“No, no,” said Tressider, rather hastily. “I thought I knew Mr. Smith, that’s all. Has he retired lately?”
“Lord, no.” The man laughed heartily. “There ain’t been a Mr. Smith here, not in donkey’s years. Come to think of it, they’re all dead, I believe. Jim! What’s happened to old Mr. Smith and his brother what used to run this show?”
A little elderly man came out of the warehouse, wiping his hands on his apron.
“Dead these ten years,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Gent here thought he knowed the parties.”
“Well, they’re dead,” repeated Jim.
“Thank you,” said Tressider.
He went back to the car. For the hundredth time he asked himself whether he should stop the cheque. The death of Cyril could only be a coincidence. It was now or never, for this was the 30th September.
He vacillated, and put the matter off till next day. At ten o’clock in the morning he rang up the bank.
“A cheque” — he gave the number — “for £1,000, payable to Smith & Smith. Has it been cashed?”
“Yes, Mr. Tressider. Nine-thirty this morning. Hope there’s nothing wrong about it.”
“Nothing whatever, thanks. I just wanted to know.”
Then he had drawn it. And somebody had cashed it.
Next day there was a letter. It was typewritten and bore no address of origin; only the printed heading smith & smith and the date, 1 October.
Dear Sir,—
With reference to your esteemed order of the 12th July for a Removal from your residence in Essex, we trust that this commission has been carried out to your satisfaction. We beg to acknowledge your obliging favour of One Thousand Pounds (£1,000), and return herewith the Order of Removal which you were good enough to hand to us. Assuring you of our best attention at all times,
Faithfully yours,
The enclosure ran as follows:
I, Arthur Tressider of (here followed his address in Essex) hereby confess that I murdered my ward and nephew, Cyril Tressider, in the following manner. Knowing that the child was in the habit of playing in the garden of Crantonbury Hall, adjoining my own residence, and vacant for the last twelve months, I searched this garden carefully and discovered there a number of old potato-plants, some of them bearing potato-apples. Into these potato-apples I injected with a small syringe a powerful solution of the poisonous alkali solanine, of which a certain quantity is always present in these plants. I prepared this solution from plants of solanum which I had already secretly gathered. I had no difficulty in doing this, having paid some attention as a young man to the study of chemistry. I felt sure that the child would be tempted to eat these berries, but had he failed to do so I had various other schemes of a similar nature in reserve, on which I should have fallen back if necessary. I committed this abominable crime in order to secure the Tressider estates, entailed upon me as next heir. I now make this confession, being troubled in my conscience.
1 October, 193-
The sweat stood on Tressider’s forehead.
“How did they know I had studied chemistry?”
He seemed to hear the sniggering voice of Dr. Schmidt: “Our organization—”
He burned the papers and went out without saying his customary farewell to his wife. It was not until some time later that he heard the story of the leopard lady, and he thought of Miss Smith, the girl with the yellow eyes like cat’s eyes, who should have been called Melusine.