My Strangest Case - Guy Newell Boothby (romantic story to read TXT) 📗

tell me anything more definite about this gentleman, I suppose?" I said to the clerk who was attending to me. "Did you happen to see him?"

"He was in here only this morning," the man replied.

"Here, when?" I inquired, with such surprise that the other clerks looked up from their books at me in astonishment. "Do you mean to tell me that the gentleman I am asking about was here this morning?"

"I do," he replied. "He came in to book his return passage to Italy. He only undertook the voyage for the sake of his health."

"Then it's just possible you may know where he is staying now?" I asked, not however with much hope of success. "If you can tell me, I shall be under an obligation to you."

"I can tell you that also," the young man answered. "He is staying at the Continental Hotel in Adelaide Street."

"I am more obliged to you than I can say," I returned. "You have rendered me a great service."

"Don't mention it," said the clerk. "I am very glad to have been able to give you the information you required."

I thanked him once more and left the office. Now if Mr. Steffano Gairdi happened to have a cut or the mark of one upon the inside of his left hand, I felt that I should be within measurable distance of the end of the affair. But how was I to get a view of his hands? If he were the man I wanted, he would probably be on his guard, and he had already proved himself to be sufficiently acute to make me careful how I went to work with him. I had no time to lose, however. The next boat sailed for Europe in two days' time, and he had booked his passage in her. For that reason alone, I knew that I must be quick if I wished to accumulate sufficient evidence against him to justify the issue of a warrant for his arrest. I accordingly walked on to the Continental Hotel, and asked to see the manager, with whom I had the good fortune to be acquainted. I was shown into his private office, and presently he joined me there. He was familiar with my connection with the police force, and laughingly remarked that he hoped I had not called upon him in my official capacity.

"As a matter of fact that is just what I am doing," I replied. "I want you to give me some information concerning one of your guests. I believe I am right in saying that you have an Italian gentleman, named Gairdi, staying at your hotel?"

"That is certainly so," he admitted. "I hope there is nothing against him?"

"It is rather soon to say that," I said. "I am suspicious of the man—and I want to ask you a few questions concerning him."

"As many as you like," he returned. "I cannot say, however, that I know very much about him. He has been up the country, and only returned to Brisbane yesterday."

"Is this the first occasion on which he has stayed here?"

"No," the manager replied. "He was here nearly a month ago for a couple of nights, and he had had his room reserved for him while he was away."

"Perhaps you can tell me if he slept here on the night of July the nineteenth?"

"If you will excuse me for a moment I can soon let you know," said the manager, and then crossed the room to go into an outer office. A few moments later he returned and nodded his head. "Yes, he slept here that night, and went to Toowoomba next day."

"One more question, and then I have done. Did you happen to notice that night, or before he left next day, whether he had hurt his left hand?"

"It's strange that you should speak of that," said the manager. "He had cut his left hand rather badly with a broken glass, so he told us. We gave him some sticking-plaster to do it up with."

"That will do beautifully," I said. "And now perhaps you will add to the kindness you have already done me by letting me see the gentleman in question. I don't want to speak to him, but I want to impress his countenance upon my mind."

"Why not go into lunch?" the manager inquired. "You will then be able to study him to your heart's content, without his being any the wiser. You're not in uniform, and no one would take you for a detective."

"An excellent idea," I replied. "By the way, while I am upon the subject, I suppose I can rely upon your saying nothing about the matter to him, or to any one else?"

"You may depend upon me implicitly," he answered. "I should be scarcely likely to do so, for my own sake. I trust the matter is not a very serious one. I should not like to have any scandal in the hotel."

"Well, between ourselves," I observed, "I am afraid it is rather a serious affair. But you may be sure I will do all I can to prevent your name or the hotel's being mixed up in it."

Then, as he had proposed, I followed him into the dining-room and took my place at a small table near the window. At that adjoining me, a tall, swarthy individual, with close-cropped hair, an Italian without doubt, was seated. He glanced at me as I took my place, and then continued his meal as if he were unaware of my presence in the room.

By the time I had finished my lunch I had thoroughly impressed his face and personality upon my memory, and felt sure that, if necessary, I should know him anywhere again. My labours, however, were by no means over; in fact they were only just beginning. What I had against him so far would scarcely be sufficient to justify our applying for a warrant for his arrest. If I wanted to bring the crime home to him, it would be necessary for me to connect him with it more closely than I had yet done. But how to do this in the short space of time that was at my disposal I could not see. The murderer, as I have already said, was no ordinary one, and had laid his plans with the greatest care. He had taken away the knife, and in all probability had got rid of it long since. No one had seen him enter the house on the night in question, nor had any one seen him leave it again. I was nearly beside myself with vexation. To be so near my goal, and yet not be able to reach it, was provoking beyond endurance. But my lucky star was still in the ascendant, and good fortune was to favour me after all.

As I have already observed, when the crime had become known, the permanent detective force had been most assiduous in the attentions they had given it. The only piece of valuable evidence, however, that they had been able to accumulate, was a footprint on a flower-bed near the centre of the yard, and another in the hall of the house itself. Now it was definitely settled, by a careful comparison of these imprints, that the murderer, whoever he might have been, wore his boots down considerably on the left heel, and on the inside. Now, as every bootmaker will tell you, while the outer is often affected in this way, the inner side seldom is. I noticed, however, that this was the case with the man I suspected. The heel of his left boot was very much worn down and on the inside. The right, however, was intact.

On leaving the Continental Hotel, I made my way to the Police Commissioner's office, obtained an interview with him, and placed the evidence I had gleaned before him. He was good enough to express his approval of my endeavours, but was doubtful whether the case against the Italian was strong enough yet to enable us to definitely bring the crime home to the man.

"At any rate it will justify our issuing a warrant for his arrest," he said, "and that had better be done with as little delay as possible. Otherwise he will be out of the country."

A warrant was immediately procured and an officer was detailed to accompany me in case I should need his assistance. When we reached the Continental Hotel I inquired for Señor Gairdi, only to be informed that he had left the hotel soon after lunch.

"It is only what I expected," I said to my companion. "His suspicions are aroused, and he is going to try and give us the slip."

"I think not," said the manager. "I fancy you will find that he is on board the steamer. You must remember that she sails at daybreak."

We accordingly hastened to the river, and made our way to where the steamer was lying. On arrival on board I inquired for the head-steward, and when he put in an appearance inquired whether Señor Gairdi had come aboard yet.

"He brought his luggage on board, and inspected his cabin about three o'clock," that official replied, "and then went ashore again."

There was nothing for it therefore but for us to await his return. Though we did not know it, we were in for a long spell, for it was not until nearly nine o'clock that our man reappeared on board. He had just crossed the gangway and was making his way along the promenade deck, when I accosted him.

"May I have a word with you, Señor Gairdi?" I asked.

"Yes, certainly," he replied, speaking with only a slight foreign accent. "What is it you want?"

I drew him a few paces further along the deck, so that, if possible, the other passengers, who were standing near, should not hear what I had to say to him.

"I have to tell you," I said, "that I hold a warrant for your arrest on the charge of murdering one, Joseph Spainton, on the night of July the nineteenth of this year. I must caution you that anything you may say will be used as evidence against you."

The nearest electric light shone full and clear upon his face, and I noticed that a queer expression had suddenly made its appearance upon it. Apart from that, he did not seem at all surprised at his arrest.

"So you have found it out after all," he said. "I thought I was going to evade suspicion and get away safely. You would not have caught me then. It is Fate, I suppose."

He shrugged his shoulders and said something under his breath in Italian.

"Must I go ashore with you?" he asked.

"If you please," I answered, marvelling that he should take it so coolly.

Then turning his dark eyes upon me, he continued—

"Señor, in Italy I am a gentleman, and my name, which is not Gairdi, is an honoured one. What I am accused of, and what I admit doing, was no crime. The dead man was a traitor, and I was deputed to kill him. I did it, and this is the end."