fragments did remain—but these were all of newspapers.
Third. The newspapers, according to Mr Stephenson’s evidence, were burned before the door of the safe had been closed.
Gradually French came to definite conclusions. As far as his information went the following facts seemed to be established:
First. That the safe was unlocked, and the notes were taken out before the fire.
Second. That three or four newspapers were put in to replace them.
Third. That the newspapers were set on fire and allowed to burn to ashes while the safe door was open.
Fourth. That after they were burned the safe was locked.
If these conclusions could be sustained it unquestionably meant that French was on to one of the most dastardly and terrible crimes of the century. He felt the sudden thrill of the hunter who comes across the fresh spoor of some dangerous wild beast. But he did not disclose his feelings. Instead he kept his own counsel, simply reporting to headquarters that the case seemed suspicious and that he was remaining on to make further inquiries.
The more Inspector French pondered over the problems which his discoveries had raised, the more difficult these problems seemed to grow. There was so desperately little to go on. It was a common enough trouble in detective work certainly, but this business was worse than the average. He could not recall a case which offered fewer clues or ‘leads.’
As he turned over in his mind all that he had learned it seemed to him indeed that there was but one channel to be explored, and that a channel which offered a very poor chance of success—the £20 bank note. If he were unable to trace the £20 bank note, and the odds were enormously against his doing so, he did not see what other line of inquiry he could follow up.
Of course, there was the usual police question: Who was seen in the vicinity of the crime at the time of its commission? But he had already put this inquiry to Kent and the answer had been: ‘No one.’
If, as seemed likely, Tarkington’s theory were true and this crime had been committed by the burglars who had already brought off so many coups in the district, French was up against a very able gang. For over six months the police had been searching for these men and they seemed no nearer finding them now than in the beginning.
The bank note, then, appeared to be the only chance, and French decided that he would begin operations by trying to trace the passer, trusting that if this line failed, some other would by that time have opened out.
The night was still young, and desiring to lose no time, French left his comfortable corner in the bar and went out to call on Mr Tarkington.
The bank manager was greatly interested when French revealed his calling and mission. He willingly repeated all he knew about old Simon Averill and his finances and explained his theories at length.
‘The only other thing I wish to ask you,’ French remarked when the other showed signs of coming to an end, ‘is about previous sums sent out to Starvel. Your clerk kept a record of the numbers of all the twenty-pound notes sent in the last consignment, but have you a similar record of former consignments?’
Mr Tarkington nodded.
‘I early appreciated that point and made inquiries,’ he replied in his precise, measured tones. ‘By my own instructions it has been the practice to keep such records of all notes over ten pounds in value, and this was done in the case of those sent to Starvel. The records, however, are not retained very long, and I did not hope to be able to lay my hands on those of earlier consignments. But by a piece of pure chance my clerk, Bloxham, found some earlier records in an old notebook, and I am able to give you the numbers of the notes of eleven; not consecutive consignments, but stretching at intervals over nearly five years. They cover £3860, all of which was sent to Starvel in twenties; that is 193 twenties. I have their numbers here.’
‘That’s a piece of luck for me,’ French commented, as he pocketed the list which the other passed him. ‘Curious that Mr Averill collected twenty-pound notes. Why not fifties or hundreds or tens?’
Mr Tarkington shook his head.
‘Like most of us,’ he said, a hint of human kindness showing beneath his rather dry manner, ‘the poor old fellow had his weakness. Why he should prefer twenties to notes of other denominations I don’t know. I can only record the fact that he did.’
The next morning French occupied in making the acquaintance of the obvious dramatis personæ in the case. He paid a long visit to Ruth Averill, hearing her story at first hand and questioning her on various details which occurred to him. Oxley he saw at his office and the lugubrious Abel Hesketh, the town officer, he found at the toll room in the markets. He was waiting for Dr Emerson as the latter concluded his morning round, and he went to the trouble of an excursion over the moor to interview the red-haired farmer, George Mellowes, who had driven Roper home on the fatal night. Dr Philpot he also called on, to obtain his impressions of the Starvel household.
Lastly, he saw the bank clerk, Bloxham, who struck him at once as a man of character. Though seemingly not more than thirty, he had a strangely old face, sardonic and determined looking, almost sinister. He gave his testimony with a refreshing restraint of words, and seemed to have observed carefully and to know just what he had seen. He said that on three occasions when he was at Starvel Mr Averill had opened his safe and he had had a glimpse of its contents. From the size of the stacks of notes he would estimate that these contained possibly 1500 separate notes. If these were twenties that would mean £30,000. There was also a cardboard box of sovereigns. If he had not heard the number he would have estimated that it contained about two thousand.
To all of these people, except Oxley, who already knew the truth, French accounted for himself by the story of the detective employed to ascertain the cause of an unexplained fire. All seemed anxious to help him, but unfortunately none could tell him anything more than he already knew.
Having thus completed the obvious local inquiries he felt free to follow up the matter of the £20 note. He therefore left Thirsby by the afternoon train and late that night reached St Pancras. Next morning saw him at the headquarters of the Northern Shires Bank in Throgmorton Avenue. In five minutes he was closeted with the manager, who shook his head when he heard what was required of him.
‘I naturally imagined some such question might arise,’ the manager said, ‘and I questioned the clerk who had received the note. At first he was unable to give me even the slightest hint, but on thinking over the matter he said the balance of probability was in favour of its having been paid in by the messenger from Cook’s office in Regent Street. He explained that in Cook’s deposit, which was an unusually heavy one, there were no less than seventeen notes for twenty pounds, and he remarked to the messenger: “You’re strong in twenties today.” It was shortly afterwards that the clerk discovered he held one of the numbers sent in by Mr Tarkington. He had twenty-two twenties in hand when he made his discovery and he believed he had not parted with any since the Cook lodgment, therefore, the chances that the note came from Cook’s are as seventeen to five.’
‘There is no certainty about that,’ said French.
‘No certainty, but a good sporting chance,’ the manager returned with a smile as he bade his visitor good day.
The next step was obviously Cook’s office. Here again French asked for the manager, and here again that gentleman shook his head when French stated his business.
‘I should be only too glad to help you, Mr French,’ he declared, ‘but I fear it is quite impossible. In the first place we don’t know the numbers of any of the notes which passed through our hands, and we don’t, therefore, know if we had the one in which you are interested. Apparently