THE LEATHER BOX
Whether Spargo was to that his would him of the he wanted was a which he to himself. That a good many thousands of beings must have set on John Marbury the hours which Spargo set in that was certain; the problem was—What particular owner or owners of a pair or of many of those would him? Why should they him? Walters and his wife had to him; Criedir had to him; so had Myerst; so had William Webster. But a past three, when he left the London and Universal Safe Deposit, and a past nine, when he sat by Webster's in the of the House of Commons, nobody to have any of him Mr. Fiskie, the hatter, and he only him faintly, and Marbury had a cloth cap at his shop. At any rate, by of that day, nobody had come with any of him. He must have gone West from Myerst, he his cap at Fiskie's; he must have gone South-West, he up at Westminster. But where else did he go? What did he do? To did he speak? No answer came to these questions.
"That shows," Mr. Ronald Breton, an hour away in Spargo's room at the Watchman at that particular hour which is neither afternoon, men do nothing, "that how a can go about London as if he were an that had into another ant-heap than his own. Nobody notices."
"You'd go and read up a little entomology, Breton," said Spargo. "I don't know much about it myself, but I've a good idea that when an walks into the and of a to which he doesn't he doesn't his by many seconds."
"Well, you know what I mean," said Breton. "London's an ant-heap, isn't it? One more or less doesn't count. This man Marbury must have gone about a tidy those six hours. He'd on a 'bus—almost certain. He'd into a taxi-cab—I think that's much more certain, it would be a to him. He'd want some tea—anyway, he'd be sure to want a drink, and he'd turn in to one or the other. He'd in shops—these Colonials always do. He'd go to his dinner. He'd—but what's the use of in this case?"
"A up of platitudes," answered Spargo.
"What I is," Breton, "that of people must have him, and yet it's now hours and hours since your paper came out this morning, and nobody's come to tell anything. And when you come to think of it, why should they? Who'd an ordinary man in a suit?"
"'An ordinary man in a suit,'" Spargo. "Good line. You haven't any in it, remember. It would make a good cross-heading."
Breton laughed. "You're a chap, Spargo," he said. "Seriously, do you think you're any nearer anything?"
"I'm nearer something with that's done," Spargo answered. "You can't start on a like this without something out of it, you know."
"Well," said Breton, "to me there's not so much in it. Mr.
Aylmore's the why my address was on the body;
Criedir, the stamp-man, has explained—"
Spargo looked up.
"What?" he said sharply.
"Why, the of Marbury's being where he was found," Breton. "Of course, I see it all! Marbury was around Fleet Street; he into Middle Temple Lane, late as it was, just to see where old Cardlestone out, and he was set upon and done for. The thing's plain to me. The only thing now is to who did it."
"Yes, that's it," Spargo. "That's it." He over the of the which on his desk. "By the by," he said, looking up with some interest, "the is at eleven o'clock tomorrow morning. Are you going?"
"I shall go," answered Breton. "What's more, I'm going to take Miss Aylmore and her sister. As the were over at the sitting, and as there'll be nothing but this new tomorrow, and as they've been in a coroner's court——"
"Mr. Aylmore'll be the tomorrow," Spargo.
"I he'll be able to tell a more than he told—me."
Breton his shoulders.
"I don't see that there's much more to tell," he said. "But," he added, with a laugh, "I you want some more good copy, eh?"
Spargo at his watch, rose, and up his hat. "I'll tell you what I want," he said. "I want to know who John Marbury was. That would make good copy. Who he was—twenty—twenty-five—forty years ago. Eh?"
"And you think Mr. Aylmore can tell?" asked Breton.
"Mr. Aylmore," answered Spargo as they walked the door, "is the only person I have met so who has that he John Marbury in the—past. But he didn't tell me—much. Perhaps he'll tell the and his jury—more. Now, I'm off Breton—I've an appointment."
And Breton to his own way out, Spargo away, jumped into a taxi-cab and to the London and Universal Safe Deposit. At the of its he Rathbury him.
"Well?" said Spargo, as he out: "How is it?"
"It's all right," answered Rathbury. "You can be present: I got the necessary permission. As there are no relations known, there'll only be one or two officials and you, and the Safe Deposit people, and myself. Come on—it's about time."
"It sounds," Spargo, "like an exhumation."
Rathbury laughed. "Well, we're going to up a man's secrets," he said. "At least, we may be going to do so. In my opinion, Mr. Spargo, we'll some in this leather box."
Spargo no answer. They entered the office, to be into a room where were already assembled Mr. Myerst, a who out to be the of the company, and the officials of Rathbury had spoken. And in another moment Spargo the that the company keys to all safes, and that the proper having been from the proper authorities, those present would now to the safe by the late Mr. John Marbury, and take from it the property which he himself had deposited there, a small leather box, which they would to that room and to be opened in each other's presence.
It to Spargo that there was an of and he and his fellow-processionists came to the safe so rented by the late Mr. John Marbury, now deceased. And at of it, he saw that it was so small an that it to that it anything of any importance. In fact, it looked to be no more than a plain locker, one many in a small room: it Spargo of the in which, in his days, he had his personal and the tarts, rolls, and in from the tuck-shop. Marbury's name had been newly painted upon it; the paint was dry. But when the door—the door, as it were, of this temple of mystery, had been opened by the chairman, a door of was revealed, and still in the of the beholders.
"The key, Mr. Myerst, if you please," the chairman, "the key!"
Myerst, who was as as his principal, produced a curious-looking key: the his hand as if he were about to a battleship: the door slowly back. And there, in a two-foot square cavity, the leather box.
It Spargo as they to the secretary's room that the more funereal-like than ever. First walked the chairman, with the high official, who had the necessary from the all-powerful quarter; then came Myerst the box: two other gentlemen, legal lights, with official and police interests; Rathbury and Spargo up the rear. He something of his to the detective; Rathbury a understanding.
"Let's we're going to see—something!" he said.
In the secretary's room a man waited who touched his as the of the entered. Myerst set the box on the table: the man a of keys: the other members of the round.
"As we naturally no key to this box," the in tones, "it our to professional in opening it. Jobson!"
He a hand, and the man of the keys with alacrity. He the lock of the box with a eye; it was easy to see that he was to upon it. While he matters, Spargo looked at the box. It was much what it had been to him as being; a small, square box of old cow-hide, very made, much and tarnished, with a from the lid, and having the of having been away for many a long day.
There was a click, a spring: Jobson back.
"That's it, if you please, sir," he said.
The to the high official.
"If you would be good to open the box, sir," he said. "Our is now concluded."
As the high official his hand on the the other men with necks and eyes. The was lifted: somebody deeply. And Spargo pushed his own and nearer.
The box was empty!
Empty, as anything that can be empty is empty! Spargo: there was nothing in it. They were all into the of a plain, time-worn little receptacle, out with old-fashioned stuff, such as our Mid-Victorian fore-fathers were familiar with, and containing—nothing.
"God my soul!" the chairman. "This is—dear me!—why, there is nothing in the box!"
"That," the high official, drily, "appears to be obvious."
The looked at the secretary.
"I the box was valuable, Mr. Myerst," he said, with the half-injured air of a man who himself to have been of an treat. "Valuable!"
Myerst coughed.
"I can only repeat what I have already said, Sir Benjamin," he answered. "The—er late Mr. Marbury spoke of the deposit as being of great value to him; he permitted it out of his hand until he it in the safe. He appeared to it as of the value."
"But we from the of Mr. Criedir, to the Watchman newspaper, that it was full of papers and—and other articles," said the chairman. "Criedir saw papers in it about an hour it was here."
Myerst spread out his hands.
"I can only repeat what I have said, Sir Benjamin," he answered. "I know nothing more."
"But why should a man deposit an empty box?" the chairman. "I—"
The high official interposed.
"That the box is empty is certain," he observed. "Did you it yourself, Mr. Myerst?"
Myerst in a fashion.
"I have already observed, sir, that from the time the entered this room until the moment he the box in the safe which he rented, the box was out of his hands," he replied.
Then there was silence. At last the high official to the chairman.
"Very well," he said. "We've the enquiry. Rathbury, take the box away with you and lock it up at the Yard."
So Spargo out with Rathbury and the box; and saw excellent, if mystifying, material for the article which had already the daily of his paper.
