Part 38 (1/2)

”Take me up,” said Davidge, ”to Mrs. Engledew's flat.”

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

BURCHILL FILLS THE STAGE

It seemed to Triffitt, who possessed, and sedulously cultivated, a sense of the dramatic, that the scene to which he and Davidge were presently conducted by a trim and somewhat surprised-looking parlour-maid, was one which might have been bodily lifted from the stage of any theatre devoted to work of the melodramatic order. The detective and the reporter found themselves on the threshold of a handsomely furnished dining-room, vividly lighted by lamps which threw a warm pink glow over the old oak furniture and luxurious fittings. On one side of the big table sat Professor c.o.x-Raythwaite and Selwood both looking a little mystified; at the further end sat a shortish, rather fat man, obviously a foreigner, who betrayed anxiety in every line of his rather oily countenance. And posed in an elegant att.i.tude on the hearthrug, one elbow resting on the black marble of the mantelpiece, one hand toying with a cigarette, stood Burchill, scrupulously attired as usual, and conveying, or endeavouring to convey to whoever looked upon him, that he, of all people present, was master of himself and all of the scene.

Triffitt took all this in at a glance; his next glance was at the elegant, white-haired lady who came forward to meet him and his companion. Davidge gave him a nudge as he executed a duck-like bow.

”Servant, ma'am,” said Davidge in his quietest and coolest manner. ”I took the liberty of bringing a friend with me. You see, ma'am, as these proceedings are in what we may call the public way, Mrs. Engledew, no objection I'm sure to having a press gentleman at them. Mr. Triffitt, ma'am, of the _Argus_ newspaper. Known to these gentlemen--all of 'em--unless it's the gentleman at the far end, there. Known, at any rate, to Mr. Selwood and the Professor,” continued Davidge, nodding with much familiarity to the person he named. ”And likewise to Mr. Burchill there. How do you do, sir, this evening? You and me, I think, has met before, and shall no doubt meet again. Well, ma'am, and now that I've come, perhaps I might ask a question. What have I come for?”

Davidge had kept up this flow of talk while he took stock of his surroundings, and now, with another nudge of his companion's elbow, he took a chair between the door and the table, planted himself firmly in it, put his hands on top of his stout stick, and propped his chin on his hands. He looked at Mrs. Engledew once more, and then let his eyes make another inspection of her guests.

”What have I come for, ma'am?” he repeated. ”To hear those revelations you spoke of when you called on me this afternoon? Just so. Well, ma'am, the only question now is--who's going to make 'em? For,” he added, sitting up again after his further inspection, and bestowing a general smile all round, ”revelations, ma'am, is what I chiefly hanker after, and I shall be glad--delighted!--to hear any specimens from--anybody as chooses to make 'em!”

Mrs. Engledew looked at Burchill as she resumed her seat.

”I think Mr. Burchill is the most likely person to tell you what there is to tell,” she said. ”His friend----”

”Ah!--the gentleman at the other end of the table, no doubt,” observed Davidge. ”How do you do, sir? And what might that gentleman's name be, now?”

Burchill, who had been watching the detective carefully, threw away his cigarette and showed an inclination to speak.

”Look here, Davidge!” he said. ”You know very well why you're here--you're here to hear the real truth about the Herapath murder! Mrs. Engledew told you that this afternoon, when she called on you at Scotland Yard. Now the only two people who know the real truth are myself and my friend there--Mr.

Dimambro.”

Selwood and c.o.x-Raythwaite, who until then had remained in ignorance of the little foreigner's ident.i.ty, started and looked at him with interest. So this was the missing witness! But Davidge remained cool and unimpressed.

”Ah, just so!” he said. ”Foreign gentleman, no doubt. And you and Mr.

Dimambro are the only persons who know the real truth about that little affair, eh, Mr. Burchill. Very good, so as----”

”As Mr. Dimambro doesn't speak English very well----” began Burchill.

”I speak it--you understand--enough to say a good many words--but not so good as him,” observed Mr. Dimambro, waving a fat hand. ”He say it for me--for both of us, eh?”

”To be sure, sir, to be sure,” said Davidge. ”Mr. Burchill is gifted that way, of course. Well, Mr. Burchill, and what might this story be, now? Deeply interesting, I'll be bound.”

Burchill pulled a chair to the table, opposite Selwood and the Professor. He put the tips of his fingers together and a.s.sumed an explanatory manner.

”I shall have to begin at the beginning,” he said. ”You'll all please to follow me closely. Now, to commence--Mrs. Engledew permits me to speak for her as well as for Mr. Dimambro. The fact is, I can put the circ.u.mstances of the whole affair into a consecutive manner. And I will preface what I have to say by making a statement respecting a fact in the life of the late Mr. Herapath which will, I believe, be substantiated by Mr. Selwood, my successor as secretary to the deceased gentleman. Mr. Herapath, in addition to being an authority on the building of up-to-date flats, was also more or less of an expert in precious stones. He not only bought and sold in these things, but he gave advice to his friends in matters relating to them. Mr.

Selwood has, I am sure, had experience of that fact?”

”To a certain extent--yes,” agreed Selwood. ”But I had not been long enough in Mr. Herapath's employ to know how much he went in for that sort of thing.”

”That is immaterial,” continued Burchill. ”We establish the fact that he did. Now we come to the first chapter of our story. This lady, Mrs.

Engledew, a tenant of this flat since the Herapath Estate was built, is an old acquaintance--I am permitted to say, friend--of the late Jacob Herapath. She occasionally consulted him on matters of business. On November 12th last she consulted him on another affair--though it had, of course, a business complexion. Mrs. Engledew, by the death of a relative, had just come into possession of some old family jewels--chiefly diamonds.

These diamonds, which, Mrs. Engledew tells me, had been valued by Spinks at about seven thousand pounds, were in very old, considerably worn settings.