The Missing Bank Manager

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 151, 16 September 1927, Page 14

The Missing Bank Manager

SERIAL |

STORY

Bj

J. S. FLETCHER

Chapter XVIII. (Continued) Hollis, said the police surgeon and another medical man who had been called in to assist him, bore no marks of violence other than those w r hich were inevitable in the case of a man who had fallen 70 feet. His neck was broken; he must have died instantaneously. There was nothing to show that there had been any struggle previous to his fall. Had such a struggle taken place, the doctors would have expected to find certain signs and traces of it on the body; there were none. Everything seemed to point to the theory that he had leaned over the insecure* fencing of the old shaft to look into its depths; probably to drop stones into them: that the loose, unmortared parapet had given way with his weight, and that he had plunged headlong to the bottom. He might have been pushed in—from behind—of course, but that was conjecture. Under ordinary circumstances, agreed both doctors, everything would have seemed to point to accident. And one of them suggested that it was very probable that what really had happened was this—Hollis on his way to call on some person in the neighbourhood, or on his return from sucli a call, had crossed the moor, been attracted by inquisitiveness to the old mine, had leaned over its parapet, and fallen in. Accident!—it all looked like sheer accident.

In one of the rooms at the police station Neale arxiously watched Polke and Starmidge examine the dead man’s clothing and personal effects. The detective r; pidly laid aside certain articles of the sort which he evidently expected to find—a purse, cigar-case, the usual small things found in a well-to-do man’s pockets: a watch-and-chain; a ring or two. He gave no particular attention to any of these beyond ascertaining that there was a good deal of loose money in the purse—some 12 or 15 pounds in gold—and pointing out that the watch had stopped at ten minutes to eight. ‘That shows the time of the accident.” he remarked. ‘Are you sure,” suggested Polke, doubtfully. “It may merely mean that the watch ran itself out then.”

Starmidge picked up the watch—a stem winder—and examined it. “No.” ho said. ‘‘lt’s broken—by the fall. Se© there!—the spring’s snapped. Ten minutes to eight, Saturday night Mr. Polke—that’s when this affair happened. Now then, this is what I want!”

From an inner pocket of the dead man’s smart morning-coat, he drew a morocco-leather letter-case, and carefully extracted the papers from it. With Neale looking on at one side, and Polke at the other, Starmidge examined every separate paper. Nothing that

he found bore any reference to Scarnham. There were one or two bills—from booksellers—made out to Frederick Hollis, Esquire. There was a folded playbill which showed that Mr. Hollis had recently been to a theatre, and—because of some pencilled notes on it 3 margin—had taken an unusual interest in what he saw there. There were two or three letters from correspondents who evidently shared. with Mr. Hollis a taste for collecting old books and engravings. There were some cuttings from newspapers: they, too, related to collecting;. And Neale suddenly had an idea.

“I say!” he exxclaimed. “Mr. Horbury was a bit of a collector of that sort of thing, as you probably saw from his house. This man may have run down to see him about some affair of that sort.”

But at that moment Starmidge unfolded a slip of paper which he had drawn from an inner pocket of the

letter-case. He gave one glance at it, and laid it flat on the table before his companions. “No!” be said. “That’s probably what bro Light Hollis down to Scarnham! A cheque for tern thousand pounds! And—incomplete!” The three men bent wonderingly over the bit of pink paper. Neale’s quick eyes took in its contents at a glance. London, May 12th, 1912. Vanderkiste, Mullineau and Company, 563, Lombard Street, E.C. Pay or Order the sum of Ten Thousand Pounds. £IO,OO0 — o—o.0 — 0. “That’s extraordinary!” exclaimed Neale. “Date and amount filled in—and the names of payee and drawer omitted! What does it mean?” "Ah!” said Starmidge. “When we know that, Mr. Neale, we shall know a lot! But I’m pretty sure of one thing Mr. Hollis came down here intending to pay somebody £ 10,000. And —he wasn’t exactly certain who that somebody was!” tell me—” At that moment a policeman entered the room and presented Polke with a card. “Gentleman’s just come in, sir,” he said. “Wants to see you particular.” Polke glanced at the card, and read the name aloud, with a start of surpristl. “Mr. Leonard Hollis!” CHAPTER XIX. The Dead Man’s Brother Polke hastily followed the policeman from the room—to return immediately with a quiet-looking, elderly gentleman

“Good!’* muttered Polke. “Good! That looks like it.” “So,” said Starmidge, “he didn’t fill in either the the name of the payee or his own name until he was—3ure! See, Mr. Neale?”

“Why did lie fill in the amount?” remarked Neale, sceptically. Starmidge winked at Polke. “Very likely to dangle before somebody’s eyes,” he answered slyly. “Can’t you reconstruct the scene, Mr. Neale. ‘Here you are!’ says Hollis, showing this cheque. ‘Ten thousand of the very best, lying to be picked up at my bankers. Say the word, and I’ll fill in your name and mine!’ Lay you a pound to a penny that’s been it, gentlemen!”

“Good!” repeated Polke. “Good, sergeant! I believe you’re right. Now what’ll you do about it?” The detective carefully folded up the cheque and replaced it in the slit from which he had taken it. He also replaced all the other papers, put the lettercase in a stout envelope and handed it to the superintendent. “Seal it up, and put it away in your safe till the inquest to-morrow,” he said. “What shall I do? Oh, well, — you needn’t mention it, either of you, except to Miss Fosdyke. of course—but as soon as the inquest is adjourned—as it'll have to be —1 shall slip back to town and see those bankers. I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s likely that Mr. Hollis would have ten thousand pounds always lying at his bank. I should say this ten thousand has been lodged there for a special purpose. And what I shall want to find out from them, in that case, is—what special purpose? And —what had it to do with Scarnham, or anybody at Scarnham? See? And I’ll tell you what, Mr. Polke —I don’t know whether we’ll produce that cheque at the inquest on Hollis—at first, anyhow. The coroner’s bound to adjourn—all he’ll want to-morrow will be formal identification of the body—all other evidence can be left till later. I’ve wired for Simmons—he’ll be able to identify. No—we’ll keep this cheque business back till I've been to London. I shall find out something from Vanderkistes —they’re highly respectable private bankers, and they’ll in whom Neale and Starmidge saw a distinct likeness to the dead man. “His brother!” whispered Polke, as he handed a chair to the visitor. “So you’ve seen about this in the newspapers, sir?” he went on, turning to Mr. Leonard Hollis. “And you thought you’d better come over, I suppose?” “I have not only read about it in the newspapers,” answered the visitor, “but 1 last night—very late—received a telegram from my brother’s clerk — Mr. Simmons —who evidently found my address at my brother’s rooms. So I left Birmingham—where I now live — at once, to see you. Now, have you heard anything of my brother?” Polke shook his head solemnly and warningly. “I’m sorry to say we have, sir,” he replied. “You’d better prepare for the worst news. Air. Hollis. We found the body this morning—not two hours ago. And —we don’t know, as yet, how he cam© by his death. The doctors say it may have been pure accident. Let’s hope it was! But there are strange circumstances, sir—very strange! ” Hollis quietly rose from his chair. “I suppose I can see him?” he asked. Polke led him out of the room, and Starmidge turned to Neale.

know no more than you do, but I hope to know!”

“You’ll stay in the town a bit, sir?” suggested Polke. “You’ll want to make arrangements for your poor brother’s funeral, of course. Aught that we can do, sir, to help, shall be done.” “I’m much obliged to you, Mr. Polke,” replied Hollis. “Yes, I shall certainly stay in Scarnham. In fact,” he went on, rising and looking from one man to the other, “1 shall stay in Scarnham until I, or you. or somebody have satisfactorily explained how my brother came by his death! I shall spare neither effort nor money to get at the truth—that’s my determination!”

“There’s somebody else in like case with you, Mr. Hollis,” observed Polke.

“Aliss Fosdyke’s just as concerned about her uncle as you are about your brother. She declares she’ll spend a fortune on finding him, or finding out what’s happened him. It was Miss Fosdyke insisted on having DetectiveSergeant Starmidge down at once.” Hollis quietly scrutinised the detective. “Well?’" he asked. “And what do you make of it?”

But Starmidge was not in the mood for saying anything more just then, and he put his questioner off, asking him, at the same time, to keep the matter of the cheque to himself. Presently Hollis went away with Neale, to whom he wished to talk, and Starmidge. after a period of what seemed to be profound thought, turned to Polke.

“Superintendent!” he said, earnestly. “With your leave, I’d like to try an experiment.” “What experiment?” demanded Polke.

Starmidge pointed to the ten thousand pound cheque, which was still lying on the table.

“I’d like to take that cheque across to Chesitermarke’s Bank, and show it to the partners,” he answered. “Good; heavens!—why?” exclaimed Polke. “I thought you didn’t want anybody to know about it.” “Never mind—l’ve an idea,” said the detective. “I’d just like them to see it, anyway—and,” he added, with a wink, “I’d like to see them when they do see it!**

“You know best,” said Polke. “If you think it well, do it.”

Starmidge put the cheque in an envelope and walked over to the bank. He 'was shown into the partners’ room almost immediately, and the two men glanced at him with evident curios'ity. “Sorry to trouble you, gentlemen,” said Starmidge, in his politest manner. “There’s a little matter you might help us in. We’ve been searching the unfortunate gentleman’s clothing, you know, for papers and so on. And in his letter-case we found—this!” Pie had the cheque ready behind his back, and he suddenly brought it forward, and laid it immediately before

the partners, on Gabriel’s desk, at the same time stepping back so that he could observe both men. “Queer, isn’t it, gentlemen?” he remarked quietly. “Incomplete!” Gabriel Chestermarke, in spite of his habitual control, started. Joseph, bending nearer to the desk, made a curious sound of surprise. A second later they both looked at Starmidge—each as calm as ever. “Well'?” said Gabriel. “You don’t know anything about that, gentlemen ?” asked Starmidge, affecting great innocence. “Nothing!” answered Gabriel. “Of course not!” murmured Joseph, a little derisively. “I thought you might recognise that handwriting,” suggested Starmidge. using one of his previously invented excuses. “No,” replied Gabriel. “Don’t know it!” “From Adam’s writing,” added Joseph. “You know the name of the bankers, I suppose, gentlemen?” asked the detective. “Vanderkistes’? Oh, yes!” assented Gabriel. “Well known city firm. But I don’t think we’ve ever done business with them?” he added, turning to his nephew. “Never!” replied Joseph. “In my time, at any rate.” Starmidge picked up the cheque and carefully iflaced it in its envelope. “Much obliged to you, gentlemen,” he said, retreating toward the door. “Oh!—you’ll be interested in hearing, no doubt —the dead man’s brother, Mr. Leonard Hollis, of Birmingham, has come. He’s identified the body.” “And what does he think —or suggest?” asked Joseph, glancing out of the corners of his eyes at Starmidge. “Has he any suggestions—or ideas?” “He thinks his brother came here to meet Mr. Horbury,” answered Starmidge. “That’s so evident that it’s no news,” remarked Joseph. “Perhaps he can suggest where Horbury’s to be found.” Starmidge bowed and went out and straight back to Polke. He handed him the cheque and the letter-case. “Lock ’em up!*” he said. “Now then, listen l You can do all that’s necessary about that inquest. I’m off to town. Sit down, and I’ll tell you why. And what I tell you, keep to yourself.” That evening, Starmidge, who had driven quietly across country from Scarnham to Ecclesborough, joined a London express at the Midland Station & SK %

rr: tK i'A iZ aK 7r Hr rd S- & ir. ar & •£ in the big town. The carriages were unusually full, and he had some difficulty in finding the corner seat that he particularly desired. But he got one, at last, at the very end of the train, and he had only just settled himself in it when he saw Gabriel Chestermarke hurry past. Starmidge put his head out of the window and watched—Gabriel entered a first-class compartment in the next coach. “First stop Nottingham!” mused the

detective. And he pulled a sheaf of telegram forriis out of his pocket, and leisurely . began to write a message which 1 before he signed his name to it had run into many words. CHAPTER XX. The Other Cheque Starmidge sent off his telegram when the train stopped at Nottingham, and then went to sleep, secure in the knowledge that it would be promptly acted upon by its recipients. And when, soon after eleven o’clock, the express train ran into St. Pancras, he paid no particular attention to Gabriel Chestermarke. He had no desire, indeed, that the banker should see him, and he hung back when the crowded carriages cleared and the platform became a scene of bustle and animation. But he had no difficulty in distinguishing Gabriel’s stiffly erect figure as it made its way toward the hall of the station, and his sharp eyes were quick to notice a quietly dressed, unobtrusive sort of man who sauntered along, caught sight of the banker, and swung round to follow him. Starmidge watched both pass along toward the - waiting lines of vehicles; then he turned on his heel and went to the refreshment room and straight to a man who evidently expected him. “You got the wire in good time, then?” said Starmidge. “Plenty!” answered the other man. laconically. “I’ve put a good man on to him. See anything of them?” “Yes, but I didn’t know our man," remarked Starmidge. “Who is he? Will he do what I want?” “He’s all right—fellow who’s just been promoted, and, of course, he’s naturally keen,” replied Starmidge’s companion. “Name of Gar cl am. That was a pretty good and full description of the man you want following. Starmidge,” he went on, with a smile. “You didn’t leave much out!” To be continued