“Why, for one thing, the man whom he suspected of the murders has been killed,” replied Hanslet. “Not that there was anything amazing in that, for he seems to have been a trifle unbalanced in any case, and his death may possibly have been due to suicide. No, what altogether upset Whyland’s apple-cart was that another man received a counter, some time after the death of the man whom Whyland suspected of delivering them.”
“It is remarkable how frequently hypotheses founded upon pure conjecture are upset by one simple fact,” remarked the Professor acidly. “Now, what was the name of this man whom Whyland suspected, and who so inconsiderately spoilt the theory by his premature death?”
“Samuel Copperdock,” replied Hanslet, turning to Harold, who wrote the name on his pad.
“Copperdock?” repeated the Professor. “An unusual name, and yet I seem to have heard it before in some connection. Copperdock, Copperdock! Let me think——”
“You’ve probably seen the name above his shop, Professor,” said Hanslet. “He was a tobacconist in Praed Street. Or you may have seen it some months ago in the paper. He was a witness at the inquest on Tovey, who was the first man murdered.”
But the Professor shook his head. “No, if my memory serves me, I heard the name many years ago, in some connection which escapes me for the moment. However, the point would not appear to have any importance. I must apologize for interrupting you, Inspector. You were saying that another man received a counter after this man Copperdock’s death, but I do not think you mentioned his name?”
“Ludgrove. Elmer Ludgrove,” said Hanslet. “Rather an interesting personality, from what Whyland tells me. He keeps a herbalist’s shop, and is a bit of a character in his way. He’s a man of some education, between fifty and sixty, a very dignified old boy with a striking white beard, which I expect is a bit of an asset in his trade. He doesn’t say much about himself, but does a lot of good in his own quiet way. All the poorer people in the neighbourhood come to him if they’re in any sort of trouble, and he freely admits he hears a good many secrets. Whyland thought he would be a useful chap to get on the right side of, and often used to drop in to see him. He says he got more than one valuable hint from him. He was also pretty certain that this chap Ludgrove shared his suspicions of Copperdock, but he would never say so outright. You see, Copperdock was a friend of his.”
The Professor nodded. “I see,” he said. “And it was this Mr. Ludgrove who received the counter you say?”
“Yes, and, what’s more, Whyland was with him when he found it. The poor old boy was terribly shaken for the moment, Whyland says, but after a bit he pretended to treat it as a joke. I’ve seen him since, and he’s pretty plucky about it, knowing as he does that everybody who has received one of these infernal numbered counters has died a sudden death. He says that he is an old man, anyhow, alone in the world and with only a few more years to live in any case, so that his death will be no great blow to anybody.”
“A most philosophic attitude,” agreed the Professor. “But to return to Mr. Copperdock, I should like to hear the circumstances under which he met his death.”