“How long were you away—as accurately, now, as you can possibly place it?”
Branston knitted his brows in reflection. “I wouldn’t put at more than seven minutes,” he answered, calculatingly.
“Did you hear any steps at all when you were in the work-room?”
He shook his head decisively. “No! I didn’t! The carpet on the stairs and along the landing to the work-room is very thick, you know.”
Bannister went to the door and looked out. “This back staircase leads to the patients’ entrance in Coolwater Avenue—I suppose?”
“That’s so, Inspector.”
The Inspector closed the door and came back. “The lady of course, was a chance patient—not an appointment case?”
“A complete stranger.”
“Were any other patients waiting, do you know?”
“I had no definite appointment till half-past two. I couldn’t say if there were any other chance cases waiting in either of the waiting-rooms. Certainly I can remember nobody coming out when we discovered what had happened.”
Bannister thought hard for a moment. “Did the expected client arrive at half-past two?”
Branston smiled for the first time. “’Pon my soul,” he exclaimed, “I’ve never given him another thought. It was twenty minutes past two when I ’phoned up for the Police—I must have clean forgotten im. If he came—he probably cleared off in the ‘schemozzle.’”
“What’s his name?” demanded Bannister.
“He’s a Mr. Jacob Morley—a local gentleman—I rather fancy he styles himself a Turf accountant.” Branston permitted himself the suggestion of a smile.
“Sound man?”
Branston shrugged his shoulders. “I know nothing to the contrary.”
“All right, then, Mr. Branston,” put in Bannister after a slight pause, “I don’t think I need detain you any longer. That is all I want to know for the moment.”
Branston bowed and withdrew, Doctor Renfrew followed him.
Sergeant Godfrey caught his superior’s eye and understood the intended meaning. “I’ve told Stannard and Waghorn to watch points in that direction—that will be all right.”
“Very good,” rejoined the Inspector, “let’s hear Mrs. Bertenshaw’s story.”
The housekeeper corroborated Branston in every particular and was allowed to withdraw. Bannister looked at his watch. “It’s so confoundedly late, that it will be extremely difficult to get anything much done to-night. Tell me all you’ve done, so far, Godfrey.”
“I’ve had the body photographed and I’ve sent round to all the hotels and boarding-establishments to try to trace by discreet inquiries any young lady visitor who’s been missing, say, since luncheon time to-day.”
The Inspector showed his approval. “That’s all right as far as it goes. But she may be a new arrival to the town. She may have just come in. Stay—what about luggage?”
“She might have left it somewhere,” responded Godfrey. “At the railway station or at an hotel. The latter, I should be inclined to suggest as the more likely, taking into consideration the class of girl she appears to be.”
“Yes,” conceded Bannister. “I think perhaps you’re right. Now about this work-room Branston has been telling us of—have you taken a look in there—I suppose his story is authentic—eh? I can’t help feeling there’s something ‘fishy’ about it somewhere.”
“I’ve seen the room—you can come along and see it yourself before we go—I’ll say this—I found nothing there that seemed in any way to contradict his story. I’ve also had the brass bolt on the door treated for finger-prints.”
“Good man,” smiled Bannister. “You should certainly find Mrs. Bertenshaw’s there—I suppose you’ve taken hers and Branston’s?”
“You bet I have, sir,” grinned the Sergeant, “I’ve got them tucked away all serene.”
Bannister frowned and walked across to the stand where stood the tumbler of water. It was almost full. He smelt it. “The purest of pure water, Doctor Renfrew says. Seems like it,” said Bannister. “No odour, certainly.”
The Sergeant who was watching him seemed suddenly struck by an idea. “By Jove, sir,” he exclaimed, “I ought to have treated that glass for ‘prints’ as well as the bolt—don’t you agree?”
Bannister held the glass high up to the electric light and carefully examined it. “Perhaps you had,” he replied, “if it isn’t too late now to be effective.”
Godfrey went through the insufflating process in his usual workman-like manner. With a small insufflator or powder-blower, he exhaled a cloud of light yellow powder which settled on the glass in an even coating. Then he blew at it sharply. Most of the yellow powder was blown off, but a number of smeary yellow impressions were left behind, standing out in strong saffron relief against the white glass.
“Something to work on here,” he said. “I’ll have the job completed.” He slipped out but was quickly back. “I suggest we get Mrs. Pearson up here from the station,” he said after a short interval.
“The female searcher?” queried the Inspector.
“Yes—then we can have the body removed in the morning. If the poor girl’s still unidentified by then, perhaps the underclothes—”
“Sergeant Godfrey!” Branston’s voice sounded outside. “You’re wanted on my telephone, downstairs.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Bannister. “It may be news.”
Godfrey took off the receiver, listened and replaced it. “It’s the ‘Lauderdale Hotel’—they think they can identify the lady. At my suggestion they’re sending the reception-clerk along to us immediately. He will be here any moment—the Manager’s coming along with him.
“Good,” said Bannister. “We are moving at last.” He offered his cigarette-case with a gesture of satisfaction to Sergeant Godfrey.
And judging from the manner in which he selected a cigarette—Sergeant Godfrey thought so too!
Chapter V
John Martin’s evidence
For a few moments the two men smoked in silence, grateful doubtless for the short respite. The silence was soon disturbed by the ringing of the front door bell. Godfrey rose with an alert expectancy that he took no trouble to
