The Middle Temple Murder - J. S. Fletcher (reading women .TXT) 📗

chair⁠—it’s the heaviest the place affords. Into it, now! Spargo, you see that coil of rope there. Tie Myerst up⁠—hand and foot⁠—to that chair. And tie him well. All the knots to be double, Spargo, and behind him.”

Myerst suddenly laughed. “You damned young bully!” he exclaimed. “If you put a rope round me, you’re only putting ropes round the necks of these two old villains. Mark that, my fine fellows!”

“We’ll see about that later,” answered Breton. He kept Myerst covered while Spargo made play with the rope. “Don’t be afraid of hurting him, Spargo,” he said. “Tie him well and strong. He won’t shift that chair in a hurry.”

Spargo spliced his man to the chair in a fashion that would have done credit to a sailor. He left Myerst literally unable to move either hand or foot, and Myerst cursed him from crown to heel for his pains. “That’ll do,” said Breton at last. He dropped his revolver into his pocket and turned to the two old men. Elphick averted his eyes and sank into a chair in the darkest corner of the room: old Cardlestone shook as with palsy and muttered words which the two young men could not catch. “Guardian,” continued Breton, “don’t be frightened! And don’t you be frightened, either, Mr. Cardlestone. There’s nothing to be afraid of, just yet, whatever there may be later on. It seems to me that Mr. Spargo and I came just in time. Now, guardian, what was this fellow after?”

Old Elphick lifted his head and shook it; he was plainly on the verge of tears; as for Cardlestone, it was evident that his nerve was completely gone. And Breton pointed Spargo to an old corner cupboard.

“Spargo,” he said, “I’m pretty sure you’ll find whisky in there. Give them both a stiff dose: they’ve broken up. Now, guardian,” he continued, when Spargo had carried out this order, “what was he after? Shall I suggest it? Was it⁠—blackmail?”

Cardlestone began to whimper; Elphick nodded his head. “Yes, yes!” he muttered. “Blackmail! That was it⁠—blackmail. He⁠—he got money⁠—papers⁠—from us. They’re on him.”

Breton turned on the captive with a look of contempt.

“I thought as much, Mr. Myerst,” he said. “Spargo, let’s see what he has on him.”

Spargo began to search the prisoner’s pockets. He laid out everything on the table as he found it. It was plain that Myerst had contemplated some sort of flight or a long, long journey. There was a quantity of loose gold; a number of banknotes of the more easily negotiated denominations; various foreign securities, realizable in Paris. And there was an open cheque, signed by Cardlestone for ten thousand pounds, and another, with Elphick’s name at the foot, also open, for half that amount. Breton examined all these matters as Spargo handed them out. He turned to old Elphick.

“Guardian,” he said, “why have you or Mr. Cardlestone given this man these cheques and securities? What hold has he on you?”

Old Cardlestone began to whimper afresh; Elphick turned a troubled face on his ward.

“He⁠—he threatened to accuse us of the murder of Marbury!” he faltered. “We⁠—we didn’t see that we had a chance.”

“What does he know of the murder of Marbury and of you in connection with it?” demanded Breton. “Come⁠—tell me the truth now.”

“He’s been investigating⁠—so he says,” answered Elphick. “He lives in that house in Middle Temple Lane, you know, in the top-floor rooms above Cardlestone’s. And⁠—and he says he’s the fullest evidence against Cardlestone⁠—and against me as an accessory after the fact.”

“And⁠—it’s a lie?” asked Breton.

“A lie!” answered Elphick. “Of course, it’s a lie. But⁠—he’s so clever that⁠—that⁠—”

“That you don’t know how you could prove it otherwise,” said Breton. “Ah! And so this fellow lives over Mr. Cardlestone there, does he? That may account for a good many things. Now we must have the police here.” He sat down at the table and drew the writing materials to him. “Look here, Spargo,” he continued. “I’m going to write a note to the superintendent of police at Hawes⁠—there’s a farm half a mile from here where I can get a man to ride down to Hawes with the note. Now, if you want to send a wire to the Watchman, draft it out, and he’ll take it with him.”

Elphick began to move in his corner.

“Must the police come?” he said. “Must⁠—”

“The police must come,” answered Breton firmly. “Go ahead with your wire, Spargo, while I write this note.”

Three quarters of an hour later, when Breton came back from the farm, he sat down at Elphick’s side and laid his hand on the old man’s.

“Now, guardian,” he said, quietly, “you’ve got to tell us the truth.”

XXXV Myerst Explains

It had been apparent to Spargo, from the moment of his entering the cottage, that the two old men were suffering badly from shock and fright: Cardlestone still sat in his corner shivering and trembling; he looked incapable of explaining anything; Elphick was scarcely more fitted to speak. And when Breton issued his peremptory invitation to his guardian to tell the truth, Spargo intervened.

“Far better leave him alone, Breton,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t you see the old chap’s done up? They’re both done up. We don’t know what they’ve gone through with this fellow before we came, and it’s certain they’ve had no sleep. Leave it all till later⁠—after all, we’ve found them and we’ve found him.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in Myerst’s direction, and Breton involuntarily followed the movement. He caught the prisoner’s eye, and Myerst laughed.

“I daresay you two young men think yourselves very clever,” he said sneeringly. “Don’t you, now?”

“We’ve been clever enough to catch you, anyway,” retorted Breton. “And now we’ve got you we’ll keep you till the police can relieve us of you.”

“Oh!” said Myerst, with another sneering laugh. “And on what charge do you propose to hand me over to the police? It strikes me you’ll have some difficulty in formulating one, Mr. Breton.”

“Well see about that later,” said Breton.