Part 45 (1/2)
The Superintendent admitted that this was so, and also that Sir Reginald Cromarty had suffered thereby, but he was quite positive that this trouble was entirely a thing of the past. There was no doubt that this information had a somewhat depressing effect even on the good-humoured Mr. Carrington, and at last he confessed with a candid air:
”The fact is, Superintendent, that I have a theory Sir Reginald was worrying about something before his death, and as all his business affairs are conducted by Mr. Rattar, I was wondering whether he had any difficulties in that direction. Now about this bad brother of Mr.
Rattar's--there couldn't be trouble still outstanding, you think?”
”Mr. George Rattar was out of the firm, sir, years ago,” the Superintendent a.s.sured him. ”No, it couldna be that.”
”And Mr. George Rattar certainly died a short time ago, did he?”
”I can show you the paper with his death in it. I kept it as a kind of record of the end of him.”
He fetched the paper and Carrington after looking at it for a few minutes, remarked:
”I see here an advertis.e.m.e.nt stating that Mr. Rattar lost a ring.”
”Yes,” said the Superintendent, ”that was a funny thing because it's not often a gentleman loses a ring off his hand. I've half wondered since whether it was connected with a story of Mr. Rattar's maid that his house had been broken into.”
”When was that?”
”Curiously enough it was the very night Sir Reginald was murdered.”
Carrington's chair squeaked on the floor as he sat up sharply.
”The very night of the murder?” he repeated. ”Why has this never come out before?”
The stolid Superintendent looked at him in surprise.
”But what connection could there possibly be, sir? Mr. Rattar thought nothing of it himself and just mentioned it so that I would know it was a mere story, in case his servants started talking about it.”
”But you yourself seemed just now to think that it might not be a mere story.”
”Oh, that was just a kind o' idea,” said the Superintendent easily. ”It only came in my mind when the ring was never recovered.”
”What were the exact facts?” demanded Carrington.
”Oh,” said the Superintendent vaguely, ”there was something about a window looking as if it had been entered, but really, sir, Mr. Rattar paid so little attention to it himself, and we were that taken up by the Keldale case that I made no special note of it.”
”Did the servants ever speak of it again?”
”Everybody was that taken up about the murder that I doubt if they've minded on it any further.”
Carrington was silent for a few moments.
”Are the servants intelligent girls?” he enquired.
”Oh, quite average intelligent. In fact, the housemaid is a particular decent sort of a girl.”
At this point, Mr. Carrington's interest in the subject seemed to wane, and after a few pleasant generalities, he thanked the Superintendent for his courtesy, and strolled down to the hotel for lunch. This time his air as he walked was noticeably brisker and his eye decidedly brighter.