"And I suppose none of your fellow-clerks have, either?" asked Polke.
Simmons smiled and glanced at Starmidge.
"We've only myself and another-a junior clerk-and a boy," he said. "It's not a big practice-only a bit of good conveyancing now and then, and some family business. Mr. Hollis isn't dependent on it-he's private means of his own."
"Aye, just so!" observed Polke. "And I should say, Starmidge, that it was private business brought him down here-if he's the man, as he certainly seems to be. But-whose?"
Starmidge turned again to the clerk.
"You've a good memory, I can see," he said. "Now, did you ever hear Mr. Hollis mention the name of Horbury?"
"Never!" replied Simmons.
"Did you ever hear him speak of Chestermarke's Bank?" asked Starmidge.
"No-never! Never heard either name in my life until I saw them in the papers," asserted Simmons.
"Who looks after the banking account at Hollis's?" asked the detective. "I mean, the business account-you know. Not his private one."
"I do," said Simmons. "Always have done since I went there."
"You never saw any cheques paid to those names-or any cheques from them?" inquired Starmidge. "Think, now!"
"No-I'm absolutely sure of it," said the clerk. "Horbury, perhaps, I might not remember, but I should have remembered Chestermarke-it's an uncommon name, that-to me, anyway."
"Well," said Starmidge, after a pause, during which all three looked at each other as men look who have come to a dead stop in the progress of things, "there's one thing very certain, Mr. Simmons. If that was your governor who came down to the Station Hotel here on Saturday evening last, he certainly telephoned from there to Chestermarke's Bank as soon as he arrived. And he got a reply from there, and he evidently went out to meet whoever sent it-that sender seeming to be Mr. Horbury, the manager. And so," he concluded, turning to Polke, "what we've got to find out is-what did Hollis come here at all for?"
"We shan't find that out tonight," said Polke, with a yawn.
"Quite so-so we'll adjourn till morning, when Mr. Simmons shall see Mrs. Pratt-just to establish things," remarked Starmidge. "In the meantime he'd better come round with me to my place, and I'll get him a bed."
Neither the police-superintendent nor the detective had the slightest doubt after hearing Simmons' story that the man who presented himself at the Station Hotel at Scarnham on the evening of John Horbury's disappearance was Mr. Frederick Hollis, solicitor, of Gray's Inn. If they had still retained any doubt it would have disappeared next morning when they took the clerk down to see Mrs. Pratt. The landlady described her customer even more fully than before: Simmons had no doubt whatever that she described his employer: he wouldn't have been more certain, he said, that Mrs. Pratt was talking about Mr. Hollis, if she'd shown him a photograph of that gentleman.
"So we can take that for settled," remarked Polke, as the three left the hotel and went back to the town. "The man who came here last Saturday night was Mr. Frederick Hollis, solicitor, of South Square, Gray's Inn, London. That's established, I take it, Starmidge?"
"Seems so," agreed the detective.
"Then the next question is-Where's he got to?" said Polke.
"I think the next question is-Has anybody ever heard of him in connection with Mr. Horbury, or the Chestermarkes?" observed Starmidge. "There's no doubt he came down here to see one or other of them-Horbury, most likely."
"And who's to tell us anything?" asked Polke.
"Miss Fosdyke's a relation of Horbury's," replied Starmidge. "She may know Hollis by name. Mr. Neale's always been in touch with Horbury-he may have heard of Hollis. And-so may the bankers."
"The difficulty is to make them say anything," said Polke. "They'll only tell what they please."
"Let's try the other two, anyway," counselled Starmidge. "They may be able to tell something. For as sure as I am what I am, the whole secret of this business lies in Hollis's coming down here to see Horbury, and in what followed on their meeting. If we could only get to know what Hollis came here for-ah!"
But they got no further information from either Betty Fosdyke or Wallington Neale. Neither had ever heard of Mr. Frederick Hollis, of Gray's Inn. Betty was certain, beyond doubt, that he was no relation of the missing bank-manager: she had the whole family-tree of the Horburys at her finger-ends, she declared: no Hollis was connected with even its outlying twigs. Neale had never heard the name of Hollis mentioned by Horbury. And he added that he was absolutely sure that during the last five years no person of that name had ever had dealings with Chestermarke's Bank-open dealings, at any rate. Secret dealings with the partners, severally or collectively, or with Horbury, for that matter, Mr. Hollis might have had, but Neale was certain he had had no ordinary business with any of them.
Polke took heart of grace and led Simmons across to the bank. To his astonishment, the partners now received him readily and politely; they even listened with apparent interest to the clerk's story, and asked him some questions arising out of it. But each declared that he knew nothing about Mr. Frederick Hollis, and was utterly unaware of any reason that could bring him to Scarnham: it was certainly on no business of theirs, as a firm, or as private individuals, that he came.
"He came, of course, to see Horbury," said Joseph at last. "That's dead certain. No doubt they met. And after that-well, they seem to have vanished together."
Gabriel followed Polke into the hall and drew him aside.
"Did this clerk tell you whether his master was a man of standing?" he asked.
"Man of private means, Mr. Chestermarke, with a small, highly respectable practice-a conveyancing solicitor," answered Polke.
"Oh!" replied Gabriel. "Just so. Well-we know nothing about him."
Polke and his companion returned to the Scarnham Arms, where Starmidge was in consultation with Betty and Neale.
"They know nothing at all over there," he reported. "Never heard of Hollis. What's to be done now!"
"Mr. Simmons must do the next thing," answered the detective. "Get back to town, Mr. Simmons, and put yourself in communication with every single one of Mr. Hollis's clients-you know them all, of course. Find out if any of them gave Mr. Hollis any business that would send him to Scarnham. Don't leave a stone unturned in that way! And the moment you have any information, however slight, wire to me, here-on the instant." CHAPTER XVI
Starmidge and Polke presently left-to walk down to the railway station with the bewildered clerk; when they had gone, Betty turned to Neale, who was hanging about her sitting-room with no obvious intention of leaving it.
"While these people are doing what they can in their way, is there nothing we can do in ours?" she asked. "I hate sitting here doing nothing at all! You're a free man now, Wallie-can't you suggest something?"
Neale was thoroughly enjoying his first taste of liberty. He felt as if he had just been released from a long term of imprisonment. To be absolutely free to do what he liked with himself, during the whole of a spring day, was a sensation so novel that he was holding closely to it, half-fearful that it might all be a dream from which it would be a terrible thing to awake-to see one of Chestermarke's ledgers under his nose. And this being a wonderfully fine morning, he had formed certain sly designs of luring Betty away into the country, and having the whole day with her. A furtive glance at her, however, showed him that Miss Fosdyke's thoughts and ideas just then were entirely business-like, but a happy inspiration suggested to him that business and pleasure might be combined.
"We ought to go and see if that tinker chap's found out or heard anything," he said. "You remember he promised to keep his eyes and ears open. And we might do a little looking round the country for ourselves: I haven't much faith in those local policemen and gamekeepers. Why not make a day of it, going round? I know a place-nice old inn, the other side of Ellersdeane-where we can get some lunch. Much better making inquiries for ourselves," he concluded insinuatingly, "than sitting about waiting for news."