Sir Austin broke in rather dictatorially.
“Tried tracing the call?” he said brusquely.
“I have that,” replied Bannister instantly, “un-successfully.” He jerked his head with impatience. “What I’ve told you so far, I’ll call, for the sake of clarity, the first section of the case. I’ll now embark upon what I will term the second. Miss Delaney, at some time or other, was robbed—you know that, don’t you? She was robbed of one hundred pounds in notes and also—what is much more to the point—of a supposedly wonderful precious stone worth a very large sum, I believe. The figure ‘twenty thousand pounds’ has been mentioned to me in connection with it.”
“That’s the stone to which you refer in your notes as ‘The Peacock’s Eye’?”
“Exactly—a blue-tinted emerald, I believe—stated to be unique as far as individual possession goes. If there are others floating around nobody has seen them. Now we come to a most extraordinary chain of events. Extraordinary and yet ultimately with quite a simple explanation. According to my investigations the stolen notes—or some of them—were first traced to a Captain Willoughby—a guest at the ‘Cassandra’ Hotel, Seabourne. This Captain Willoughby, I may say, has a connection—through his fiancée—with no less a person than Miss Daphne Carruthers. Mark that! When I got here I felt I was nearly home. Not so likely! Willoughby got the notes from a Hebrew bookmaker! Who is a patient of Branston, the very dentist concerned with the murder! Still on the track, say I. Morley, the bookmaker—the dentist’s patient—got them from Branston himself! There I am again—just like ‘Felix.’ Would you believe it? Branston turns up—he got them from his housekeeper, who released him—so they say, the pair of them—from his surprising imprisonment when Miss Delaney was being murdered! And the housekeeper found the notes on Branston’s premises after the murder! Or says she did. Some little kettle of fish, don’t you think, sir? Some little mayonnaise—eh?” He wiped his lips with his handkerchief. It was easy to see that Bannister was amazed. “Let the ‘Bugle’ have a blow at that. Nevertheless, I’ve got a stray theory—I’m very hopeful, as I told you earlier. I’ve almost decided to arrest Branston and the housekeeper—Mrs. Bertenshaw—I can make out a strong ‘prima-facie’ case against them.” He paused—waiting for his Chief’s comment upon this last statement.
Sir Austin drummed upon the table with the finger-tips of his left hand—apparently uncertain. “Can’t see it myself,” he interjected. “Not on what you have given me so far. What about this ‘Peacock’s Eye?’ Where’s that?”
Bannister shrugged his shoulders rather impatiently. “I can’t trace any attempt to dispose of that—so far. All the notorious ‘fences’ have been and are still being—very carefully watched—by some of our best men. In my opinion not more than four of the known ‘fences’ would look at the proposition.”
“And are they?” put in Sir Austin.
Bannister thought for a moment. “Levigne and Kharkoff in Paris—Stefanopoulos in Amsterdam—and Schneitzer in London. Personally—of course, I maybe wrong, I know—but I wouldn’t consider anybody else.”
To Anthony, of course, the names were entirely unfamiliar. He docketed them in the pigeon-hole of his memory and was just in the midst of the requisite mental process when Sir Austin Kemble turned to him and addressed him. He noticed that the Commissioner was smiling again. “And you, Mr. Bathurst—what have you got to tell me? Is your story on all fours with Bannister’s? Are you in agreement with him? Or have you formed a different opinion?”
Anthony returned smile for smile. “Frankly, sir,” he said, “Chief-Inspector Bannister has given you more information than I could possibly have done. I was with him at Westhampton when the first news of the stolen notes came through to us and I left him to follow that particular trail on his lonesome. I haven’t investigated it at all. So he’s got ahead of me—you see. I can only cry ‘peccavi’—perhaps I should have attached more importance to it.”
Sir Austin Kemble looked at him long and hard. “Perhaps?” he queried.
“Perhaps!” insisted Anthony.
“You mean—”
Anthony shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I shouldn’t arrest either Branston or Mrs. Bertenshaw on the evidence submitted if I were the Inspector—still—don’t mind me, I’m only an amateur.”
Bannister frowned into space.
But Sir Austin Kemble stuck to his guns. “You have something in your mind, Mr. Bathurst,” he said very deliberately; “I am sure of it. I should be pleased to hear what you have to say—that was my purpose in asking you to be present at this interview. Three heads are better than two. I am all attention.”
Anthony bowed. “I’m complimented, sir—many thinks. At the moment though, I’m afraid you’ll find me something of a disappointment. I am like the Chief-Inspector here. I feel that I am still confronted with very grave difficulties. Until those difficulties are removed—my hands are of necessity tied. It would be worse than useless for me to bring a charge against any person unless I were fully prepared to prove that charge to the hilt. That is my position now—in a nutshell. I have formed certain ideas. I am willing to admit that much. Beyond that—however, I cannot go. All I can do is to wait—very patiently and very hopefully. Perhaps one day—my chance to prove the
