“Don’t be stupid, Neil,” retorted the girl. “I didn’t do anything bright. Just played in luck. It was luck that I happened to be maid on that floor in the hotel; it was luck that I made a hit with that poor, lonely woman and that she showed me her jewels and talked about them. Then, more luck, you and I happened to drop into that dance, and when I saw a girl wearing one of Mrs. Johnson’s gems, why, I just gave you the tip, and the hard work that followed was all done by my Neil.”
“But it wasn’t fair for me to take the credit,” protested Mooney.
“Why not? You and I are going to be one, and what helps you, helps me. The only way to get ahead in this world is to make people think you are smart. If you’d done as you wanted to, and told the Inspector that accident had been responsible for the solution of this crime, he would have mumbled thanks and left you to yarn away your life as a harness bull. But look what my way has accomplished. You’re famous overnight, and in a position to do something and be somebody.”
“But I’m afraid,” confessed Mooney. “They’re sending me to Headquarters to associate as an equal with a crowd of big, worthwhile men. How can I ever expect to make good?”
The girl bent over and patted her sweetheart on the shoulder.
“See here, Neil,” she said gently, “what did these ‘big men’ do on the Monolith mystery? I’ll tell you: The District Attorney fussed, the Chief fumed, the Inspector barked out orders, and a score of frightened detectives ran around in circles. Perhaps it isn’t modest to say it, but the whole bunch were outclassed by one little Irish chambermaid and one big Irish policeman. I’m not afraid you’ll fall down, dear. You’ve got the brains, they’ll give you the chance, and you’re bound to make good.”
“With you to help me, Nora,” replied the young man, as he put his arm about her, “with you to advise, I’m sure I’ll be a captain some day.”
“Captain, nothing,” responded the girl laughingly. “The stars tell me I will be Mrs. Inspector Mooney before I am an old, old woman.”
Exterior to the Evidence
(A Detective Novel in Five Parts.)
by J. S. Fletcher
(Author of “The Middle Temple Murder,” Etc., Etc.)
Part V
Synopsis of preceding chapters
Sir Cheville is found dead at the foot of a precipice from which he was apparently hurled. Etherton, a manufacturer, who owed Cheville money, and Mrs. Stanbury, his sister-in-law, who opposed his approaching marriage to a governess because it threatened her son’s inheritance, were seen near the scene of the crime by Pike, Etherton’s secretary, who tries to use his information to force Letty, Etherton’s daughter, to marry him. She is secretly engaged to Marston Stanbury, Cheville’s heir, and scorns the clerk’s advances. Two documents bearing on the motive of the murder are missing, one from the dead baronet’s pocket, is the plan of Etherton’s valuable invention, and the other is a will executed on the day of Sir Cheville’s death in which he bequeathes 100,000 pounds to his fiancee and the rest of his estate to Marston. Marston’s growing suspicion of Birch, Sir Cheville’s lawyer and a former lover of the governess, is strengthened by the report of a moor ranger who saw the couple many times late at night on the moor, and on the night of the murder in particular. Pike overhears this conversation and pretending to have been an eye witness, demands 5,000 pounds of Birch for his silence. Birch, frightened, complies, but Pike who plans to hasten to America is seen entering a steamship office and is detained by the police who suspect him. He pretends to make a full confession, which implicates Birch. Meanwhile, the lost will is found in Sir Cheville’s locker. The police go after Birch, who is found with the governess. She frankly confesses they were lovers and had met on the night of the murder for a last good-bye. She further tells of leaving her lover and on her homeward way of passing two men, wearing black masks, coming from the direction of the precipice!
Chapter XXII
The Secret
While Sindal became greatly excited on seeing Bradwell Pike enter Birch’s office that afternoon, and Marston showed a certain amount of curiosity, Weathershaw manifested no interest whatever. He glanced carelessly out of the window when Sindal pointed across the street, and then remarking, almost indifferently, that he must be attending to his own affairs, went off.
The first thing he did was to turn into a hotel and borrow a directory; out of this he copied in his note-book the names of certain tradesmen in Hallithwaite, some eight or nine in all, and that done he proceeded to call on one after another with the clockwork precision of a commercial traveller. It was not until he called on almost the last man on his list that he got what he wanted: with this man he was closeted for some time, and when he left him he had to race to the station to meet the express due at six o’clock from Manchester. It came in as he hurried up the platform; a moment later, a keen-looking fellow, whose dress and appearance were that of a respectable workman in his Sunday clothes, stepped from a compartment and responded to Weathershaw’s nod with a scarcely perceptible smile.
“That’s right, Hartley,” said Weathershaw. “I’ve a good deal for you to do tonight, so we’ll get some dinner together. Let’s find a quiet corner and I’ll give you your instructions while we eat.”
The two men sat side by side in a recess in the station dining-room, while Hartley took in his employer’s explanations, suggestions, and instructions in silence, doing no more than nod in acquiescence or understanding.
“So now,” said Weathershaw, “you know precisely what to do.” He glanced at the clock which hung in front of them. “Catch the 6:45 out to Lithersdale — it’s the second station up a branch line. Go straight to the place I’ve told you of, and make your enquiries in your own way. Later — say nine o’clock — look in at the Stanbury Arms in the village; you’ll find me there. No need to tell you to keep eyes and ears open, Hartley.”
Hartley responded with a quiet smile and presently went away in the direction of the booking-office: Weathershaw, remaining behind, ordered black coffee, lighted a cigar, and sat for half an hour longer, thinking. Eventually, he left the station and strolled round to Sindal’s private rooms, to find the solicitor leisurely eating his bachelor dinner.
“Sir Marston gone back home?” asked Weathershaw as he dropped into a chair.
“Just after you left,” answered Sindal laconically.
“Hear any more of Pike and his visit to Birch?” enquired the agent.
“Nothing!” said the solicitor. He was becoming almost as reserved as Weathershaw himself. Nevertheless, his curiosity asserted itself. “That man of yours turned up?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” replied Weathershaw. “Came at six o’clock.”
Then, seeing that Sindal was inquisitive, he added, with a smile:
“He’s already at work.”
“Well, you do your work in a pretty quiet and underground fashion, I must say!” remarked Sindal. “I hope it’s going to mature. I wish to goodness I knew what that infernal Pike was after this afternoon.
“If you’ve nothing to do this evening,” remarked Weathershaw, “will you come with me up to Lithersdale? I’m going to meet my man at the Stanbury Arms at nine o’clock — he may have some news to give me. If so, I’ll let you know what it is.”