French beamed on him.
“Now that was good of you, Speedwell; very good. I’ll not forget it. Did Simmons tell you what had happened?”
“Not in detail—only that Blessington, Sime, and the Dangles were wanted.”
“Well, Mr. Cheyne here and Miss Merrill were out there last night,” he shook his head reproachfully at Cheyne while a twinkle showed in his eyes, “and your friends got hold of Miss Merrill and we can’t find her. Mr. Cheyne they enticed into the house with a fair story. They led him to believe that Miss Merrill would be in her studio when he got back to town and gave him her purse, which they said she had dropped. It contained a time bomb, and only the merest chance saved Mr. Cheyne from being blown to bits. There are charges against the quartet of attempted murder of Mr. Cheyne, and of abduction of Miss Merrill. Can you help us at all?”
Speedwell shook his head.
“I doubt it, Mr. French, I doubt it, sir. I found out a little, not very much. But all the information I have is at your disposal.”
Cheyne stared at him.
“But how can that be?” he exclaimed. “You were in their confidence—to some extent at all events. Surely you got some hint of what they were after?”
Speedwell made a deferential movement, and his smile became still more oily and ingratiating.
“Now, Mr. Cheyne, sir, you mustn’t think too much of that. That was what we might call in the way of business.” He glanced sideways at Cheyne from his little foxy close-set eyes. “You can’t complain, sir, but what I answered your questions, and you’ll admit you got value for your money.”
“I don’t understand you,” Cheyne returned sharply. “Do you mean that that tale you told me was a lie, and that you weren’t employed by these people to find the man who burgled their house?”
Speedwell rubbed his hands together more vigorously.
“A little business expedient, sir, merely an ordinary little business expedient. It would be a foolish man who would not display his wares to the best advantage. I’m sure, sir, you’ll agree with that.”
Cheyne looked at him fiercely for a moment.
“You infernal rogue!” he burst out hotly. “Then your tale to me was a tissue of lies, and on the strength of it you cheated me out of my money! Now you’ll hand that £150 back! Do you hear that?”
Speedwell’s smile became the essence of craftiness.
“Not so fast, sir, not so fast,” he purred. “There’s no need to use unpleasant language. You asked for a thing and agreed to pay a certain price. You got what you asked for, and you paid the price you agreed. There was no cheating there.”
Cheyne was about to retort, but French, suave and courteous, broke in:
“Well, we can talk of that afterwards. I think, Mr. Cheyne, that Mr. Speedwell has made us a satisfactory offer. He says he will tell us everything he knows. For my part I am obliged to him for that, as he is not bound to say anything at all. I think you will agree that we ought to thank him for the position he is taking up, and to hear what he has to say. Now, Speedwell, if you are ready. Take a cigar first, and make yourself comfortable.”
“Thank you, Mr. French. I am always glad, as you know, sir, to assist the Yard or the police. I haven’t much to tell you, but here is the whole of it.”
He lit his cigar, settled himself in his chair, and began to speak.
XIV
The Clue of the Clay-Marked Shoe
“You know, Mr. French,” said Speedwell, “about my being called in by the manager of the Edgecombe in Plymouth when Mr. Cheyne was drugged? Mr. Cheyne has told you about that, sir?” French nodded and the other went on: “Then I need only tell you what Mr. Cheyne presumably does not know. I may just explain before beginning that I came into contact with Mr. Jesse, the manager, over some diamonds which were lost by a visitor to the hotel and which I had the good fortune to recover.
“The first point that struck me about Mr. Cheyne’s little affair was, How did the unknown man know Mr. Cheyne was going to lunch at that hotel on that day? I found out from Mr. Cheyne that he hadn’t mentioned his visit to Plymouth to anyone outside of his own household, and I found out from Mrs. and Miss Cheyne that they hadn’t either. But Miss Cheyne said it had been discussed at lunch, and that gave me the tip. If these statements were all OK it followed that the leakage must have been through the servants and I had a chat with both, just to see what they were like. The two were quite different. The cook was good-humored and stupid and easy going, and wouldn’t have the sense to run a conspiracy with anyone, but the parlormaid was an able young woman as well up as any I’ve met. So it looked as if it must be her.
“Then I thought over the burglary, and it seemed to me that the burglars must have got inside help, and if so, there again Susan was the girl. Of course there was the tying up, but that would be the natural way to work a blind. I noticed that the cook’s wrists were swollen, but Susan’s weren’t marked at all, so I questioned the cook, and I got a bit of information out of her that pretty well proved the thing. She said she heard the burglars ring and heard Susan go to the door. But she said it was three or four minutes before Susan screamed. Now if Susan’s story was true she would have screamed far sooner than
