IX
A Strange Affair
It was not until shortly after eight o’clock on Monday morning that Inspector Whyland, who had arrived early at the police station, received the startling intelligence that there was a dead man lying in the cellar of Number 407, Praed Street. He immediately jumped into a taxi, and was met in the doorway of the empty house by a man who introduced himself as Mr. Houlder, the builder who was carrying out certain alterations for the new tenant, Mr. Lacey.
“My men found him when they came in this morning,” he said. “They telephoned to me and I told them to fetch a policeman. He rang you up, I understand. I think I can explain how the man got in, and who he is.”
“Thanks very much, Mr. Houlder,” replied Whyland. “I think we’ll have a look at him first, if you don’t mind. Will you lead the way?”
They descended to the cellar together, Mr. Houlder leading the way with an electric torch. As they arrived at the passage leading to the small cellar, a constable appeared and saluted.
“Ah, you’re in charge here, I suppose?” said the Inspector. “You haven’t touched anything, I hope?”
“Not since I’ve been here, sir, but I understand that the body was moved accidentally before I came, I’ve got the man who found him here, sir.”
A man, who had been hidden in the gloom behind the policeman, came forward at this. He explained that he was the electrician who had been wiring the cellars. He had very nearly finished the job on the previous Saturday, and had left about noon. The carpenters were still working on the ground floor when he left. He returned just before eight this very morning, found the carpenters already at work, and went down to the cellars to put the finishing touches to the job. The door of the small cellar appeared to be jammed, and he pushed against it to open it. When he had got it open far enough to squeeze through, he found the body of a man lying against it. He had immediately run upstairs and told the foreman, and had waited there till the constable came and asked him to show him the body.
Inspector Whyland dismissed Mr. Houlder and the electricians, and went on into the cellar with the constable. “There’s something queer about this business, sir?” said the latter, as soon as they were alone. “I had a look round while I was waiting for you, and the first thing I saw was one of them white counters, same as the others had. There it lies, sir, I didn’t touch it.”
They were in the cellar by now, and Whyland glanced at the counter, lying in the beam of light which the constable had thrown upon it. “With the figure IV on it, I’ll wager,” he muttered. “Yes, I thought so. We’ll try for finger marks, but I’ll bet it’s no good. Now, let’s have a look at this dead man.”
The constable turned his lamp on the prostrate form, and Whyland knelt down and gazed at it intently. The body was lying doubled up as it had fallen, and was quite cold.
“H’m,” said Whyland, rising to his feet. “We can’t do much more till the doctor comes. You don’t know who he is, I suppose?”
“Mr. Houlder said he believed his name was Martin, sir,” replied the constable cautiously.
“Well, you stay here till the doctor comes. I’ll go and have a chat with Houlder. Just throw your light over the floor for a minute. Hullo, what’s this?”
He strode across the cellar and carefully picked up a small automatic. “Hasn’t been fired,” he muttered. “Now I wonder who that belongs to? Just see if you can spot anything else. Don’t touch it, if you do.”
He went upstairs again, and drew Mr. Houlder aside into a quiet corner. Mr. Houlder’s story was a very simple one. His foreman had orders to leave the key to the house with Mr. Briggs, the confectioner, three doors off. Mr. Briggs was Houlder’s brother-in-law. The reason for this arrangement was that whoever came on the scene first could get the key and start work. On Saturday the key had been left as usual, about 12:30.
On Saturday evening, about nine o’clock, Mr. Briggs had come to his place and told him that Mr. Lacey, who knew about the key arrangement, had rung him up to say that a Mr. Martin was coming to inspect the drains. Mr. Lacey was to have met him at two o’clock, but would be delayed. Would Mr. Briggs keep a lookout for him and give him the keys. Mr. Briggs had promised to do so, and his daughter Marjorie had seen Mr. Martin, who had promised to bring back the keys, but had not done so. Mr. Briggs had forgotten all about them until the evening, and then, finding that the door of Number 407 was securely locked, had supposed that Mr. Martin had gone away with the keys in his pocket. Mr. Houlder had agreed with this theory, and had given Mr. Briggs a duplicate key which he happened to have.
The foreman had called on Mr. Briggs, and had been given the duplicate key. But when he came to try the door, it would not open. He made several attempts but, finding them unavailing, desisted and made his way through a window at the back. He then discovered that the door was bolted on the inside, a circumstance which puzzled him tremendously. Shortly afterwards the electrician arrived, and his thoughts were diverted into other channels.
Inspector Whyland spent a few minutes talking to the foreman, who confirmed the latter part of Houlder’s story, and had barely finished his enquiries when the doctor arrived. The two went down to the cellar together, and the doctor, without wasting words, proceeded to examine the body, Whyland watching him intently.
“Poisoned!” pronounced the doctor, after a short interval. “Prussic acid,
