"Ah, just so-and who may Mr. Castlemayne be, now?" asked Easleby confidentially.
"Mr. Castlemayne?" repeated the door-keeper. "Why, he's the lessee, of course!-the boss!"
"Ah, the boss, is he?" said Easleby. "Much obliged to you, sir. Well, now, then, just take these two cards to Mr. Castlemayne, will you, and ask him if he'll be good enough to see their owners for a few minutes on very important private business?"
The door-keeper departed up a dark passage, and Easleby pointed Starmidge to a playbill which hung, framed on the wall, behind them.
"There you are!" he said, indicating a line near the big capitals at the top. "'Lessee and Manager-Mr. Leopold Castlemayne.' That's our man. Fancy name, of course-real name Tom Smith, or Jim Johnson, you know. But, Lord bless you, what's in a name? Haven't we got a case in point?"
"There's a good deal in what's in a name in our case, old man!" retorted Starmidge. "You're off it there!"
Easleby was about to combat this reply when a boy appeared, and intimated that Mr. Castlemayne would see the gentlemen at once. And the two detectives followed up one passage and down another, and round corners and across saloons and foyers, until they were shown into a snug room, half office, half parlour, very comfortably furnished and ornamented, wherein, at a desk, and alone, sat a gentleman in evening dress, whose countenance, well-fed though it was, seemed to be just then clouded with suspicion and something that looked very like anxiety. He glanced up from the cards which lay before him to the two men who had sent them in, and silently pointed them to chairs near his own.
"Good-evening, sir," said Easleby, with a polite bow. "Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Castlemayne, but you see our business from our cards, and we've called, sir, to ask if you can give us a bit of much-wanted information. I don't know, sir," continued Easleby, laying the blue-pencilled newspaper on the lessee's desk, "if you've read in the papers any account of the affair which is here called the Scarnham Mystery!"
Mr. Leopold Castlemayne glanced at the columns to which Easleby pointed, rubbed his chin, and nodded.
"Yes-yes!" he said. "I have just seen the papers. Case of a strange disappearance-bank manager-isn't it?"
"It's more than that, sir," replied Easleby. "It's a case of-all sorts of things. Now you're wondering, Mr. Castlemayne, why we come to you? I'll explain. You'll see there, sir, the name-blue-pencilled-Gabriel Chestermarke. Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke is a banker at Scarnham. You don't happen to know him, Mr. Castlemayne?"
The two detectives watched the lessee narrowly as that question was put. And each knew instantly that the prompt reply was a truthful one.
"Never heard of him in my life," said Mr. Castlemayne.
"Thank you, sir," said Easleby. "Just so! Well, sir, my friend here-Detective-Sergeant Starmidge-has been down at Scarnham in charge of this case from the first, and he's formed some ideas about this Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke. Last night Gabriel Chestermarke travelled up to town from Ecclesborough-Mr. Starmidge arranged for him to be shadowed when he arrived at St. Pancras. A man of ours-not quite as experienced as he might be, you understand, sir-did shadow him-and lost him. He lost him here at your theatre, Mr. Castlemayne."
"Ah!" said the lessee, half indifferently. "Got amongst the audience, I suppose?"
"No, sir," replied Easleby. "Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke, sir, entered your stage-door at about eleven-thirty-walked straight in. But he never came out of that door-so he must have left by another exit."
Mr. Leopold Castlemayne suddenly sat up very erect and rigid. His face flushed a little, his lips parted; he looked from one man to the other.
"Mr.-Gabriel-Chestermarke!" he said. "Entered my stage-door-eleven-thirty-last night? Here!-describe him!"
Easleby glanced at Starmidge. And Starmidge, as if he were describing a picture, gave a full and accurate account of Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke's appearance from head to foot.
The lessee suddenly jumped from his chair, walked over to a door, opened it, and looked into an inner room. Evidently satisfied, he closed the door again, came back, seated himself, thrust his hands in his pockets, and looked at the detectives.
"All in confidence-strict confidence?" he said. "All right, then!-I understand. I tell you, I don't know any Gabriel Chestermarke, banker, of Scarnham! The man you've described-the man who came here last night-is Godwin Markham, the Conduit Street money-lender-damn him!" CHAPTER XXIII
THE AGGRIEVED VICTIM
If Mr. Leopold Castlemayne's last word was expressive, his next actions were suggestive and significant. Returning to the door of the inner room, he turned the key in it; crossing to the door by which the detectives had been shown in, he locked that also; proceeding to a cupboard in an adjacent recess, he performed an unlocking process-after which he produced a decanter, a syphon, three glasses, and a box of cigars. He silently placed these luxuries on a desk before his visitors, and hospitably invited their attention.
"Yes!" he said presently, proceeding to help the two men to refreshment, and pressing the cigars upon them, "I've good reason to say that, gentlemen! Godwin Markham, indeed! I ought to know him! If I don't look out, that devil of a bloodsucker is going to ruin me-he is, so!"
Easleby gave Starmidge an almost imperceptible wink as he lighted a cigar. It was evident that Mr. Leopold Castlemayne was not only willing to talk, but was uncommonly glad to have somebody to talk to. Indeed, his moody countenance began to clear as his tongue became unloosed; he was obviously at that stage when a man is thankful to give confidences to any fellow-creature.
"I've done business with gentlemen of your profession before," he went on, nodding to his visitors over the rim of his tumbler, "and I know you're to be trusted-naturally, you hear a good many queer things and queer secrets in your line of life. And as you come to me in confidence, I'll tell you a thing or two in confidence. It may help you-if you're certain that the man you're wanting is the man who came here last night. Do you want him?"
"We-may do," replied Easleby. "We don't know yet. Mr. Starmidge here is much disposed to think that we shall. But let's be clear, sir. We're all three agreed that we're talking about the same man? Starmidge has accurately described a certain man who without doubt entered your stage-door about eleven-thirty last night-"
"And left, with me, by the box-office door, in the front street, a few minutes later," murmured the lessee. "That's how it was."
"Just so," agreed Easleby. "Now, Starmidge up to now has only known that man as Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke, senior partner in Chestermarke's Bank, at Scarnham, while you, up to now-"
"Have only known him as Godwin Markham, money-lender, financial agent, and so on, of Conduit Street," interrupted Castlemayne. "And known him a lot too much for my peace, I can tell you! Of course, we're talking of the same man! I can quite believe he runs a double show. I know that he's a great deal away from town. It's very rarely that he's to be found at Conduit Street-very, very rarely indeed-he's a clever manager there, who sees everybody and does everything. And I know that he's quite two-thirds of his time away from his own house-so, of course, he's got to put it in somewhere else."
"His own house!" said Starmidge, catching at an idea which presented itself. "You know where he lives in London, then, Mr. Castlemayne?"
"Do I know where my own mother lives!" exclaimed the lessee. "I should think I do! He's a neighbour of mine-lives close by me, up Primrose Hill way. Nice little bachelor establishment he has-Oakfield Villa. Spent many an evening there with him-Sunday evenings, of course. Oh, yes-I know all about him-as Godwin Markham. Bless me!-so he's a country banker, is he? And mixed up in this affair, eh? Gosh!-I hope you'll find out that he murdered his manager, and that you'll be able to hang him-I'd treat the town to a free show if you could hang him in public on my stage, I would, indeed!"