The Missing Bank Manager

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 163, 30 September 1927, Page 14

The Missing Bank Manager

SERIAL

STORY

By

J. S. FLETCHER

CHAPTER XXX. (Continued) “Hollis told me an extraordinary story, yet one which did not surprise me as much as you might think. I knew that he was a solicitor in London. He said that only a few days before this interview a lady friend of his had privately asked his advice, fl.ic was a Mrs. Lester, the widow of a man—an old friend of Hollis’s —who in his time made a very big fortune. They had an only son, a lad who went into the Army, and into a crack cavalry regiment. The father made his son a handsome, but not sufficient, allowance. The son, finding it impossible to get it increased, had recourse, after he was of age, to a London moneylender, named Godwin Markham, of Conduit Street, from whom, in course of time, he borrowed some seven or eight thousand pounds. Old I oster died; instead of leaving a aandsome fortune to the son he left every penny he had to his wife. The lad was pressed for repayment—Markham claimed some fifteen or sixteen thousand. Young Lester was obliged t« tell Ms mother. She urged him to make terms—for cash. Markham would not abate a penny of his claim.

So Mrs. Lester called In Frederick Hollis and asked his advice. At his suggestion she gave him a cheque for ten thousand pounds; he was to see Markham and endeavour to get a settlement for that sum. "The day before he came down to Scam ham—Friday—Hollis did two things. He got young Lester 10 come up tc town and tell him the exact particuk.rs of his financial dealings with Godwin Markham. Primed with these and knowing that the demand was extortionate, ho went, alone, to Markham's office in Conduit Street. Markham was away, but. Hollis saw the manager, a man named Stlpp. He caw something more, too. On Stipp's mantelpiece he saw a portrait which he recognised as one of Gabriel Chestormark?. “Now you want to know how Hollis knew Gabriel Chestermarke. In t v l'--way: I told you just now that Hollis and IE had only met once since our .-(•hooldays. Some few years ago—l think the year before you came into, the bank. Neale—Hollis came up Nor* h on a holiday. He was a bit of nil archaeologist; he was looking round the o d towns, and he took Searnham in hi i Itinerary. Knowing that an old school-mate of his wai manager

at Chestermarke’s Bank in ScarnUum he called in to see me. He and I lunched together at the Searnham Arms. I showed him round the town a bit. after bank hours. And as we were standing in the coffee-room window of the inn, Gabriel Chestermarke came out of the bank and stood talking to some person in the Market Place for a while. I drew Hollis’s attention to him, and asked, jocularly, if he had ever seen a more remarkable and striking countenance? lie answered that it was one which, once seen, would not readily be forgotten. And he hac. not forgotten it wnen he saw the portrait at Markham’s office —he knew very well that it was extremely unlikely that so noticeable a man as Gabriel Chestermarke could have a double. “Now, Hollis was a sharp tellow. He immediately began to suspect things. He talked a while with Stipp and contrived to find out that the portrait over the mantelpiece was that of Godwin Markham. He also found out that Mr. Godwin Markham was rarely be found at. his office; that there s no such thing as daily, or even weekly, attendance there by him. And after mutual desires that the Lester affair should be satisfactorily settled, but without telling Stipp anything about the ten thousand pounds, he left the office with the promise to call a few days later.

Next day, certain of what he had discovered, Hollis came down to see me and told me all that I have just told you. It did not surprise me as much as you would think. I knew that for a great many years Gabriel Chestermarke had spent practically half his t me in London—l had always felt sure that he had a finger in some business there, and I naturally concluded that he had some sort of a pied-a-terre in London as well. One fact had always struck me as peculiar —he never allowed letters to be sent on to him from Searnham to London.. Anything that required his personal attention had to await his return. So that when I heard all that Hollis had to tell, I was not so greatly astonished. In fact, the one thing that immediately occupied my thoughts was —was Joseph Chestermarke also concerned in the Godwin Markham moneylending business? He, too, was constantly away in London or believed to be so. He, too, never had letters sent on to him. Taking everything into consideration, I came to the conclusion that Joseph was in all probability his uncle’s partner in the Conduit Street concern just as he was in the bank at home. “Hollis and I walked about the paths in the wood for some time discussing this affair. I asked at last what he proposed to do. He inquired if I thought the Chestermarkes would be keen about preserving their secret. I replied that in my opinion, seeing that they were highly-respectable country town bankers, chiefly doing business with ultra-respectable folk, they would be very sorry, indeed, to have it come out that they were also money-lenders in London, and evidently very extortionate ones. Hollis then said that that was his own opinion, and it would influence the line he proposed to take*. He said he had a cheque in his pocket, already made out for ten thousand pounds, and only required filling up with the names of payee and drawer; he would like to see Gabriel Chester-

marke, tell him what he had discovered, offer him the cheque in full satisfaction of young Lester's liabilities to the Markham concern, and hint plaintly that if his offer of it was not accepted, he would take steps which would show that Gabriel Chestermarke and Godwin Markham were one and the same person. “Now, I had no objection to this. I had not told you of it, Neale, but I had already determined to resign my position as manager of Chestermarkes’s’. I had grown tired of it. I was going to resign as soon as I returned from my holiday. So I assented to Hollis’s proposal, and offered to accompany him to the Warren —I don’t mind admitting that I was a little, perhaps a good deal, eager, to see how Gabriel would behave when he discovered that his double-dealing was found out, and known to me. We therefore set off across Ellersdeane Hollow. I have been told while lying here that some of you found the pipe which you, Betty, gave me last Christmas, lying near the old tower. Quite right, I lost it there that night, as I was showing Hollis the ruin, in tho moonlight, from the top of the crags. I meant to pick it up as we returned, but what happened put it completely out of my mind. “Hollis and I crossed the moor and the high-road and went into the little lane, or carriage drive, which leads to the Warren. Half-way down it we met Joseph Chestermarke. He was coming away from the Warren —from the garden. He, of course, wanted to know if we were going to see his uncle. I told him that my companion, Mr. Frederick Hollis, a London solicitor, had come specially from town to see Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke, and that, being an old friend of mine, he had first come to see me. Joseph thereupon said that we were too late to find his uncle at home.

Gabriel, he went on, had been suffering terribly from insomnia, and by his doctor’s advice lie was trying the effect of a long, solitary walk every night before going to bed, and he had just started out over the moor at the back of his house. Turning to Hollis, he asked if he could do anything—was his visit about banking business? “Now, I determined to settle at once the question as to Joseph’s participation in the affairs of the Conduit Street concern. Before Hollis could reply, I spoke. I said, ‘Mr. Hollis wishes to see your uncle on the affair of Lieutenant Lester and the Godwin Markham loans.’ I watched Joseph closely. The moonlight was full on his face. He started—a little. And he gave me a swift, queer look which was gone as quickly as it came—it meant ‘So you know!’ Then he answered in quite an assured, off-hand manner. .‘Oh, I know all about that, of course! I can deal with it as well as my uncle could. Come back across the moor to my house, we’ll have a drink and a cigar and talk it over with Mr. Hollis.’

“I nudged Hollis’s arm, and we turned back with Joseph toward Scarnham, crossing the Hollow in another direction, by a track which leads straight from a point exactly opposite the Warren to the foot of Searnham Bridge, near the wall of Joseph Chestermarke’s house. It is not a very long way, half an hour’s sharp walk. We did not begin talking business —as a matter of fact, Hollis began talking about the curious nature of that patch of moorland and about the old leadmines. And when we were nearly halfway this affair happened, which, I suppose, led to all that has happened since. It —gave Joseph Chestermarke an opening. “Having lost my pipe, and being now going in a different direction from that

necessary to recover it, I had nothing to smoke. Joseph Chestermarke offered me a cigar. He opened his case. I was taking a cigar from it when Hollis stepped aside to one of the old shafts which stood close by, and resting his hands on the parapet leaned over the coping, either to look down or'to drop something down. Before we had grasped what he was doing, certainly before either of us could cry out and warn him, the parapet completely collapsed before him, and he disappeared into the mine! He was gone in a second —with just one scream. And after that —we heard, nothing.

“We hurried to the place, and got as near as we dared. Joseph Chestermarke dropped on his hands and knees and peered over and listened. There was not a sound —except, the occasional dropping of loosened pebbles. And we both knew that in that drop of 70 or 80 feet. Hollis must certainly have met his death.

“We hastened away to the town —to summon assistance. I don’t think we had any very clear ideas, except to tell the police and to see if we could get one of the fire brigade men to go down. I was in a dreadful state about the affair —I felt as though some blame attached to me. By the time we reached the bridge I felt like fainting. And Joseph suggested we should go in through his garden door to his workshop; ho had some brandy there, he said it would revive me. He took me in, up the garden, and into the workshop. I dropped down on a couch he had there, feeling very ill. He went to a side table, mixed something which looked and tasted, like brandy, and soda, brought it to me, and bade me drink it right off. I did so, and within ][ should say a minute I knew nothing more. “The next I knew I awoke in pitch darkness, feeling very ill. It was some little time before I could gather my wits t ogether. Then I remembered what had happened. I felt about; I was lying on what appeared to be a couch or small bed, covered with rugs. But there was something strange apart from the darkness and the silence. Then I discovered that I was chained! —chained round my waist, and that, the clfain had other chains attached to it. I felt along one of them, then along the other; they terminated in rings in a wall. “I can’t tell you what I felt until daylight came. I knew, however, that I was at Joseph Chestermarke’s, perhaps at Gabriel’s, mercy. I had discussed their secret —Hollis was out of the way; but what were they going to do with me? Oddly enough, though I had always had a secret dislike of Gabriel, and even some sort of fear of him, believing him to be a cruel and implacable man, it was Joseph that I now feared. It was he who had drugged and trapped me without a doubt. Why? Then I remembered something else. I had told Joseph, but not Gabriel, about my temporary custody of Lady Ellers - deane’s jewels, and he knew where they weer safely deposited at the bank—in a certain small safe in the strong room, of which he had a duplicate key. “I found myself—when the light came—in a small room, or cell, in which was a bed, a table, a chair, a dressing table; evidently a retreat for Joseph when he was working in his laboratory at night. But I soon saw that it was also a strong room. I could hear nothing —the silence was terrible. And—eventually—so was my hunger. I could rise—--I could even pace about a little —but there was no food there —and no water. “I don’t know how long it was, nor when it was, that Joseph Chestermarke came. But when he came, he brought his true character with him. I could not have believed that any human being could be so callous, so brutal, so coldly indifferent to another’s sufferings. I thought as I listened to him of all I had heard about that ancestor of his who had killed a man in cold blood in the old house at the bank —and I knew that Joseph Chestermarke would

kiU me with no more compunction, and no less, than he would show in crushing a beetle that crossed his path. “His cruelty came out in his frankness. He told me plainly that he had me in his power. Nobody knew where I was—nobody could get to know. His uncle knew nothing of the Hollis affair —no one knew, no one would be told. His uncle, moreover, believed I had run away with convertible securities and Lady Ellersdean’s jewels—he, Joseph, would take care that he and everybody should continue to think so. And then he told me, cynically, that he had helped himself to the missing securities and to the jewels as well—the event of Saturday night, he said, had just given him the chance he wanted, and in a few days he would be out of this country and in another where his great talent as a chemist and an inventor would be valued and put to grand use But he was not going empty-handed, not ne! —ho was going with as much as ever he could rake together. “And it was on that first occasion that he told me what he wanted of me. You know, Neale, that I am trustee for two or three families in this town. Joseph knew that I held certain securities—deposited in a private safe of mine at the bank—which could be converted into cash in, say, London, at an hour’s notice. He had already helped himself to them, and had prepared a document which only needed my signature to enable him to deal with them. That signature would have put nearly a-quarter of a million into his pocket. “He used every endeavour to make me sign the paper which he brought. He said if I would sign he would leave an ample supply of the best food and drink within my reach, and that I should be released within thirty-six hours, by which time he would be out of England. When I steadily refused he had recourse to cruelty. Twice he beat me severely with a dog-whip; another time he assaulted me with hands and fists, like a madman. And men, when he found physical violence was no good, he told me he would slowly starve me to death. But he was doing that all along. The first three days I had nothing but a little soup and dry bread —the remaining part of the time, nothing but dry bread. And during the last two days, I knew that there

was something in that bread which sent me off into long, continued periods of absolute unconsciousness. And—l was glad! “That’s all. You know tho rest—better than I do. I don’t know yet how that explosion came about. He had been in to me only a few minutes before it happened, badgering me again to sign that authority. And—l felt myself weakening. Flesh and blood were alike at their end of endurance. Then—it came! And as I say, that’s all—but there’s one thing I wanted to ask you. Have those jewels been found?" “Yes!" replied Neale. “They were found—all safe—-in a suit-case in Joseph’s house, along with a lot of other valuables—money, securities and so on. He was evidently about to be off; in fact, the luggage was all ready, and so was a cab which he'd ordered and in which he was presumably going to Ellersdeane.” “And another thing,” said Horbury. turning from one to the other. : T heard this morning that you’d left the bank; Neale. What are you going to do? What has happened?” Betty looked at Neale warningly, stooped over the invalid, kissed him, rose and took Neale’s unwounded arm. “No more talk to-day. Uncle John!” she commanded. “Wait until tomorrow. Then—if you’re very good—we shall perhaps tell you what is going to happen to—both of vis!” THE END.