The Chestermarke Instinct

"There you are!" he said, indicating a line near the big capitals at the top. "'Lessee and Manager – Mr. Leopold Castlemayne.' That's our man. Fancy name, of course – real name Tom Smith, or Jim Johnson, you know. But, Lord bless you, what's in a name? Haven't we got a case in point?"

"There's a good deal in what's in a name in our case, old man!" retorted Starmidge. "You're off it there!"

Easleby was about to combat this reply when a boy appeared, and intimated that Mr. Castlemayne would see the gentlemen at once. And the two detectives followed up one passage and down another, and round corners and across saloons and foyers, until they were shown into a snug room, half office, half parlour, very comfortably furnished and ornamented, wherein, at a desk, and alone, sat a gentleman in evening dress, whose countenance, well-fed though it was, seemed to be just then clouded with suspicion and something that looked very like anxiety. He glanced up from the cards which lay before him to the two men who had sent them in, and silently pointed them to chairs near his own.

"Good-evening, sir," said Easleby, with a polite bow. "Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Castlemayne, but you see our business from our cards, and we've called, sir, to ask if you can give us a bit of much-wanted information. I don't know, sir," continued Easleby, laying the blue-pencilled newspaper on the lessee's desk, "if you've read in the papers any account of the affair which is here called the Scarnham Mystery!"

Mr. Leopold Castlemayne glanced at the columns to which Easleby pointed, rubbed his chin, and nodded.

"Yes – yes!" he said. "I have just seen the papers. Case of a strange disappearance – bank manager – isn't it?"

"It's more than that, sir," replied Easleby. "It's a case of – all sorts of things. Now you're wondering, Mr. Castlemayne, why we come to you? I'll explain. You'll see there, sir, the name – blue-pencilled – Gabriel Chestermarke. Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke is a banker at Scarnham. You don't happen to know him, Mr. Castlemayne?"

The two detectives watched the lessee narrowly as that question was put. And each knew instantly that the prompt reply was a truthful one.

"Never heard of him in my life," said Mr. Castlemayne.

"Thank you, sir," said Easleby. "Just so! Well, sir, my friend here – Detective-Sergeant Starmidge – has been down at Scarnham in charge of this case from the first, and he's formed some ideas about this Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke. Last night Gabriel Chestermarke travelled up to town from Ecclesborough – Mr. Starmidge arranged for him to be shadowed when he arrived at St. Pancras. A man of ours – not quite as experienced as he might be, you understand, sir – did shadow him – and lost him. He lost him here at your theatre, Mr. Castlemayne."

"Ah!" said the lessee, half indifferently. "Got amongst the audience, I suppose?"

"No, sir," replied Easleby. "Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke, sir, entered your stage-door at about eleven-thirty – walked straight in. But he never came out of that door – so he must have left by another exit."

Mr. Leopold Castlemayne suddenly sat up very erect and rigid. His face flushed a little, his lips parted; he looked from one man to the other.

"Mr. – Gabriel – Chestermarke!" he said. "Entered my stage-door – eleven-thirty – last night? Here! – describe him!"

Easleby glanced at Starmidge. And Starmidge, as if he were describing a picture, gave a full and accurate account of Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke's appearance from head to foot.

The lessee suddenly jumped from his chair, walked over to a door, opened it, and looked into an inner room. Evidently satisfied, he closed the door again, came back, seated himself, thrust his hands in his pockets, and looked at the detectives.

"All in confidence – strict confidence?" he said. "All right, then! – I understand. I tell you, I don't know any Gabriel Chestermarke, banker, of Scarnham! The man you've described – the man who came here last night – is Godwin Markham, the Conduit Street money-lender – damn him!"

CHAPTER XXIII

THE AGGRIEVED VICTIM

If Mr. Leopold Castlemayne's last word was expressive, his next actions were suggestive and significant. Returning to the door of the inner room, he turned the key in it; crossing to the door by which the detectives had been shown in, he locked that also; proceeding to a cupboard in an adjacent recess, he performed an unlocking process – after which he produced a decanter, a syphon, three glasses, and a box of cigars. He silently placed these luxuries on a desk before his visitors, and hospitably invited their attention.

"Yes!" he said presently, proceeding to help the two men to refreshment, and pressing the cigars upon them, "I've good reason to say that, gentlemen! Godwin Markham, indeed! I ought to know him! If I don't look out, that devil of a bloodsucker is going to ruin me – he is, so!"

Easleby gave Starmidge an almost imperceptible wink as he lighted a cigar. It was evident that Mr. Leopold Castlemayne was not only willing to talk, but was uncommonly glad to have somebody to talk to. Indeed, his moody countenance began to clear as his tongue became unloosed; he was obviously at that stage when a man is thankful to give confidences to any fellow-creature.

"I've done business with gentlemen of your profession before," he went on, nodding to his visitors over the rim of his tumbler, "and I know you're to be trusted – naturally, you hear a good many queer things and queer secrets in your line of life. And as you come to me in confidence, I'll tell you a thing or two in confidence. It may help you – if you're certain that the man you're wanting is the man who came here last night. Do you want him?"

"We – may do," replied Easleby. "We don't know yet. Mr. Starmidge here is much disposed to think that we shall. But let's be clear, sir. We're all three agreed that we're talking about the same man? Starmidge has accurately described a certain man who without doubt entered your stage-door about eleven-thirty last night – "

"And left, with me, by the box-office door, in the front street, a few minutes later," murmured the lessee. "That's how it was."

"Just so," agreed Easleby. "Now, Starmidge up to now has only known that man as Mr. Gabriel Chestermarke, senior partner in Chestermarke's Bank, at Scarnham, while you, up to now – "

"Have only known him as Godwin Markham, money-lender, financial agent, and so on, of Conduit Street," interrupted Castlemayne. "And known him a lot too much for my peace, I can tell you! Of course, we're talking of the same man! I can quite believe he runs a double show. I know that he's a great deal away from town. It's very rarely that he's to be found at Conduit Street – very, very rarely indeed – he's a clever manager there, who sees everybody and does everything. And I know that he's quite two-thirds of his time away from his own house – so, of course, he's got to put it in somewhere else."

"His own house!" said Starmidge, catching at an idea which presented itself. "You know where he lives in London, then, Mr. Castlemayne?"

"Do I know where my own mother lives!" exclaimed the lessee. "I should think I do! He's a neighbour of mine – lives close by me, up Primrose Hill way. Nice little bachelor establishment he has – Oakfield Villa. Spent many an evening there with him – Sunday evenings, of course. Oh, yes – I know all about him – as Godwin Markham. Bless me! – so he's a country banker, is he? And mixed up in this affair, eh? Gosh! – I hope you'll find out that he murdered his manager, and that you'll be able to hang him – I'd treat the town to a free show if you could hang him in public on my stage, I would, indeed!"

"You were going to tell us something, sir?" suggested Easleby. "Something that you thought might help us."

"I hope it will help you – and me, too!" responded Castlemayne, who was obviously incensed and truculent. "'Pon my honour, when I got your cards, I wondered if I'd been sleep-walking last night, and had gone and done for this man – I really did! It was all I could do to keep from punching his nose last night in the open street, and I left him feeling very bad indeed! It's this way – I dare say you know that men like me, in this business, want a bit of financing when we start. All right! – we do, like most other people. Now, when I thought of taking up the lease of this spot, a few years ago, I wanted money. I knew this man Markham as a neighbour, and I mentioned the matter to him, not knowing then he was the Markham of Conduit Street. He let me know who he was, then, and he offered to do things privately – no need to go to his office, do you see? And – he found me in necessary capital. And I dare say I signed papers without thoroughly understanding 'em. And, of course, when you get into the hands of a fellow like that, it's like putting your foot on a piece of butter in the street – you're down before you know what's happened! But I ain't down yet, my boys!" concluded Mr. Castlemayne, drinking off the contents of his glass, and replenishing it. "And damme if I'm going to be, without a bit of a fight for it, that I ain't!"

"Putting some pressure on you, I suppose, sir?" suggested Easleby, who knew that their host would tell anything and everything if left to himself. "Wants his pound of flesh, no doubt?"

This Shakespearean allusion appeared to be lost on the lessee, but he evidently understood what pressure meant.

"Pressure!" he exclaimed. "Yah! – there's nothing would suit that fellow better than to have one of his victims under one of those steam-hammers that they have nowadays, and to bring it down on him till he'd crushed the last drop of blood out of his toes! Pressure! – I'll tell you! This place didn't do well at first – everybody in town, in our line, anyway, knows that – but even in these days I paid him his interest regular – down on the nail, mind, as prompt as the date came round. But now – things are different. I'm doing well – in a bit I could pay my gentleman off – though not just yet. But there's big money ahead – this house has caught on, got a reputation, become popular. And now what d'ye think my lord wants – what he's screwing me for? Turns out that in one of those confounded papers I signed there's a clause, that if I didn't repay him by a certain date I should surrender my lease to him! I no doubt signed it, not quite understanding – but damme if he didn't keep it dark till the date was expired! And now, when I've worked things up, not only as lessee, mind you, but as manager – to success and big prospects, hanged if he doesn't want to collar my lease with all its fine possibilities, and put me into work for him at a blooming salary!"

"Dear me, sir!" exclaimed Easleby. "Now – what might that exactly mean? We're not up in these matters, you know."

"Mean?" vociferated the lessee. "It 'ud mean this. I've paid that man as much in interest as the original loan was. He now wants my lease, all my interest, all my chances of reward – this lease is worth many a thousand a year now! If I surrender my lease peaceably – without fuss, you understand – he'll wipe off my original debt to him and give me a blooming salary of twenty-five quid a week – me! Gosh! – he ought to be burnt alive!"

"And if you don't?" asked Starmidge, deeply interested by this sidelight on financial dealings. "What then?"

"Then he relies on his damn paper and my signature to it, and turns me out!" replied the aggrieved one. "Thievery! – that's what I call it. That's his blooming ultimatum – came in last night to tell me. I hope you'll catch him and hang him!"

The two detectives had long since realized that Mr. Leopold Castlemayne's interest in the banker-money-lender was a purely personal one, based on his own unlucky dealings with him. But they wished for something outside that interest, and Starmidge, after a word or two of condolence, and another of advice to go to a shrewd and smart solicitor, asked a plain question.

"You say you've been on terms of – shall we call it neighbourly intimacy? – with this man," he remarked. "Have you ever met his nephew?"

The lessee made a face expressive of deep scorn.

"Nephew!" he exclaimed. "Yah! – d'ye think a fellow like that 'ud have a nephew? I don't believe he's any relations that's flesh and blood! I don't believe he ever had a mother! I believe he's one of these ghouls you read about in the story-books – what's he look like? A bloodsucker! – that's what he is!"

Starmidge gave his host an accurate description of Joseph Chestermarke.

"Did you ever see a man like that at this Markham's house?" he asked.

"Never!" answered the lessee.

"Or at his office?" persisted Starmidge.

"No – don't know such a man! I've only been to the offices in Conduit Street a few times," said Castlemayne. "The chap you see there is a fellow called Stipp – Mr. James Stipp. A nice, smooth-tongued, mealy-mouthed chap – you know. I say – d'ye think you'll be able to fasten anything on to Markham, or Chestermarke, or whatever his name is?"

Easleby responded jocularly that they certainly wouldn't if they sat there, and after solemnly assuring Mr. Leopold Castlemayne that his confidence would be severely respected, he and Starmidge went away. Once outside they walked for awhile in silence, each reflecting on what he had just heard.

"Well," remarked Starmidge at last, "we're certain on one point now, anyway. Godwin Markham, money-lender, of Conduit Street, is the same person as Gabriel Chestermarke, banker, of Scarnham. That's flat! And now that we've got to know that much, how much nearer am I to finding out the real thing that I'm after?"

"Which is – exactly what?" asked Easleby.

"I was called in," answered Starmidge, "to find out the secret of John Horbury's disappearance. It isn't my business to interfere with Gabriel Chestermarke or Godwin Markham in his money-lending affairs – nor to trace Lord Ellersdeane's missing jewels. My job is – to find John Horbury, or to get to know what happened to him."

"And all this helps," answered Easleby. "Haven't you got anything?"

"Don't know that I have," admitted Starmidge. "Just now, anyway. I've had a dozen ideas – but they're a bit mixed at present. Have you – after what we've found out?"

"What sort of banking business is it the Chestermarkes carry on down there at Scarnham?" asked Easleby. "I suppose you'd get a general idea."

"Usual thing in a small country town," replied Starmidge. "Highly respectable, county family business, I should say, from what I saw and heard."

"All the squires, and the parsons, and the farmers, and better sort of tradesmen go to 'em, I suppose?" suggested Easleby. "And all the nice old ladies and that sort – an extra-respectable connection, eh?"

"Just as I say – regular country-town business," said Starmidge, half impatiently.

"Um!" remarked Easleby. "Now, if you were a highly respectable country-town banker, with a connection of that sort amongst very proper people, and if it so happened that you were living a double life, and running a money-lending business in London, do you think you'd want your banking customers to know what you were after when you weren't banking!"

"What do you think he'd do?" asked Starmidge.

"I'm not quite sure," replied Easleby, with candour. "But I think I shall get there, all the same. Now, didn't you say that from all the accounts supplied to you, this Mr. John Horbury was an eminently proper sort of person? Very well – supposing it suddenly came to his knowledge that his employer – or employers, for I expect both Chestermarkes are in at it – were notorious money-lenders in London, and that they carried on this secret business in the greedy and grasping fashion – what do you suppose he'd do? – especially if he was, as you say Horbury was, a man of considerable means?"

"What do you think he'd do?" asked Starmidge.

"I think it's quite on the cards that he'd chuck his job there and then," said Easleby, "and not only that, but that he'd probably threaten exposure. Men of a very severe type of commercial religion would, my lad! – I know 'em!"

"You're suggesting – what?" inquired the younger detective.

"I'm suggesting that on that night of Hollis's visit to Scarnham, Horbury, through Hollis, became acquainted with the Chestermarke secret," replied Easleby, "and that he let the Chestermarkes know it. And in that case – what would happen?"

Starmidge walked slowly on at his companion's side, thinking. He was trying to fit together a great many things; he felt as a child feels who is presented with a puzzle in many pieces and told to put them together.

"I know what you're after," he said suddenly. "You think the Chestermarkes murdered Horbury?"

"If you want it plain and straight," replied Easleby, "I do!"

"There's the other man – Hollis," suggested Starmidge.

"I should say they finished him as well," said Easleby. "Easy enough job, that, on the evidence. Supposing one of 'em took Hollis off, alone, across that moor you've told me about, and induced him to look into that old lead-mine? What easier than to push him into it? Meanwhile, the other could settle Horbury. Murder, my lad! – that's what all this comes to. I've known men murdered for less than that."

Again Starmidge reflected in silence.

"There's only one thing puzzles me on that point," he said eventually. "It's not a puzzle, either – it's a doubt. Do you think the Chestermarkes – or, we'll say Gabriel, as we're certain about him – do you think Gabriel would be so keen about keeping his secret as to go to that length? Do you think he's cultivated it as a secret – that it's been a really important secret?"

"We can soon solve that," answered Easleby. "At least – tomorrow morning."

"How?" demanded Starmidge.

"By calling," said Easleby, "on Mr. Godwin Markham, in Conduit Street."

CHAPTER XXIV

MRS. CARSWELL?

Starmidge looked at his companion as if in doubt about Easleby's exact meaning.

"According to what the theatre chap said just now," he remarked, "Markham is very rarely to be found in Conduit Street."

"Exactly," agreed Easleby. "That's why I want to go there."

Starmidge shook his head.

"Don't follow!" he said. "Make it clear."

Easleby tapped his fellow-detective's arm.

"You said just now – would Gabriel Chestermarke be so keen about keeping his secret as to go to any length in keeping it," he answered "Now I say we can solve that by calling at his office. His manager, as Castlemayne told us, is one Stipp – Mr. Stipp. I propose to see Mr. Stipp. You and I must be fools if, inside ten minutes, we can't find out if Stipp knows that Godwin Markham is Gabriel Chestermarke! We will find out! And if we find out that Stipp doesn't know that, if we find that Stipp is utterly unaware that there is such a person as Gabriel Chestermarke, or, at any rate, that he doesn't connect Gabriel Chestermarke with Godwin Markham – why, then – "

He ended with a dry laugh, and waved his hand as if the matter were settled. But Starmidge had a love of precision, and liked matters to be put in plain words.

"Well – and what then?" he demanded.

"What, then?" exclaimed Easleby. "Why, then we shall know, for a certainty, that Gabriel Chestermarke is keen about his secret! If he keeps it from the man who does his business for him here in London, he'd go to any length to keep it safe if it was threatened by his manager at Scarnham. Is that clear, my lad?"

The two men in the course of their slow strolling away from the Adalbert Theatre had come to the end of Shaftesbury Avenue, and had drawn aside from the crowds during the last minute or two to exchange their confidences in private.

Starmidge looked meditatively at the thronging multitudes of Piccadilly Circus, and watched them awhile before he answered his companion's last observation.

"I don't want to precipitate matters," he said at last. "I don't want an anti-climax. Suppose we found Markham – or Chestermarke – there? Or supposing he came in?"

"Excellent! – in either case," replied Easleby. "Serve our purpose equally well. If he's there, you betray the greatest surprise at seeing him – you can act up to that. If he should come in, you're equally surprised – see! We haven't gone there about any Chestermarke, you know – we aren't going to let it out there that we know what we do know – not likely!"

"What have we gone there for then?" asked Starmidge.

"We've gone to say that Mrs. Helen Lester, of Lowdale Court, near Chesham, has informed us, the police, that she placed a certain sum of money in the hands of her friend, Mr. Frederick Hollis, for the purpose of clearing off a debt contracted by her son, Lieutenant Lester, with Mr. Godwin Markham; that Mr. Hollis had been found dead under strange circumstances at Scarnham, and that we should be vastly obliged to Mr. Markham if he can give us any information or light on the matter, or hints about it," replied Easleby. "That, of course, is what we shall say – and all that we shall say – to Mr. James Stipp. If, however, we find Gabriel Chestermarke there – well, then, we shall say nothing – at first. We shall leave him to do the saying – it'll be his job to begin."

"All right," assented Starmidge, after a moment's reflection. "We'll try it! Meet you tomorrow morning, then – corner of Conduit Street and New Bond Street – say at ten-thirty. Now I'm going home."

Starmidge, being a bachelor, tenanted a small flat in Westminster, within easy reach of headquarters. He repaired to it immediately on leaving Easleby, intent on spending a couple of hours in ease and comfort before retiring to bed. But he had scarcely put on his slippers, lighted his pipe, mixed a whisky-and-soda, and picked up a book, when a knock at his outer door sent him to open it and to find Gandam standing in the lobby. Gandam glanced at him with a smile which was half apologetic and half triumphant.

"I've been to the office after you, Mr. Starmidge," he said. "They gave me your address, so I came on here."

Starmidge saw that the man was full of news, and he motioned him to enter and led him to his sitting-room.

"You've heard something, then?" he asked.

"Seen something, Mr. Starmidge," answered Gandam, taking the chair which Starmidge pointed to. "I'm afraid I didn't hear anything – I wish I had!"

Starmidge gave his visitor a drink and dropped into his own easy-chair again.

"Chestermarke, of course!" he suggested. "Well – what!"

"I happened to catch sight of him this evening," replied Gandam. "Sheer accident it was – but there's no mistaking him. Half-past six I was coming along Piccadilly, and I saw him leaving the Camellia Club. He – "

"What sort of a club's that, now?" asked Starmidge.

"Social club – men about town, sporting men, actors, journalists, so on," replied Gandam. "I know a bit about it – had a case relating to it not so long ago. Well – he went along Piccadilly, and, of course, I followed him – I wasn't going to lose sight of him after that set-back of last night, Mr. Starmidge! He crossed the Circus, and went into the Café Monico. I followed him in there. Do you know that downstairs saloon there?"

"I know it," assented Starmidge.

"He went straight down to it," continued Gandam. "And as I knew that he didn't know me, I 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 to be telling the waiter that he was expecting somebody, and he'd wait a bit before giving an order. So I sat 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 good-looking, well-dressed, but quietly," replied Gandam. "Had a veil on when she came in, but lifted it when she sat 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 Gandam. "It seemed to me that it was what you might call an adjourned meeting – they began 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 be explaining something to him the whole time, and I could see he was surprised – more than once."