The Charing Cross Mystery by J. S. Fletcher (book series for 10 year olds TXT) 📕

sort of man who is slow of speech, and he had not replied to Matherfield’s guarded inquiry about Mr. Robert Hannaford when a door in the little hall opened, and a girl appeared, who, hearing the inspector’s question, immediately came forward as if in answer.

Hetherwick recognised this girl. He had seen her only the previous afternoon in Fountain Court, in company with a man whom he knew slightly⁠—Kenthwaite, a fellow-barrister. Kenthwaite, evidently, was doing the honours⁠—showing her round the Temple; Hetherwick, in fact, in passing them, had overheard Kenthwaite telling his companion something of the history of the old houses and courts around them. And the girl had attracted him then. She was a pretty girl, tall, slim, graceful, and in addition to her undoubted charm of face and figure, she looked to have more than an average share of character and intelligence, and was listening to her guide with obvious interest and appreciation. Hetherwick had set her down as being, perhaps, a country cousin of Kenthwaite’s, visiting London, maybe, for the first time. Anyhow, in merely passing her and Kenthwaite he had noticed her so closely that he now recognised her at once; he saw, too, that she recognised him. But there was another matter more pressing than that⁠—and she had gone straight to it.

“Are these gentlemen asking for my grandfather?” she inquired, coming still nearer and glancing from the hotel proprietor to the two callers. “He’s not come in⁠—”

Hetherwick was glad to hear that the dead man was the girl’s grandfather. Certainly it was a close relationship, but, after all, not so close as it might have been. And he was conscious that the inspector was relieved, too.

“We’re asking about Mr. Robert Hannaford,” he said. “Is he your grandfather⁠—ex-Superintendent Hannaford, of Sellithwaite? Just so⁠—well, I’m very sorry to bring bad news about him⁠—”

He broke off, watching the girl keenly, as if he wanted to make sure that she would take the news quietly. And evidently reassured on that point, he suddenly went on definitely:

“You’ll understand?” he said. “It’s⁠—well, the worst news. The fact is⁠—”

“Is my grandfather dead?” interrupted the girl. “If that’s it, please say so⁠—I shan’t faint, or anything of that sort. But⁠—I want to know!”

“I’m sorry to say he is dead,” replied Matherfield. “He died suddenly in the train at Charing Cross. A seizure, no doubt. Was he well when you saw him last?”

The girl turned to the hotel proprietor, who was standing by, evidently amazed.

“Never saw a gentleman look better or seem better in my life than he did when he went out of that door at half-past six o’clock!” he exclaimed. “Best of health and spirits!”

“My grandfather was quite well,” said the girl quietly. “I never remember him being anything else but well⁠—he was a very strong, vigorous man. Will you please tell me all about it?”

Matherfield told all about it, turning now and then to Hetherwick for corroboration. In the end he put a question.

“This man that Mr. Hetherwick saw in your grandfather’s company?” he suggested. “Do you recognise anyone from that description?”

“No!⁠—no one,” answered the girl. “But my grandfather knew people in London whom I don’t know. He has been going about a good deal since we came here, three days ago⁠—looking out for a house.”

“Well, we shall have to find that man,” remarked Matherfield. “Of course, if you’d recognised the description as that of somebody known to you⁠—”

“No,” she said again. “I know nobody like that. But now⁠—do you wish me to go with you⁠—to him?”

“It’s not necessary⁠—I wouldn’t tonight, if I were you,” replied Matherfield. “I’ll call again in the morning. Meanwhile, leave matters to us and the doctors. You’ve friends in London, I suppose?”

“Yes, we have friends⁠—relations, in fact,” said the girl. “I must let them know at once.”

Matherfield nodded and turned to the door. But Hetherwick lingered. He and the girl were looking at each other. He suddenly spoke.

“I saw you this afternoon,” he said, “in Fountain Court, with a man whom I know slightly, Mr. Kenthwaite. Is he, by any chance, one of the relations you mentioned just now? Because, if so, he lives close by me. I can tell him, if you wish.”

“No,” she answered, “not a relative. We know him. You might tell him, if you please, and if it’s no trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” said Hetherwick. “And⁠—if I may⁠—I hope you’ll let me call in the morning to hear if there’s anything I can do for you?”

The girl gave him a quick, responsive glance.

“That’s very kind of you,” she said. “Yes.”

Hetherwick and the police inspector left the little hotel and walked up the street. Matherfield seemed to be in a brown study. Somewhere up in the Strand and farther away down Fleet Street the clocks began striking.

“Seems to me,” exclaimed Matherfield suddenly, “seems to me, Mr. Hetherwick, this is⁠—murder!”

“You mean poison?” said Hetherwick.

“Likely! Why, yes, of course, it would be poison. We must have that man! You can’t add to your description of him?”

“You’ve already got everything that I can tell. Pretty full and accurate, too. I should say you oughtn’t to have much difficulty in laying hands on him⁠—from my description.”

Matherfield made a sound that was half a laugh and half a groan.

“Lord bless you!” he said. “It’s like seeking a needle in a bundle of hay, searching for a given man in London! I mean, of course, sometimes. More often than not, in fact. Here’s this chap rushes up the stairs at Charing Cross, vanishes⁠—where? One man amongst seven millions of men and women! However⁠—”

Then they parted, and Hetherwick, full of thought, went home to his chambers and to bed, and lay equally thoughtful for a long time before he went to sleep. He made a poor night of it, but soon after eight o’clock he was in Kenthwaite’s chambers. Kenthwaite was dressing and breakfasting at the same time⁠—a ready-packed brief bag and an open timetable suggested that he was in a hurry to catch a train. But he suspended his operations to stare, open-mouthed, wide-eyed at