The Missing Bank Manager

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 157, 23 September 1927, Page 14

The Missing Bank Manager

SERIAL

STORY

By

J. S. FLETCHER

XXIV. (Continued) “I know it,” assented Starmidge. “He went straight down to it,” continued Gardam. “Arid as I knew that he didn’t know ire, 1 presently followed. When I’d got down he’d taken a seat at a table in a quiet corner, and the waiter was bringing him a glass of sherry. There was a bit of talk between ’em —Chestermarke seemed o be telling the waiter that he was expecting somebody, and he’d wait a bit before giving an order. So I sit down —in another corner—and as I judged it was going to be a longish job I ordered a bit of dinner. Of course I kept an eye on him —quietly. He read a newspaper, smoked a cigarette and sipped his sherry. And at last —perhaps ten minutes after he’d got in—a woman came down the stairs, looked round and went straight over to where he was sitting.” “Describe her,” said Starmidge. ‘•Tallish, very good figure, very goodlooking, well dresesd, but quietly,” replied Gardam. “Had a veil on when she came in, but lifted it when she ait down by Chestermarke. What I should call a handsome woman, Mr. Starmidge; and, I should say, about thirty-five to forty. Dark hair, dark eyes—taking expression.” “Mrs. Carswell, for a fiver!” thought Starmidge. “Well?” he said aloud. “You say she went straight over to him?”

“Straight to him, and began talking at once,” answered Gardam. *‘lt seemed to me that it was what you might call an adjourned meeting—they b€tgan talking as if they were sort of taking up a conversation. But she did most of the talking. He ordered some dinner for both of ’em as soon as she came—she talked while they ate. Of course, being right across the room from them, I couldn't catch a word that was said, but she seemed to he explaining something to him the whole time, and I could see he was surprised more than once.”

“It must have been something uncommonly surprising to make him show signs of surprise!” muttered Starmidge, who had a vivid recollection of Gabriel Chestermarke’s granite countenance. “Yes? Go on.”

“They were there about threequarters of an hour,” continued Gardam. “Of course, I ate my dinner while they ate theirs, and I took good care not to let them see that I was watching them. As soon as I saw signs of a move on their part—when she began putting on her gloves—l paid my waiter, and slipped out upstairs to the front entrance. I got a taxi-cab driver to pull up by the kerb and wait for me, and told him who I was and what I was after, and that if those two got into a cab he was to follow, wherever they went—cautiously. Gave him a description of the man, you know. Then I hung round till they came out. They parted at once—she went off up Regent Street.” “I wish you'd had another man with yoti!” exclaimed Starmidge. “I’d give a Jot to get hold of that woman. She’s probably the housekeeper who disappeared from the bank, you know.” “So I guessed. Mr. Starmidge, but what could I do?” said Gardam. “I couldn’t follow both, and it was the man you’d put me on to. I decided, of course, for him. Well—-he tried to get my cab; when he found it was engaged, he walked on a bit to the corner of Shaftesbury Avenue and got one there. And, of course, we followed. A longish follow, too!—right away up to the back of Regent’s Park. You know those detached houses—foot of Primrose Hill? It’s one of those —he was a ’cute chap, my driver, and he contrived to slow down and keep well behind, and yet to see where Chestermarke got out. The name of the house is Oakfleld Villa—it’s on the gateposts. Of course, I made sure. I sent my man off—and then I hung round some time, passing and re-pass-ing once or twice. And I saw Chesterm&rke iu a front room —the blinds

were not drawn —and Lie was in a smoking cap and jacket, so I reckoned he was safe for the night. But I can watch the house all night if you think it’s necEsssary, you know, Mr. Starmidge.” “No!” answered Starmidge. “Not at all. But I’ll tell you what —you be about tli ere first thing to-morrow morning. Can you hang about without attracting attention ?” “Easily!” replied Garclam. “Easiest thing in the world. Do you know where a little lodge stands, as you go into Primrose Hill, the St. John’s Wood side? Well, his house is close by that. On the other side of the road there’s a little path leading over a bridge into the Park—close by the corner of the Zoo—l can watch from that path. You can rely on me, Mr. Starmidge. I’ll not lose sight of him this time.” Starmidge saw that the man was deeply anxious to atone for his mistake of the previous night, and he nodded assent. “All right.” he said, “but—take another man with you. Two are better than one in a job like that —and Chestermarke might be meeting that woman again. Watch the house carefully to-morrow morning from first thing—follow him wherever he goes. If he should meet the woman, and they part after meeting, one of you follow her. And listen—l shall be at headquarters at twelve o’clock to-morrow. Contrive to telephone me there as to what you’re doing. But—don’t lose him—or her, if you see her again.” “One thiak more,” said Gardam, as he rose to go. “Supposing he goes off by train? Do I follow?” “No,” answered Starmidge after a moment’s reflection. “But marnage to find out where he goes.” He sat and thought a long time after his visitor had left, and his thoughts all centred on one fact—the undoubted fact that Gabriel Chestermarke and Mrs. Carswell had met. CHAPTER XXV. THE PORTRAIT. The offices of Mr. Godwin Markham, at which the two detectives presented themselves soon after half-past ten next morning, were by no means extensive in size or palatial in appearance. They were situated on the second floor of a building in Conduit

Street, and apparently consisted of no more than two roorqs, which, if not exactly shabby, were somewhat well worn as to furniture and fittings. It was evident, too, that Mr. Godwin Markham’s clerical staff was not extensive. There was a young man clerk and a young woman clerk in the outer office; the first was turning over a pile of circulars at the counter; the second, seated at a typewriter, was taking down a letter which was being dictated to her by a man who, still hatted and overcoated, had evidently just arrived, and was leaning against the mantelpiece with his hands in his pockets. He was a very ordinary, plain-looking man, this, who might have been anything from a Stock Exchange clerk to a suburban house agent. But there was a sudden alertness in his eye as he turned it on the visitors, which showed them that he was well equipped in mental acuteness and probably as alert as his features were commonplace.

The circular-sorting young man looked up with indifference as Easleby approached the counter, and when the detective asked if Mr. Godwin Markham could be seen, turned silently and interrogatively to the man who leaned against the mantelpiece. He, interrupting his dictation, came forward, again narrowly but unobtrusively eyeing the two men.

“Mr. Markham is not in town, gentlemen,” he said in a quick, business-like fashion, which convinced Starmidge that the speaker was not uttering any mere excuse. “He was here yesterday for an hour or two, but he will be away for some days now. Can I do anything for you?—bis manager.” Easleby handed over the two professional cards which he had in readiness, and leaned across the counter.

“A word or two in private,” he whispered confidentially. “Business matter.”

Starmidge, watching Mr. James Stipp’s face closely as he looked at the cards, saw that he was not the sort of man to be taken unawares. There was not the faintest flicker of an eyelid, not a motion of the lips, not the tiniest start of surprise, no show of unusual interest on the manager’s part. Ho nodded, opened a door in the counter, and waved the two detectives towards the inner room.

“Be seated, gentlemen,” he said, following them inside. “You’ll excuse me a minute—important letter to get off— I won’t keep you long.” He closed the door upon them, and Starmidge and Easleby glanced round before taking the chairs to which Mr. Stipp had pointed. There was little to see. A big, roomy desk, middle-Victorian in style, some heavy middle-Victorian chairs, a well-worn carpet and rug, a bookcase filled with peerages, baronetages, county directories, Army Lists, Navy Lists, and other similar volumes of reference to high life, a map or two on the walls, a heavy safe in a corner —

these things were all there was to look at. Except one thins —which Starmidge was quick to see. Over the mantelpiece, with an almanac on one side of it, and an interest-table on the other, hung a somewhat faded photograph of Gabriel Chestermarke. The younger detective tapped his companion’s arm and silently indicated this grim counterfeit of the man in whose doiings they were so keenly interested just then. “That’s—the man!” he whispered. “Chestermarke! Gabriel! ” Easleby opened his mouth and eyes and stared with eager interest. “Egad!” he muttered. “That’s lucky! Makes it all the easier. I’ll lay you anything you like, my lad, this manager doesn’t know anything—not a thing!—about the double identity business. We shall soon find out — leave it to me—at first, anyway. A few plain questions ” Mr. Stipp came bustling in, closing the door behind him. He took off overcoat and hat, ran his fingers through his light hair, and, seating himself, glanced smilingly at his visitors.

“Well, gentlemen!” he demanded. “What can I do for you now? Want to make some inquiries?” “Jlst a few small inquiries, sir,” replied Easleby. “I haven’t the pleasure of knowing your name—Mr. ” “Stipp’s my name, sir,” answered the manager, promptly. “Stipp—James Stipp.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Easleby, with great politeness. “Well, Mr. Stipp, you see from our cards who we are. We’ve called on you—as representing Mr. Godwin Markham —on behalf —informally—of Mrs. Lester, of Lowdale Court, Chesham.”

Mr. Stipps’ face showed a little surprise at this announcement, and he glanced from one man to the other as if he were puzzled. “Oh?” he said. “Dear me! Why—what has Mrs. Lester called you in for?”

Easleby, who had brought another marked newspaper with him, laid it on the manager's desk. “You’ve no doubt read of this Scarnham affair, Mr. Stipp?” he asked, pointing to his own blue pencillings. “Most people have, I think. Or perhaps it’s escaped your notice?” “Hardly could!” answered Mr. Stipp, with a friendly smile. “Yes—l’ve read it. Most extraordinary! One of the most puzzling cases I ever did read. Are you in at it? But this call hasn’t anything to do with that, surely? If it has—what?”

“This much,” answered Easleby. “Mrs. Lester has told us, of course, that her son, the young officer, is in debt to your governor. Well, last week, Mrs. Lester handed a certain sum of money to the Mr. Frederick Hollis who’s been found dead at Scarnham, to be applied to the settlement of her son’s liability in that respect.” Mr. Stipp showed undoubted surprise at this announcement.

“She did!” he exclaimed. “Gave Mr. Hollis money—for that? Why, Mr. Hollis never told me of it!” In the course of a long professional experience Easleby had learned to control his facial expression; Starmidge was gradually progessing toward perfection in that art. But each man was hard put to it to check an expression of astonishment. And Easleby showed some slight sign of perplexity when he replied. “Mr. Hollis has—-called on you, then?” he said. “Hollis was here last Friday afternoon,” answered Mr. Stipp. “Called on me at five o’clock —just before I was leaving for the day. He never offered me any money! Glad if he had—it’s time young Lester paid up.” “What did .Hollis come for, then, if that’s a fair question?” asked Easleby

“He came, I should say, to take a look at us, and find out who he’d got to deal with,” replied the manager smiling. “In plain language, to make a n inquiry or two. He told me he’d been empowered by Mrs. Lester to deal with us, and he wanted the particulars of what we’d advanced to her son, and he got them —from me. But he never made me any offer. He just found out what he wanted to know —and went away.”

“And evidently next day travelled to Scarnham,” observed Easleby. “Now, Mr. Stipp, have you any idea whether his visit to Scarnham was in connection with this money affair of yours and young Lester’s?” Again the look of undoubted sur-

prise; again the appearance of genuine perplexity. “I?” exclaimed Mr. Stipp. “Not the least! Not the ghost of an idea! What could his visit to Scarnham have to do with us? Nothing!—that I know of, anyway.” “You don’t think it rather remarkable that Mr. Hollis should go down there the very day after he called on you?” asked Starmidge, putting in a question for the first time. • “Why should I?” asked Mr. Stipp. “What do I know about him and his arrangements? He never mentioned Scarnham to me.” Easleby laid a finger on the marked newspaper.

“You see some names of Scarnham people there, Mr. Stipp?” he observed. “Those names Horbury Chestermarke. You don’t happen to know ’em?”

“I don’t know them,” replied the manager, with obvious sincerity. “Banking people, all of them, ain’t they? I might have heard their names, in a business way, some time—but I don’t recall them at. all.” “You said that Mr. Markham was here yesterday,” suggested Starmidge. “Did you tell him —you’ll excuse my asking, but it’s important'—did you tell him that Hollis had called last Friday on behalf of Mrs. Lester?” “I just mentioned it,” replied Mr.

Stipp. “He took no particular notice — except to say what we claim from young Lester will have to be paid.”

“You don’t know if he knew Hollis?” inquired Starmidge. The manager shook his head in a fashion which seemed to indicate that Hollis’s case was no particular business of either his or his principal’s.

“I don’t think he did,” he answered. “Never said so, anyhow. But I say! —you’ll excuse me, now—what is it you’re trying to get at? Do you think Hollis went to Scarnham on this business of young Lester’s? And if you do, Why?”

Easleby rose, and Starmidge followed his example.

“We don’t know yet—exactly—why Hollis wen l : to Scarnham,” said t'j* elder detective. “We hoped you could help us.. But, as you can’t—well, we’:* much obliged, Mr. Stipp. That yoiar governor. over the chimneyirte* there?” “Taken a few years ago,” replied Sir. Stipp carelessly. “I say—you don't know what Hollis was empowered to offer us, do you?” The two detectives looked at each other; a quiet nod from Starmidge indicated that he left it to Easleby to answer this question. And. after & moment’s reflection, Easleby spoke. (To be Continued.)