  Baddeley acquiesced. “That’s very true. And the more I see of the case, the more I——Still, let’s deal with the matter in hand. There isn’t a reasonable doubt, Mr. Bathurst, that you’ve put your hooks into the right people for this jewel robbery. And one thing at a time, say I.” Anthony bowed to the compliment. “We can get ‘Spider’ Webb easily enough,” he said, “in any one of half a dozen ways. We’ll discuss that in a few moments. I’m more concerned about Lady Considine’s chance of getting her pearls back. How do we stand there?” The Inspector thought for a moment. “Let’s see. They were taken in the early hours of this morning. To-morrow’s Sunday. If we can collar our man within twenty-four hours or so we should be able to salve the spoils. Pearls, you see, are different from silver stuff, for example—that’s in the pot before you can wink an eye. The best market for what he’s got away with might be Amsterdam ... he’d probably try about the beginning of next week.” “Right!” exclaimed Anthony. “I’m inclined to agree with you. Now, how about getting our man? Is it worth while following up Marshall’s telephone call?” “I’ve got a better plan than that, Mr. Bathurst. You wait and see and let me know what you think of it. I’ve had Marshall under observation since this morning ...” he grinned as though the reflection afforded him some amusement ... “as a matter of fact ever since I first arrived—although I admit you were a step ahead of me over that window business ... and she’s made no attempt at communication with anybody. She’s cute enough to realize that her best plan is to say and do nothing: just go about her ordinary daily duties as though nothing had happened. Also she’s scared stiff about the murder.” He glanced at us both ... almost as though he wanted us to confirm his opinion. Then I butted in. “You’re satisfied then, Inspector, that Webb didn’t murder Prescott—despite all this evidence?” Anthony looked searchingly at Baddeley. The Inspector’s face grew grim and hard. But he found time to answer me although I had half-suspected that he would evade the question. He chose his words carefully. “Not despite—because of—the evidence, Mr. Cunningham!” He turned to Anthony with the same kind of look as before, but Anthony remained silent. I got the impression that Baddeley would have liked to make him talk, and that Anthony knew it. “We’ll have her in here, Mr. Bathurst.” He went to the door and called Roper. “Bring that maid Marshall in here, Roper. Don’t tell her anything—don’t even say who it is wants to speak to her.” Marshall came, shepherded by Roper. She was very white, but still held her head high with a sort of impudent defiance. “Sit down there,” said Baddeley, motioning her to a chair. “I’ve sent for you because I want you to pass on a little useful information. Got that?” She tossed her head back. “I’ve told you all I know, Inspector, and that being so, I can’t very well tell you any more,” and a bright red spot blazed in her white cheek. Baddeley waved her protestations on one side. Here he was sure of himself, certain of what he was going to do, confident of ultimate success. “There’s one piece of information you can give me, my girl, and that dead smart, so make up your mind on that,” he rapped. “You might as well know now as later ... the game’s up!!” Marshall gasped, and her hand went to her throat ... helplessly. “Where’s ‘Spider’ Webb to be found these days?” roared Baddeley. “Eh—Mrs. Webb?” She gazed at him affrighted, wild-eyed, with bosom heaving. Then summoned sufficient desperation to her aid to make one last attempt at fight. “I don’t know what you——” “Cut that,” broke in the Inspector, “that won’t get you anything. We know you ... we know him ... we know your little lay in the billiard room last night when you handed over the Considine pearls. Where is he?” “That I’ll never tell you,” she retorted—“never!” “I think you will, my lady, when you’ve heard all I have to say,” stormed Baddeley, “if you don’t help me all you can and come across with what you know, I’ll do my level best to ‘swing’ your pretty ‘Spider.’” Her face went ashen, and as the full import of his speech reached her brain, horror tinged her features. “You can’t!” she gasped. “You can’t! The ‘Spider’ never touched ’im, never saw ’im ... the room was empty when I left it ... the ‘Spider’ went ... it’s God’s own truth I’m telling you....” “I want the truth,” went on Baddeley, remorselessly and relentlessly, “you tell the truth and help me ... and I’ll help you ... if I can, that is.” “It is the truth,” she sobbed. “The ‘Spider’ wouldn’t ’urt a fly.” “No, I know, it doesn’t sound as though he would,” said Baddeley derisively. “Spiders don’t, as a rule, do they? You’re trapped, my girl, and you’ll see the inside of a prison cell before supper time to-night ... you realize that, don’t you? ... and if you don’t tell me where this precious husband of yours is to be found ... well, I shall find him all the same, and it will go pretty hard with the pair of you,” he paused, and then proceeded with studied deliberation, “ten years for you, we’ll say, and the execution shed for your partner.” She gazed at him—fascinated at the dreadful picture he had painted for her imagination to dwell upon. Then answered him, white-lipped and trembling. “I’ll tell you the truth,” she murmured. “Then you’ll know my ’usband couldn’t ’ave done that awful thing. I took the necklace from Lady Considine’s room as I ’ad meant to do ... I come into this ’ouse to get it ... I ’ad to wait a long time for my chance ... but it come yesterday ... I saw it laying on the dressing-table and took it. Then I arranged for the ‘Spider’ to come for it so’s I shouldn’t be suspected and about two o’clock this morning I dropped it to ’im from the billiard room window. In ten minutes at the most ’e ’ad gone. It’s the solemn truth, Inspector,” she wiped tears from her eyes, “if I never speak another word, and when I got down there first thing this morning, and there was that corpse on the table—you could ’ave knocked me down with a feather.” “H’m! That’s all very well. But how do you know your husband didn’t come back for something—something that he’d dropped, perhaps—and met Mr. Prescott who challenged him?” She shook her head. “’E didn’t—’e didn’t. ’E just went at once!” “You don’t know,” reiterated Baddeley. “He may have come back, run into Mr. Prescott, struggled with him and killed him. You don’t know, so you can’t say.” “I know I don’t,” she muttered piteously—“but ’e didn’t. It wouldn’t be like him to do no such thing.” “Then what did you open the window for?” cut in Baddeley decisively—“you had doubts yourself as to what had happened after you left the billiard room.” The fight was all gone from her now. “Yes,” she said. “I was frightened. I worried about what I knew ’ad ’appened. All the same my ’usband never touched ’im—I’ll take my dying oath on that.” She looked sullenly in front of her. “Where is he, then?” Then as no answer was forthcoming, “Good Lord, girl, we’ll get him right enough, whether you tell us or not ... make no mistake about that ... it’s merely a question of time ... but, mark my words ... the sooner he tells the truth about the robbery ... the more chance he has of clearing himself with regard to the murder.” Marshall made as if to speak, but hesitated. Baddeley saw the advantage he had gained and hastened to follow it up. “The sooner we get to work while the scent is hot, the greater likelihood of finding the murderer,” he said, with decision in his tone. “Come, my girl, that must be as plain to you as the nose on my face.” She hesitated again, and twisted her hands nervously in her lap. “I don’t know what to do,” she moaned. “You’re asking me to betray my ’usband—and if I do, it’s only to save ’im from something worse—but it’s prison for me, and prison for ’im at the best of things.” “That’s so,” declared Baddeley mercilessly, “but a ‘stretch’ is better than the gallows.” “May I be forgiven then,” said Marshall—“you’ll find the ‘Spider’ at 45, Peabody Buildings, Poplar. And for mercy’s sake, don’t let ’im know who told you.” Baddeley motioned to Roper. “Get her down to the station, Roper ... I’ll be down later.” “We must tell Sir Charles, Inspector,” said Anthony, as Roper departed with his charge. “I haven’t mentioned this latest development to him ... I came straight to you with the news.” “Naturally,” rejoined Baddeley, “naturally. We’ll ask him to step this way. Do you mind, Mr. Cunningham?” I found the old man in the garden with Mary. The trouble of the whole affair was just beginning to show on their faces.... Considine Manor had by this time become the talk of thousands. Mary seemed very grief-laden ... they turned as I approached. I gave him Baddeley’s message. “Certainly, Bill, I’ll come in at once. Is there news, then?” “Rather,” I replied. “Come and hear what Baddeley has to say.” “What is it, Bill?” asked Mary, eagerly. “Can’t tell you yet,” I whispered evasively, “but we’re on the track of the pearls—anyway!” “This is extraordinarily good news,” said Sir Charles, as we went into the house. “How did Baddeley manage it?” “It was Bathurst,” I replied. “You’ll hear what they have to say—and you’ll get a bit of a shock.” He looked at me curiously. “Don’t be alarmed,” I said. “Nothing to worry about.” “Thank you, Bill. To tell the truth you did startle me a bit ... I began to wonder ...” he wiped his forehead ... “it’s been a day of surprises.” Baddeley speedily described our discoveries (I say “our”) and the result thereof. Sir Charles gasped. “Marshall!” he exclaimed incredulously. “You astound me. And she came with such splendid references. Well, well, well, truly one never knows. My wife’s pearls, Inspector. Do you think there’s any probability of restoring them? You’ve done so splendidly that one becomes quite optimistic.” His eyes gleamed. “And you say you don’t really connect the affair with poor young Prescott?” “At the moment, Sir Charles, I’m not inclined to link up the two ... and as for your praises”—he turned towards Anthony—“it’s Mr. Bathurst here that put me on the track.” Anthony laughed. “Proving my theories, Sir Charles, that’s all! And I was lucky.” “Well, I congratulate you then, as a combination—we’ll leave it at that. By the way, Baddeley, you didn’t answer me about the pearls. What do you really think?” “I’m going to put a suggestion in front of you directly, Sir Charles, that will answer that question for you. Have most of your guests gone?” “Yes, Inspector; as sanctioned by you, after your little round of interrogations this morning, they have all departed for their homes. No good purpose could have been served by their staying. I have a list of their present addresses for you. Mr. Cunningham and Mr. Bathurst, and my daughter and son-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. Arkwright, will stay on. That is to say, for a time. Well, Fitch, what is it?” The butler had approached him. “Your pardon, Sir Charles, but there’s a newspaper man here wishes to speak to you. Here’s his card.” Sir Charles took it. “Sydney Dennison. The Morning Message. A London reporter, gentlemen,” he announced. “Shall I?...” Baddeley cut in. “Have him in, Sir Charles, won’t do any harm.” A fresh-faced young fellow came in and bowed to us. “Sorry to disturb you gentlemen, but I’ve motored down from London.... Can you give me any details of what has taken place here?” Baddeley briefly recounted the affair, but withheld all details relevant to the arrest of Marshall. “Murder and robbery then as we were informed on the ’phone by our local agent,” said Dennison. “Any arrest imminent?” The Inspector took a moment or two to answer. “I am holding a person,” he replied slowly, “on the robbery charge only, so far, but I should be very much obliged, Mr. Dennison, and it will, I think, assist me considerably, if you make no mention of the arrest whatever. That is to say, yet awhile.” Dennison’s eyes went up in interrogation. “I will promise you,” proceeded Baddeley, “that no other paper gets the information to publish before you. I shall certainly see to that.” “You think it will assist?...” queried Dennison. “I think it will assist the cause of justice,” said Baddeley gravely. “That’s why you ask me?” “That’s why I ask you!” “Right you are, Inspector. I will finish my report for The Message, by saying for the time being, the Police are entirely without a clue—eh?” “Nothing would please me better,” said Baddeley, rubbing his palms together. “I understand perfectly.” Dennison rose to depart. He had his story and in a few days would have a still better one. “Now for London again.” “One moment,” cried the Inspector. “One more thing. I would like the bewilderment of the Police to appear in the late edition of your Evening Gazette. That all right? That will be better still.” “As you wish, Inspector, and thank you. Good-bye!” And in a brief period we heard the sound of his motorcycle en route for headquarters again. Press methods are short and sharp. Baddeley turned to us and although he addressed us as a company, the feeling persisted in me that Anthony was his audience as far as he himself was concerned. “That brings me, gentlemen, to the matter of the ‘Spider.’ We’ve got to get him, and we ought to get him at once ... while, I think, the pearls are on him ... before he takes a little trip somewhere.” “We know where he is?” interjected Sir Charles. “Yes,” continued Baddeley, “but I don’t purpose going there for him.” “Where, then?” I interposed. “Well, this is my plan. Get the ‘Spider’ back here—then take him. It has the merits of simplicity and comfort.” He smiled. “Mahomet and the mountain, eh?” smiled Anthony. “Something like it,” answered the Inspector. “But will he come?” demanded Sir Charles. “It appears to me to be extremely doubtful. Would any criminal walk into an obvious trap like that?... You’re expecting too much, Baddeley.” “I don’t think so, Sir Charles, if you’ll allow me to say so. If, as I think and I fancy as Mr. Bathurst here, thinks, the murder of Mr. Prescott is a complete surprise to the ‘Spider,’ then it’s given him a pretty nasty shock ... he’s wondering, gentlemen, wondering very considerably. And he will see in the late editions of the London papers this evening that the Police are completely in the dark ... so he won’t be dreaming any bad dreams himself ... yet awhile ... but he’ll still go on wondering. Now, I think, gentlemen, that my idea will bring him along quite comfortably. I’m going to telegraph to him like this. ‘Come—same place—same time—urgent!’” “Whom from?” interposed Anthony. “Who’s the sender?” “That I admit, Mr. Bathurst, is its weakness. If I get hold of his wife’s Christian name, it’s just possible I might use the wrong form or the wrong abbreviation ... familiar names are awkward things to take chances with in messages—a man calls his wife by a nickname, perhaps—still ...” he paused and drummed with his hands on the table, reflecting. “How about putting Marshall?” None of us answered. I think we were all engaged in weighing up the advisability. Baddeley went on. “If it’s unusual for her to send to him under that name, he may think she has a special reason in light of what’s happened after the burglary. Whereas, if, for instance, her name’s ‘Kate’ and I put ‘Katie’ when the ‘Spider’ always knows her as ‘Kitty’—it’s bound to create doubt and suspicion.” Anthony sat thinking. “I’m disposed to agree with you, Inspector,” he said. “You think it’s worth trying, Mr. Bathurst?” asked Sir Charles. “Yes, I do.” Baddeley seemed pleased. “Get that telegram off then. Roper will take it for us ... he should be back by now. But perhaps I’d better go and see.” “What about to-night then, Inspector?” said Anthony. “What time shall we gather around to receive our guest? Just after twelve?” Baddeley rubbed his chin with his forefinger. “I don’t think we’ll take any chances, Mr. Bathurst, so we had better be in our places by midnight. He’s an awkward customer, there’s no doubt about that, this ‘Spider’ Webb, so if you’ve a revolver it might come in useful. I’ll bring along a couple of men from the station, so with Roper and Mr. Cunningham, there’ll be half a dozen of us. We mustn’t let him slip through our fingers.” Sir Charles looked grave. “I’ll trust there will be no shooting, Inspector. Lady Considine is sufficiently upset already without ...” he looked at Baddeley with anxiety. The Inspector pursed his lips together. “I’m sorry, Sir Charles, I fully realize all that ... but I want this man badly ... and I don’t think, if my plan goes smoothly, that there will be any noise worth worrying about.” Sir Charles nodded. “And what’s more,” proceeded Baddeley, “I’m pretty confident he’ll have the pearls with him. It’s worth the risk, you see, sir.” Sir Charles appeared more reconciled. “Very well then, and may you be successful.” He bowed himself out. “I’ll get down to Roper, then,” said Baddeley to us, “and get this wire off. Then I’ll meet you gentlemen here at eleven-thirty this evening. We’ll have five men in the grounds—including both of you—and in the meantime, I’ll think out the best disposition of my forces ...” he grinned at us. “I thought you said six men, just now, Inspector,” I ventured. “I did,” he replied. “The sixth will be in the billiard room, of course.” “You forget, Bill,” chuckled Anthony, “Inspector Baddeley is ‘marshalling’ his forces.” Baddeley burst into hearty laughter. “Very good, Mr. Bathurst, very good.” He waved his hand to us. “Till eleven-thirty then.” “Will the ‘Spider’ come, Anthony?” I asked. He thought for a moment before replying—“I think he will. Curiosity is a tremendous impetus. I think he will. And of course, he’s got to think of his own neck so he must be kept well posted. He’ll think his wife has important news for him.” “Good,” I cried. “Welcome to the ‘Spider’!” “Yes,” said Anthony. “Somewhere about one-thirty, I imagine. And we’ll welcome him with this.” He fingered his automatic. “If necessary.” |
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