood by, eagerly interested.

"We've been talking to him, Mr. Hetherwick," he said. "He's sometimes on day duty here, and sometimes he's on night. He says he's often wondered about this place, and it's a very queer thing that though he's known this district more than a year, he's never seen a soul go in or out of that door, and hasn't the least notion of what business, if it is a business, is carried on there!"

"Never seen anything or anybody!" corroborated the constable. "At any time—day or night. When I first came on this beat, maybe fifteen months ago, that door had been newly set and painted, and the glass had just been stuck a-top of the wall. But it's a fact—I've never seen anybody go in or come out!"

"I propose to go in," said Hetherwick. "I think we've abundant cause, knowing what we do. It may be that the two missing ladies are there. I've been having a look into the yard, and we could get into it easily by going through the grocer's shop there, on the right, and climbing the wall from his back premises. What do you say, Robmore?"

"Oh, I think so!" agreed Robmore. "Now we're on the job, we'll carry it through. Better let me tackle the grocer, Mr. Hetherwick—I'll see him first and then call you in."

The other waited while Robmore entered the shop and spoke with its owner. They saw him engaged in conversation for several minutes; then he came to the door and beckoned the rest to approach.

"That's all right," he said in an aside to Hetherwick. "We can go through to his back-yard, and he'll lend us a step-ladder to get over the wall. But he's told me a bit—he knows the two men who have this place in the next yard, and there's no doubt at all, from his description of them, that one's Ambrose and the other Baseverie. He says they've had the place almost eighteen months, and he thinks they use it as a laboratory—chemicals, or something of that sort. But he says they're rarely seen—sometimes he's never seen them for days and even weeks together. Usually they're there of a night—he's seen lights in the place at all hours of the night. Well—come on!"

The posse of investigators filed through the dark little shop to a yard at its rear, the grocer's apprentice going in front with a step-ladder, which he planted against the intervening wall at its lowest point. One by one, the uniformed constable going first, the six men climbed and dropped over. But for their own presence, the place seemed deserted and lifeless. As Hetherwick had observed from the greengrocer's parlour the windows were obscured by thick coats of paint; nevertheless, two or three of the men approached and tried to find places from which the paint had been scratched, in an effort to see what lay inside. But the constable, bolder and more direct, went straight to the entrance.