“You’re a smart-looking lad,” he said. “Would you like five shillings? Well, have you seen Dr. Martincole this afternoon? You know, the doctor who comes to the house behind us?”
“See him go out abaht an hour ago, guv’nor—wiv anuvver gent,” said the lad eagerly, his bright eyes wavering between Viner’s face and the hand which he had thrust in his pocket. He pointed to the distant entrance of the yard. “Went aht that way, they did.”
“Ah! And what was the other gentleman like?” asked Viner.
“Swell!” answered the informant. “Proper swell, he was!”
“And Dr. Martincole?” Viner continued. “You’ve seen him many a time, of course. Now what’s he like!”
“He’s a tall gentleman,” said the boy, after some evidently painful thought.
“Yes, but what else—has he got a beard?” asked Viner.
“Couldn’t tell you that, guv’nor, d’yer see,” said the lad, “ ’cause he’s one o’ them gents what allus wears a white silk handkercher abaht his face—up to his eyes. But he’s a big man—wears black clothes.”
Viner gave the boy his promised reward, and was passing on when Miss Wickham touched his arm.
“Ask if he’s seen a lady go out this way,” she said. “That’s equally important.”
The boy, duly questioned nodded his head.
“I see Mrs. Killerby go out not so long since,” he answered. “Her what used to live here one time. Know her well enough.”
“Come along!” muttered Viner. “We’ve hit it! Mrs. Killerby—who is Mrs. Killenhall—used to live here at one time! Good—which means very bad, considering that without doubt the doctor who wears a white silk handkerchief about his face is the muffled man of Lonsdale Passage. Miss Wickham, something has alarmed these birds and they’ve flown.”
“But why were we brought here?” asked Miss Wickham.
“I’ve an idea as to why you were,” said Viner, “and I propose to find out at once if I’m right. Let’s get away, find a taxicab, and go to your—but, good heavens!” he went on, breaking off as two men came into the yard. “Here’s one of Carless’ clerks, and Perkwite the barrister.—What are you doing here?” he demanded, as Millwaters and Perkwite hurried up. “Are you after anybody along there—in that house—the one at the end?”
“We’re after a good many things and people in Dr. Martincole’s place, Mr. Viner,” answered Millwaters. “Mr. Perkwite and I traced Mr. Cave here early in the afternoon; he went in, but he’s never come out; we saw you enter—here you are. We saw Miss Wickham and Mrs. Killenhall—there’s Miss Wickham, but where’s the other lady? And where—”
Viner stopped the clerk’s questions with a glance, and he laughed a little as he gave him his answer.
“My dear fellow,” he said, “you should have posted somebody at the back here. Why, we don’t quite know yet, but Miss Wickham and myself were trapped in there. As for Cave, he must be the man who went away with Martincole. As for Mrs. Killenhall, she too has gone. That boy down there saw all three go, some time ago, while we were locked up. But—what made you watch these people?”
“We followed Cave,” said Perkwite, “because Millwaters had been ordered to do so, and because I considered his conduct mysterious. Then, when we saw what was going on here—your arrival following on that of Miss Wickham and Mrs. Killenhall—we telephoned for Mr. Carless and more help. Carless and Lord Ellingham, and a couple of detectives, are at the front now. Millwaters and I heard from a denizen of these unlovely parts that there was a back entrance. We’d tried in vain for admittance at the front—”
“But they’ve got in now, Mr. Perkwite!” exclaimed Millwaters suddenly. “See, there’s Mr. Carless at a back window, waving to us to come in. I suppose we can get in by the back, Mr. Viner?”
“Yes—if you like to take the risk of entering people’s houses without permission!” said Viner sardonically. “I don’t think you’ll find anybody or anything there. As for Miss Wickham and myself, we’ve an engagement elsewhere.”
He hurried his companion away, through the street on which they emerged from the whitewashed yard, and out into the Whitechapel Road; he hurried her, too, into the first taxicab which came along empty.
“Now,” he said, as they stepped in, “tell this man the name of your bank, and let him go there, quick!”
XXVIII
The Truth
Four o’clock had struck, and the doors of the bank were closed when Miss Wickham and Viner hurried up to it, but there was a private entrance at the side, and the man who answered their summons made no difficulty about admitting them when Miss Wickham said who she was. And within a few minutes they were closeted with a manager, who, surprised when they entered, was astonished before many words had been exchanged. For during their dash from the Whitechapel streets Viner had coached his companion as to the questions he wished her to put on arrival at the bank, and she went straight to the point.
“I wanted to know if my companion, Mrs. Killenhall, had called here this afternoon?” begun Miss Wickham.
“She has,” answered the manager. “I happened to see her, and I attended to her myself.”
“Did she present a check from me?” inquired Miss Wickham.
“Certainly—and I cashed it,” said the manager. He gave his customer and her companion a look of interrogation which had a good deal of surprise in it. “Why?” he continued, glancing at Miss Wickham, “wasn’t it in order?”
“That,” replied Miss Wickham, “depends upon the amount.”
“The amount!” he exclaimed. “You know—if the drawer! It was for ten thousand pounds!”
“Then Mrs. Killenhall has done me, or you, out of that,” said Miss Wickham. “The check I gave her was to have been filled up for the
