The inspector went out and breakfasted in one of those huge “Tyger” restaurants which cater for the servantless flat-dwellers of London. Then he went to Scotland Yard, arranged to see the superintendent after lunch, and phoned through to Woodman arranging an eleven o’clock appointment at his office. Next he got on the phone to the Piccadilly Theatre, and discovered that Miss Lang was expected there at about midday. He left a message stating that he would call to see her. She lived, as he knew, at Hammersmith, and was not on the telephone. He also rang through to the sergeant on duty at Liskeard House, who reported that there were no fresh developments.
At eleven o’clock punctually, the inspector entered Carter Woodman’s outer office. The old clerk, seated there at his desk, looked up at him suspiciously from a heap of papers. Rather brusquely, the inspector announced that he had come to see Woodman by appointment. The man went to tell his master, and Carter Woodman promptly appeared at the door of the inner room to bid his visitor welcome. Coming towards the inspector, he gripped him firmly by the hand. “Well, my lad, how goes it?” he said. “Have you found the scoundrels? You must come in and tell me all about it.”
The inspector felt himself almost carried bodily into the inner room, and seated breathless in a chair, while Carter Woodman took up a commanding position on the hearthrug. “Quite right to come to me,” he said. “You must treat me as if I were Sir Vernon—as his man of business I regard myself as in charge of his affairs. Now let me know exactly what you have done so far, and I’ll see if I can help you. But, first, have you any fresh clue as to the identity of the murderers?”
Inspector Blaikie reflected, as Woodman was speaking, that powerful physique seemed to run in the Brooklyn family. Woodman was only a distant relative; yet he had many of the physical characteristics which the inspector had noticed in Walter Brooklyn. But there the resemblance seemed to end. Woodman’s bluff and hearty manner, which seemed to have big reserves of strength and self-control behind it, was in marked contrast to Walter Brooklyn’s passionate and excitable temperament. Woodman belonged to a very definite type—the successful city man who combined keen business acumen and a sharp eye for a bargain with a hail-fellow-well-met manner and an ability to make himself instantly at home in almost any society.
The inspector, engrossed with his own thoughts, said nothing in immediate reply to Woodman’s question; and the latter, after a pause, repeated it, remarking cheerfully, “What, daydreaming, are we? Won’t do in a detective, you know. Not at all what we expect of you, eh?” And, after putting his hand for a moment on the inspector’s shoulder, he abandoned his place of vantage before the fireplace and sat down in his desk-chair facing his visitor.
“I saw Mr. Walter Brooklyn yesterday—not, I am afraid, a very pleasant interview. He seemed to resent very much my asking him any questions—in fact he all but threw me downstairs,” the detective added with a laugh.
“What took you to see him?” asked Woodman. “I suppose it was about our seeing him outside the house.”
“It had come to my knowledge that Mr. Walter Brooklyn was actually in Mr. Prinsep’s room at Liskeard House at 11:30 on Tuesday night.”
“Good Lord, man, you don’t say so. Are you sure? Why, who in the world told you that?”
“Nobody actually saw him there; but he telephoned at that time to his club, said that he was speaking from Liskeard House, and asked if a registered parcel had arrived for him, as he wanted it sent round there at once.”
“Dear me, inspector, this throws a new—and a most distressing—light on the case. Did you discover from Mr. Brooklyn what he was doing at Liskeard House?”
“No, and it was exactly on that point that I came to see what you could tell me.”
“My dear chap, I’m as surprised as you are to know that he was there at all.”
“I understand from Mr. Brooklyn that he had seen you earlier in the day. It might help if I knew what was the business then.”
“You probably know enough about Walter Brooklyn to guess that it was about money.”
“I had guessed so; but I am glad to have it definite. Can you give me rather more particulars?”
“I think I may, though, strictly speaking, the matter ought to be confidential. Mr. Walter Brooklyn had been trying for some time to get Sir Vernon to pay his debts, as he had done on several previous occasions. This time Sir Vernon handed the matter over to John Prinsep, partly because he was away from town, and partly because he thought he could trust Prinsep to handle the matter more successfully than if he did it himself. Prinsep thereupon saw Walter Brooklyn, and also consulted me. On my advice, he refused to make any payment without a very clear understanding that this was to be the last application. Walter Brooklyn tried all means to get the money without conditions, and in particular refused to disclose in detail what his liabilities were. Prinsep would not give a penny unless his conditions were met. On Tuesday afternoon Walter Brooklyn came down by appointment to see me, and I tried to get him to accept the conditions. He refused, and declared his intention of seeing Prinsep again. I told him he must do what he liked about that. I believe he saw Prinsep. Anyhow, later in the afternoon he came back, and made another attempt to get me to urge that the conditions should be modified. I refused of course, and he left. I have not seen him since.”
“So far as you know, he had made no appointment with Prinsep for the evening?”
“I know nothing about
