Part 17 (1/2)
”I don't want anything to fill me up,” grunted Triffitt. ”I want something cheering--at present. I've been listening with all my ears for something new in that blessed Herapath case all the morning, and, as you know, there's been nothing!”
”Think so?” said Carver. ”Um--I should have said there was a good deal, now.”
”Nothing that I didn't know, anyway,” remarked Triffitt. ”I got all that first thing; I was on the spot first.”
”Oh, it was you, was it?” said Carver, with professional indifference.
”Lucky man! So you've only been hearing----”
”A repet.i.tion of what I'd heard before,” answered Triffitt. ”I knew all that evidence before I went into court. Caretaker--police--folks from Portman Square--doctor--all the lot! And I guess there'll be nothing this afternoon--the thing'll be adjourned.”
”Oh, that's of course,” a.s.sented Carver, attacking his m.u.f.fin sandwich.
”There'll be more than one adjournment of this particular inquest, Triffitt. But aren't you struck by one or two points?”
”I'm struck by this,” replied Triffitt. ”If what the police-surgeon says--and you noticed how positive he was about it--if what he says is true, that old Herapath was shot, and died, at, or just before (certainly not after, he positively a.s.serted), twelve o'clock midnight, it was not he who went to Portman Square!”
”That, of course, is obvious,” said Carver. ”And it's just as obvious that whoever went to Portman Square returned from Portman Square to that office. Eh?”
”That hasn't quite struck me,” replied Triffitt. ”How is it just as obvious?”
”Because whoever went to Portman Square went in old Herapath's fur-trimmed coat and his slouch hat, and the fur trimmed coat and slouch hat were found in the office,” answered Carver. ”It's absolutely plain, that. I put it like this. The murderer, having settled his man, put on his victim's coat and hat, took his keys, went to Portman Square, did something there, went back to the office, left the coat and hat, and hooked it. That, my son, is a dead certainty. There's been little--if anything--made of all that before the Coroner, and it's my impression, Triffitt, that somebody--somebody official, mind you--is keeping something back. Now,” continued Carver, dropping his voice to a confidential whisper, ”I'm only doing a plain report of this affair for our organ of light and leading, but I've read it up pretty well, and there are two things I want to know, and I'll tell you what, Triffitt, if you like to go in with me at finding them out--two can always work better than one--I'm game!”
”What are the two things?” asked Triffitt, cautiously. ”Perhaps I've got 'em in mind also.”
”The first's this,” replied Carver. ”Somebody--some taxi-cab driver or somebody of that sort--must have brought the man who personated old Jacob Herapath back to, or to the neighborhood of, the office that morning. How is it that somebody hasn't been discovered? You made a point of asking for him in the _Argus_. Do you know what I think? I think he has been discovered, and he's being kept out of the way. That's point one.”
”Good!” muttered Triffitt. ”And point two?”
”Point two is--where is the man who came out of the House of Commons with Jacob Herapath that night, the man that the coachman Mountain described? In my opinion,” a.s.serted Carver, ”I believe that man's been found, too, and he's being kept back.”
”Good again!” said Triffitt. ”It's likely. Well, I've a point. You heard the evidence about old Herapath's keys? Yes--well, where's the key of that safe that he rented at the Safe Deposit place. That young secretary, Selwood, swore that it was on the little bunch the day of the murder, that he saw it at three o'clock in the afternoon. What did Jacob Herapath do with it between then and the time of the murder?”
”Yes--that's a great point,” a.s.serted Carver. ”We may hear something of that this afternoon--perhaps of all these points.”
But when they went back to the densely crowded court it was only to find that they--and an expectant public--were going to hear nothing more for that time. As soon as the court re-a.s.sembled, there was some putting together of heads on the part of the legal gentlemen and the Coroner; there were whisperings and consultations and noddings and veiled hints, palpable enough to everybody with half an eye; then the Coroner announced that no further evidence would be taken that day, and adjourned the inquest for a fortnight. Such of the public as had contrived to squeeze into the court went out murmuring, and Triffitt and Carver went out too and exchanged meaning glances.
”Just what I expected!” said Carver. ”I reckon the police are at the bottom of all that. A fortnight today we'll be hearing something good--something sensational.”
”I don't want to wait until a fortnight today,” growled Triffitt. ”I want some good, hot stuff--now!”
”Then you'll have to find it for yourself, very soon,” remarked Carver.
”Take my tip--you'll get nothing from the police.”
Triffitt was well aware of that. He had talked to two or three police officials and detectives that morning, and had found them singularly elusive and uncommunicative. One of them was the police-inspector who had been called to the Herapath Estate Office on the discovery of the murder; another was the detective who had accompanied him. Since the murder Triffitt had kept in touch with these two, and had found them affable and ready to talk; now, however, they had suddenly curled up into a dry taciturnity, and there was nothing to be got out of them.
”Tell you what it is,” he said suddenly. ”We'll have to go for the police!”
”How go for the police?” asked Carver doubtfully.
”Throw out some careful hints that the police know more than they'll tell at present,” answered Triffitt, importantly. ”That's what I shall do, anyhow--I've got _carte blanche_ on our rag, and I'll make the public ear itch and twitch by breakfast-time tomorrow morning! And after that, my boy, you and I'll put our heads together, as you suggest, and see if we can't do a bit of detective work of our own. See you tomorrow at the usual in Fleet Street.”