The liquor which he had consumed made Mr. Copperdock even more communicative than usual. Some reference to his son had led him on to speak of Ivy, and thus, by a simple association of ideas, to the murder of Mr. Tovey.
“You know, Ludgrove, that fellow Whyland always suspected me of having to do with that business,” he said. “I don’t believe he’s satisfied yet, between ourselves. At one time he was always hanging about, coming into my place at all hours, and asking all sorts of questions. I used to see chaps lounging about outside, and sometimes they followed me when I went out. It was jolly uncomfortable, I can tell you.”
Mr. Ludgrove smiled. “I don’t suppose you were any more under suspicion than the rest of us,” he replied. “Whyland had an idea that somebody in this neighbourhood was responsible, and I don’t know that I don’t agree with him. He came in here, too, and asked questions, for that matter. For all I know he may have suspected me.”
But Mr. Copperdock shook his head. “No, Ludgrove, that won’t do,” he said. “There was something about the way he spoke to me that gave him away. He still comes in sometimes, and asks me all sorts of questions about those poor fellows who were killed. Very often they’re the same things as he’s asked before. Trying to catch me out, I suppose. And he’s always asking if I’ve ever seen the black sailor again.”
“I suppose you really did see him?” asked Mr. Ludgrove casually.
“See him? I saw him as plain as I see you now,” replied Mr. Copperdock, with some indignation. “What would I want to say I’d seen him for if I hadn’t? I wish now I’d never said anything about it. I wouldn’t have, but I thought it would be doing Whyland a good turn.”
“Well, it’s all over now,” said Mr. Ludgrove soothingly. “We haven’t had any of these mysterious deaths for nearly three months now. I don’t expect that Inspector Whyland will worry his head about the matter much longer.”
“I hope he won’t,” replied Mr. Copperdock truculently. “I’ll give him a piece of mind if he comes round worrying me much more. I’m as respectable a man as any in this street, I’d have him know.”
He finished his drink, and rose to go. Mr. Ludgrove saw him off the premises, then settled himself down once more in his chair to read.
Five minutes later he heard a heavy step hurrying through the shop, and the form of Mr. Copperdock appeared unceremoniously through the curtain that covered the door of the inner room. Mr. Ludgrove rose to his feet in concern. The tobacconist’s face was deathly pale, and his hands were trembling violently. He staggered across the room, and sank down into the chair he had so lately quitted.
He held out one shaking hand open towards the herbalist. “Here, look at this!” he exclaimed in a queer hoarse voice.
The herbalist bent over the outstretched hand. In the palm of it lay a white counter, upon which the figure VI had been roughly drawn in red ink.
XI
The Sixth Counter
Mr. Ludgrove looked at the counter and then raised his eyes to Mr. Copperdock’s face. The tobacconist was staring at him with an expression of complete bewilderment and terror, very different from his truculent demeanour of a few minutes earlier. The herbalist checked the slow smile which had begun to twitch the corner of his lips, and sat down quietly opposite Mr. Copperdock.
“Where did you find this?” he asked.
“On my bed, after I left you just now,” replied the tobacconist. “It wasn’t there when I went out to the Cambridge Arms this evening, I’ll swear. I always goes upstairs to have a wash before I goes out, and I’d have been bound to have seen it. It’s that black sailor. I always thought he’d get me.”
“Well, he hasn’t got you yet,” said Mr. Ludgrove soothingly. “Now that you have been warned, we can take the proper precautions. How do you suppose this counter came into your room?”
Mr. Copperdock shook his head helplessly. “It beats me,” he replied. “I locked the door behind me when I went out, and nobody couldn’t have got in till I went back just now, seeing as I had the key in my pocket all the time.”
“You locked the door when you went out? Was Ted out, too, then?”
“Yes, Ted and I went out together, about half-past eight. He was going to spend the evening with the Toveys. I don’t expect him back till nigh on eleven. I goes round to the Cambridge Arms, where I stays until I comes in to you just now. And when I gets back, there was this counter, right in the middle of my bed. I just picks it up and comes over to you. I daren’t stay no longer in the house alone.”
“You didn’t notice if anything else in the house had been disturbed, I suppose?”
“I didn’t stop to look. It gave me such a turn seeing that thing there, I didn’t hardly know what I was doing.”
“Well, you’d better stay here until your son comes back,” said Mr. Ludgrove. “It is very nearly eleven now. I suppose you shut the door behind you when you came over here? How will Ted get in?”
“We both has our keys,” replied Mr. Copperdock. “Ted’s a good boy. I wouldn’t have minded so much if he’d been there.”
“Well, I’ll go to the door and watch for him,” said Mr. Ludgrove cheerfully. “You’ll be all right here, Mr. Copperdock.”
“Don’t you go no further than the door!” exclaimed the tobacconist fearfully. “For all I know that black sailor chap may be on the lookout, and seen me come across here. He’ll get me, for sure.”
“He won’t get you here, I promise you,” said Mr. Ludgrove reassuringly. He mixed a strong whiskey and
