CHAPTER XX.

THE GREEN OVERCOAT.

It may be here mentioned that Fanks had no intention of arresting Hersham at the present time, he had threatened to do so in order to induce Anne to speak out; but this having failed, he thought no more about the matter. The journalist was being watched, and he could be arrested at any moment; so Fanks was quite at his ease on that score. The slightest false step, and Hersham would find himself within the walls of a jail; but up to the present time Fanks had not collected sufficient evidence against him to warrant any magistrate authorising his imprisonment. The confession of the next week might bring about the intervention of the law, but till then Fanks left Hersham under the eye of the watching detective, and devoted himself to searching for the mysterious negro who had worn the green coat with brass buttons.

It may seem strange to the reader that so astute a man as Mr. Fanks should advertise for a negro, when he was confident that the only negro connected with the matter was in Bombay. But this apparent riddle will be explained when Mr. Fanks receives the expected answer to his paragraph in the "Morning Planet." This appeared two days after he left Taxton-on-Thames, and read as follows:--

"Ten pounds reward will be given to any person who can inform advertiser of the whereabouts of a black man dressed in a green coat with brass buttons. Twenty pounds will be given to anyone who can give information as to the movements of the said black man on the night of the twenty-first of June last, between the hours of six and nine. Apply Messrs. Vaud and Vaud, Lincoln's Inn Fields."

It cannot be said that this advertisement was a masterpiece of composition, but the clumsy wording was due to Crate, and Crate not being a scholar had written it in such a fashion. Fanks commented on its prolixity to the author himself on the morning of its appearance.

"You could have shortened that advertisement considerably," he said, smiling. "I never saw so roundabout a request for information."

"What does it' matter?" replied Crate, growing rather red. "I ain't no scholar, Mr. Fanks, and I did the best I could. If, the fish bites, sir, that is all you want."

"I hope the fish will bite, Crate," said Fanks, fretfully; "if not, I do not know what I shall do. Never have I been so unlucky as over this case. Everything seems to go wrong with me. But if I can find anyone who saw this negro on the night of the murder we my hear strange things."

"About Mrs. Boazoph and Dr. Binjoy?"

"About Miss Colmer and Hersham. Though to be sure such information may run me into a blind alley. By the way, did Mr. Garth call to see me in my absence?"

"Twice, sir."

"The deuce!" muttered Fanks, with a frown. "I wonder why he is so anxious over this case?"

"I think I can tell you that, sir."

"And I think I can guess what you are about to say," retorted Fanks. "However, let me hear your theory."

"Well, I may be wrong," said Crate, modestly, "but it seems to me that this Mr. Garth is anxious to find out that Sir Louis Fellenger is concerned in the murder of his cousin, because----"

"Because he wants to inherit the Fellenger title and property as next heir," finished Fanks, smartly.

"Exactly, sir; what do you think of my theory?"

"There may be something in it, Crate," replied Fanks, thoughtfully; "of course, Mr. Garth comes into the Fellenger estates on the death of the present baronet. But," he added, emphatically, "we know that this negro actually killed Sir Gregory, so Louis could only be associated with the case as an accessory before the fact. Therefore he could not be hanged, even if the case were proved against him. Where would Mr. Garth be then? In such an event the estates would probably be thrown into Chancery while Sir Louis was undergoing imprisonment, and would not come to Garth for years. Your idea is a good one, Crate, but I do not see how it would benefit our friend."

Crate scratched his chin. "I suppose that Mr. Garth is lawyer enough to know all that," he said, grudgingly, "and wouldn't risk his neck for the mere chance of such a thing. He----"

"Ah! now you are on another track. Mr. Garth may be anxious to prove the case against Sir Louis, but I do not think he killed Sir Gregory himself."

"Oh, I know who you think is guilty, Mr. Fanks. All the same, I do not agree with you; and I should not be surprised if this Garth turned out to be the real criminal."

"Garth isn't a negro."

"I guess you have your own ideas about that negro, Mr. Fanks."

The detective smiled and rose from his seat. "I guess I have, Mr. Crate. You are improving, my friend; and you are beginning to see further than your nose. I should not wonder if I made something of you yet. So you suspect Garth?"

With becoming modesty, but a good deal of emphasis, Crate asserted that he did, and moreover said that if permitted by his superior officer he would have great pleasure in proving his case against the barrister. To this Fanks assented readily enough.

"Prove your case by all means, Crate," he said, dryly. "I do not agree with you in the least; all the same I am always open to correction. One thing only I ask. You must tell me all you do, all you discover, as I do not wish you to cross my trail."

This Crate assented to without demur, and Fanks departed to Duke Street, where he changed his clothes for the more stylish ones of Rixton. Thence he went to the Athenian Club, and, as he expected, found Garth in the smoking-room. The lean lawyer looked so haggard and worn out that Fanks wondered if there might not be more in Crate's theory than appeared at first sight. But he rejected this idea almost as soon as it crossed his mind; he was confident that the true assassin of Sir Gregory was--but that revelation comes later. In the meantime he greeted Garth with his customary coolness, and sat down beside him with a view to learning all that had transpired during his absence.

"Were you waiting for me here?" he asked, lighting a cigarette.

"Not exactly," replied Garth, with some hesitation. "I hoped that you would come in here sooner or later, and I wished to see you. But at present I am waiting for Herbert Vaud."

"Really! Do you expect him shortly?"

Garth looked at his watch. "He ought to be here now."

"What do you wish to see him about?" asked Fanks, eyeing his companion keenly; "anything about this case?"

Garth nodded. "Yes; young Vaud knew Emma Calvert, and I wish to learn if she is really dead."

"You can set your mind at rest on that point," said Fanks, coolly. "Emma Calvert is six feet below the soil of Pere la Chaise."

"But the woman who appeared at my cousin's chambers; the woman whom Robert said was she."

"That is Anne Colmer, the twin sister of the dead woman."

"Anne Colmer! She is engaged to Ted Hersham."

"She is. I have been down to Taxton-on-Thames, and I have found out all the family history."

"Have you found out who wrote on the back of the photograph; who directed that envelope?"

"No," said Fanks, gloomily, "I have not discovered anything yet about that."

"Do you think that Anne Colmer wrote it?"

"I am certain from personal observation that Anne Colmer did not."

"Did her mother?"

"Impossible. Mrs. Colmer is a hopeless paralytic."

"Then who wrote it?"

"That is just what I have to learn. I am no further in the case than I was when I saw you last. Have you discovered anything?"

"No; but I had hoped to have learned about Emma from Herbert."

"Well," said Fanks, with a sigh, "we know all about Herbert Vaud; we are aware of the identity of Emma Calvert. It is not in that direction we must search. Our only chance of finding out the truth, lies in discovering this negro."

"I saw your advertisement in the 'Morning Planet.' Anybody who can give information is to call at the office of Vaud and Vaud, I see."

"I thought it best that they should receive the information," said Fanks, "seeing that they are the solicitors of Sir Louis. I hope that something will turn up; but I am doubtful; I am very doubtful."

At this moment the waiter brought in a telegram to Mr. Garth. The barrister opened it, and uttered an ejaculation of surprise. After a pause, he handed the telegram to Fanks. "Queer, isn't it?" he said.

Fanks looked at the message, which ran as follows: "Cannot see you to-day; have to wait in to see Fanks about advertisement. H. Vaud."

"Humph!" said Fanks, rising briskly to his feet, "it is strange that I should be here with you; and stranger still that the advertisement should be answered so promptly. I told Vaud to write to Scotland Yard should anything turn up; but this will save me a journey."

"Can I come with you?"

"If you like; I must call at my room first," said Fanks. "By the way, my friend," he added, turning sharply on Garth, "you don't know anything about this very apropos telegram?"

"Good Lord, no! How should I? You don't think that I sent it?"

"No, I don't. But it is--no matter. Let us get on; there is no time to lose."

As a matter of fact, Fanks did not like the look of things at all. He was naturally suspicious of this telegram, fitted in so very neatly with the subject of their conversation, that he thought Garth might know more of it than he had chosen to say. But a moment's reflection convinced him that he suspected the lawyer wrongly. Garth did not know that he was coming to the Athenian Club; therefore, he could not have made such an arrangement. Fanks dismissed the matter from his mind; and allowed Garth to come with him to his room.

In Duke Street he picked up a photograph, and placed it in his pocket. Garth saw the face of the picture, and whistled. "You don't think that person has anything to do with it?" he asked, anxiously.

"This person has to do with the present matter," said Fanks, smartly, "but I can't say if the person has anything to do with the death in Tooley's Alley. I am only taking this portrait on chance; I may be wrong. However, we shall see," and not another word would Fanks say, until he arrived at Lincoln's Inn Fields.

Here they found Herbert in his father's room with an apology. "I have to take the place of my father to-day, Mr. Fanks," said the young lawyer, who looked ill, "he is not well, and deputed me to see after this matter."

"Touching the advertisement?" said Fanks, eagerly.

"Yes. A man turned up this morning in answer to it. He is waiting in the next room; and he says that he knows all about the negro you are in search of."

"Good. Let us have him in. You do not mind my friend, Mr. Garth, being present, I hope?"

"Not at all," replied Herbert, coldly; "that lies more in your hands than mine. Show in that man who came about the advertisement," he added to a clerk who entered.

The gentleman in question entered. A dried-up little man, brisk and keen-eyed, with a horsey look about him. He glanced sharply at the three men, pulled his forelock, and proceeded to ask about the reward.

"I want thirty puns," he said, calmly.

"Oh, no, you don't," retorted Fanks, "you want ten or twenty. The two rewards are separate; you must not add them together."

"But I can tell of the whereabouts of this negro; and I can tell his movements. I know all about him, so I ought to get both rewards."

"You'll get either the ten or the twenty," said Fanks. "Now no more talk; what is your name?"

"Berry Jawkins; I am barman at the Eight Bells public on the Richmond Road."

"Ho; Ho!" muttered Fanks, "I thought as much."

"On the twenty-first a nigger came riding a bicycle about eight o'clock; he came into the bar; and had a drink. He wore a green coat with brass buttons. After he had his drink, he asked if he might wash his face. I sent him out to the pump in the back yard; he washed and came in. Then gents," said the little man, with emphasis, "I got a surprise, I can tell you."

"What kind of surprise?" demanded Garth, with an astonished look.

"Why, sir; that nigger weren't no nigger at all; he were a white man; as white as you make 'em."

"A white man," said Fanks, producing the portrait from his pocket.

"A white man with a smile and a moustache; a very good-looking sort of feller," added the barman, "he explained how it was he--"

"Wait a moment," said Fanks, "is that the man you saw?"

Berry Jawkins started back in surprise, the moment he set eyes on the photograph which Fanks had thrust under his nose. "My gum, here's a start," said Mr. Berry Jawkins. "That's the very identical person who washed himself at the Eight Bells. How did you come to know of him, sir?"

"I suspected it for some time," said Fanks, "do you recognise the face, Mr. Vaud?"

Herbert looked at the face, and his countenance reflected the astonishment of Berry Jawkins and of Garth.

"Why!" exclaimed the young solicitor, starting back, "it is Ted Hersham."