The Greatest Thrillers of Edgar Wallace. Edgar Wallace
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think there are one or two things I ought to tell you,” she said, as she led the way into the drawing room, closing the door behind him.
“And they concern Mr. Kara, I think,” said T.X.
She looked at him startled.
“How did you know that?”
“I know nothing.”
He hesitated on the brink of a flippant claim of omniscience, but realizing in time the agony she must be suffering he checked his natural desire.
“I really know nothing,” he continued, “but I guess a lot,” and that was as near to the truth as you might expect T.X. to reach on the spur of the moment.
She began without preliminary.
“In the first place I must tell you that Mr. Kara once asked me to marry him, and for reasons which I will give you, I am dreadfully afraid of him.”
She described without reserve the meeting at Salonika and Kara’s extravagant rage and told of the attempt which had been made upon her.
“Does John know this?” asked T.X.
She shook her head sadly.
“I wish I had told him now,” she said. “Oh, how I wish I had!” She wrung her hands in an ecstasy of sorrow and remorse.
T.X. looked at her sympathetically. Then he asked,
“Did Mr. Kara ever discuss your husband’s financial position with you!”
“Never.”
“How did John Lexman happen to meet Vassalaro!”
“I can tell you that,” she answered, “the first time we met Mr. Kara in England was when we were staying at Babbacombe on a summer holiday — which was really a prolongation of our honeymoon. Mr. Kara came to stay at the same hotel. I think Mr. Vassalaro must have been there before; at any rate they knew one another and after Kara’s introduction to my husband the rest was easy.
“Can I do anything for John!” she asked piteously.
T.X. shook his head.
“So far as your story is concerned, I don’t think you will advantage him by telling it,” he said. “There is nothing whatever to connect Kara with this business and you would only give your husband a great deal of pain. I’ll do the best I can.”
He held out his hand and she grasped it and somehow at that moment there came to T.X. Meredith a new courage, a new faith and a greater determination than ever to solve this troublesome mystery.
He found Mansus waiting for him in a car outside and in a few minutes they were at the scene of the tragedy. A curious little knot of spectators had gathered, looking with morbid interest at the place where the body had been found. There was a local policeman on duty and to him was deputed the ungracious task of warning his fellow villagers to keep their distance. The ground had already been searched very carefully. The two roads crossed almost at right angles and at the corner of the cross thus formed, the hedges were broken, admitting to a field which had evidently been used as a pasture by an adjoining dairy farm. Some rough attempt had been made to close the gap with barbed wire, but it was possible to step over the drooping strands with little or no difficulty. It was to this gap that T.X. devoted his principal attention. All the fields had been carefully examined without result, the four drains which were merely the connecting pipes between ditches at the sides of the crossroads had been swept out and only the broken hedge and its tangle of bushes behind offered any prospect of the new search being rewarded.
“Hullo!” said Mansus, suddenly, and stooping down he picked up something from the ground.
T.X. took it in his hand.
It was unmistakably a revolver cartridge. He marked the spot where it had been found by jamming his walking stick into the ground and continued his search, but without success.
“I am afraid we shall find nothing more here,” said T.X., after half an hour’s further search. He stood with his chin in his hand, a frown on his face.
“Mansus,” he said, “suppose there were three people here, Lexman, the money lender and a third witness. And suppose this third person for some reason unknown was interested in what took place between the two men and he wanted to watch unobserved. Isn’t it likely that if he, as I think, instigated the meeting, he would have chosen this place because this particular hedge gave him a chance of seeing without being seen?”
Mansus thought.
“He could have seen just as well from either of the other hedges, with less chance of detection,” he said, after a long pause.
T.X. grinned.
“You have the makings of a brain,” he said admiringly. “I agree with you. Always remember that, Mansus. That there was one occasion in your life when T.X. Meredith and you thought alike.”
Mansus smiled a little feebly.
“Of course from the point of view of the observer this was the worst place possible, so whoever came here, if they did come here, dropping revolver bullets about, must have chosen the spot because it was get-at-able from another direction. Obviously he couldn’t come down the road and climb in without attracting the attention of the Greek who was waiting for Mr. Lexman. We may suppose there is a gate farther along the road, we may suppose that he entered that gate, came along the field by the side of the hedge and that somewhere between here and the gate, he threw away his cigar.”
“His cigar!” said Mansus in surprise.
“His cigar,” repeated T.X., “if he was alone, he would keep his cigar alight until the very last moment.”
“He might have thrown it into the road,” said Mansus.
“Don’t jibber,” said T.X., and led the way along the hedge. From where they stood they could see the gate which led on to the road about a hundred yards further on. Within a dozen yards of that gate, T.X. found what he had been searching for, a half-smoked cigar. It was sodden with rain and he picked it up tenderly.
“A good cigar, if I am any judge,” he said, “cut with a penknife, and smoked through a holder.”
They reached the gate and passed through. Here they were on the road again and this they followed until they reached another cross road that to the left inclining southward to the new Eastbourne Road and that to the westward looking back to the Lewes-Eastbourne railway. The rain had obliterated much that T.X. was looking for, but presently he found a faint indication of a car wheel.
“This is where she turned and backed,” he said, and walked slowly to the road on the left, “and this is where she stood. There is the grease from her engine.”
He stooped down and moved forward in the attitude of a Russian dancer, “And here are the wax matches which the chauffeur struck,” he counted, “one, two, three, four, five, six, allow three for each cigarette on a boisterous night like last night, that makes three cigarettes. Here is a cigarette end, Mansus, Gold Flake brand,” he said, as he examined it carefully, “and a Gold Flake brand smokes for twelve minutes in normal weather, but about eight minutes in gusty weather. A car was here for about twentyfour minutes — what do you think of that, Mansus?”
“A good bit of reasoning, T.X.,” said the other calmly, “if it happens to be the car you’re looking for.”
“I am looking for any old car,” said T.X.
He found no other trace of car wheels though he carefully followed up the little lane until it reached the main road. After that it was hopeless to search because rain had fallen in the night and in the early hours of the morning. He drove his assistant to the railway station in time to catch the train at one o’clock to London.
“You will go straight to Cadogan Square and arrest the chauffeur of Mr. Kara,” he said.