French nodded. Certainly, if guilty, this man was a consummate actor. There was at least the chance that he might be innocent, and he answered accordingly.
“I don’t accuse you of anything, Mr. Vanderkemp. But there are certain suspicious circumstances which require an explanation. You may be able to account for all of them—I hope you will. At the same time it is fair to warn you that, failing an explanation, your arrest is not impossible, and in that case anything that you may say now may be used against you in evidence.”
Vanderkemp was by this time extremely ill at ease. His face had paled and had already taken on a somewhat drawn and haggard expression. For a while he remained silent, buried in thought, then with a sudden gesture as of throwing further caution to the winds, he began to speak.
“I’ll tell you what I know, Inspector,” he said earnestly. “Whether, if you are going to arrest me, I am wise or foolish, I don’t know. But I can at least assure you that it is the literal truth.”
He looked at the Inspector, who nodded approval.
“Of course I can’t advise you, Mr. Vanderkemp,” he remarked, “but all the same I believe you are doing the wise thing.”
“I am in a difficulty,” Vanderkemp went on, “as I don’t know how much of the circumstances you are familiar with. It would therefore be better if you would ask me questions.”
“I shall do so, but first I should like your own statement. I am aware of your name and position in the firm. Also that Mr. Schoofs received a letter on the 21st of last month, asking him to send you to London to undertake an important commission in Sweden. Also that you left your lodgings in the Kinkerstraat at 8:30 on the evening of the 24th. I have since learned certain other facts as to your subsequent movements, which I need not mention at the moment. What I want you now to do is to let me have a detailed account of your experiences from the moment of your leaving your lodgings until the present time.”
“I will do so.” Vanderkemp spoke eagerly, as if now anxious to get through with the matter. “But there is one thing which comes earlier in point of time which I must mention. You have probably heard of it from Mr. Duke, but I shall tell you anyway. I mean about my further instructions as to my London visit—the private instructions. You have seen a copy of them?”
French, always cautious, was not giving away information. He wondered to what the other was referring, but merely said, “Assume I have not, Mr. Vanderkemp. It is obvious that I must check your statement by the information in my possession.”
“Well, then, though you probably know it already, I may tell you I received additional instructions about my visit. Mr. Duke wrote me a private letter, addressed to my lodgings, in which he told me—but I have it here, and you can see it for yourself.”
He took an envelope from his pocketbook and passed it across. It contained a note almost identical in appearance with the forged one which Mr. Schoofs had received. It was typewritten on a sheet of the firm’s cheaper memorandum paper, with the same kind of type and the same coloured ribbon. Examination with the lens showed the same defects in the n and the g, the signature was obviously forged, and the back of the sheet was marked from a heavy touch. Evidently both letters had been written by the same person, and on the Hatton Garden machine. The note read:
“Dear Vanderkemp—Further to my note to Mr. Schoofs re your call here on Wednesday morning, 26th inst., the business on which I wish to see you has turned out to be more urgent than I at first believed, and I shall therefore have to ask you to advance the hour of your interview, and also to leave London for Paris—not Stockholm—immediately after it. I shall return to the office after dinner on Tuesday evening, 25th inst., and shall be glad if you will call there at 8:30 p.m., when I shall give you your instructions. This will enable you to catch the 9:30 p.m. for Paris, via Southampton and Havre.
“I wish to impress on you that as the business in question is exceptionally confidential, you will oblige me by keeping your change of plans to yourself.
Inspector French was keenly interested, but he recognised with exasperation how inconclusive the letter was as evidence. Either it had been sent to Vanderkemp as he stated, in which case he might be innocent, or the man had written it himself, in which case he certainly was guilty. It was true that in this instance an envelope was forthcoming which bore a London EC postmark and the correct date, but here again there was no proof that this was really the covering in which the letter had come. These points passed through the Inspector’s mind, but he banished them as matters to be thought out later, and turned once more to his companion.
“I shall keep this, if you don’t mind,” he declared. “Please proceed.”
“I carried out the instructions in the letter,” Vanderkemp resumed. “The change of hours necessitated my leaving Amsterdam by the night train on the 24th, and I spent the following day at my hotel in London, and in doing a matinee. At 8:30, with my luggage, I reached Hatton Garden. I found the outer office was in darkness, but a light
