The Bartenstein Case/Chapter 6
BOOK THE SECOND
Mystery of the Sword-Stick
CHAPTER I
AT SCOTLAND YARD
In the course of a lengthy and considerably diversified experience, Inspector Dwayne had known a good many surprising things, but he was never so completely surprised in his life as when Lieutenant Lauderdale presented himself in the flesh before him, and he stared at him as if he had been a ghost instead of a very palpable and healthy body. And when he found his tongue he made what seemed a fatuous remark.
"So you are really the—the gentleman who called at Bartenstein's house at twelve o'clock last night?"
Lauderdale took a chair at the side of the Inspector's desk.
"I certainly called at Mr. Bartenstein's house at—I should say five minutes to twelve last night," he answered.
Inspector Dwayne continued to stare at him.
"God bless my soul!" he said. "And you came—here!"
"Of course I came here," said Lauderdale. "I came as soon as I heard the news. I have been out of town playing golf, and it was not until I picked up a Globe newspaper at my club, a quarter of an hour ago, that I heard of Bartenstein's death. So I came along here at once, thinking you might want to see me."
The Inspector almost choked. He stretched out his hand for a large sheet of paper which lay on a table at his side, and drew it towards him.
"I should think we did want to see you," he said. "Why, sir, this is the proof of a bill giving a description of you, which was given me by Bartenstein's valet, and except that you're not now in evening dress, a capital description it is," he added, examining his visitor carefully. "A capital description!"
"Mr. Bartenstein's valet heard my name twice—or thrice," said Lauderdale.
"So he said, but having never seen you before, and taking no particular interest in you, he forgot it," said the Inspector. "He did remember that it ended in 'dale', however, and got as near it as Littledale. But really, Lieutenant, I'm surprised at your coming here!"
"Why?" asked Lauderdale.
"Why? Why, sir," said the Inspector, stroking his chin, "isn't it something like putting your"—he was going to say "your neck in a noose", but thought that might be too pointed, and substituted "your head in the lion's mouth? Isn't it now, I ask you, sir?"
"Are you the lion?" said Lauderdale.
Inspector Dwayne laughed outright.
"Well, really, sir," he said, "you're either very innocent, or you're a splendid specimen of what our French neighbours term 'sang fraw'. Why, don't you see, sir, that you're in very great danger, that you're—that is, if you are, as you admit you are, the person who was with the murdered man at midnight—under suspicion of being his murderer?"
Lauderdale stared at him.
"I!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, sir, you! What do you suppose these bills are for, sir?" said the Inspector, tapping the proof sheet. "To post all over England and Scotland and Ireland and Wales—ay, and all over Europe. Now that you admit that you are that person—why, we shall be saved that trouble. But we've already wired that description to all the ports already, and they have it at all the stations. I wonder you were able to get into London this afternoon, sir, without being arrested."
"I came in my motor," remarked Lauderdale. "Then I suppose you will arrest me now that I am here?" he added.
"Softly, sir, softly!" said the Inspector. "I don't know yet that you really are the man who was with Bartenstein last night."
"Of course I am!" interrupted Lauderdale.
"Though I dare say Chester would identify you," continued the Inspector, holding up a finger, "and to tell you the truth, I'd rather have had the pleasure of tracking you down than of seeing you walk in. Eh? But now look here, Lieutenant, I've no warrant for your arrest, so you're not under arrest—do you mind telling me, as I'm in charge of the case, what happened last night?"
"Certainly not," replied Lauderdale. "That's what I came to do. I can tell you in a few words. I called on Mr. Bartenstein at five minutes to twelve last night. He drove up to his house while I was inquiring for him. He asked me to go up to his study with him. I accompanied him there, delivered a message to him with which I was charged, exchanged a few words of conversation with him and terminated my visit. He took me downstairs himself and let me out. I found a taxi-cab in Knightsbridge, and drove straight home to my rooms in Jermyn Street. I was not with Mr. Bartenstein more than six or eight minutes."
"Did you notice anything in his room, sir?" asked the Inspector.
"Nothing, except that it was a very beautiful room, and that there was a supper-tray laid out there. Indeed," said Lauderdale, "he asked me to have some whisky-and-soda, but I refused."
"I take it from that," said Inspector Dwayne, "that you were not on friendly terms?"
"Quite true," replied Lauderdale. "We were not. But we had no quarrel."
"Not any high words last night?" asked the Inspector.
"No," said Lauderdale; "I discharged my mission, begged formally that it might be respected, and left him."
Inspector Dwayne opened a locked drawer in his desk. He drew out an official-looking envelope, and from it took a square envelope, which Lauderdale recognized as that in which Millicent Oxenham had enclosed her letter to Mr. Bartenstein. He held it out to his visitor, and Lauderdale saw with a feeling of repulsion that there was blood on it.
"Was your mission to Bartenstein the delivery of this letter?" asked the Inspector.
"It was," replied Lauderdale.
"How came you to deliver it?"
"Because I am engaged to be married to Miss Oxenham," said Lauderdale.
"This proposal of which Miss Oxenham speaks, now, in this letter," continued Inspector Dwayne. "Am I to understand that it refers to a proposal of marriage made to her by Bartenstein?"
"I am sorry to say it does," replied Lauderdale. "A proposal most distasteful to Miss Oxenham."
The Inspector replaced the letter in his drawer and locked it up again.
"Then, of course, you and the dead man were rivals," he said. "That's rather a damaging fact against you, Lieutenant."
"We were not rivals!" answered Lauderdale hotly. "Mr. Bartenstein made a certain proposal to Miss Oxenham which was a gross insult. But into that I shall not enter."
Inspector Dwayne showed no particular desire to enter into the subject either. He rose from his desk and, going over to a cupboard, unlocked it and took from it an object wrapped in brown paper. He took the wrapping off, with his back to Lauderdale, and suddenly turning, showed him the sword-stick.
"That's a bit interesting, sir," he said, watching Lauderdale narrowly. "Have a look at it."
But Lauderdale was already looking—staring. He jumped to his feet with an exclamation of pleasure and seized the sword-stick.
"Why, that's my old Spanish walking-stick," he said. "It's a family heirloom! I lost it, or it was stolen from me, soon after I came back to England three weeks since. I offered twenty pounds reward for it. By Jove, Inspector, where did you find it?"
Inspector Dwayne coughed.
"I found it," he said, "in Bartenstein's study, sir. And on the blade is Bartenstein's blood. That's the weapon, sir, that Marcus Bartenstein was killed with!"
If Inspector Dwayne thought that this dreadful announcement would arouse some disturbing emotion in Lauderdale, which would manifest itself in some action betraying conscious guilt, he speedily discovered that he was very much mistaken. His visitor showed nothing more than the ordinary surprise which a man shows on hearing news that he had not expected to be informed of; he carefully withdrew the stiletto-like blade, looked with interest at the blood-stains upon it, and then replacing it in the sheath, handed the whole back to the Inspector and resumed his seat.
"This is one of the most extraordinary things I ever heard of, Inspector," he said. "That is most certainly my sword-stick. It has been in our family for four generations, and we prize it as an heirloom. It was brought from Spain by my great-grandfather about the middle of the Peninsular War—he acquired it under very romantic circumstances into which I need not go. It has been handed down from father to son ever since and jealously guarded until, as I told you just now, I either lost or had it stolen about three weeks ago, soon after my return."
"Under what circumstances, sir?" inquired the Inspector, who was beginning to be deeply interested.
"These," replied Lauderdale. "I went one morning to walk in the Park, carrying the sword-stick with me. It was about noon, and the Row was very full. As I had been out of England for nearly four years, the sight was very novel to me, and I hung over the railings for awhile, watching the people riding up and down. I have some recollection that I placed the sword-stick against the railings while I lighted a cigar. Possibly after that, never dreaming that it was not safe, I may have continued to stand there, or to lean over the railings without immediately resuming my hold of it. At any rate, when I finally put down my hand for it it was gone."
"Clear case of stealing," said the Inspector.
"Well, so I thought at first, as I walked rapidly up and down the Row looking for anybody who might be in possession of it," said Lauderdale. "I saw nothing of it. Then I thought that possibly somebody might have picked it up by mistake. I stayed over an hour in the Park, looking at every man's stick or cane, but I did not see mine."
"No, of course not!" said the Inspector.
"I was naturally much grieved," continued Lauderdale, "and I didn't know exactly what to do."
"Why didn't you report your loss to the police?" asked Inspector Dwayne.
"Well, really, I didn't know that that was usual, or I should have done so," replied Lauderdale. "What occurred to me was to offer a reward for its recovery. So I wrote out an advertisement offering twenty pounds, and had it inserted in two papers."
"What papers?" asked the Inspector.
"The Times and the Morning Post," answered Lauderdale.
Inspector Dwayne laughed heartily.
"Why there, sir?" he inquired.
"Because I thought that they were most likely to be read by people who frequent the Park and the Row at that time," replied Lauderdale.
"You should have advertised in one of the cheap papers," he said. "The stick was, of course, stolen while you were lighting your cigar, or just after, and———"
At this moment an officer entered the room and made a whispered communication to Inspector Dwayne, who at once nodded his head. He turned to Lauderdale with a smile as the officer left the room.
"Here's a step further, Lieutenant," he said. "There's a young man coming in who's called to say that he can tell us something about the sword-stick!"