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

it,” said Hetherwick. “A drawer in her desk containing boxes of stationery had been pulled out, and some of its contents lay about the desk. As a matter of fact, though I scarcely know why I did it, I put some paper and some envelopes in my pocket⁠—here they are! I had a faint idea that they might be useful⁠—somehow.”

“Well, that’s the notion, depend on it,” asserted Matherfield, glancing at the paper which Hetherwick produced. “I’ve no doubt that somebody, representing Madame Listorelle, and bearing an authorization from her, written on her notepaper in her own writing, will present himself at the Imperial Safe Deposit this morning. But⁠—it won’t be Baseverie! And it won’t be Ambrose!”

“A stranger, eh?” suggested Hetherwick.

“We shall see. Now,” continued Matherfield, glancing at the clock, “we’ll be off to the scene of operations. This Imperial Safe Deposit is in Kingsway⁠—Holborn end⁠—and very fortunately situated for our job, being close to the Tube station; there’ll be lots of people about there, and we shan’t attract attention. And this is the way of it⁠—his lordship and myself will go into the Safe Deposit, see the people in charge, explain matters, and get them to tell us at once if and when the expected ambassador arrives. We shall let him⁠—”

“Or her,” interrupted Quigman solemnly.

“Just so, my lad⁠—it might be a she,” assented Matherfield. “Quite likely! We shall let him or her get what is wanted from the safe and go away, closely followed by all four of us. While Lord Morradale and I are inside, you and Quigman, Mr. Hetherwick, will be outside, talking, casually. When we come out⁠—and you’ll both keep a sharp watch on the entrance hall⁠—I’ll give you the office as to the particular person we’re following, and wherever that person goes, you two will go. But don’t come near us⁠—we’ll keep one side of the street, you the other. If the person takes to a cab or a bus⁠—well, we’ll have to do the same. But I’ve reasons for thinking he or she will stick to his feet!”

“How do we go?⁠—all together?” asked Hetherwick. “Because⁠—it’s a mere idea⁠—how do you know, Matherfield, that these people⁠—there would appear to be more than one concerned⁠—aren’t keeping an eye on you?”

“I’ve thought of that,” answered Matherfield. “No⁠—we’re all going separately. It’s now nine-fifteen. That Imperial Safe Deposit doesn’t open its doors till ten⁠—nobody can get in there until that time, anyway. We all four go out of this office on our own hook. Each takes his own method of getting to the top of Kingsway. As soon as I get there, I go straight in and ask for the manager. As soon as Lord Morradale gets there, he follows suit⁠—he and I forgather in the manager’s room. As for you two, go how you like⁠—fly, if it suits you⁠—or wander round the side streets. But⁠—you meet right opposite the Safe Deposit entrance at precisely ten o’clock, and under pretence of casual meeting and conversation keep your eyes on it, noticing everybody who goes in and comes out. That clear? Then we all clear out⁠—one by one.”

Outside, and left to his own devices, Hetherwick walked a little way and then hailed a taxicab. He gave his driver a confidential smile.

“You can just help me to employ forty minutes,” he said, as he got in. “Drive round⁠—anywhere you like⁠—up and down⁠—as long as you put me down at the corner of the Holborn Restaurant at precisely two minutes to ten. Got that?”

The driver comprehended, and began a leisurely journey round certain principal streets and thoroughfares. Two minutes before ten he pulled up at the Holborn-Kingsway corner and gave his fare a grin.

“Done it to the second, sir,” he announced, nodding at an adjacent clock.

“Good man!” said Hetherwick, handing out something over the registered fare. Then an idea struck him. “Look here!” he continued confidentially. “I⁠—and another man⁠—may have to follow somebody from here, presently. Just drive down the street here, keep your flag down, and wait⁠—if I want you, I shall be close at hand.”

The driver showed his understanding by a nod and a wink and moved a little distance off to the kerbstone. Hetherwick walked slowly down the west side of Kingsway. And precisely as the clock struck ten he saw Lord Morradale come from one direction and enter the formidable-looking and just opened door of the Safe Deposit, and Matherfield appear from the other: looking round again he was aware of the solemn-faced Quigman who sauntered round the corner of Parker Street and came towards him. Hetherwick went on to meet him.

“There you are!” he said, doing a little acting in case any inimical eyes were on him. “To the minute! We’d better appear to be doing a bit of talk, eh? The others have just gone in.”

“I saw ’em, sir,” replied Quigman, coming to a halt on the kerb, and affecting an interest in anything rather than on what he was really working. “Ah! But the question is⁠—when will they come out? Might be in a few minutes⁠—so to speak. Mightn’t be for hours⁠—as it were!”

“You seem to be a melancholy chap,” observed Hetherwick.

“Melancholy job!” muttered Quigman. “Watching isn’t my line. But Matherfield⁠—he particularly wanted me to be in at this.”

“Why?” asked Hetherwick.

“Peculiar knowledge of solicitors and their clerks in this part o’ London,” replied Quigman. “My line. Matherfield, he’s an idea that the order to open this safe’ll be presented by a solicitor.”

“Good Lord!⁠—has he?” exclaimed Hetherwick. “I wonder! But⁠—”

“Big help to these chaps, don’t you see, if they can make a solicitor do the cat’s-paw work,” suggested Quigman. “Who’d suspect a solicitor of the High Court? And as I know pretty nearly all of ’em⁠—there’s one I know now coming up t’other side of the street,” he continued suddenly. “That tallish, thin, pale-faced chap⁠—see him? Look at him without seeming to look. Now I wonder if he’s the party we want?”

Hetherwick looked in the direction indicated. He saw a youngish, spectacled man in a silk hat,