The Herapath Property Part 3

He strode off, still alert, composed, almost bustling in his demeanour, to the waiting-room in which they had left Peggie--a moment later, Selwood, following him down the corridor, saw him enter and close the door. And Selwood cursed himself for a fool for hating to think that these two should be closeted together, for disliking the notion that Barthorpe Herapath was Peggie Wynne's cousin--and now, probably, her guardian protector. For during those three weeks in which he had been Jacob Herapath's secretary, Selwood had seen a good deal of his employer's niece, and he was already well over the verge of falling in love with her, and was furious with himself for daring to think of a girl who was surely one of the richest heiresses in London. He was angry with himself, too, for disliking Barthorpe, for he was inclined to cultivate common-sense, and common-sense coldly reminded him that he did not know Barthorpe Herapath well enough to either like or dislike him.

Half an hour pa.s.sed--affairs suggestive of the tragedy of the night went on in the Herapath Estate Office. Two women in the garb of professional nurses came quietly, and pa.s.sed into the room where Herapath lay dead. A man arrayed in dismal black came after them, summoned by the police who were busy at the telephone as soon as Selwood had finished with it.

Selwood himself, having summoned Kitteridge and Mountain, hung about, waiting. He heard the police talking in undertones of clues and theories, and of a coroner's inquest, and the like; now and then he looked curiously at Mr. Tertius, who had taken a seat in the hall and was apparently wrapped in meditation. And still Barthorpe Herapath remained closeted with Peggie Wynne.

A taxi drove up and deposited the butler and the coachman at the door.

Selwood motioned them inside.

"Mr. Barthorpe Herapath wants both of you," he said curtly. "I suppose he will ask for you presently."

Kitteridge let out an anxious inquiry.

"The master, sir?" he exclaimed. "Is----"

"Good heavens!" muttered Selwood. "I--of course, you don't know. Mr.

Herapath is dead."

The two servants started and stared at each other. Before either could speak Barthorpe Herapath suddenly emerged from the waiting-room and looked round the hall. He beckoned to the inspector, who was talking in low tones with the detective, at a little distance.

"Now, inspector," he said, "will you and your officer come in? And the caretaker--and you, Kitteridge, and you, Mountain. Mr. Selwood, will you come in, too?"

He stood at the door while those he had invited inside pa.s.sed into the room where Peggie still sat. And as he stood there, and Selwood wound up the little procession, Mr. Tertius rose and also made as if to join the others. Barthorpe stopped him by intruding himself between him and the door.

"This is a private inquiry of my own, Mr. Tertius," he said, with a meaning look.

Selwood, turning in sheer surprise at this announcement, so pointed and so unmistakable, saw a faint tinge of colour mount to the elder man's usually pale cheeks. Mr. Tertius stopped sharply and looked at Barthorpe in genuine surprise.

"You do not wish me to enter--to be present?" he faltered.

"Frankly, I don't," said Barthorpe, with aggressive plainness. "There will be a public inquiry--I can't stop you from attending that."

Mr. Tertius drew back. He stood for a moment staring hard at Barthorpe; then, with a slight, scarcely perceivable bow, he turned away, crossed the hall, and went out of the front door. And Barthorpe Herapath laughed--a low, sneering laugh--and following the other men into the waiting-room, locked the door upon those a.s.sembled there. As if he and they were a.s.sembled on some cut-and-dried business matter, he waved them all to chairs, and himself dropped into one at the head of the table, close to that in which Peggie was sitting.

"Now, inspector," he began, "you and I must get what we may as well call first information about this matter. There will be a vast amount of special and particular investigation later on, but I want us, at the very outset, while facts are fresh in the mind, to get certain happenings clearly before us. And for this reason--I understand that the police-surgeon is of opinion that my uncle committed suicide. With all respect to him--I'm sorry he's gone before I could talk to him--that theory cannot be held for an instant! My cousin, Miss Wynne, and I knew our uncle far too well to believe that theory for a single moment, and we shall combat it by every means in our power when the inquest is held.

No--my uncle was murdered! Now I want to know all I can get to know of his movements last night. And first I think we'll hear what the caretaker can tell us. Hanc.o.c.k," he continued, turning to an elderly man who looked like an ex-soldier, "I understand you found my uncle's body?"

The caretaker, obviously much upset by the affairs of the morning, pulled himself up to attention.

"I did, sir," he replied.

"What time was that?"

"Just eight o'clock, sir--that's my usual time for opening the office."

"Tell us exactly how you found him, Hanc.o.c.k."

"I opened the door of Mr. Herapath's private room, sir, to pull up the blinds and open the window. When I walked in I saw him lying across the hearth-rug. Then I noticed the--the revolver."

"And of course that gave you a turn. What did you do? Go into the room?"

"No, sir! I shut the door again, went straight to the telephone and rang up the police-station. Then I waited at the front door till the inspector there came along."

"Was the front door fastened as usual when you went to it at that time?"

"It was fastened as it always is, sir, by the latch. It was Mr. Herapath's particular orders that it never should be fastened any other way at night, because he sometimes came in at night, with his latch-key."

"Just so. Now these offices are quite apart and distinct from the rest of the building--mark that, inspector! There's no way out of them into the building, nor any way out of the building into them. In fact, the only entrance into these offices is by the front door. Isn't that so, Hanc.o.c.k?"

"That's quite so, sir--only that one door."

"No area entrance or side-door?"

"None, sir--nothing but that."

"And the only tenants in here--these offices--at night are you and your wife, Hanc.o.c.k?"

"That's all, sir."

"Now, where are your rooms?"

"We've two rooms in the bas.e.m.e.nt, sir--living-room and kitchen--and two rooms on the top floor--a bedroom and a bathroom."

"On the top-floor. How many floors are there?"

"Well, sir, there's the bas.e.m.e.nt--then there's this--then there's two floors that's used by the clerks--then there's ours."

"That's to say there are two floors between your bedroom and this ground floor?"

"Yes, sir--two."

"Very well. Now, about last night. What time did you and your wife go to bed?"

"Eleven o'clock, sir--half an hour later than usual."

"You'd previously looked round, I suppose?"

"Been all round, sir--I always look into every room in the place last thing at night--thoroughly."

"Are you and your wife sound sleepers?"

"Yes, sir--both of us. Good sleepers."

"You heard no sound after you got to bed?"

"Nothing, sir--neither of us."

"No recollection of hearing a revolver shot?--not even as if it were a long way off?"

"No, sir--we never heard anything--nothing unusual, at any rate."