DETECTIVE EBENEZER GRYCE - Complete Murder-Mysteries Collection: 11 Novels in One Volume
of the hotel. That he had come there, direct from the Liverpool steamer, about three months since, and, registering his name as Henry R. Clavering, Esq., London, had engaged a first-class room which he had kept ever since. That, although nothing definite was known concerning him, he had been seen with various highly respectable people, both of his own nation and ours, by all of whom he was treated with respect. And lastly, that while not liberal, he had given many evidences of being a man of means. So much done, I entered the office, and waited for him to come in, in the hope of having an opportunity to observe his manner when the clerk handed him that strange-looking letter from Mary Leavenworth.”
“And did you succeed?”
“No; an awkward gawk of a fellow stepped between us just at the critical moment, and shut off my view. But I heard enough that evening from the clerk and servants, of the agitation he had shown on receiving it, to convince me I was upon a trail worth following. I accordingly put on my men, and for two days Mr. Clavering was subjected to the most rigid watch a man ever walked under. But nothing was gained by it; his interest in the murder, if interest at all, was a secret one; and though he walked the streets, studied the papers, and haunted the vicinity of the house in Fifth Avenue, he not only refrained from actually approaching it, but made no attempt to communicate with any of the family. Meanwhile, you crossed my path, and with your determination incited me to renewed effort. Convinced from Mr. Clavering’s bearing, and the gossip I had by this time gathered in regard to him, that no one short of a gentleman and a friend could succeed in getting at the clue of his connection with this family, I handed him over to you, and——”
“Found me rather an unmanageable colleague.”
Mr. Gryce smiled very much as if a sour plum had been put in his mouth, but made no reply; and a momentary pause ensued.
“Did you think to inquire,” I asked at last, “if any one knew where Mr. Clavering had spent the evening of the murder?”
“Yes; but with no good result. It was agreed he went out during the evening; also that he was in his bed in the morning when the servant came in to make his fire; but further than this no one seemed posted.”
“So that, in fact, you gleaned nothing that would in any way connect this man with the murder except his marked and agitated interest in it, and the fact that a niece of the murdered man had written a letter to him?”
“That is all.”
“Another question; did you hear in what manner and at what time he procured a newspaper that evening?”
“No; I only learned that he was observed, by more than one, to hasten out of the dining-room with the Post in his hand, and go immediately to his room without touching his dinner.”
“Humph! that does not look—-”
“If Mr. Clavering had had a guilty knowledge of the crime, he would either have ordered dinner before opening the paper, or, having ordered it, he would have eaten it.”
“Then you do not believe, from what you have learned, that Mr. Clavering is the guilty party?”
Mr. Gryce shifted uneasily, glanced at the papers protruding from my coat pocket and exclaimed: “I am ready to be convinced by you that he is.”
That sentence recalled me to the business in hand. Without appearing to notice his look, I recurred to my questions.
“How came you to know that Mr. Clavering was in this city last summer? Did you learn that, too, at the Hoffman House?”
“No; I ascertained that in quite another way. In short, I have had a communication from London in regard to the matter.
“From London?”
“Yes; I’ve a friend there in my own line of business, who sometimes assists me with a bit of information, when requested.”
“But how? You have not had time to write to London, and receive an answer since the murder.”
“It is not necessary to write. It is enough for me to telegraph him the name of a person, for him to understand that I want to know everything he can gather in a reasonable length of time about that person.”
“And you sent the name of Mr. Clavering to him?”
“Yes, in cipher.”
“And have received a reply?”
“This morning.”
I looked towards his desk.
“It is not there,” he said; “if you will be kind enough to feel in my breast pocket you will find a letter——”
It was in my hand before he finished his sentence. “Excuse my eagerness,” I said. “This kind of business is new to me, you know.”
He smiled indulgently at a very old and faded picture hanging on the wall before him. “Eagerness is not a fault; only the betrayal of it. But read out what you have there. Let us hear what my friend Brown has to tell us of Mr. Henry Ritchie Clavering, of Portland Place, London.”
I took the paper to the light and read as follows:
“Henry Ritchie Clavering, Gentleman, aged 43. Born in
——, Hertfordshire, England. His father was Chas. Clavering, for
short time in the army. Mother was Helen Ritchie, of Dumfriesshire,
Scotland; she is still living. Home with H. R. C., in Portland Place,
London. H. R. C. is a bachelor, 6 ft. high, squarely built, weight
about 12 stone. Dark complexion, regular features. Eyes dark brown;
nose straight. Called a handsome man; walks erect and rapidly. In
society is considered a good fellow; rather a favorite, especially with
ladies. Is liberal, not extravagant; reported to be worth about
5000 pounds per year, and appearances give color to this statement.
Property consists of a small estate in Hertfordshire, and some funds,
amount not known. Since writing this much, a correspondent sends the
following in regard to his history. In ‘46 went from uncle’s house to
Eton. From Eton went to Oxford, graduating in ‘56. Scholarship good. In
1855 his uncle died, and his father succeeded to the estates. Father
died in ‘57 by a fall from his horse or a similar accident. Within a
very short time H. R. C. took his mother to London, to the residence
named, where they have lived to the present time.
“Travelled considerably in 1860; part of the time was with
——, of Munich; also in party of Vandervorts from New York; went
as far east as Cairo. Went to America in 1875 alone, but at end of
three months returned on account of mother’s illness. Nothing is known
of his movements while in America.
“From servants learn that he was always a favorite from a boy. More
recently has become somewhat taciturn. Toward last of his stay watched
the post carefully, especially foreign ones. Posted scarcely anything
but newspapers. Has written to Munich. Have seen, from waste-paper
basket, torn envelope directed to Amy Belden, no address. American
correspondents mostly in Boston; two in New York. Names not known, but
supposed to be bankers. Brought home considerable luggage, and fitted
up part of house, as for a lady. This was closed soon afterwards. Left