Part 35 (1/2)
”We mustn't give the press any reason to suppose that we want to thwart justice for the purpose of s.h.i.+elding an officer,” the chief said. ”Cochran will take charge of the case, and I am letting the press know this.”
There was nothing to be said, and I left him feeling very much like a criminal, and very conscious of being in an awkward position. Unless the case were satisfactorily cleared up there would be plenty of people to suspect me.
Quarles, when at last we foregathered in the empty room, was sympathetic but not surprised; Zena, who had come back to town immediately on receiving a letter from me, was furious that I should be suspected.
”I have been busy,” said the professor. ”I opened those letters, Wigan.
Of course Zena's first question on her arrival was why Mr. Parrish had not opened them. Her second question was: Why did he live the life of a recluse in Gray's Inn? How would you answer those questions?”
”I see no reason why a recluse should not live in Gray's Inn,” I answered, ”and an eccentric person, obsessed with one idea in life, might throw letters aside without opening them.”
”Quite a good answer,” said Quarles. ”Now, here are the letters. This one is dated eighteen months ago, postmark Liverpool, written at Thorn's Hotel, Liverpool. 'Dear Jack,--Back again like the proverbial bad penny.
Health first cla.s.s; luck medium. Pocket full enough to have a rollick with you. Shall be with you the day after to-morrow.--Yours, C.M.' Your friend Parrish was not a man you would expect to rollick, I imagine?''
”No.”
”So either he entirely deceived you or had changed considerably since 'C.M.' had seen him. Here is the other letter. Postmark Rome, dated three years ago, but no address. Just a message in indifferent English: 'Once more you do me good and I repay in interest. B. knows and comes to you.
Beware.--Emanuele.'”
”Parrish told me he was in Italy for some time,” I said.
”The first letter took me to Liverpool,” Quarles went on. ”Thorn's Hotel is third-rate, but quite good enough for a man who does not want to burn money. 'C.M.' stands for Claude Milne. That was the only name with those initials in the hotel books on that date. He had come from New York, and he left an address to which letters were to be forwarded, an hotel in Craven Street. I traced him there. He stayed a week, and, I gather, spent a rollicking time, mostly returning to bed in the early hours not too sober. No friends seem to have looked him up. He appears to have gone abroad again.”
”And it is eighteen months ago,” I said.
”Exactly. We will remember that,” said Quarles. ”The other letter is older still. It is evidently a warning. The writer believed Parrish to be in danger from this 'B.' who was coming to England. Now, was it B. who found him the other night after three years' search?”
”The name is on the door and in the directory,” I answered.
”That is another point to remember, Wigan. Now, I daresay you have learnt from your inquiries in the building that very little was known about Parrish. Some of the tenants did not remember there was such a name on the door. I have interviewed the agents who receive the rent, and they tell me that until about three years ago they received Parrish's rent by check, always sent from Windsor, and on a bank at Windsor; but since then they have received it in cash, promptly, and sent by messenger boy, the receipt always being waited for. They inform me that at one time, at any rate, Parrish did not use his chambers much, was a river man in the summer, and in the winter was abroad a great deal. The letter sent with the cash was merely a typed memorandum. There was no typewriter in Parrish's chambers, I think?”
”No.”
Quarles took from some papers the fly-leaf he had torn from one of the books.
”That is Parish's signature,” said Quarles. ”The agents recognize it, the bank confirms it; the account is not closed, but has not been used for three years. The rooms he occupied in Windsor are now in other hands, and nothing is known of him there. Inspector c.o.c.kran made these inquiries at Windsor. You see, as you are off the case I am helping him. Having no official position in the matter I must attach myself to some one to facilitate my investigation. c.o.c.kran thinks I am an old fool with lucid moments, during which I may possibly say something which is worth listening to.”
”He is generally looked upon as a smart man,” I said.
”Oh, perhaps he is right in his opinion of me, also in his judgment of you.”
”What has he got to say about me?”
”He says very little, but as far as I can gather his investigations are based on the a.s.sumption that you killed Parrish. Don't get angry, Wigan.
It is really not such an outrageous point of view, and for the present I am shaking my head with him and am inclined to his opinion.”
”It is a disgraceful suspicion,” said Zena.
”Those who plead not guilty always say that, but it really does not count for much with the judge,” Quarles answered. ”We will get on with the evidence. I jotted down on this fly-leaf the names of some of the books on that shelf, Wigan. Nothing there, you see, bears any reference to his illuminating work.”