“Yes, perhaps it was in China,” said the other and of a sudden became friendly, gripped Wellington Brown’s arm and leaving the path, led him across the green spaces of the park.
A courting couple sitting under one of the trees saw them pass and heard Wellington Brown say:
“Don’t say that I was his storekeeper, because I wasn’t, or his servant! I was his equal, by gad. A partner in the firm, the blamed old swindler—”
So they passed, the Man in Black and the besotted pensioner from China.
At this hour another person deeply interested in Jesse Trasmere’s fate was making his final preparations for departure.
He had ventured forth in broad daylight, braved the glances of the purser of the Arak and had signed on as steward of the second saloon on a voyage to South Africa. The end of the long nightmare had come. Walters had to join his ship overnight, an excellent arrangement from his point of view, since it reduced the danger of detection to a minimum.
He carried with him to the big roomy docks, a respectable sum of money, the proceeds of his pilfering at Mayfield and his opportunities had been many, remembering Mr. Trasmere’s parsimony.
He had sent his bag off to the ship in the afternoon and he had only to convey himself to the docks. He went on foot, keeping to the less frequented streets, and although this entailed a longer journey he was taking no risks. A month ago he would have trembled at every shadow, and the sight of a policeman would have paralysed his activities, but now the case had been forgotten; one never read a line about it in even the more sensational newspapers, and it was with some confidence that he traversed the wharf and mounted the gangway leading to the ill-lighted decks of the liner.
“Report to the chief steward,” said the custodian on duty at the ship end of the plank and Walters enquired his way forward, went down the broad companion to the broader deck where the chief steward’s office is situated, and joined a dozen other men who were lined up in queues waiting to report.
Walters would not have worried if the waiting had occupied the rest of the evening, but in a remarkably short space of time he stepped into the chief steward’s cabin, knuckled his forehead and said:
“Reporting for duty, sir. John Williams, steward—” and then he stopped.
On the further side of the steward’s table was Inspector Carver.
Walters turned in a flash but the doorway was blocked by a detective.
“All right,” he said despondently as they snapped the steel handcuffs on his wrists, “but I didn’t do it, Mr. Carver. I know nothing about the murder. I am as innocent as a babe unborn.”
“What I like about you,” said Carver unpleasantly, “is your originality.”
He followed behind the two men who held the arms of their manacled prisoner and Tab joined him. As they came off the ship, Tab asked:
“Well, do you honestly think you have him, Carver?”
“Who—Walters? That’s the man all right, I know him very well indeed.”
“I mean the murderer,” said Tab.
“Oh, the murderer. No, I don’t think that this is the gentleman, but he will have some difficulty in proving he isn’t. You can say that he’s arrested, Tab, but I would rather you didn’t say that I charged him with the murder, because I shan’t, until I have much more information in my possession than I have at present. Perhaps if you come round to the station after you have been to the office, I will be able to tell you a little more, especially if Walters makes a statement, as I think he will.”
In this the detective was right, for Mr. Walters lost no time in putting his defence on record.
The Statement of Walter Felling.
“My name is Walter John Felling, I have sometimes assumed the name of Walters, sometimes MacCarty. I have served three terms of imprisonment for theft and impersonation, and in July, 1913, I was sent to prison for five years at Newcastle. I was released from prison in 1917 and served in the army as a cook until 1919. On leaving the army I heard from a nose1 that Mr. Trasmere was in want of a valet, and knowing that he was a very rich man and very mean, I applied for the job, producing false references, which were made out by a man named Coleby, who does that kind of job. When Mr. Trasmere asked me what salary I wanted, I purposely said a sum which I knew was below the rate usually paid and he engaged me on the spot. I do not think he wrote for my references. If he had Coleby would have replied.
“There were two other servants at Mayfield when I went there, a Mr. and Mrs. Green. Mr. Green was an Australian but I think Mrs. Green was born in Canada. He acted as butler to Mr. Trasmere, but he did not have a very happy time. He did not like Mr. Trasmere, I think. Certainly Mr. Trasmere did not like him. My object in securing employment with Mr. Trasmere was to find an opportunity for getting away with a good haul. I knew from the first it was going to be very difficult because of the peculiar habits of the house, but I managed to get a few things together, a gold watch and two silver candlesticks, and was thinking of making a getaway when Mr. Trasmere detected Green giving food away to Mrs. Green’s brother-in-law and fired them on the spot. Then he discovered the loss of the gold watch and had their boxes searched. I felt very sorry for Green, but of course I could say nothing.
“After the Greens had left I had to do the work of valet and
