A Coin of Edward VII: A Detective Story

"'Asher, Son, and Asher,'" read out the detective.

Morley nodded. "Of twenty-two, St. Audrey's Inn. A firm of sharpers I call them. The money has certainly been owing a long time, but I offered to pay off the sum by degrees. They refused, and insist upon immediate payment. If they would only wait until the war is over, my South African shares would go up and there would be a chance of settling the matter. But they will not wait. I expect a bankruptcy notice next."

"I am very sorry for you, Mr. Morley, and of course, I shall not betray the confidence you have placed in me; but the point is, what is the name of the man who served this?"

"I don't know; I never asked him his name. He entered by the front door and served this here. I sent him out by the window, so that the servants should not see him again. He had the look of a sheriff's officer, and one can't be too careful here. I believe Mrs. Parry pays my servants to tell her what goes on in my house. I didn't want her to learn about this summons."

"I can easily understand that," replied the detective; "and I see now why you let the man out by the window. You left the room with him?"

"Yes. I didn't say anything much at the inquest beyond that he was a visitor, and I was relieved when I found that no questions were asked. But I walked with him to the end of the terrace and saw him go down the avenue. Then I returned to this room, and found Miss Denham waiting by the desk. I asked her what she wanted. She asked for her wages, as she was leaving the next day. I had no ready money, and promised to see to it before she departed. Then she went out, and shortly afterwards Miss Kent came in to say she had seen the man go down the avenue. She asked me who he was, and I was rather short with her, poor creature!" and Morley sighed.

"I wonder why the man went to church."

"I can't say that; but I can guess that when he knew who Daisy was he wanted to speak to her."

"What about?" asked Steel eagerly.

"About me and the summons. You see, Steel, there is a half-uncle of Daisy Kent's who went to Australia. He said that if he made his fortune he would leave the money to her. Whether he is dead or alive I don't know, but certainly she did not get any money left to her. Powell's solicitors are Asher, Son, and Asher – "

"Powell? I thought the uncle would be called Kent, unless, of course, he was uncle by the mother's side."

"I said half-uncle," said Morley dryly. "Powell is his name – William Powell – and his solicitors are those who issued that judgment summons. I expect the clerk wanted to tell Daisy about my position and warn her against lending me money. As though I should have asked the girl for sixpence!"

"I don't see why this clerk should warn Miss Kent."

"Well, you see, Daisy had a hundred a year, and they pay it to her. As she might one day be an heiress, I suppose they think it as well to keep an eye on her. This man could not have known that Daisy was in church, and may have just gone there to kill time. But when he saw her and knew who she was, I daresay he wrote that note asking her to come outside and be told all about me."

"It might be so. Was the note found?"

"Not to my knowledge. But you should know, being a detective."

"I'm not omniscient," replied Steel good-humoredly; "it is only in novels that you get the perfect person who never makes a mistake. Well, to resume. I don't see why the clerk should have killed Miss Kent."

"He did not kill her," insisted Morley. "I was in the room with him from the time he entered by the door to the time he left by that middle window. He had no chance of stealing the stiletto. Now Miss Denham had, for she was in the room alone for a few moments."

"But why should she have taken the clerk with her on the car? If she killed the girl her object must have been to escape herself?"

"I can't explain. Perhaps this clerk saw the crime and hoped to make money out of it. Had he given the alarm he wouldn't have gained any reward. So I suppose he mounted the car with her, so that she should not escape him."

"A wild theory."

"It's the only one I can think of," responded Morley; "but if you want to know more of this man go up to Asher, Son, and Asher. I daresay they will be able to give you his history."

"And the Scarlet Cross?"

"I know nothing about that. I did not even notice if the man had such a cross on his chain. In fact," added Morley frankly, "he was too shabby and poverty-stricken to have a chain. I think Anne Denham killed Daisy; you think this man did, and – "

"Pardon," protested Steel. "I have not yet made up my mind. But the two fled together, and there must be some reason for that."

"If so, it will be found in the past history of both, or either. You know where to look for the man. I can get from my wife the address of the Governesses' Institute where she engaged Miss Denham. That is all I can do, unless I take up the case myself."

Steel looked up with a laugh. He was copying the address of the solicitors from the summons, but could not help pausing to reply to this egotistical remark. "Why, Mr. Morley, what do you know of such work?" he asked, bantering.

"Much more than you would give me credit for. Did you ever hear of – by the way, this is another of my secrets I am telling you, so please don't repeat it."

"Are you going to say that you were in the profession?"

"I am. You may have heard of Joe Bart."

"I should think so," said Steel quickly. "He had a splendid reputation, and was much thought of. But he retired before I came to London. I was in the country police for a long time. But" – he started up – "you don't mean to say that – "

"That I am Joe Bart?" interrupted Morley, not ill-pleased. "Yes, I do. I retired over ten years ago, more fool I. You see, Steel, I grew wearied of thief-catching, and as I had a chance of marrying a widow with money, I took the offer and retired. But" – he looked at the summons – "the game wasn't worth the candle. I have had nothing but trouble. Still, I am devoted to my wife and her children."

"And you have forgotten your former glory," said Steel enthusiastically; "surely not. That Hatton Garden jewel robbery, the man with the red coat who committed the Lichfield murder, and – "

"I remember them all," said Morley, with gentle melancholy. "I have a full report of all the cases I was engaged in yonder" – he nodded to a distant shelf. "Sometimes I take those volumes down and think what an ass I was to retire."

"But see here, Mr. Morley. You are hard up; you want money. I am sure they would be glad to have you back at the Yard. Why not recommence your detective life with searching out this case?"

Morley, late Joe Bart, shook his head. "There is no difficulty about this case to tempt me," he said. "Anne Denham killed the girl. But I must say I should like to find out about this clerk, and why he went off with her. Still, it is useless for me to become a detective again. In the first place my wife would not like it, and in the second I have lost my keen scent. I am rusty – I am laid on the shelf. No, no, Steel, you look after this matter yourself. Any advice I can give you I shall, but don't tempt the old dog out of his kennel."

Steel looked admiringly at his host. Bart had been a celebrated detective in his day, although not one of the best. Still, he had made a reputation on two or three cases, which entitled him to respect. "I should be proud to work with you, Mr. Morley."

"Well, well," said Morley, rather pleased, "we'll see. At present I must put my wits to work to get money to prevent my being made a bankrupt. Now don't give me away, Steel."

"I'll say nothing. I suppose your wife knows that you were – "

"Of course. But she made me promise to give it up. Therefore you see I can't take up the life again. But my advice to you – if you care to take it – is to look after the governess, and leave the clerk alone. She is guilty; he is not."

"I'll look after both," said Steel firmly, "after both Mr. – Bart."

Morley laughed. "Report to me all you do," he said, and this Steel willingly promised.

CHAPTER VIII

THE IRONY OF FATE

Giles was slowly recovering from his illness, but as yet was unable to leave his room. It was now over a month since the death of Daisy, and during that time all matters connected therewith had been reported to the invalid. Thus he knew of the funeral, of the verdict of the jury, and of the search that was being made for Anne. Trim, who nursed his young master – and he would not allow any one else to do so – day by day, related all that was taking place. The man himself quite believed that Miss Denham was guilty, but he did not offer this opinion to Ware, knowing how keenly Giles felt the untoward tragedy.

The young squire could not bring himself to believe that Anne was guilty. Appearances were against her, and he could not conceive what excuse she could make for her flight with the lawyer's clerk. If she were innocent, she had gone the best way to work up a feasible case against her. But Giles was so deeply in love with her that the blacker became her character in the mouths of the general public, the more persistently he held to the belief that it was whiter than snow. Had he been able he would have followed her, in order to persuade her to return and face the worst with a frank story of the events of that terrible night. But he was chained to his bed, and even had he been sufficiently well, he could not have traced her whereabouts. Steel had called to explain his doings, but not even he could guess where Anne was to be found. And Giles rejoiced that this should be so.

"What's the news this morning, Trim?" he asked languidly.

"Mr. Morley has come to see you, sir. He is waiting below."

"I thought he had gone to Brighton with his wife and family?"

"He did go some days back," assented Trim, "but he returned, sir – so he says – especially to see you."