Part 32 (2/2)

”What peculiarity?” asked the Professor. ”I know he had several fads, which one might call peculiarities.”

”He had a business peculiarity,” replied Mr. Halfpenny, ”and it was well known to people in his line of business. You know that Jacob Herapath had extensive, unusually extensive, dealings in real property--land and houses. Quite apart from the Herapath Flats, he dealt on wide lines with real estate; he was always buying and selling. And his peculiarity was that all his transactions in this way were done by cash--bank-notes or gold--instead of by cheque. It didn't matter if he was buying a hundred thousand pounds' worth of property, or selling two hundred thousand pounds' worth--the affairs had to be completed by payment in that fas.h.i.+on. I've scolded him about it scores of times; he only laughed at me; he said that had been the custom when he went into the business, and he'd stuck to it, and wasn't going to give it up. G.o.d bless me!”

concluded Mr. Halfpenny, with emphasis. ”I ought to know, for Jacob Herapath has concluded many an operation in this very room, and at this very table--I've seen him handle many a hundred thousand pounds' worth of notes in my time, paying or receiving! And, as I said, the mere picking up of a hundred pound note from his desk is--why, it's no more than if I picked up a few of those coppers that are lying there on my chimney-piece!”

”Just so, just so!” observed Mr. Tertius mildly. ”Jacob was a very wealthy man--the money evidence was everywhere.”

But Professor c.o.x-Raythwaite only laughed and smote the table with his big fist.

”My dear Halfpenny!” he exclaimed. ”Why, you've just given us the very best proof of what I've been saying! You're not looking deeply enough into things. The very fact to which you bear testimony proves to me that a certain theory which is a.s.suming shape in my mind may possibly have a great deal in it. That theory, briefly, is this--on the day of his death, Jacob Herapath may have had upon his person a large amount of money in bank-notes. He may have had them paid to him. He may have drawn them from his bank, to pay to somebody else. Some evil person may have been aware of his possession of those notes and have tracked him to the estate offices, or gained entrance, or--mark this!--have been lurking--lurking!--there, in order to rob him. Don't forget two points, my friend--one, that Barthorpe (if he's speaking the truth, and I, personally, believe he is) tells us that the doors of the offices and the private room were open when he called at twelve o'clock; and, too, that, according to Mountain, the coachman, Jacob Herapath had been in those offices since twenty-five minutes to twelve--plenty of time for murder and robbery to take place.

I repeat--Jacob may have had a considerable sum of money on him that night, some one may have known it, and the motive of his murder may have been--probably was--sheer robbery. And we ought to go on that, if we want to save the family honour.”

Mr. Tertius nodded and murmured a.s.sent, and Mr. Halfpenny stirred uneasily in his chair.

”Family honour!” he said. ”Yes, yes, that's right, of course. It would be a dreadful thing to see a nephew hanged for the murder of his uncle--quite right!”

”A much more dreadful thing to stand by and see an innocent man hanged, without moving heaven and earth to clear him,” commented the Professor.

”Come now, I helped to establish the fact that Barthorpe visited Portman Square that night--Tertius there helped too, by his quickness in seeing that the half-eaten sandwich had been bitten into by a man who had lost two front teeth, which, of course, was Barthorpe's case--so the least we can do is to bestir ourselves now that we believe him to have told the truth in that statement.”

”But how exactly are we to bestir ourselves?” asked Mr. Halfpenny.

”I suggest a visit to Jacob Herapath's bankers, first of all,” answered the Professor. ”I haven't heard that any particular inquiry has been made. Did you make any, Halfpenny?”

”Jacob's bankers are Bittleston, Stocks and Bittleston,” replied the old lawyer. ”I did make it in my way to drop in there and to see Mr.

Playbourne, the manager of their West End branch, in Piccadilly. He a.s.sured me that there was nothing whatever out of the common in Jacob Herapath's transactions with them just before his death, and nothing at all in their particulars of his banking account which could throw any possible light on his murder.”

”In his opinion,” said the Professor, caustically, ”in his opinion, Halfpenny! But--you don't know what our opinion might be. Now, I suggest that we all go at once to see this Mr. Playbourne; there's ample time before the bank closes for the day.”

”Very well,” a.s.sented Mr. Halfpenny. ”All the same, I'm afraid Playbourne will only say just what he said before.”

Mr. Playbourne, a good typical specimen of the somewhat old-fas.h.i.+oned bank manager, receiving this formidable deputation of four gentlemen in his private room, said precisely what he had said before, and seemed astonished to think that any light upon such an unpleasant thing as a murder could possibly be derived from so highly respectable a quarter as that in which he moved during the greater part of the day.

”I can't think of anything in our transactions with the late Mr.

Herapath that gives any clue, any idea, anything at all,” he said, somewhat querulously. ”Mr. Herapath's transactions with us, right up to the day of his death, were just what they had been for years. Of course, I'm willing to tell you anything, show you anything. You're acting for Miss Wynne, aren't you, Mr. Halfpenny?”

”I have a power of attorney from Miss Wynne, for that matter,” answered Mr. Halfpenny. ”Everything of that sort's in my hands.”

”I'll tell you what, then,” said the bank manager, laying his hand on a bell at his side. ”You'd better see Jacob Herapath's pa.s.s-book. I recently had it posted up to the day of his death, and of course we've retained it until you demanded it. You can't have a better index to his affairs with us than you'll find in it. Sellars,” he went on, as a clerk appeared, ”bring me the late Mr. Herapath's pa.s.s-book--Mr. Ravensdale has it.”

The visitors presently gathered round the desk on which Mr. Playbourne laid the parchment-bound book--one of a corresponding thickness with the dead man's transactions. The manager turned to the pages last filled in.

”You're aware, of course, some of you at any rate,” he said, ”you, Mr.

Halfpenny, and you, Mr. Selwood, that the late Jacob Herapath dealt in big sums. He always had a very large balance at this branch of our bank; he was continually paying in and drawing out amounts which, to men of less means, must needs seem tremendous. Now, you can see for yourselves what his transactions with us were during the last few days of his life; I, as I have said, see nothing out of the way in them--you, of course,”

he continued, with a sniff, ”may see a good deal!”

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