The Charing Cross Mystery, J. S. Fletcher [portable ebook reader .txt] 📗

“I’ve already said that the Sellithwaite affair was one of account,” replied Blenkinsop. “There was no intent to defraud, and the full amount and interest on it was duly paid. But that’s not the point⁠—we’re dealing with the presentment of this to Lady Riversreade by the man Baseverie. Of course, Lady Riversreade didn’t know how the law might be, and she was alarmed on her sister’s account. She asked Baseverie what he wanted. He told her plainly then that he could settle these men⁠—if she would find the money. He had, he said, a certain hold over them which he could use to advantage. Lady Riversreade wanted to know what that hold was; he wouldn’t tell her. She then wanted to know how much the men wanted; he wouldn’t say. What he did say was that if she would be prepared to find the money to silence them, he, during the next week, would exert pressure on them to accept a reasonable amount, and would call on her on the following Friday and tell her what they would take. She made that appointment with him.”

“And, I hope, took advice in the meantime,” muttered Matherfield. “Ought to have handed him over there and then!”

“No⁠—she took no advice in the meantime,” continued Blenkinsop. “Madame Listorelle was in Paris⁠—Major Penteney was away on business in the country. Lady Riversreade awaited Baseverie’s next coming. When he came he told her what his gang wanted⁠—thirty thousand pounds. He specified, too, the way in which it was to be paid⁠—in a fashion which would have prevented the payment being traced to the people who received it. But now Lady Riversreade was more prepared⁠—she had had time to think. She expected Major Penteney next day; she also knew that her sister would return from Paris on the following Monday. So she told Baseverie that she would give him an answer on Monday evening if he would make an appointment to meet her at some place in London. Eventually they made an appointment at Vivian’s, in Candlestick Passage. Baseverie went away; next day Lady Riversreade told Major Penteney all that had happened. As a result, he went with her to Vivian’s on Monday evening. They waited an hour beyond the fixed time. Baseverie made no appearance⁠—”

“Just so!” muttered Matherfield. “He wouldn’t⁠—the Major being there!”

“Perhaps,” assented Blenkinsop. “Anyway, he didn’t materialise. So Lady Riversreade went away, leaving Major Penteney behind her. I may say that he stopped there for some further time, keeping a sharp lookout for the man whom Lady Riversreade had described in detail⁠—a remarkable man in appearance, I understand. But he never saw him.”

“No!” exclaimed Matherfield cynically. “Of course he didn’t! But she would ha’ done⁠—if she’d gone alone!”

“Well, there it was,” continued Blenkinsop. “Now for Lady Riversreade. She drove to her sister’s flat in Paddington, and found Madame Listorelle just returned from Paris. She told her all that had happened. Madame Listorelle determined to go to New York at once and get certain papers from her flat there which would definitely establish her absolute innocence in the Sellithwaite affair. Leaving Lady Riversreade in the flat, Madame Listorelle set off for Southampton before five o’clock next morning⁠—yes?”

Matherfield, uttering a deep groan, smote his forehead.

“Aye!” he muttered. “Just so! To be sure! But go on!⁠—go on, sir.”

“You seem to be highly surprised,” said Blenkinsop. “However⁠—at Southampton she booked a passage in a name she always used when travelling⁠—her maiden name⁠—by the Tartaric, sailing that afternoon. That done, she went to a hotel for lunch. Then she began to think things over more calmly. And in the end, instead of sailing for New York, she went back, cancelled her booking, and set off by train to Lord X’s country seat in Wiltshire, and told him the whole story. She wired to her sister as to what she had done, and in the evening wrote to her. Meanwhile, Lady Riversreade had returned, early in the morning, to Riversreade Court. Major Penteney went with her. He was confident that Baseverie would turn up. He did turn up! But he did not see Lady Riversreade. He saw Major Penteney⁠—alone. And Major Penteney, after a little plain talk to him, metaphorically kicked him out, and told him to do his worst. He went⁠—warned that if ever he showed himself there again he would be handed over to the police.”

Matherfield groaned again, but the reason of his distress was obviously of a different nature.

“A mistake, sir⁠—a great mistake!” he exclaimed, shaking his head at Penteney. “You shouldn’t have let that fellow go like that! You should have handed him over there and then. Go? You don’t know where he may be!”

“Oh, well, we’re not quite such fools as we seem, Matherfield,” he replied. “When I went down to Dorking with Lady Riversreade on Tuesday morning I had with me a smart man whom I can trust. He saw Baseverie arrive; he saw Baseverie leave. I think we shall be able to put our fingers on Baseverie at any moment. Our man won’t lose sight of him!”

“Oh, well, that’s better, sir, that’s much better!” said Matherfield. “That’s all right! A chap like that should be watched night and day. But now, gentlemen, about this reward! Your notion of offering it sprang, of course, from this Baseverie business. But⁠—how, exactly? Did he mention Hannaford to Lady Riversreade?”

“No!” replied Blenkinsop. “I’ll tell you how we came to issue the advertisement. All Sunday afternoon and evening, and for some time on Monday morning, Lady Riversreade, Major Penteney, and myself were in close consultation about this affair. I’ll tell you at once how and why we connected it with the poisoning of Hannaford, of which, of course, all of us had read in the newspapers.”

“Aye!⁠—how, now?” asked Matherfield.

“Because of this,” answered Blenkinsop. He tapped his desk to emphasise his words, watching Matherfield keenly as he spoke. “Because of this: Baseverie told Lady Riversreade that the gang of blackmailers had