THE MAN FROM THE SAFE DEPOSIT
Spargo Rathbury alone in a small, which was for the business-like of its and its air of secrecy. There was a plain writing-table and a hard chair or two; a map of London, much discoloured, on the wall; a of in the world of crime, and a number of well-thumbed books of reference. The himself, when Spargo was in to him, was seated at the table, an cigar, and in the of on of paper. He looked up as the journalist entered, and out his hand.
"Well, I you on what you in the Watchman this morning," he said. "Made good reading, I thought. They did right to let you that job. Going through with it now, I suppose, Mr. Spargo?"
Spargo into the chair nearest to Rathbury's right hand. He a cigarette, and having out a of smoke, his in a fashion which that the might his question answered in the affirmative.
"Look here," he said. "We settled yesterday, didn't we, that you and I are to ourselves partners, as it were, in this job? That's all right," he continued, as Rathbury very quietly. "Very well—have you any progress?"
Rathbury put his thumbs in the of his and, in his chair, his head.
"Frankly, I haven't," he replied. "Of course, there's a being done in the official-routine way. We've men out making enquiries. We're about Marbury's to England. All that we know up to now is that he was a on a which at Southampton in with what he told those people at the Anglo-Orient, that he left the ship in the way and was to take the train to town—as he did. That's all. There's nothing in that. We've to Melbourne for any news of him from there. But I little from that."
"All right," said Spargo. "And—what are you doing—you, yourself?
Because, if we're to facts, I must know what my partner's after.
Just now, you to be—drawing."
Rathbury laughed.
"Well, to tell you the truth," he said, "when I want to work out, I come into this room—it's quiet, as you see—and I anything on paper while I think. I was on my next step, and—"
"Do you see it?" asked Spargo, quickly.
"Well—I want to the man who with Marbury to that hotel," Rathbury. "It to me—"
Spargo his at his fellow-contriver.
"I've him," he said. "That's what I that article for—to him. I it would him. I've had any in your of work, but I that article would him. And it has got him."
Rathbury the journalist a look of admiration.
"Good!" he said. "And—who is he?"
"I'll tell you the story," answered Spargo, "and in a summary. This a man named Webster, a farmer, a visitor to London, came to me at the office, and said that being at the House of Commons last night he a meeting Marbury and a man who was a Member of Parliament, and saw them go away together. I him an of of the present members, and he the portrait of one of them as the man in question. I took the portrait to the Anglo-Orient Hotel—Mrs. Walters also at once it as that of the man who came to the hotel with Marbury, stopped with him a while in his room, and left with him. The man is Mr. Stephen Aylmore, the for Brookminster."
Rathbury his in a whistle.
"I know him!" he said. "Of course—I Mrs. Walters's now. But his is a familiar type—tall, grey-bearded, well-dressed. Um!—well, we'll have to see Mr. Aylmore at once."
"I've him," said Spargo. "Naturally! For you see, Mrs. Walters gave me a more evidence. This they a diamond on the of Number 20, and after it was the waiter who took the drinks up to Marbury and his guest that night that when he entered the room the two were looking at a paper full of objects. So then I on to see Mr. Aylmore. You know Breton, the barrister?—you met him with me, you remember?"
"The name and address were on Marbury," Rathbury. "I remember."
"Breton is to Aylmore's daughter," Spargo. "Breton took me to Aylmore's club. And Aylmore a plain, account of the which he's me to print. It up a of things. Aylmore Marbury over twenty years ago. He of him. They met in the of the House on the the murder. Marbury told him that he wanted his about those things, Australian diamonds. He with him to his hotel and a while with him; then they walked out together as as Waterloo Bridge, where Aylmore left him and home. Further, the of paper is for. Marbury wanted the address of a solicitor; Aylmore didn't know of one but told Marbury that if he called on Breton, he'd know, and would put him in the way to one. Marbury Breton's address down. That's Aylmore's story. But it's got an addition. Aylmore says that when he left Marbury, Marbury had on him a quantity of those diamonds in a wash-leather bag, a of gold, and a breast-pocket full of and papers. Now—there was nothing on him when he was in Middle Temple Lane."
Spargo stopped and a fresh cigarette.
"That's all I know," he said. "What do you make of it?"
Rathbury in his chair in his and hard at the above him.
"Don't know," he said. "It up to a point, certainly. Aylmore and Marbury at Waterloo Bridge—very late. Waterloo Bridge is well next door to the Temple. But—how did Marbury into the Temple, unobserved? We've every enquiry, and we can't him in any way as that movement. There's a for his going there in the of paper Breton's address, but a Colonial would know that no was done in the Temple at midnight, eh?"
"Well," said Spargo, "I've of one or two things. He may have been one of those men who like to around at night. He may have seen—he would see—plenty of lights in the Temple at that hour; he may have in unobserved—it's possible, it's possible. I once had a moonlight in the Temple myself after midnight, and had no about walking in and out, either. But—if Marbury was for the of what he had on him—how did he meet with his or in there? Criminals don't about Middle Temple Lane."
The his head. He up his pencil and making more hieroglyphics.
"What's your theory, Mr. Spargo?" he asked suddenly. "I you've got one."
"Have you?" asked Spargo, bluntly.
"Well," returned Rathbury, hesitatingly, "I hadn't, up to now. But now—now, after what you've told me, I think I can make one. It to me that after Marbury left Aylmore he about by himself, that he was into the Temple, and was there and robbed. There are a of and outs, and in that old spot, Mr. Spargo, and the murderer, if he his ground well, easily himself until he away in the morning. He might be a man who had to or offices—think how easy it would be for such a man, having once killed and his victim, to for hours afterwards? For we know, the man who Marbury may have been twenty of you when you saw his that morning. Eh?"
Before Spargo reply to this an official entered the room and a in the detective's ear.
"Show him in at once," said Rathbury. He to Spargo as the man the room and significantly. "Here's somebody wants to tell something about the Marbury case," he remarked. "Let's it'll be news hearing."
Spargo in his fashion.
"It me that you've only got to an public in order to news," he said. "The thing is to it when you've got it. Who's this, now?"
The official had returned with a dapper-looking in a frock-coat and hat, upon him the of the city man, who Rathbury with and Spargo with a glance, and being seated to the as the person he to with.
"I that you are the officer in of the Marbury case," he observed. "I I can give you some valuable in respect to that. I read the account of the in the Watchman newspaper this morning, and saw the portrait of the man there, and I was at to go to the Watchman office with my information, but I to approach the police of the Press, the police as being more—more responsible."
"Much to you, sir," said Rathbury, with a at Spargo.
"Whom have I the of——"
"My name," the visitor, out and a card, "is
Myerst—Mr. E.P. Myerst, Secretary of the London and Universal Safe
Deposit Company. I may, I suppose, speak with confidence," continued
Mr. Myerst, with a side-glance at Spargo. "My information
is—confidential."
Rathbury his and put his together.
"You may speak with every confidence, Mr. Myerst," he answered. "If what you have to tell has any on the Marbury case, it will have to be in public, you know, sir. But at present it will be as private."
"It has a very on the case, I should say," Mr. Myerst. "Yes, I should say so. The is that on June 21st at about—to be precise—three o'clock in the afternoon, a stranger, who gave the name of John Marbury, and his present address as the Anglo-Orient Hotel, Waterloo, called at our establishment, and asked if he rent a small safe. He to me that he to deposit in such a safe a small leather box—which, by the by, was of appearance—that he had with him. I him a safe such as he wanted, him of the rent, and of the of the place, and he the safe, paid the rent for one year in advance, and deposited his leather box—an of about a square—there and then. After that, having a or two about the of London, which, I him to say, he had not for a great many years, he took his key and his departure. I think there can be no about this being the Mr. Marbury who was murdered."
"None at all, I should say, Mr. Myerst," said Rathbury. "And I'm much to you for here. Now you might tell me a little more, sir. Did Marbury tell you anything about the of the box?"
"No. He that he the to be taken of it," the secretary.
"Didn't give you any hint as to what was in it?" asked Rathbury.
"None. But he was very particular to himself that it not be burnt, burgled, otherwise molested," Mr. Myerst. "He appeared to be when he that it was for anyone but himself to take his property from his safe."
"Ah!" said Rathbury, at Spargo. "So he would, no doubt. And
Marbury himself, sir, now? How did he you?"
Mr. Myerst this question.
"Mr. Marbury me," he answered at last, "as a man who had places. And he made, what I will term, a remark. About—in fact, about his leather box."
"His leather box?" said Rathbury. "And what was it, sir?"
"This," the secretary. "'That box,' he said, 'is safe now. But it's been safer. It's been buried—and deep-down, too—for many and many a year!'"
