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‘Sit down, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I am always interested in a good story.’
‘Now, Broughton, repeat your adventures over again to Inspector Burnley.’
Broughton started off and, for the second time, told of his visit to the docks, the damage to the heavily-built cask, the finding of the sovereigns and the woman’s hand, and the interview with Mr Felix. The Inspector listened gravely and took a note or two, but did not speak till the clerk had finished, when he said:
‘Let me congratulate you, Mr Broughton, on your very clear statement.’
‘To which I might add a word,’ said Mr Avery, and he told of the visit of Mr Felix to the office and handed over the envelope he had left.
‘That envelope was written at 11.30,’ said the Inspector, ‘and it is now nearly 12.30. I am afraid this is a serious matter, Mr Avery. Can you come to the docks at once?’
‘Certainly.’
‘Well, don’t let us lose any time.’ He threw a London directory down before Broughton. ‘Just look up this Felix, will you, while I make some arrangements.’
Broughton looked for West Jubb Street, but there was no such near Tottenham Court Road.
‘I thought as much,’ said Inspector Burnley, who had been telephoning. ‘Let us proceed.’
As they reached the courtyard a taxi drew up, containing two plain clothes men as well as the driver. Burnley threw open the door, they all got in, and the vehicle slid quickly out into the street.
Burnley turned to Broughton. ‘Describe the man Felix as minutely as you can.’
‘He was a man of about middle height, rather slightly and elegantly built. He was foreign-looking, French, I should say, or even Spanish, with dark eyes and complexion, and black hair. He wore a short, pointed beard. He was dressed in blue clothes of good quality, with a dark green or brown Homburg hat, and black shoes with light spats. I did not observe his collar and tie specially, but he gave me the impression of being well dressed in such matters of detail. He wore a ring with some kind of stone on the little finger of his left hand.’
The two plain clothes men had listened attentively to the description, and they and the Inspector conversed in low tones for a few moments, when silence fell on the party.
They stopped opposite the Bullfinch’s berth and Broughton led the way down.
‘There she is,’ he pointed, ‘if we go to that gangway we can get down direct to the forehold.’
The two plain-clothes men had also alighted and the five walked in the direction indicated. They crossed the gangway and, approaching the hatchway, looked down into the hold.
‘There’s where it is,’ began Broughton, pointing down, and then suddenly stopped.
The others stepped forward and looked down. The hold was empty. Harkness and the cask were gone!
CHAPTER II (#ulink_a6be0428-8cbe-5bc4-8d88-f93fe324697c)
INSPECTOR BURNLEY ON THE TRACK (#ulink_a6be0428-8cbe-5bc4-8d88-f93fe324697c)
THE immediate suggestion was, of course, that Harkness had had the cask moved to some other place for safety, and this they set themselves to find out.
‘Get hold of the gang that were unloading this hold,’ said the Inspector.
Broughton darted off and brought up a stevedore’s foreman, from whom they learned that the forehold had been emptied some ten minutes earlier, the men having waited to complete it and then gone for dinner.
‘Where do they get their dinner? Can we get hold of them now?’ asked Mr Avery.
‘Some of them, sir, I think. Most of them go out into the city, but some use the night watchman’s room where there is a fire.’
‘Let’s go and see,’ said the Inspector, and headed by the foreman they walked some hundred yards along the quay to a small brick building set apart from the warehouses, inside and in front of which sat a number of men, some eating from steaming cans, others smoking short pipes.
‘Any o’ you boys on the Bullfinch’s lower forehold?’ asked the foreman, ‘if so, boss wants you ’alf a sec.’
Three of the men got up slowly and came forward.
‘We want to know, men,’ said the managing director, ‘if you can tell us anything about Harkness and a damaged cask. He was to wait with it till we got down.’
‘Well, he’s gone with it,’ said one of the men, ‘less’n ’alf an hour ago.’
‘Gone with it?’
‘Yes. Some toff in blue clothes an’ a black beard came up an’ give ’im a paper, an’ when ’e’d read it ’e calls out an’ sez, sez ’e, “’Elp me swing out this ’ere cask,” ’e says. We ’elps ’im, an’ ’e puts it on a ’orse dray—a four-wheeler. An’ then they all goes off, ’im an’ the cove in the blue togs walkin’ together after the dray.’
‘Any name on the dray?’ asked Mr Avery.
‘There was,’ replied the spokesman, ‘but I’m blessed if I knows what it was. ’Ere Bill, you was talking about that there name. Where was it?’
Another man spoke.
‘It was Tottenham Court Road, it was. But I didn’t know the street, and I thought that a strange thing, for I’ve lived off the Tottenham Court Road all my life.’
‘Was it East John Street?’ asked Inspector Burnley.
‘Ay, it was something like that. East or West. West, I think. An’ it was something like John. Not John, but something like it.’
‘What colour was the dray?’
‘Blue, very fresh and clean.’
‘Any one notice the colour of the horse?’
But this was beyond them. The horse was out of their line. Its colour had not been observed.
‘Well,’ said Mr Avery, as the Inspector signed that was all he wanted, ‘we are much obliged to you. Here’s something for you.’
Inspector Burnley beckoned to Broughton.
‘You might describe this man Harkness.’
‘He was a tall chap with a sandy moustache, very high cheekbones, and a big jaw. He was dressed in brown dungarees and a cloth cap.’
‘You hear that,’ said the Inspector, turning to the plain-clothes men. ‘They have half an hour’s start. Try to get on their track. Try north and east first, as it is unlikely they’d go west for fear of meeting us. Report to headquarters.’
The men hurried away.
‘Now, a telephone,’ continued the Inspector. ‘Perhaps you’d let me use your quay office one.’
They walked to the office, and Mr Avery arranged for him to get the private instrument in the manager’s room. He rejoined the others in a few minutes.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘that’s all we can do in the meantime. A description of the men and cart will be wired round to all the stations immediately, and every constable in London will be on the look-out for them before very much longer.’
‘Very good that,’ said the managing director.
The Inspector looked surprised.
‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘that’s the merest routine. But now I’m here I would like to make some other inquiries. Perhaps you would tell your people that I’m acting with your approval, as it might make them give their information more willingly.’
Mr Avery called over Huston, the manager.
‘Huston, this is Inspector Burnley of Scotland Yard. He is making some inquiries about that cask you already heard of. I’ll be glad if you see that he is given every facility.’ He turned to the Inspector. ‘I suppose there’s nothing further I can do to help you? I should be glad to get back to the City again, if possible.’
‘Thank you, Mr Avery, there’s nothing more. I’ll cruise round here a bit. I’ll let you know how things develop.’
‘Right. Good-bye then, in the meantime.’
The Inspector, left to his own devices, called Broughton and, going on board the Bullfinch, had the clerk’s story repeated in great detail, the actual place where each incident happened being pointed out. He made a search for any object that might have been dropped, but without success, visited the wharf and other points from which the work at the cask might have been overlooked, and generally made himself thoroughly familiar with the circumstances. By the time this was done the other men who had been unloading the forehold had returned from dinner, and he interviewed them, questioning each individually. No additional information was received.
The Inspector then returned to the quay office.
‘I want you,’ he asked Mr Huston, ‘to be so good as to show me all the papers you have referring to that cask, waybills, forward notes, everything.’
Mr Huston disappeared, returning in a few seconds with some papers which he handed to Burnley. The latter examined them and then said:
‘These seem to show that the cask was handed over to the French State Railway at their Rue Cardinet Goods Station, near the Gare St Lazare, in Paris, by MM. Dupierre et Cie., carriage being paid forward. They ran it by rail to Rouen, where it was loaded on to your Bullfinch.’
‘That is so.’
‘I suppose you cannot say whether the Paris collection was made by a railway vehicle?’
‘No, but I should think not, as otherwise the cartage charges would probably show.’
‘I think I am right in saying that these papers are complete and correct in every detail?’
‘Oh yes, they are perfectly in order.’
‘How do you account for the cask being passed through by the Customs officials without examination?’
‘There was nothing suspicious about it. It bore the label of a well-known and reputable firm, and was invoiced as well as stencilled, “Statuary only.” It was a receptacle obviously suitable for transporting such goods, and its weight was also in accordance. Unless in the event of some suspicious circumstance, cases of this kind are seldom opened.’
‘Thank you, Mr Huston, that is all I want at present. Now, can I see the captain of the Bullfinch?’
‘Certainly. Come over and I’ll introduce you.’
Captain M’Nabb was a big, rawboned Ulsterman, with a hooked nose and sandy hair. He was engaged in writing up some notes in his cabin.
‘Come in, sir, come in,’ he said, as Huston made the Inspector known. ‘What can I do for you?’
Burnley explained his business. He had only a couple of questions to ask.
‘How is the trans-shipment done from the railway to your boat at Rouen?’
‘The wagons come down on the wharf right alongside. The Rouen stevedores load them, either with the harbour travelling crane or our own winches.’
‘Would it be at all possible for a barrel to be tampered with after it was once aboard?’
‘How do you mean tampered with? A barrel of wine might be tapped, but that’s all could be done.’
‘Could a barrel be changed, or completely emptied and filled with something else?’
‘It could not. The thing’s altogether impossible.’
‘I’m much obliged to you, captain. Good-day.’
Inspector Burnley was nothing if not thorough. He questioned in turn the winch drivers, the engineers, even the cook, and before six o’clock had interviewed every man that had sailed on the Bullfinch from Rouen. The results were unfortunately entirely negative. No information about the cask was forthcoming. No question had been raised about it. Nothing had happened to call attention to it, or that was in any way out of the common.
Puzzled but not disheartened, Inspector Burnley drove back to Scotland Yard, his mind full of the mysterious happenings, and his pocket-book stored with all kinds of facts about the Bullfinch, her cargo, and crew.
Two messages were waiting for him. The first was from Ralston, the plain-clothes man that he had sent from the docks in a northerly direction. It read:
‘Traced parties as far as north end of Leman Street. Trail lost there.’
The second was from a police station in Upper Head Street:
‘Parties seen turning from Great Eastern Street into Curtain Road about 1.20 p.m.’
‘H’m, going north-west, are they?’ mused the Inspector, taking down a large scale map of the district. ‘Let’s see. Here’s Leman Street. That is, say, due north from St Katherine’s Docks, and half a mile or more away. Now, what’s the other one?’—he referred to the wire—‘Curtain Road should be somewhere here. Yes, here it is. Just a continuation of the same line, only more west, say, a mile and a half from the docks. So they’re going straight, are they, and using the main streets. H’m. H’m. Now I wonder where they’re heading to. Let’s see.’
The Inspector pondered. ‘Ah, well,’ he murmured at last, ‘we must wait till tomorrow,’ and, sending instructions recalling his two plain-clothes assistants, he went home.
But his day’s work was not done. Hardly had he finished his meal and lit one of the strong, black cigars he favoured, when he was summoned back to Scotland Yard. There waiting for him was Broughton, and with him the tall, heavy-jawed foreman, Harkness.
The Inspector pulled forward two chairs.
‘Sit down, gentlemen,’ he said, when the clerk had introduced his companion, ‘and let me hear your story.’
‘You’ll be surprised to see me so soon again, Mr Burnley,’ answered Broughton, ‘but, after leaving you, I went back to the office to see if there were any instructions for me, and found our friend here had just turned up. He was asking for the chief, Mr Avery, but he had gone home. Then he told me his adventures, and as I felt sure Mr Avery would have sent him to you, I thought my best plan was to bring him along without delay.’
‘And right you were, Mr Broughton. Now, Mr Harkness, I would be obliged if you would tell me what happened to you.’
The foreman settled himself comfortably in his chair.
‘Well, sir,’ he began, ‘I think you’re listening to the biggest fool between this and St Paul’s. I ’ave been done this afternoon, fairly diddled, an’ not once only, but two separate times. ’Owever, I’d better tell you from the beginning.
‘When Mr Broughton an’ Felix left, I stayed an’ kept an eye on the cask. I got some bits of ’oop iron by way o’ mending it, so that none o’ the boys would wonder why I was ’anging around. I waited the best part of an hour, an’ then Felix came back.
‘“Mr ’Arkness, I believe?” ’e said.
