The Borough Treasurer Page 11

  CHAPTER XI

  CHRISTOPHER PETT

  The two men sat staring silently at the paper-strewn desk for severalmoments; each occupied with his own thoughts. At last the superintendentbegan to put the several exhibits together, and he turned to Breretonwith a gesture which suggested a certain amount of mental impatience.

  "There's one thing in all this that I can't understand, sir," he said."And it's this--it's very evident that whoever killed Kitely wanted thepapers that Kitely carried in that pocket-book. Why did he take 'em outof the pocket-book and throw the pocket-book away? I don't know how thatstrikes you--but it licks me, altogether!"

  "Yes," agreed Brereton, "it's puzzling--certainly. You'd think that themurderer would have carried off the pocket-book, there and then. That hetook the papers from it, threw the pocket-book itself away, and thenplaced the papers--or some of them--where your people have just foundthem--in Harborough's shed--seems to me to argue something which is evenmore puzzling. I daresay you see what I mean?"

  "Can't say that I do, sir," answered the superintendent. "I haven't hadmuch experience in this sort of work, you know, Mr. Brereton--it's agood bit off our usual line. What do you mean, then?"

  "Why," replied Brereton, laughing a little, "I mean this--it looks as ifthe murderer had taken his time about his proceedings!--after Kitely waskilled. The pocket-book, as you know, was picked up close to the body.It was empty--as we all saw. Now what can we infer from that but thatthe murderer actually stopped by his victim to examine the papers? Andin that case he must have had a light. He may have carried an electrictorch. Let's try and reconstruct the affair. We'll suppose that themurderer, whoever he was, was so anxious to find some paper that hewanted, and that he believed Kitely to have on him, that he immediatelyexamined the contents of the pocket-book. He turned on his electrictorch and took all the papers out of the pocket-book, laying thepocket-book aside. He was looking through the papers when he heard asound in the neighbouring coppices or bushes. He immediately turned offhis light, made off with the papers, and left the empty case--possiblycompletely forgetting its existence for the moment. How does that strikeyou--as a theory?"

  "Very good, sir," replied the superintendent. "Very good--but it is onlya theory, you know, Mr. Brereton."

  Brereton rose, with another laugh.

  "Just so," he said. "But suppose you try to reduce it to practice? Inthis way--you no doubt have tradesmen in this town who deal in suchthings as electric torches. Find out--in absolute secrecy--if any ofthem have sold electric torches of late to any one in the town, and ifso, to whom. For I'm certain of this--that pocket-book and its contentswas examined on the spot, and that examination could only have been madewith a light, and an electric torch would be the handiest means ofproviding that light. And so--so you see how even a little clue likethat might help, eh?"

  "I'll see to it," assented the superintendent. "Well, it's all veryqueer, sir, and I'm getting more than ever convinced that we've laidhands on the wrong man. And yet--what could, and what can we do?"

  "Oh, nothing, at present," replied Brereton. "Let matters develop.They're only beginning."

  He went away then, not to think about the last subject of conversation,but to take out his own pocket-book as soon as he was clear of thepolice-station, and to write down that entry which he had seen inKitely's memoranda:--_M. & C. v. S. B. cir. 81_. And again he was struckby the fact that the initials were those of Mallalieu and Cotherstone,and again he wondered what they meant. They might have no referencewhatever to the Mayor and his partner--but under the circumstances itwas at any rate a curious coincidence, and he had an overwhelmingintuition that something lay behind that entry. But--what?

  That evening, as Bent and his guest were lighting their cigars afterdinner, Bent's parlour-maid came into the smoking-room with a card. Bentglanced from it to Brereton with a look of surprise.

  "Mr. Christopher Pett!" he exclaimed. "What on earth does he want mefor? Bring Mr. Pett in here, anyway," he continued, turning to theparlour-maid. "Is he alone?--or is Miss Pett with him?"

  "The police-superintendent's with him, sir," answered the girl. "Theysaid--could they see you and Mr. Brereton for half an hour, onbusiness?"

  "Bring them both in, then," said Bent. He looked at Brereton again, withmore interrogation. "Fresh stuff, eh?" he went on. "Mr. ChristopherPett's the old dragon's nephew, I suppose. But what can he wantwith--oh, well, I guess he wants you--I'm the audience."

  Brereton made no reply. He was watching the door. And through itpresently came a figure and face which he at once recognized as those ofan undersized, common-looking, sly-faced little man whom he had oftenseen about the Law Courts in London, and had taken for a solicitor'sclerk. He looked just as common and sly as ever as he sidled into thesmoking-room, removing his silk hat with one hand and depositing a briefbag on the table with the other, and he favoured Brereton with a sicklygrin of recognition after he had made a bow to the master of the house.That done he rubbed together two long and very thin white hands andsmiled at Brereton once more.

  "Good-evening, Mr. Brereton," he said in a thin, wheedling voice. "I'veno doubt you've seen me before, sir?--I've seen you often--round aboutthe Courts, Mr. Brereton--though I've never had the pleasure of puttingbusiness in your way--as yet, Mr. Brereton, as yet, sir! But----"

  Brereton, to whom Bent had transferred Mr. Christopher Pett's card,glanced again at it, and from it to its owner.

  "I see your address is that of Messrs. Popham & Pilboody in CursitorStreet, Mr. Pett," he observed frigidly. "Any connection with thatwell-known firm?"

  Mr. Pett rubbed his hands, and taking the chair which Bent silentlyindicated, sat down and pulled his trousers up about a pair of bonyknees. He smiled widely, showing a set of curiously shaped teeth.

  "Mr. Popham, sir," he answered softly, "has always been my very goodfriend. I entered Mr. Popham's service, sir, at an early age. Mr.Popham, sir, acted very handsomely by me. He gave me my articles, sir.And when I was admitted--two years ago, Mr. Brereton--Messrs. Popham &Pilboody gave me--very generously--an office in their suite, so that Icould have my name up, and do a bit on my own, sir. Oh yes!--I'mconnected--intimately--with that famous firm, Mr. Brereton!"

  There was an assurance about Mr. Pett, a cocksureness of demeanour, acheerful confidence in himself, which made Brereton long to kick him;but he restrained his feelings and said coldly that he supposed Mr. Pettwished to speak to Mr. Bent and himself on business.

  "Not on my own business, sir," replied Pett, laying his queer-lookingwhite fingers on his brief bag. "On the business of my esteemed femininerelative, Miss Pett. I am informed, Mr. Brereton--no offence, sir, oh,none whatever!--that you put some--no doubt necessary--questions toMiss Pett at the court this morning which had the effect of prejudicingher in the eyes--or shall we say ears?--of those who were present. MissPett accordingly desires that I, as her legal representative, shouldlose no time in putting before you the true state of the case as regardsher relations with Kitely, deceased, and I accordingly, sir, in thepresence of our friend, the superintendent, whom I have already spokento outside, desire to tell you what the truth is. Informally, youunderstand, Mr. Brereton, informally!"

  "Just as you please," answered Brereton. "All this is, as you say,informal."

  "Quite informal, sir," agreed Pett, who gained in cheerfulness withevery word. "Oh, absolutely so. Between ourselves, of course. But it'llbe all the pleasanter if you know. My aunt, Miss Pett, naturally doesnot wish, Mr. Brereton, that any person--hereabouts or elsewhere--shouldentertain such suspicions of her as you seemed--I speak, sir, frominformation furnished--to suggest, in your examination of her today. Andso, sir, I wish to tell you this. I acted as legal adviser to the lateMr. Kitely. I made his will. I have that will in this bag. And--to putmatters in a nutshell, Mr. Brereton--there is not a living soul in thisworld who knows the contents of that will but--your humble andobedient!"

  "Do you propose to communicate the contents of the late Mr. Kitely'swill to us?
" asked Brereton, drily.

  "I do, sir," replied Mr. Pett. "And for this reason. My relative--MissPett--does not know what Mr. Kitely's profession had been, nor what Mr.Kitely died possessed of. She does not know--anything! And she will notknow until I read this will to her after I have communicated the gist ofit to you. And I will do that in a few words. The late Mr. Kitely, sir,was an ex-member of the detective police force. By dint of economy andthrift he had got together a nice little property--house-property, inLondon--Brixton, to be exact. It is worth about one hundred and fiftypounds per annum. And--to cut matters short--he has left it absolutelyto Miss Pett. I myself, Mr. Brereton, am sole executor. If you desire tosee the will, sir, you, or Mr. Bent, or the superintendent, are atliberty to inspect it."

  Brereton waved the proffered document aside and got up from his chair.

  "No, thank you, Mr. Pett," he said. "I've no desire to see Mr. Kitely'swill. I quite accept all that you say about it. You, as a lawyer, knowvery well that whatever I asked Miss Pett this morning was asked in theinterests of my client. No--you can put the will away as far as I'mconcerned. You've assured me that Miss Pett is as yet in ignorance ofits contents, and--I take your word. I think, however, that Miss Pettwon't be exactly surprised."

  "Oh, I daresay my aunt has a pretty good idea, Mr. Brereton," agreedPett, who having offered the will to both Bent and the superintendent,only to meet with a polite refusal from each, now put it back in hisbag. "We all of us have some little idea which quarter the wind's in,you know, sir, in these cases. Of course, Kitely, deceased, had norelatives, Mr. Brereton: in fact, so far as Miss Pett and self areaware, beyond ourselves, he'd no friends."

  "I was going to ask you a somewhat pertinent question, Mr. Pett," saidBrereton. "Quite an informal one, you know. Do you think he had anyenemies?"

  Pett put his long white fingers together and inclined his head to oneside. His slit of a mouth opened slightly, and his queer teeth showedthemselves in a sly grin.

  "Just so!" he said. "Of course, I take your meaning, Mr. Brereton.Naturally, you'd think that a man of his profession would make enemies.No doubt there must be a good many persons who'd have been glad--had hestill been alive--to have had their knives into him. Oh, yes!But--unfortunately, I don't know of 'em, sir."

  "Never heard him speak of anybody who was likely to cherish revenge,eh?" asked Brereton.

  "Never, sir! Kitely, deceased," remarked Pett, meditatively, "was notgiven to talking of his professional achievements. I happen to know thathe was concerned in some important cases in his time--but he rarely, ifever, mentioned them to me. In fact, I may say, gentlemen," he continuedin a palpable burst of confidence, "I may say, between ourselves, thatI'd had the honour of Mr. K.'s acquaintance for some time before ever Iknew what his line of business had been! Fact!"

  "A close man, eh?" asked Brereton.

  "One of the very closest," replied Pett. "Yes, you may say that, sir."

  "Not likely to let things out, I suppose?" continued Brereton.

  "Not he! He was a regular old steel trap, Kitely was--shut tight!" saidPett.

  "And--I suppose you've no theory, no idea of your own about his murder?"asked Brereton, who was watching the little man closely. "Have youformed any ideas or theories?"

  Pett half-closed his eyes as he turned them on his questioner.

  "Too early!" he replied, with a shake of his head. "Much too early. Ishall--in due course. Meantime, there's another little commission I haveto discharge, and I may as well do it at once. There are two or threetrifling bequests in this will, gentlemen--one of 'em's to you, Mr.Bent. It wasn't in the original will--that was made before Kitely cameto these parts. It's in a codicil--made when I came down here a fewweeks ago, on the only visit I ever paid to the old gentleman. Hedesired, in case of his death, to leave you something--said you'd beenvery friendly to him."

  "Very good of him, I'm sure," said Bent with a glance of surprise. "I'mrather astonished to hear of it, though."

  "Oh, it's nothing much," remarked Pett, with a laugh as he drew from thebrief bag what looked like an old quarto account book, fastened by abrass clasp. "It's a scrap-book that the old man kept--a sort of albumin which he pasted up all sorts of odds and ends. He thought you'd find'em interesting. And knowing of this bequest, sir, I thought I'd bringthe book down. You might just give me a formal receipt for its delivery,Mr. Bent."

  Bent took his curious legacy and led Mr. Pett away to a writing-desk todictate a former of receipt. And as they turned away, the superintendentsigned to Brereton to step into a corner of the room with him.

  "You know what you said about that electric torch notion this afternoon,sir?" he whispered. "Well, after you left me, I just made aninquiry--absolutely secret, you know--myself. I went to Rellit, theironmonger--I knew that if such things had ever come into the town, it'ud be through him, for he's the only man that's at all up-to-date.And--I heard more than I expected to hear!"

  "What?" asked Brereton.

  "I think there may be something in what you said," answered thesuperintendent. "But, listen here--Rellit says he'd swear a solemn oaththat nobody but himself ever sold an electric torch in Highmarket. Andhe's only sold to three persons--to the Vicar's son; to Mr. Mallalieu;and to Jack Harborough!"