The Spaniard, as Ellery told Joan afterwards, took the devil of a time to come down to brass tacks. But what he had to tell was quite conclusive. He had found, and could produce, conclusive evidence that Walter Brooklyn had been in Trafalgar Square at the time he had stated. He had discovered two men who had seen him leaning over the parapet opposite the National Gallery, and one of them had definitely noticed the time by the clock of St. Martin’s Church. This had been at 11:40. Moreover, the second man, perhaps, the Spaniard hinted—oh, so delicately that his way of saying it seemed to make petty larceny a fine art—in the hope of picking a few trifles out of Mr. Brooklyn’s pockets, had actually followed him round the Square, and seen him take out his watch and look at the time. He had shadowed Brooklyn up Cockspur Street and the Haymarket, actually as far as the corner of Jermyn Street, where some object of greater immediate interest had served to distract him from the chase. Moreover, in return for suitable rewards, both these men were prepared to give evidence. The Spaniard had arranged for them both to meet Ellery, if he so desired, and, in a few minutes’ time, they would be in the bar of the little public-house in which Ellery had originally met with the Spaniard himself.
This was more than satisfactory, and Ellery at once went to meet the two men and hear their stories. They fully bore out what the Spaniard had said, and Ellery took their names and addresses, and then arranged to see them again on the following morning at the same place, and to take them, with the other witnesses he and Joan had collected, to Thomas’s office, where they would be able to consider the steps that had best be taken towards securing Walter Brooklyn’s absolution. He could get hold of the remaining witnesses later in the evening; but first he had to thank the Spaniard and to settle with him for what he had done.
Ellery had no doubt that the Spaniard both needed and expected payment for the very real service he had rendered; but it was, he found, by no means easy to come to the point. The old man, despite his seedy garments, was very much the fine gentleman in his manners; it was easy enough to thank him handsomely, and to receive his still more handsome acknowledgments. But it was not at all easy to offer him money. Still, it had to be done; and, awkwardly and stammeringly, Ellery at last did it.
He was met with a refusal. The Spaniard was only too glad to have been of some service—to a lady. Thanks were more than enough: pecuniary reward would degrade a charming episode to the level of a commercial transaction. Perhaps, some day, Ellery, or Miss Cowper might be in a position to do him a service. He would accept it gladly; but he begged that, until the occasion arose, no more might be said upon the matter. Ellery had to leave it at that, making a resolution to seek at once an occasion for being of service to the man who had helped so greatly in their quest. Meanwhile, he could only thank him again, and exchange, in taking his leave, the fine courtesies which gave the Spaniard such manifest pleasure.
Ellery’s first action, on leaving Trafalgar Square, was to take steps to summon his other witnesses to meet him at Thomas’s office the following morning. Kitty Frensham he secured by a telephone message to Mandleham’s flat. Mandleham at once promised to come himself, and to bring Kitty with him, at half-past ten. Ellery then walked on to Piccadilly Circus, where he found his friend, the night-watchman, deep this time in Carlyle’s Oliver Cromwell, which Ellery had lent him. He, too, promised to be in attendance. Ellery then walked along Piccadilly to the theatre, and secured the attendant who had seen Walter Brooklyn standing outside at “a bit before half-past ten.” This completed his preparations; and he rang at the bell of Liskeard House, and asked for Joan.
“What news?” she asked anxiously, coming forward to greet him as he was announced.
“The best,” he replied. “The alibi is proved.”
“Oh, I am so glad. And now I can tell you a secret. I wasn’t absolutely sure my stepfather had told us the truth. At least, I was sure; but I couldn’t help having a doubt every now and then. And I simply couldn’t bear the thought that he might have been implicated. I knew, of course, that he hadn’t killed anyone; but I wasn’t quite sure he didn’t know all about it. And everybody else seemed to believe the worst, and at times I couldn’t help being a little shaken. Now you must tell me all about what you’ve found out.”
Ellery did tell her all about it, and also of the steps he had taken to arrange a meeting at Thomas’s office for the following morning. Joan said at once that she would go; and Ellery thereupon rang up Thomas, to whom he had so far said nothing, at his home, and demanded an interview. Joan and he must, he said, see Thomas on urgent business. They would be bringing several witnesses who could throw valuable light on the case, and they would be at his office at 10:30 on the following morning. Would Thomas be sure to keep the time free?
Thomas was plainly surprised, and also curious; and he tried to make Ellery tell him over the phone what it was all about. This Ellery would not do, merely saying that the matter was of vital importance, but he would rather explain it all in the morning. Thomas thereupon agreed to cancel a previous engagement, and to be ready for them at the hour arranged. “Now, at last,” said Ellery, as he hung up the receiver, “I
