The Middle Temple Murder Read online

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE CHAMBERLAYNE STORY

  "I perceive, sir," said Mr. Quarterpage, as Spargo entered the library,"that you have read the account of the Maitland trial."

  "Twice," replied Spargo.

  "And you have come to the conclusion that--but what conclusion have youcome to?" asked Mr. Quarterpage.

  "That the silver ticket in my purse was Maitland's property," saidSpargo, who was not going to give all his conclusions at once.

  "Just so," agreed the old gentleman. "I think so--I can't thinkanything else. But I was under the impression that I could haveaccounted for that ticket, just as I am sure I can account for theother forty-nine."

  "Yes--and how?" asked Spargo.

  Mr. Quarterpage turned to a corner cupboard and in silence produced adecanter and two curiously-shaped old wine-glasses. He carefullypolished the glasses with a cloth which he took from a drawer, and setglasses and decanter on a table in the window, motioning Spargo to takea chair in proximity thereto. He himself pulled up his own elbow-chair.

  "We'll take a glass of my old brown sherry," he said. "Though I say itas shouldn't, as the saying goes, I don't think you could find betterbrown sherry than that from Land's End to Berwick-upon-Tweed, Mr.Spargo--no, nor further north either, where they used to have goodtaste in liquor in my young days! Well, here's your good health, sir,and I'll tell you about Maitland."

  "I'm curious," said Spargo. "And about more than Maitland. I want toknow about a lot of things arising out of that newspaper report. I wantto know something about the man referred to so much--the stockbroker,Chamberlayne."

  "Just so," observed Mr. Quarterpage, smiling. "I thought that wouldtouch your sense of the inquisitive. But Maitland first. Now, whenMaitland went to prison, he left behind him a child, a boy, just thenabout two years old. The child's mother was dead. Her sister, a MissBaylis, appeared on the scene--Maitland had married his wife from adistance--and took possession of the child and of Maitland's personaleffects. He had been made bankrupt while he was awaiting his trial, andall his household goods were sold. But this Miss Baylis took some smallpersonal things, and I always believed that she took the silver ticket.And she may have done, for anything I know to the contrary. Anyway, shetook the child away, and there was an end of the Maitland family inMarket Milcaster. Maitland, of course, was in due procedure of thingsremoved to Dartmoor, and there he served his term. There were peoplewho were very anxious to get hold of him when he came out--the bankpeople, for they believed that he knew more about the disposition ofthat money than he'd ever told, and they wanted to induce him to tellwhat they hoped he knew--between ourselves, Mr. Spargo, they were goingto make it worth his while to tell."

  Spargo tapped the newspaper, which he had retained while the oldgentleman talked.

  "Then they didn't believe what his counsel said--that Chamberlayne gotall the money?" he asked.

  Mr. Quarterpage laughed.

  "No--nor anybody else!" he answered. "There was a strong idea in thetown--you'll see why afterwards--that it was all a put-up job, andthat Maitland cheerfully underwent his punishment knowing that therewas a nice fortune waiting for him when he came out. And as I say, thebank people meant to get hold of him. But though they sent a specialagent to meet him on his release, they never did get hold of him. Somemistake arose--when Maitland was released, he got clear away. Nobody'sever heard a word of him from that day to this. Unless Miss Baylishas."

  "Where does this Miss Baylis live?" asked Spargo.

  "Well, I don't know," replied Mr. Quarterpage. "She did live inBrighton when she took the child away, and her address was known, and Ihave it somewhere. But when the bank people sought her out afterMaitland's release, she, too, had clean disappeared, and all efforts totrace her failed. In fact, according to the folks who lived near her inBrighton, she'd completely disappeared, with the child, five yearsbefore. So there wasn't a clue to Maitland. He served his time--made amodel prisoner--they did find that much out!--earned the maximumremission, was released, and vanished. And for that very reason there'sa theory about him in this very town to this very day!"

  "What?" asked Spargo.

  "This. That he's now living comfortably, luxuriously abroad on what hegot from the bank," replied Mr. Quarterpage. "They say that thesister-in-law was in at the game; that when she disappeared with thechild, she went abroad somewhere and made a home ready for Maitland,and that he went off to them as soon as he came out. Do you see?"

  "I suppose that was possible," said Spargo.

  "Quite possible, sir. But now," continued the old gentleman,replenishing the glasses, "now we come on to the Chamberlayne story.It's a good deal more to do with the Maitland story than appears atfirst sight, I'll tell it to you and you can form your own conclusions.Chamberlayne was a man who came to Market Milcaster--I don't know fromwhere--in 1886--five years before the Maitland smash-up. He was thenabout Maitland's age--a man of thirty-seven or eight. He came as clerkto old Mr. Vallas, the rope and twine manufacturer: Vallas's place isstill there, at the bottom of the High Street, near the river, thoughold Vallas is dead. He was a smart, cute, pushing chap, thisChamberlayne; he made himself indispensable to old Vallas, and oldVallas paid him a rare good salary. He settled down in the town, and hemarried a town girl, one of the Corkindales, the saddlers, when he'dbeen here three years. Unfortunately she died in childbirth within ayear of their marriage. It was very soon after that that Chamberlaynethrew up his post at Vallas's, and started business as a stock-and-share broker. He'd been a saving man; he'd got a nice bit of money withhis wife; he always let it be known that he had money of his own, andhe started in a good way. He was a man of the most plausible manners:he'd have coaxed butter out of a dog's throat if he'd wanted to. Themoneyed men of the town believed in him--I believed in him myself, Mr.Spargo--I'd many a transaction with him, and I never lost aught byhim--on the contrary, he did very well for me. He did well for most ofhis clients--there were, of course, ups and downs, but on the whole hesatisfied his clients uncommonly well. But, naturally, nobody ever knewwhat was going on between him and Maitland."

  "I gather from this report," said Spargo, "that everything came outsuddenly--unexpectedly?"

  "That was so, sir," replied Mr. Quarterpage. "Sudden? Unexpected? Aye,as a crack of thunder on a fine winter's day. Nobody had the ghost of anotion that anything was wrong. John Maitland was much respected in thetown; much thought of by everybody; well known to everybody. I canassure you, Mr. Spargo, that it was no pleasant thing to have to sit onthat grand jury as I did--I was its foreman, sir,--and hear a mansentenced that you'd regarded as a bosom friend. But there it was!"

  "How was the thing discovered?" asked Spargo, anxious to get at facts.

  "In this way," replied Mr. Quarterpage. "The Market Milcaster Bank isin reality almost entirely the property of two old families in thetown, the Gutchbys and the Hostables. Owing to the death of his father,a young Hostable, fresh from college, came into the business. He was ashrewd, keen young fellow; he got some suspicion, somehow, aboutMaitland, and he insisted on the other partners consenting to a specialinvestigation, and on their making it suddenly. And Maitland was caughtbefore he had a chance. But we're talking about Chamberlayne."

  "Yes, about Chamberlayne," agreed Spargo.

  "Well, now, Maitland was arrested one evening," continued Mr.Quarterpage. "Of course, the news of his arrest ran through the townlike wild-fire. Everybody was astonished; he was at that time--aye, andhad been for years--a churchwarden at the Parish Church, and I don'tthink there could have been more surprise if we'd heard that the Vicarhad been arrested for bigamy. In a little town like this, news is allover the place in a few minutes. Of course, Chamberlayne would hearthat news like everybody else. But it was remembered, and oftenremarked upon afterwards, that from the moment of Maitland's arrestnobody in Market Milcaster ever had speech with Chamberlayne again.After his wife's death he'd taken to spending an hour or so of anevening across there at the 'Dragon,' where you saw me and my
friendslast night, but on that night he didn't go to the 'Dragon.' And nextmorning he caught the eight o'clock train to London. He happened toremark to the stationmaster as he got into the train that he expectedto be back late that night, and that he should have a tiring day of it.But Chamberlayne didn't come back that night, Mr. Spargo. He didn'tcome back to Market Milcaster for four days, and when he did come backit was in a coffin!"

  "Dead?" exclaimed Spargo. "That was sudden!"

  "Very sudden," agreed Mr. Quarterpage. "Yes, sir, he came back in hiscoffin, did Chamberlayne. On the very evening on which he'd spoken ofbeing back, there came a telegram here to say that he'd died verysuddenly at the Cosmopolitan Hotel. That telegram came to hisbrother-in-law, Corkindale, the saddler--you'll find him down thestreet, opposite the Town Hall. It was sent to Corkindale by a nephewof Chamberlayne's, another Chamberlayne, Stephen, who lived in London,and was understood to be on the Stock Exchange there. I saw thattelegram, Mr. Spargo, and it was a long one. It said that Chamberlaynehad had a sudden seizure, and though a doctor had been got to him he'ddied shortly afterwards. Now, as Chamberlayne had his nephew andfriends in London, his brother-in-law, Tom Corkindale, didn't feel thatthere was any necessity for him to go up to town, so he just sent off awire to Stephen Chamberlayne asking if there was aught he could do. Andnext morning came another wire from Stephen saying that no inquestwould be necessary, as the doctor had been present and able to certifythe cause of death, and would Corkindale make all arrangements for thefuneral two days later. You see, Chamberlayne had bought a vault in ourcemetery when he buried his wife, so naturally they wished to bury himin it, with her."

  Spargo nodded. He was beginning to imagine all sorts of things andtheories; he was taking everything in.

  "Well," continued Mr. Quarterpage, "on the second day after that, theybrought Chamberlayne's body down. Three of 'em came with it--StephenChamberlayne, the doctor who'd been called in, and a solicitor.Everything was done according to proper form and usage. As Chamberlaynehad been well known in the town, a good number of townsfolk met thebody at the station and followed it to the cemetery. Of course, many ofus who had been clients of Chamberlayne's were anxious to know how hehad come to such a sudden end. According to Stephen Chamberlayne'saccount, our Chamberlayne had wired to him and to his solicitor to meethim at the Cosmopolitan to do some business. They were awaiting himthere when he arrived, and they had lunch together. After that, theygot to their business in a private room. Towards the end of theafternoon, Chamberlayne was taken suddenly ill, and though they got adoctor to him at once, he died before evening. The doctor said he'd adiseased heart. Anyhow, he was able to certify the cause of his death,so there was no inquest and they buried him, as I have told you."

  The old gentleman paused and, taking a sip at his sherry, smiled atsome reminiscence which occurred to him.

  "Well," he said, presently going on, "of course, on that came all theMaitland revelations, and Maitland vowed and declared that Chamberlaynehad not only had nearly all the money, but that he was absolutelycertain that most of it was in his hands in hard cash. ButChamberlayne, Mr. Spargo, had left practically nothing. All that couldbe traced was about three or four thousand pounds. He'd left everythingto his nephew, Stephen. There wasn't a trace, a clue to the vast sumswith which Maitland had entrusted him. And then people began to talk,and they said what some of them say to this very day!"

  "What's that?" asked Spargo.

  Mr. Quarterpage leaned forward and tapped his guest on the arm.

  "That Chamberlayne never did die, and that that coffin was weightedwith lead!" he answered.