The Middle of Things Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  NUMBER SEVEN IN THE SQUARE

  Before the sputter of the match had died out, Viner had recognized theman who lay dead at his feet. He was a man about whom he had recentlyfelt some curiosity, a man who, a few weeks before, had come to live in ahouse close to his own, in company with an elderly lady and a prettygirl; Viner and Miss Penkridge had often seen all three in and aboutMarkendale Square, and had wondered who they were. The man looked as ifhe had seen things in life--a big, burly, bearded man of apparently sixtyyears of age, hard, bronzed; something about him suggested sun and windas they are met with in the far-off places. Usually he was seen in loose,comfortable, semi-nautical suits of blue serge; there was a roll in hiswalk that suggested the sea. But here, as he lay before Viner, he was inevening dress, with a light overcoat thrown over it; the overcoat wasunbuttoned and the shirt-front exposed. And on it that sickening crimsonstain widened and widened as Viner watched.

  Here, without doubt, was murder, and Viner's thoughts immediately turnedto two things--one the hurrying young man whose face he thought he hadremembered in some vague fashion; the other the fact that a policemanwas slowly pacing up the terrace close by. He turned and ran swiftly upthe still deserted passage. And there was the policeman, twenty yardsaway, coming along with the leisureliness of one who knows that he has acertain area to patrol. He pulled himself to an attitude of watchfulattention as Viner ran up to him; then suddenly recognizing Viner as awell-known inhabitant of the Square, touched the rim of his helmet.

  "I say!" said Viner in the hushed voice of one who imparts strange andconfidential tidings. "There's a man lying dead in the passage roundhere. And without doubt murdered! There's blood all over hisshirt-front."

  The policeman stood stock still for the fraction of a second. Then hepulled out his whistle and blew loudly and insistently. Before theshrill call had died away, he was striding towards the passage, withViner at his side.

  "Did you find him, Mr. Viner?" he asked.

  "I found him," asserted Viner. "Just now--halfway down the passage!"

  "Sure he's dead, sir?"

  "Dead--yes! And murdered, too! And--"

  He was about to mention the hurrying young man, but they had just thenarrived at the mouth of the passage, and the policeman once more drew outhis whistle and blew more insistently than before.

  "There's my sergeant and inspector not far off," he remarked. "Some of'em'll be on the spot in a minute or two. Now then, sir."

  He marched down the passage to the dead man, glanced at the lamp, andturning on his own lantern, directed its light on the body.

  "God bless me!" he muttered. "Mr. Ashton!"

  "You know him?" said Viner.

  "Gent that came to live at number seven in your square a while back,Mr. Viner," answered the policeman. "Australian or New Zealander, Ifancy. He's gone right enough, sir! And--knifed! You didn't see anybodyabout, sir?"

  "Yes," replied Viner, "that's just it. As I turned into the passage, Imet a young fellow running out of it in a great hurry--he ran into me,and then, shot off across the road, Westbourne Grove way. Then I camealong and found--this!"

  The policeman bent lower and suddenly put a knowing finger on certain ofthe dead man's pockets.

  "Robbed!" he said. "No watch there, anyway, and nothing where you'dexpect to find his purse. Robbery and murder--murder for the sake ofrobbery--that's what it is, Mr. Viner! Westbourne Grove way, you say thisfellow went? And five minutes' start!"

  "Is it any good getting a doctor?" asked Viner.

  "A thousand doctors'll do him no good," replied the policeman grimly."But--there's Dr. Cortelyon somewhere about here--number seven in theterrace. One of these back doors is his. We might call him."

  He turned the light of his lantern on the line of doors in theright-hand wall, and finding the number he wanted, pulled the bell. Asits tinkle sounded somewhere up the yard behind, he thrust his whistleinto Viner's hand.

  "Mr. Viner," he said, "go up to the end of the passage and blow on thatas loud as you can, three times. I'll stand by here till you come back.If you don't hear or see any of our people coming from either direction,blow again."

  Viner heard steps coming down the yard behind the door as he walked away.And he heard more steps, hurrying steps, as he reached the end of thepassage. He turned it to find an inspector and a sergeant approachingfrom one part of the terrace, a constable from another.

  "You're wanted down here," said Viner as they all converged on him."There's been murder! One of your men's there--he gave me this whistle tosummon further help. This way!"

  The police followed him in silence down the passage. Another figure hadcome on the scene. Bending over the body and closely scrutinizing it inthe light of the policeman's lantern was a man whom Viner knew wellenough by sight--a tall, handsome man, whose olive-tinted complexion,large lustrous eyes and Vandyke beard gave him the appearance of aforeigner. Yet though he had often seen him, Viner did not know his name;the police-inspector, however, evidently knew it well enough.

  "What is it, Dr. Cortelyon?" he asked as he pushed himself to the front."Is the man dead?"

  Dr. Cortelyon drew himself up from his stooping position to his fullheight--a striking figure in his dress jacket and immaculate linen. Heglanced round at the expectant faces.

  "The man's been murdered!" he said in calm, professional accents. "He'sbeen stabbed clean through the heart. Dead? Yes, for several minutes."

  "Who found him here?" demanded the inspector.

  "I found him," answered Viner. He gave a hurried account of the wholecircumstances as he knew them, the police watching him keenly. "I shouldknow the man again if I saw him," he concluded. "I saw his face clearlyenough as he passed me."

  The inspector bent down and hastily felt the dead man's pockets.

  "Nothing at all here," he said as he straightened himself. "No watch orchain or purse or anything. Looks like robbery as well as murder. Doesanybody know him?"

  "I know who this gentlemen is, sir," answered the policeman to whom Vinerhad first gone. "He's a Mr. Ashton, who came to live not so long since atnumber seven in Markendale Square, close by Mr. Viner there. I've heardthat he came from the Colonies."

  "Do you know him," asked the inspector, turning to Viner.

  "Only by sight," answered Viner. "I've seen him often, but I didn't knowhis name. I believe he has a wife and daughter--"

  "No sir," interrupted the policeman. "He was a single gentleman. Theyoung lady at number seven is his ward, and the older lady looked afterher--sort of a companion."

  The Inspector looked round. Other policemen, attracted by the whistle,were coming into the passage at each end, and he turned to his sergeant.

  "Put a man at the top and another at the bottom of this passage," hesaid. "Keep everybody out. Send for the divisional surgeon. Dr.Cortelyon, will you see him when he comes along? I want him to see thebody before its removal. Now, then, about these ladies--they'll have tobe told." He turned to Viner. "I understand you live close by them?" heasked. "Perhaps you'll go there with me?"

  Viner nodded; and the inspector, after giving a few more words ofinstruction to the sergeant, motioned him to follow; together they wentdown the passage into Markendale Square.

  "Been resident here long, Mr. Viner?" asked the Inspector as theyemerged. "I noticed that some of my men knew you. I've only recently comeinto this part myself."

  "Fifteen years," answered Viner.

  "Do you know anything of this dead man?"

  "Nothing--not so much as your constable knows."

  "Policemen pick things up. These ladies, now? It's a most unpleasantthing to have to go and break news like this. You know nothing aboutthem, sir?"

  "Not even as much as your man knew. I've seen them often--with him, thedead man. There's an elderly lady and a younger one, a mere girl. I tookthem for his wife and daughter. But you heard what your man said."

  "Well, whatever they are, they've got to be told. I'd be obliged if you'dcome wi
th me. And then--that fellow you saw running away! You'll have togive us as near a description of him as you can. What number did my mansay it was--seven?"

  Viner suddenly laid a hand on his companion's sleeve. A smart car, ofthe sort let out on hire from the more pretentious automobileestablishments, had just come round the corner and was being pulled up atthe door of a house in whose porticoed front hung a brilliant lamp.

  "That's number seven," said Viner. "And--those are the two ladies."

  The Inspector stopped and watched. The door of the house opened, lettinga further flood of light on the broad step beneath the portico and onthe pavement beyond; the door of the car opened too, and a girl steppedout, and for a second or two stood in the full glare of the lamps. Shewas a slender, lissome young creature, gowned in white, and muffled tothe throat in an opera cloak out of which a fresh, girlish face, brightin colour, sparkling of eye, crowned by a mass of hair of the tint ofdead gold, showed clearly ere she rapidly crossed to the open door.After her came an elderly, well-preserved woman in an elaborate eveningtoilette, the personification of the precise and conventional chaperon.The door closed; the car drove away; the Inspector turned to Viner witha shake of his head.

  "Just home from the theatre!" he said. "And--to hear this! Well, it's gotto be done, Mr. Viner, anyhow."

  Viner, who had often observed the girl whom they had just seen with aninterest for which he had never troubled to account, found himselfwishing that Miss Penkridge was there in his place. He did not know whatpart he was to play, what he was to do or say; worse than that, he didnot know if the girl in whose presence he would certainly find himselfwithin a minute or two was very fond of the man whom he had just founddone to death. In that case--but here his musings were cut short by thefact that the Inspector had touched the bell in the portico of numberseven, and that the door had opened, to reveal a smart and wonderingparlour-maid, who glanced with surprise at the inspector's uniform.

  "Hush! This is Mr. Ashton's?" said the Inspector. "Yes--well, now, whatis the name of the lady--the elderly lady--I saw come in just now? Keepquiet, there's a good girl,--the fact is, Mr. Ashton's had an accident,and I want to see that lady."

  "Mrs. Killenhall," answered the parlour-maid.

  "And the young lady--her name?" asked the Inspector.

  "Miss Wickham."

  The Inspector walked inside the house.

  "Just ask Mrs. Killenhall and Miss Wickham if they'll be good enough tosee Inspector Drillford for a few minutes," he said. Then, as the girlclosed the door and turned away up the inner hall, he whispered to Viner."Better see both and be done with it. It's no use keeping bad news toolong; they may as well know--both."

  The parlour-maid reappeared at the door of a room along the hall; and thetwo men, advancing in answer to her summons, entered what was evidentlythe dining-room of the house. The two ladies had thrown off their wraps;the younger one sat near a big, cheery fire, holding her slender fingersto the blaze; the elder stood facing the door in evident expectancy. Theroom itself was luxuriously furnished in a somewhat old-fashioned, heavystyle; everything about it betokened wealth and comfort. And that itsowner was expected home every minute was made evident to the two men bythe fact that a spirit-case was set on the centre table, with glasses andmineral waters and cigars; Viner remembered, as his eyes encounteredthese things, that a half-burned cigar lay close to the dead man's handin that dark passage so close by.

  "Mrs. Killenhall? Miss Wickham?" began Drillford, looking sharply fromone to the other. "Sorry to break in on you like this, ladies, but thefact is, there has been an accident to Mr. Ashton, and I'm obliged tocome and tell you about it."

  Viner, who had remained a little in the background, was watching thefaces of the two to whom this initial breaking of news was made. And hesaw at once that there was going to be no scene. The girl by the firelooked for an instant at the inspector with an expression of surprise,but it was not the surprise of great personal concern. As for the elderwoman, after one quick glance from Drillford to Viner, whom she evidentlyrecognized, she showed absolute self-possession.

  "A bad accident?" she asked.

  Drillford again looked from the elder to the younger lady.

  "You'll excuse me if I ask what relation you ladies are to Mr. Ashton?"he said with a significant glance at Mrs. Killenhall.

  "None!" replied Mrs. Killenhall. "Miss Wickham is Mr. Ashton's ward. I amMiss Wickham's chaperon--and companion."

  "Well, ma'am," said Drillford, "then I may tell you that my newsis--just about as serious as it possibly could be, you understand."

  In the silence that followed, the girl turned toward the visitors, andViner saw her colour change a little. And it was she who first spoke.

  "Don't be afraid to tell us," she said. "Is Mr. Ashton dead?"

  Drillford inclined his head, and spoke as he was bidden.

  "I'm sorry to say he is," he replied. "And still more to be obliged totell you that he came to his death by violence. The truth is--"

  He paused, looking from one to the other, as if to gauge the effect ofhis words. And again it was the girl who spoke.

  "What is the truth?" she asked.

  "Murder!" said Drillford. "Just that!"

  Mrs. Killenhall, who had remained standing until then, suddenly satdown, with a murmur of horror. But the girl was watching theinspector steadily.

  "When was this? and how, and where?" she inquired.

  "A little time ago, near here," answered Drillford. "This gentleman, Mr.Viner, a neighbour of yours, found him--dead. There's no doubt, from whatwe can see, that he was murdered for the sake of robbery. And I want someinformation about him, about his habits and--"

  Miss Wickham got up from her chair and looked meaningly at Mrs.Killenhall.

  "The fact is," she said, turning to Drillford; "strange as it may seem,neither Mrs. Killenhall nor myself know very much about Mr. Ashton."