A bitter smile crossed the young woman’s face. “A motive ever dear to men of their criminal and rapacious type—greed! Offer them a big enough bribe, and they are the willing tools of the man who lures them. Scruples they have none.”
“And who was the instigator?” questioned Wingate again.
“I will come to that all in due course. But more than half-a-dozen times they tried to put their scheme into execution, and failed on every occasion but the last, through a series of accidents. I did not know this for some time after I came upon the scene, when it was revealed to me by Stent, in a moment of unusual confidence.”
Here Sheila interrupted. “We know that these two put the dying man dressed in my father’s clothes in the taxi. Presently you shall tell us who that man was, and why he was sent. But first let us go back a little before that. Why did my father dine at the Italian restaurant with Bolinski?”
Reginald Monkton lifted his hand. “I will explain that, if you please, Mrs Saxton. I received a letter from this man, signed with an assumed name, stating that he could supply me with some important information that would be of the greatest possible use to the Government. He insisted that absolute secrecy must be observed on his part for fear of unpleasant consequences, and suggested Luigi’s restaurant in Soho as the rendezvous. I have had information offered me in this way before, and did not entertain any suspicions. I guessed him to be a needy adventurer who would sell his friends for a consideration, and walked into the trap.”
“He kept up the rôle of the informer I suppose?” queried Wingate. He was perhaps just a little surprised that a man of the world and an astute lawyer should not have had his doubts as to the genuineness of the letter.
“Perfectly, to all appearance. He told me various things about well-known people which, if they were true, would most certainly be useful. He assumed perfect frankness; he did not suggest that I should credit his statements till I had fully investigated them, and named a fairly modest sum in the event of my being satisfied. Of course, I now see that the whole thing was a pretence. He invented a lot of so-called facts to justify his having invited me to meet him.”
Both Sheila and Wingate looked puzzled. Mrs Saxton broke in:
“Of course, I see what is presenting itself to your minds. What object had he in meeting your father at all, when to all appearances they had carefully laid their plans in another direction? Well, their first idea was this, that, given a proper amount of luck, they might effect his capture outside the restaurant. But there were too many people about, and Mr Monkton was too quick for them. I told you just now they had tried to carry out their plan before in half-a-dozen likely places.”
Wingate nodded. “Yes, I see. It was one, probably, of several alternative schemes which they had ready for the same evening. Now, Mrs Saxton, will you tell us who was the dying man they put into the taxi and what was their object in putting him into Mr Monkton’s clothes?”