The Middle Temple Murder Page 21

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  ARRESTED

  Spargo hurried out to the hall, took the two telegrams from the bootsof the "Dragon," and, tearing open the envelopes, read the messageshastily. He went back to Mr. Quarterpage.

  "Here's important news," he said as he closed the library door andresumed his seat. "I'll read these telegrams to you, sir, and then wecan discuss them in the light of what we've been talking about thismorning. The first is from our office. I told you we sent over toAustralia for a full report about Marbury at the place he said hehailed from--Coolumbidgee. That report's just reached the _Watchman_,and they've wired it on to me. It's from the chief of police atCoolumbidgee to the editor of the _Watchman_, London:--

  "John Marbury came to Coolumbidgee in the winter of 1898-9. He wasunaccompanied. He appeared to be in possession of fairly considerablemeans and bought a share in a small sheep-farm from its proprietor,Andrew Robertson, who is still here, and who says that Marbury nevertold him anything about himself except that he had emigrated for healthreasons and was a widower. He mentioned that he had had a son who wasdead, and was now without relations. He lived a very quiet, steady lifeon the sheep-farm, never leaving it for many years. About six monthsago, however, he paid a visit to Melbourne, and on returning toldRobertson that he had decided to return to England in consequence ofsome news he had received, and must therefore sell his share in thefarm. Robertson bought it from him for three thousand pounds, andMarbury shortly afterwards left for Melbourne. From what we couldgather, Robertson thinks Marbury was probably in command of five or sixthousand when he left Coolumbidgee. He told Robertson that he had met aman in Melbourne who had given him news that surprised him, but did notsay what news. He had in his possession when he left Robertson exactlythe luggage he brought with him when he came--a stout portmanteau and asmall, square leather box. There are no effects of his left behind atCoolumbidgee."

  "That's all," said Spargo, laying the first of the telegrams on thetable. "And it seems to me to signify a good deal. But now here's morestartling news. This is from Rathbury, the Scotland Yard detective thatI told you of, Mr. Quarterpage--he promised, you know, to keep meposted in what went on in my absence. Here's what he says:

  "Fresh evidence tending to incriminate Aylmore has come to hand.Authorities have decided to arrest him on suspicion. You'd better hurryback if you want material for to-morrow's paper."

  Spargo threw that telegram down, too, waited while the old gentlemanglanced at both of them with evident curiosity, and then jumped up.

  "Well, I shall have to go, Mr. Quarterpage," he said. "I looked thetrains out this morning so as to be in readiness. I can catch the 1.20to Paddington--that'll get me in before half-past four. I've an houryet. Now, there's another man I want to see in Market Milcaster. That'sthe photographer--or a photographer. You remember I told you of thephotograph found with the silver ticket? Well, I'm calculating thatthat photograph was taken here, and I want to see the man who tookit--if he's alive and I can find him."

  Mr. Quarterpage rose and put on his hat.

  "There's only one photographer in this town, sir," he said, "and he'sbeen here for a good many years--Cooper. I'll take you to him--it'sonly a few doors away."

  Spargo wasted no time in letting the photographer know what he wanted.He put a direct question to Mr. Cooper--an elderly man.

  "Do you remember taking a photograph of the child of John Maitland, thebank manager, some twenty or twenty-one years ago?" he asked, after Mr.Quarterpage had introduced him as a gentleman from London who wanted toask a few questions.

  "Quite well, sir," replied Mr. Cooper. "As well as if it had beenyesterday."

  "Do you still happen to have a copy of it?" asked Spargo.

  But Mr. Cooper had already turned to a row of file albums. He took downone labelled 1891, and began to search its pages. In a minute or two helaid it on his table before his callers.

  "There you are, sir," he said. "That's the child!"

  Spargo gave one glance at the photograph and turned to Mr. Quarterpage."Just as I thought," he said. "That's the same photograph we found inthe leather box with the silver ticket. I'm obliged to you, Mr. Cooper.Now, there's just one more question I want to ask. Did you ever supplyany further copies of this photograph to anybody after the Maitlandaffair?--that is; after the family had left the town?"

  "Yes," replied the photographer. "I supplied half a dozen copies toMiss Baylis, the child's aunt, who, as a matter of fact, brought himhere to be photographed. And I can give you her address, too," hecontinued, beginning to turn over another old file. "I have itsomewhere."

  Mr. Quarterpage nudged Spargo.

  "That's something I couldn't have done!" he remarked. "As I told you,she'd disappeared from Brighton when enquiries were made afterMaitland's release."

  "Here you are," said Mr. Cooper. "I sent six copies of that photographto Miss Baylis in April, 1895. Her address was then 6, ChichesterSquare, Bayswater, W."

  Spargo rapidly wrote this address down, thanked the photographer forhis courtesy, and went out with Mr. Quarterpage. In the street heturned to the old gentleman with a smile.

  "Well, I don't think there's much doubt about that!" he exclaimed."Maitland and Marbury are the same man, Mr. Quarterpage. I'm as certainof that as that I see your Town Hall there."

  "And what will you do next, sir?" enquired Mr. Quarterpage.

  "Thank you--as I do--for all your kindness and assistance, and get offto town by this 1.20," replied Spargo. "And I shan't fail to let youknow how things go on."

  "One moment," said the old gentleman, as Spargo was hurrying away, "doyou think this Mr. Aylmore really murdered Maitland?"

  "No!" answered Spargo with emphasis. "I don't! And I think we've got agood deal to do before we find out who did."

  Spargo purposely let the Marbury case drop out of his mind during hisjourney to town. He ate a hearty lunch in the train and talked with hisneighbours; it was a relief to let his mind and attention turn tosomething else than the theme which had occupied it unceasingly for somany days. But at Reading the newspaper boys were shouting the news ofthe arrest of a Member of Parliament, and Spargo, glancing out of thewindow, caught sight of a newspaper placard:

  THE MARBURY MURDER CASE ARREST OF MR. AYLMORE

  He snatched a paper from a boy as the train moved out and, unfoldingit, found a mere announcement in the space reserved for stop-pressnews:

  "Mr. Stephen Aylmore, M.P., was arrested at two o'clock this afternoon,on his way to the House of Commons, on a charge of being concerned inthe murder of John Marbury in Middle Temple Lane on the night of June21st last. It is understood he will be brought up at Bow Street at teno'clock tomorrow morning."

  Spargo hurried to New Scotland Yard as soon as he reached Paddington.He met Rathbury coming away from his room. At sight of him, thedetective turned back.

  "Well, so there you are!" he said. "I suppose you've heard the news?"

  Spargo nodded as he dropped into a chair.

  "What led to it?" he asked abruptly. "There must have been something."

  "There was something," he replied. "The thing--stick, bludgeon,whatever you like to call it, some foreign article--with which Marburywas struck down was found last night."

  "Well?" asked Spargo.

  "It was proved to be Aylmore's property," answered Rathbury. "It was aSouth American curio that he had in his rooms in Fountain Court."

  "Where was it found?" asked Spargo.

  Rathbury laughed.

  "He was a clumsy fellow who did it, whether he was Aylmore or whoeverhe was!" he replied. "Do you know, it had been dropped into asewer-trap in Middle Temple Lane--actually! Perhaps the murdererthought it would be washed out into the Thames and float away. But, ofcourse, it was bound to come to light. A sewer man found it yesterdayevening, and it was quickly recognized by the woman who cleans up forAylmore as having been in his rooms ever since she knew them."

  "What does Aylmore say about it?" asked Spargo. "I suppose he's
saidsomething?"

  "Says that the bludgeon is certainly his, and that he broughtit from South America with him," announced Rathbury; "but thathe doesn't remember seeing it in his rooms for some time, and thinksthat it was stolen from them."

  "Um!" said Spargo, musingly. "But--how do you know that was the thingthat Marbury was struck down with?"

  Rathbury smiled grimly.

  "There's some of his hair on it--mixed with blood," he answered. "Nodoubt about that. Well--anything come of your jaunt westward?"

  "Yes," replied Spargo. "Lots!"

  "Good?" asked Rathbury.

  "Extra good. I've found out who Marbury really was."

  "No! Really?"

  "No doubt, to my mind. I'm certain of it."

  Rathbury sat down at his desk, watching Spargo with rapt attention.

  "And who was he?" he asked.

  "John Maitland, once of Market Milcaster," replied Spargo. "Ex-bankmanager. Also ex-convict."

  "Ex-convict!"

  "Ex-convict. He was sentenced, at Market Milcaster Quarter Sessions, inautumn, 1891, to ten years' penal servitude, for embezzling the bank'smoney, to the tune of over two hundred thousand pounds. Served his termat Dartmoor. Went to Australia as soon, or soon after, he came out.That's who Marbury was--Maitland. Dead--certain!"

  Rathbury still stared at his caller.

  "Go on!" he said. "Tell all about it, Spargo. Let's hear every detail.I'll tell you all I know after. But what I know's nothing to that."

  Spargo told him the whole story of his adventures at Market Milcaster,and the detective listened with rapt attention.

  "Yes," he said at the end. "Yes--I don't think there's much doubt aboutthat. Well, that clears up a lot, doesn't it?"

  Spargo yawned.

  "Yes, a whole slate full is wiped off there," he said. "I haven't somuch interest in Marbury, or Maitland now. My interest is all inAylmore."

  Rathbury nodded.

  "Yes," he said. "The thing to find out is--who is Aylmore, or who washe, twenty years ago?"

  "Your people haven't found anything out, then?" asked Spargo.

  "Nothing beyond the irreproachable history of Mr. Aylmore since hereturned to this country, a very rich man, some ten years since,"answered Rathbury, smiling. "They've no previous dates to go on. Whatare you going to do next, Spargo?"

  "Seek out that Miss Baylis," replied Spargo.

  "You think you could get something there?" asked Rathbury.

  "Look here!" said Spargo. "I don't believe for a second Aylmore killedMarbury. I believe I shall get at the truth by following up what I callthe Maitland trail. This Miss Baylis must know something--if she'salive. Well, now I'm going to report at the office. Keep in touch withme, Rathbury."

  He went on then to the _Watchman_ office, and as he got out of histaxi-cab at its door, another cab came up and set down Mr. Aylmore'sdaughters.