CHAPTER IV.

ANOTHER DISCOVERY.

Informed of this astounding fact, Garth stared at his friend in blank astonishment. The detective resumed his cigar, and waited.

"You cannot be in earnest," said the barrister after a pause.

"Why not? The theory is feasible enough. It was proved at the inquest that the man died from blood-poisoning."

"Yes. But it might have been administered in the liquor. The pair had drinks, remember."

"I have not forgotten," said Fanks quietly, "but on your part remember that no trace of poison was found in the stomach; while the blood was so corrupted, as to show that the deceased had been inoculated with some powerful vegetable poison. There was no mark on the body, save the cross on the left arm; and, by your own showing, it was not there when Fellenger went to Tooley's Alley. The assumption is that it was done there; as is more than confirmed by the presence of gunpowder."

"Again, according to Mrs. Boazoph, there was no struggle; therefore the deceased must have passed away quietly. My inference is that this negro desired to kill Sir Gregory--or else he was instructed to do so by some one else who wished for the death of your cousin. What then so easy, as for the negro to have a poisoned needle prepared to execute the tattooing. Quite unaware of the danger, Fellenger--for some unknown reason--would permit the insertion of the fatal needle. As the work went on, he would gradually be inoculated with the poison. When the gunpowder and acids were applied the job would be finished, and he would pull down his sleeve, quite ignorant that to all intents and purposes he was a dead man. Then he sat and chatted with the negro till the end came; when he sank into a state of coma and died. When certain that the death was an assured fact, the negro took his departure. Oh, it is all as plain as day to me;--all excepting one fact."

"And that fact?"

"Why did Fellenger get a negro in Tooley's Alley to tattoo him."

Garth reflected.

"I can only conclude that a secret--"

"Rubbish!" said Fanks, contemptuously, "you and your secret societies. I tell you that is all nonsense. Even assuming that the cross is an emblem of some association--which I do not grant for a moment--we have proved that it was not tattooed on your cousin's arm when he went to keep his appointment; therefore he could not at that time have been a member of your mythical society. If, on the other hand, he was being made a member--a ceremony which would not have taken place in a low pot-house--why should he be killed? These societies admit living men to work their ends; they have no use for dead bodies."

"That is all true enough, Fanks. We must reject the idea of a secret society. But in an affair of robbery and murder--"

"In such an affair, the method of procedure would be different. A bludgeon--a sand-bag--a knife--any of these weapons if you please. But if this negro had designed to rob Fellenger, he need not have ingratiated himself into his confidence to permit the performance of so delicate an operation as that of the poisoned needle. No. We must reject that theory also."

"Then what do you think was the motive of the murder?"

"I am not a detective out of a novel, Mr. Garth. Ask me an easier question."

He rose from his seat and began to walk to and fro. "The whole mystery lies in the tattooing," he muttered to himself. "If I can only find out why Sir Gregory permitted that cross to be tattooed; and why he went to Tooley's Alley to have it done, I shall discover the assassin."

"Hersham has a tattooed cross on his left arm," said Garth, "perhaps he can explain the riddle."

"Perhaps he can; perhaps he can't," returned Fanks, sharply. "The coincidence is certainly curious. I shall see and question Hersham; but there is much to be done before then. You must help me, Garth."

"I am willing to do whatever you wish, my friend."

"Ah," said Fanks with a smile, "you have a touch of detective fever. I suffer from it myself notwithstanding my experience. The unravelling of these criminal problems is like gambling; a never-failing source of excitement; and, like gambling, chance enters largely into their solution."

"I don't see much 'chance' in this case."

"Don't you think again. Why, the very fact that you and I should know that Hersham has a tattooed cross on his left arm is a chance. Such knowledge--which is mere chance knowledge--might lead to nothing; on the other hand, it may help to find the man who killed your cousin."

"Surely you do not suspect Hersham?"

"Certainly not. Why should I suspect him on the evidence of the tattooed cross. For all I or you know, it may be a simple coincidence, such as crops up constantly in real life. No. I don't suspect Hersham."

"Do you suspect anyone?"

"I don't suspect any special person of committing the murder; but I suspect some people, and particularly one individual, of knowing more than they chose to say. But this is beside the point. I wish you to help me."

"By all means. What is it you want me to do?"

"You know the chambers of your cousin; by my desire they have been in the hands of the police since his death. Fellenger's valet is also there--detained by my desire. Now I wish to search the chambers for possible evidence and to examine him. You must take me there at once."

"Is it necessary when, by your own showing, you are all-supreme already?"

"My friend," said Fanks, solemnly, "it is my experience that when the lower orders--to which this valet belongs--come into contact with a detective they are quite useless as witnesses, for the very simple reason that the presence of the law paralyses them. To avoid this danger you must introduce me into the chambers as a sympathising friend only. You can question the servant in my presence, and having got rid of him in the meantime, we can search the chambers together."

"But the police may recognise you."

"The police have their instructions; they will recognise me as Mr. Rixton, of the West End."

Garth fell in readily with this scheme, and together the two men left the club. As they proceeded along Piccadilly--the dead man's chambers were in Half-Moon Street--Fanks resumed the conversation from the point where it had been broken off.

"You have answered my questions capitally, Garth. Now, as we are working together, I shall reply to anything you like to ask me."

The barrister, restored to a sense of importance by the thought of the part he was about to play in the forthcoming interview with the valet, availed himself readily of the opportunity of learning the plans of the detective. Fanks had no hesitation in confiding them to him, as, foreseeing that Garth would be necessary to the elucidation of the mystery, he wished to interest him in the case as much as possible. He was well aware that Garth was not the man to give up an idea when once it had fixed itself in his head, and his present idea was to investigate the mystery of his cousin's death. With characteristic wisdom Fanks, who never wasted a person or an opportunity, made use of this new factor in the case to further his own ends. Such economies aided his frequent successes in no small degree.

"What are your plans?" asked Garth, taking advantage of the permission.

"As yet I cannot be certain of them; but, so far as I can see at present, they include the search and examination of chambers and valet, a conversation with the landlady of the Red Star, a visit to Taxton-on-Thames, and an interview with Dr. Renshaw."

"Why with the latter gentleman?"

"Because Renshaw is too confidential with Mrs. Boazoph, because he was too conveniently on the spot at the time of the murder for my liking; and, finally, because Renshaw had a cut-and-dried theory of the motive of the crime prepared on the instant."

"You don't trust the man?"

"I think that his conduct is suspicious; but I do not accuse him of anything--as yet."

"He does not look a man to be feared," said Garth, disbelievingly; "he was very timid in giving his evidence at the inquest."

"That is one reason why I mistrust him. Dr. Renshaw is acting a part, but I am unable to say whether he is mixed up in this especial affair. I have my suspicions, but, as you know, I never like to speak unless certain."

Garth looked curiously at the detective.

"You hint at the guilt of Mrs. Boazoph," he said, doubtfully.

"Do I? Then I should hold my tongue. There is no doubt that the negro committed the crime in the way that I told you of. But I believe that he acted as the agent of a third party--not Mrs. Boazoph. I wish to find out that party to hang him or her as an accessory before the fact."

"You can't hang him or her."

"Perhaps not; but I can imprison him or her."

"Do you think that Mrs. Boazoph knows the motive of the crime?"

Fanks reflected.

"Yes, I think she does," he said, quietly; "it is my belief that the motive for which you and I are searching is to be found in the past life of Mrs. Boazoph."

"Her past is known to the police, is it not?"

"It is known for the last twenty years only. She appeared in London twenty-one years ago, but who she is and where she came from, the police know no more than you do."

"Then how can the motive be found in----"

"Garth," said Fanks, pausing, and touching the other with his finger, "I have presentiments and premonitions; these rarely deceive me. In this instance they point to Mrs. Boazoph. Do not ask me why, for I can tell you no more. But I am sure that we are going forward on a dark path; at the end of that path we will find--Mrs. Boazoph."

"I never thought that you were so superstitious, Fanks."

"I do not regard myself as so, I assure you. But," and here Fanks became emphatic, "I believe in my instinct, in my presentiment."

Garth walked along in silence, rather inclined to ridicule the apparent weakness of Fanks. However, he judged it wiser to keep these thoughts to himself, and merely asked another question relative to the negro.

"I am at a loss about the negro," said Fanks, "as I do not know where to search for him. Under these circumstances I think it necessary to follow the clue I hold in my hand. The going of your dead cousin to Tooley's Alley to keep his appointment."

"How do you know that it was an appointment?"

"I learnt that much from Mrs. Boazoph. She said that the white man came first and was asked for by the black man. That is an appointment, and I wish to find out who made it."

"How can you discover that?"

"Well, I hope to do so by searching the chambers of your cousin. There must be a letter or some sign whereby Fellenger knew where to meet the negro."

"The letter may have been destroyed."

"Possibly. From your knowledge of your cousin's character would you think it probable that he would destroy the letter making the appointment?"

"No," said Garth, after a moment's thought. "If the appointment was made within the last month I should think that the letter was still in existence."

"On what ground?" asked Fanks, eagerly.

"Well, Gregory used to read all his letters and then drop them into the drawer of his desk. At the end of the month he went through the pile, and the letters that were worth nothing were destroyed. So if that letter making the appointment is in existence it will be in the drawer of the desk."

"Good! This is a chance I hardly hoped to have."

"Chance again?"

"Yes; chance again," replied Fanks, good-humouredly. "How many men burn their letters; but for the fortunate circumstance that your cousin saved his for a month it would be almost hopeless to think of gaining a clue; but now there is more than a hope."

"Provided that the appointment was made by letter."

"Of course," assented Fanks, gravely; "we must always take that into consideration. But a question on my side. Did it strike you at the inquest that there was a resemblance between Doctors Renshaw and Binjoy?"

"I can't say that it did. Renshaw is much older than Binjoy, and he wears a full beard, whereas Binjoy is shaven clean. Still they are both burly; both have fine voices, and indulge in long words and stately Johnsonian dialogue. You surely do not think the two men are one and the same?"

"I have such an idea," said Fanks, dryly, "strange as it may appear. But as my opinion is mainly founded on your description I may be wrong. At all events Renshaw goes to India next week. If I find Binjoy in the company of Sir Louis Fellenger after Renshaw's departure, I shall admit my error. Otherwise--well, I must get to the bottom of the matter."

"I have only seen each of them once," said Garth, "so do not depend altogether on my powers of description."

"I won't. I depend on nothing but my own eyesight. For instance, if I see a black man wearing a green overcoat with brass buttons, I shall have a reasonable suspicion that I see the assassin of your cousin. Hullo! what is the matter?"

For Garth was leaning against the iron railings of Green Park with a look of dread on his face.

"By heaven, Fanks, you may be right!"

"About what?"

"About Renshaw and Binjoy being one and the same man."

"Indeed; what makes you think so," asked Fanks, dryly.

"Because Binjoy has a negro servant who wears a green coat with brass buttons."