The Middle Temple Murder Read online

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  MR. AYLMORE IS QUESTIONED

  It seemed to Spargo as he sat listening to the proceedings at theadjourned inquest next day that the whole story of what was nowworld-famous as the Middle Temple Murder Case was being reiteratedbefore him for the thousandth time. There was not a detail of the storywith which he had not become familiar to fulness. The first proceedingbefore the coroner had been of a merely formal nature; these werethorough and exhaustive; the representative of the Crown and twelvegood men and true of the City of London were there to hear and to findout and to arrive at a conclusion as to how the man known as JohnMarbury came by his death. And although he knew all about it, Spargofound himself tabulating the evidence in a professional manner, andnoting how each successive witness contributed, as it were, a chapterto the story. The story itself ran quite easily, naturally,consecutively--you could make it in sections. And Spargo, sittingmerely to listen, made them:

  1. The Temple porter and Constable Driscoll proved the finding of thebody.

  2. The police surgeon testified as to the cause of death--the man hadbeen struck down from behind by a blow, a terrible blow--from someheavy instrument, and had died immediately.

  3. The police and the mortuary officials proved that when the body wasexamined nothing was found in the clothing but the now famous scrap ofgrey paper.

  4. Rathbury proved that by means of the dead man's new fashionablecloth cap, bought at Fiskie's well-known shop in the West-End, hetraced Marbury to the Anglo-Orient Hotel in the Waterloo District.

  5. Mr. and Mrs. Walters gave evidence of the arrival of Marbury at theAnglo-Orient Hotel, and of his doings while he was in and about there.

  6. The purser of the ss. _Wambarino_ proved that Marbury sailed fromMelbourne to Southampton on that ship, excited no remark, behavedhimself like any other well-regulated passenger, and left the_Wambarino_ at Southampton early in the morning of what was to be thelast day of his life in just the ordinary manner.

  7. Mr. Criedir gave evidence of his rencontre with Marbury in thematter of the stamps.

  8. Mr. Myerst told of Marbury's visit to the Safe Deposit, and furtherproved that the box which he placed there proved, on officialexamination, to be empty.

  9. William Webster re-told the story of his encounter with Marbury inone of the vestibules of the House of Commons, and of his witnessingthe meeting between him and the gentleman whom he (Webster) now knew tobe Mr. Aylmore, a Member of Parliament.

  All this led up to the appearance of Mr. Aylmore, M.P., in thewitness-box. And Spargo knew and felt that it was that appearance forwhich the crowded court was waiting. Thanks to his own vivid andrealistic specials in the _Watchman_, everybody there had alreadybecome well and thoroughly acquainted with the mass of evidencerepresented by the nine witnesses who had been in the box before Mr.Aylmore entered it. They were familiar, too, with the facts which Mr.Aylmore had permitted Spargo to print after the interview at the club,which Ronald Breton arranged. Why, then, the extraordinary interestwhich the Member of Parliament's appearance aroused? For everybody wasextraordinarily interested; from the Coroner downwards to the last manwho had managed to squeeze himself into the last available inch of thepublic gallery, all who were there wanted to hear and see the man whomet Marbury under such dramatic circumstances, and who went to hishotel with him, hobnobbed with him, gave him advice, walked out of thehotel with him for a stroll from which Marbury never returned. Spargoknew well why the interest was so keen--everybody knew that Aylmore wasthe only man who could tell the court anything really pertinent aboutMarbury; who he was, what he was after; what his life had been.

  He looked round the court as the Member of Parliament entered thewitness-box--a tall, handsome, perfectly-groomed man, whose beard wasonly slightly tinged with grey, whose figure was as erect as awell-drilled soldier's, who carried about him an air of consciouspower. Aylmore's two daughters sat at a little distance away, oppositeSpargo, with Ronald Breton in attendance upon them; Spargo hadencountered their glance as they entered the court, and they had givenhim a friendly nod and smile. He had watched them from time to time; itwas plain to him that they regarded the whole affair as a novel sort ofentertainment; they might have been idlers in some Eastern bazaar,listening to the unfolding of many tales from the professionaltale-tellers. Now, as their father entered the box, Spargo looked atthem again; he saw nothing more than a little heightening of colour intheir cheeks, a little brightening of their eyes.

  "All that they feel," he thought, "is a bit of extra excitement at theidea that their father is mixed up in this delightful mystery. Um!Well--now how much is he mixed up?"

  And he turned to the witness-box and from that moment never took hiseyes off the man who now stood in it. For Spargo had ideas about thewitness which he was anxious to develop.

  The folk who expected something immediately sensational in Mr.Aylmore's evidence were disappointed. Aylmore, having been sworn, andasked a question or two by the Coroner, requested permission to tell,in his own way, what he knew of the dead man and of this sad affair;and having received that permission, he went on in a calm,unimpassioned manner to repeat precisely what he had told Spargo. Itsounded a very plain, ordinary story. He had known Marbury many yearsago. He had lost sight of him for--oh, quite twenty years. He had methim accidentally in one of the vestibules of the House of Commons onthe evening preceding the murder. Marbury had asked his advice. Havingno particular duty, and willing to do an old acquaintance a good turn,he had gone back to the Anglo-Orient Hotel with Marbury, had remainedawhile with him in his room, examining his Australian diamonds, and hadafterwards gone out with him. He had given him the advice he wanted;they had strolled across Waterloo Bridge; shortly afterwards they hadparted. That was all he knew.

  The court, the public, Spargo, everybody there, knew all this already.It had been in print, under a big headline, in the _Watchman_. Aylmorehad now told it again; having told it, he seemed to consider that hisnext step was to leave the box and the court, and after a perfunctoryquestion or two from the Coroner and the foreman of the jury he made amotion as if to step down. But Spargo, who had been aware since thebeginning of the enquiry of the presence of a certain eminent counselwho represented the Treasury, cocked his eye in that gentleman'sdirection, and was not surprised to see him rise in his well-known,apparently indifferent fashion, fix his monocle in his right eye, andglance at the tall figure in the witness-box.

  "The fun is going to begin," muttered Spargo.

  The Treasury representative looked from Aylmore to the Coroner and madea jerky bow; from the Coroner to Aylmore and straightened himself. Helooked like a man who is going to ask indifferent questions about thestate of the weather, or how Smith's wife was last time you heard ofher, or if stocks are likely to rise or fall. But Spargo had heard thisman before, and he knew many signs of his in voice and manner andglance.

  "I want to ask you a few questions, Mr. Aylmore, about youracquaintanceship with the dead man. It was an acquaintanceship of sometime ago?" began the suave, seemingly careless voice.

  "A considerable time ago," answered Aylmore.

  "How long--roughly speaking?"

  "I should say from twenty to twenty-two or three years."

  "Never saw him during that time until you met accidentally in the wayyou have described to us?"

  "Never."

  "Ever heard from him?"

  "No."

  "Ever heard of him?"

  "No."

  "But when you met, you knew each other at once?"

  "Well--almost at once."

  "Almost at once. Then, I take it, you were very well known to eachother twenty or twenty-two years ago?"

  "We were--yes, well known to each other."

  "Close friends?"

  "I said we were acquaintances."

  "Acquaintances. What was his name when you knew him at that time?"

  "His name? It was--Marbury."

  "Marbury--the same name. Where did you know him?"

 
"I--oh, here in London."

  "What was he?"

  "Do you mean--what was his occupation?"

  "What was his occupation?"

  "I believe he was concerned in financial matters."

  "Concerned in financial matters. Had you dealings with him?"

  "Well, yes--on occasions."

  "What was his business address in London?"

  "I can't remember that."

  "What was his private address?"

  "That I never knew."

  "Where did you transact your business with him?"

  "Well, we met, now and then."

  "Where? What place, office, resort?"

  "I can't remember particular places. Sometimes--in the City."

  "In the City. Where in the City? Mansion House, or Lombard Street, orSt. Paul's Churchyard, or the Old Bailey, or where?"

  "I have recollections of meeting him outside the Stock Exchange."

  "Oh! Was he a member of that institution?"

  "Not that I know of."

  "Were you?"

  "Certainly not!"

  "What were the dealings that you had with him?"

  "Financial dealings--small ones."

  "How long did your acquaintanceship with him last--what period did itextend over?"

  "I should say about six months to nine months."

  "No more?"

  "Certainly no more."

  "It was quite a slight acquaintanceship, then?"

  "Oh, quite!"

  "And yet, after losing sight of this merely slight acquaintance forover twenty years, you, on meeting him, take great interest in him?"

  "Well, I was willing to do him a good turn, I was interested in what hetold me the other evening."

  "I see. Now you will not object to my asking you a personal question ortwo. You are a public man, and the facts about the lives of public menare more or less public property. You are represented in this work ofpopular reference as coming to this country in 1902, from Argentina,where you made a considerable fortune. You have told us, however, thatyou were in London, acquainted with Marbury, about the years, say 1890to 1892. Did you then leave England soon after knowing Marbury?"

  "I did. I left England in 1891 or 1892--I am not sure which."

  "We are wanting to be very sure about this matter, Mr. Aylmore. We wantto solve the important question--who is, who was John Marbury, and howdid he come by his death? You seem to be the only available person whoknows anything about him. What was your business before you leftEngland?"

  "I was interested in financial affairs."

  "Like Marbury. Where did you carry on your business?"

  "In London, of course."

  "At what address?"

  For some moments Aylmore had been growing more and more restive. Hisbrow had flushed; his moustache had begun to twitch. And now he squaredhis shoulders and faced his questioner defiantly.

  "I resent these questions about my private affairs!" he snapped out.

  "Possibly. But I must put them. I repeat my last question."

  "And I refuse to answer it."

  "Then I ask you another. Where did you live in London at the time youare telling us of, when you knew John Marbury?"

  "I refuse to answer that question also!"

  The Treasury Counsel sat down and looked at the Coroner.