The Eight of Swords

Hanham, saying he thought the man I wanted was stopping at the Chequers Inn — which I must explain is down Hanham way, by the river, about four miles from here… '

'Interesting,' put in the bishop, looking sideways at Dr. Fell. 'The man is not dead, then?'

'Dead?' said Murch, blankly. 'Dead? Gaawdbless-mes'ul, ho! Why should he be dead?'

'I was only endeavoring to ascertain the facts,' said the other, with a negligent gesture and another satisfied look at Dr. Fell. 'Go on, Inspector.'

Dr. Fell was not at all disconcerted.

'It would seem that for the moment I am in disgrace,' he wheezed affably. 'rTmf. No matter. Sexton Blake will yet be triumphant. I don't think it matters in the least — did you go over to see him, Inspector?'

'Yes, sir. First I telephoned to The Grange, to ascertain whether Colonel Standish had returned. He had not. I then borrowed a car and drove to the Chequers Inn. At this time I did not know his name was Spinelli, or 'oo the chap was at all.

'He was known at the Chequers as Mr. Travers, and he'd not made any attempt to bolt. I found him sitting out on the porch, drinking his half-pint, as cool as you please.- A very well-spoken person, sir; like a gentleman. In process of law,' intoned Inspector Murch, 'I cautioned him, informing him he was not under oath, but 'ad better answer such questions as I put in process of law. He made a certain statement, not under oath, which he initialled.¹'

Clearing his throat, Murch opened his notebook.

' 'My name is Stuart Travers. I am a theatrical impresorrio, retired. I lived at the Deword, Broadway and Eighty-Sixth Street, New York City. I am travelling in England for pleasure. I do not know Mr. Depping. Yes, I know what happened last night; everybody here knows all about it. Yes; I know I am under suspicion. I was not near the Guest House at any time last night. If the man who called there was seen, they will tell you it was not me. I have nothing to be afraid of. I went to my room last night at half-past nine, and did not leave it until this morning. That is all I have to say until I have consulted my lawyer.'

During the reading, Inspector Murch had been leaning farther and farther backwards. Now he looked up with a heavy and crafty smile.

'I had not any warrant,' he pursued, 'and could not hold the accused until properly identified. I asked him to accompany me 'ere to be identified, and he would not, sir, he said, until he had telephoned to London and talked to his lawyer. Very cool. Afterwards, the accused said he would come gladly, and meantime he would stop in charge of Sergeant Ravens. So he won't run away, sir, look—but, in secret, I obtained pieces of evidence which is most significant.'

'Dashed good work, that' said Colonel Standish approvingly. 'Hear that? Listen again. Hang him without a doubt. Eh, Murch?'

'Thank you, sir. We can hope so,' replied Murch, with heavy modesty. 'Well, sir, to go on. Mr. Travers was not in his room last night at the time indicated as per statement. It is true he be and went there at half-past nine. But he left it, because he was seen at close on ten o'clock, climbing back into the window of 'is room — which is on the ground floor. Funny thing; he was sopping wet, though the rain hadn't started, as wet as though he'd been and fallen in the river…'

'In the river,' interrupted Dr. Fell, musingly. 'Not bad, not bad. How do you explain that?'

'Well, sir, I don't. But that's not the important thing, you see. Mrs. Kenviss, the landlord's wife at the Chequers, saw him doing it when she was coming back from taking the cloths off all the little tables in a sort of restaurant arbor they have outside. She wondered what was up, and watched… In less than five minutes, out this Mr. Travers climbed again, with 'is clothes changed, and hurried off somewhere. That's the important thing. A good walker could easy cover four miles between the Chequers and this house here in less than an hour. He'd have reached here by eleven o'clock… '

'So he would,' agreed Dr. Fell. 'In time for a blackmailer to have seen a great deal'

The inspector frowned. 'Seen, sir?' he repeated, with a sort of hoarse jocosity. ' M! Tisn't what he'd've seen, not much. That's the time he walked straight in that door there, after the lights went out, and upstairs — as we know. And shot poor Mr. Depping. He didn't get back to the Chequers until half-past one. Mrs. Kenviss,' the inspector said virtuously, 'said it was her bounden duty to sit up, and watch that window, and see what was what. Blessmes’l, she and Mr. Kenviss do get a scare when they learn this morning what's happened!'And they didn't dare speak to Mr. Travers; so she hurries out after Sergeant Ravens, and that's how I know. But,' announced Murch, tapping his notebook with heavy emphasis, 'we don't give our knowledge away, Ravens and me. To Mr. Travers, I mean. I thought I'd best nip back here straightaway, get that Storer chap, take him and identify Mr. Travers, and we've got him.'

He closed his notebook. 'My superior officer, the chief constable,' he continued, with an air of putting on the final touch, 'has made the information against him as being one Louis Spinelli, and that completes it. I have now my warrants for arrest and search.'

'Got him, eh?' inquired the colonel, glancing from one to the other of the figures on the porch. 'Got him drunk on parade — dead to rights, damme! Sorry to have pulled you down here for nothing, Fell. Still… Hallo, I'm sorry; I forgot!.. Let me introduce, Dr. Fordyce, my daughter Patricia…' He whirled round with an air of inspiration.

'How do you do?' said Hugh Donovan instantly.

'You've already introduced everybody,' said the sad-faced medical man with some asperity. 'And since the police seem to have finished, Fll be thankful to get on with my postmortem and be off.'

'Oh, yes..Carry on, then' said Dr. Fell, with an absentminded air. He waited until the doctor and the two constables had tramped past him into the house. Then he looked round the little group, and fixed Murch with a sombre eye. 'So you came back here for an identification of Spinelli from the valet, Inspector?'

'Yes, sir.' Murch wheezed out a breath of relief. 'And, by Gearge, sir! I'm free to confess how glad I am it was this man Travers, or Spinelli; one of those there gunman chaps, that'd as soon shoot as look at you, like you see in the films; and not one of our own folk. Ah, ah, hell soon learn you can't do that business over here, by Gearge!' Another breath of relief, which agitated the ends of his sandy moustache. 'Ah, ay, a good thing. I’m bound to admit I was having ideas, sir.'

'Ideas?'

'Ah,' agreed the inspector. ' Tis nonsense, sir, but there it is.' A broader strain had crept into the good inspector's speech now that the burden of an official report had been removed. 'Ah, but when an idea cooms to you, blest if you can drive 'ee cot. There he is, and there he stays. Eh zed to meself, Eh zed, by Gearge!' proclaimed Murch, illustrating what he said to himself by sweeping a big arm through the air and snapping his fingers as though he had just thrown a pair of dice, 'is that true? Eh zed. Tis queer, when I heard some of the things that are being said hereabouts — hints, like — and had a look at his letters, then I had ideas. Both Mr. Morgan and I had ideas; yon's a clever lad, Mr. Morgan; he helped me this morning. Aa-hh-ha, yes. But Eh zed to meself. Eh, zed, 'Luther Murch, you'm dimp!' And a small matter now, too, with us having the murderer'

He threw out his big hands, dismissing it, but not without a frown. Dr. Fell regarded him steadily.

‘I shall want to hear those ideas, Inspector. H’m, yes. Together with all the evidence you have collected today; we haven't done much but talk. Please come upstairs. I’m afraid I've bad news for you.'

The colonel interposed. He said:

'Well, well, what are we waiting for, demmit?' in a querulous tone. 'Time we were busy. I've got to drive six miles to a telegraph office, confounded nuisance, just to tell Hadley we've caught our man… Morley! What the devil are you doing here, eh? Come along with me; I can't write telegrams; never could… You, Patricia! Dash it, this is no place for you, you know!' he protested, rather defensively.

She spoke for the first time. It was one of those warm, soft, ginch-like voices also. She looked down from her contemplation of the stone peacock.

'Of course not, Dad,' she agreed, with such readiness that the colonel stared at her.

'Eh?' he said.

'Of course not.' The hazel eyes grew sombre. They flickered past Hugh, and then looked squarely at him for the first time. They had such an overpowering effect that the shooting-gallery bell clanged six times in rapid succession, and with unnerving noise. Patricia went on in bright helpfulness:

'Shall I take Mr. Donovan up to The Grange and introduce him to Mother? And I'm sure he must be dying for a dr — for something to eat.'

She smiled. The colonel caught up with the suggestion with his usual air of inspiration.