“Strange thing him turning up,” observed Bannister musingly, “did you see him again at all?”
“No.” replied “Pinkie,” “I haven’t ever seen him since.”
Anthony turned this new piece of information over in his mind. The case certainly became more puzzling as it progressed. He couldn’t forget that he had two trails to follow. Would the trail that led to the blackmailer of the Crown Prince also lead to the murderer of Sheila Delaney? He couldn’t feel sure… yet something seemed to tell him that they were intertwined. He heard Bannister put another question to the woman who sat in the room.
“How long—less than half an hour, I should say.”
“Did you hear any of the conversation?”
“No. None at all. All I heard was his greeting to her when I took him into her. If Miss Sheila had wished me to hear what he came to see her about she would have asked me into the room where the interview took place. She didn’t—so I heard nothing. All I know is what she was pleased to tell me of it afterwards. She gave him money. That’s all I can tell you.” “Pinkie” tossed her head rather defiantly—she was unable to rid herself of the idea that she had been suspected of eavesdropping.
Bannister turned to Ross. “Seen anything of this Lal Singh in the neighbourhood—heard of him anywhere?
Ross shook his head. “Not so far as I know—I’ve heard nothing. But I’ll inquire for you if you like when I get back?”
“Do,” said the Inspector—it may be worth following up. I should have thought he would have been a pretty conspicuous figure.”
“There was an Indian chap found about ten years ago wandering round Nillebrook Water but the doctors reckoned he was ‘scatty’—bats in the belfry—you know. They brought him in as a lunatic ‘without settlement’ and bunged him in the County Mental Hospital. The Nillebrook ratepayers have had the somewhat doubtful pleasure of maintaining him ever since.” Ross chuckled and proceeded. “Perhaps he’s escaped,” he added, jokingly.
Bannister made no reply to what he considered an extravagant and inappropriate suggestion but returned to the woman. “You can assure me, I suppose, that your mistress had no money troubles?”
“Pinkie” scouted the idea on a strong note of indignation. “Absurd! You can clear your mind on that point,” she declared. “Miss Sheila was left very comfortably off—and with a considerable reserve,” she hinted darkly.
“That’s all right then,” put in Bannister, “I can rest easy on that score—eh?” He watched her carefully for a moment.
“Where will you be staying during the next few days?” intervened Anthony, “in case the Inspector or I should want a word with you?”
“I thought about going to stay with some friends in Westhampton—the name is Lucas—they live at—”
Anthony handed her an envelope that he took from his pocket. “Address this to yourself, would you mind? Then I can use it if I should find it necessary.” He handed her his fountain pen, and carefully put the envelope inside his wallet when she had addressed it. Later on, in the privacy of his bedroom he carefully studied it. A careful observer might have imagined that the handwriting afforded him some peculiar fascination. For a grim smile played round the corners of his lips as the words leapt vividly from the paper to his inquisitive eyes, “Miss Agnes Kerr, c/o Mrs. Lucas, 21, Crossley Road, Westhampton.” “Now that gives me much food for thought,” he soliloquised.
Chapter XIV
The Peacock’s Eye
Mr. Stark—the manager of the Westhampton branch of the once ill-starred Mutual Bank—sat in his spacious private room on the Bank premises and thoughtfully stroked his chin with his long supple fingers. He then picked up the morning paper again and read a paragraph therein with much more than ordinary interest. This done he put the paper down on his table and resumed his previous occupation of chin-stroking. He was a man of striking appearance—tall—and of fine physique generally—debonair and always dressed in the height of good taste. When he had suddenly entered the industry of Westhampton—a matter of about fourteen months ago he had caused something akin to a sensation in Westhampton social circles, and many Westhampton hearts surrendered to his fascination. Rumours had it that he was extremely highly-connected and that he had been sent to Westhampton immediately following upon the scandal caused by Sir Felix Warburton’s downfall—upon a special mission. Banks must be like the wife of Caesar! Rumour also had it that he was or had been intimate with such people as Sir Matthew Fullgarney—the late Major Carruthers and even with Lady Brantwood herself. Brantwood Castle, it may be observed was the biggest house for many mile around and Lady Brantwood suited it. It was evident that upon this particular morning somethin had occurred to worry him, and to cause him disturbance. Suddenly he came to what was obviously an important decision. He pressed the bell that communicated with the outer office. A junior clerk obeyed the summons.
Tell Mr. Churchill that I want him, at once. If he’s busy tell Mr. Jennings to go on the counter in his place. Churchill must come to me.”
Within the space of a few moments Mr. Churchill—the first cashier to designate him accurately—stood in front of the Manager. Mr. Stark picked up the paper and handed it to him. He indicated the paragraph that
