My Strangest Case Part 7

I have often wondered since that I was not ordered back to the Bush there and then. The fact remains, however, that I was not, and thus I was permitted to continue my quest unhindered.

Ever since I had first taken the affair in hand I had had one point continually before my eyes. The mere fact that the man had been stabbed in the back seemed to me sufficient proof that the a.s.sa.s.sin was of foreign origin, and that the affair was the outcome of a vendetta, and not the act of an ordinary bloodthirsty crime. The wound, so the doctors informed me, was an extremely deep and narrow one, such as might very well have been made by a stiletto. a.s.suming my supposition to be correct, I returned to the house, and once more overhauled the dead man's effects. There was little or nothing there, however, to help me.

If he had laid himself out to conceal the ident.i.ty of his enemy he could scarcely have done it more effectually. Baffled in one direction, I turned for a.s.sistance to another. In other words, I interviewed his left-hand neighbour, a lady with whom I had already had some slight acquaintance. Our conversation took place across the fence that separated the two properties.

"Do you happen to be aware," I asked, when we touched upon the one absorbing topic, "whether the unfortunate gentleman had ever been in Europe?"

"He had been almost everywhere," the woman replied. "I believe he was a sailor at one time, and I have often heard him boast that he knew almost every seaport in the world."

"I suppose you never heard him say whether he had lived in Italy?" I inquired.

"He used to mention the country now and again," she said. "If it was a fine morning he would sometimes remark that it was a perfect Italian sky. But nothing more than that."

I was about to thank her and move away when she stopped me with an exclamation.

"Wait one moment," she said, "now I come to think of it, I remember that about three months ago he received a letter from Italy. I'll tell you how I came to know it. I was standing in the front verandah when the postman brought up the letters. He gave me mine, and then I noticed that the top letter he held in his hand had a foreign stamp. Now, my little boy, Willie, collects stamps; he's tired of them now, but that doesn't matter. At that time, however, he was so taken up with them that he could talk of nothing else. Well, as I was saying, I noticed this stamp, and asked the postman what country it came from. He told me it was from Italy, and that the letter was for the gentleman next door. 'The next time I see him,' I said to myself, 'I'll ask him for that stamp for Willie.' I had my opportunity that self-same minute, for, just as I was going down the garden there to where my husband was doing a little cabbage-planting, he came into his front verandah. He took the letter from the postman, and as he looked at the envelope, I saw him give a start of surprise. His face was as white as death when he opened it, and he had no sooner glanced at it than he gave a sort of stagger, and if it hadn't been for the verandah-rail I believe he'd have fallen. He was so taken aback that I thought he was going to faint. I was standing where you may be now, and I called out to him to know whether I could do anything for him. I liked the man, you see, and pitied him for his loneliness. What's more, he and my husband had always been on friendly terms together. Well, as I was going on to say, he didn't answer, but pulling himself together, went into the house and shut the door. When next I saw him he was quite himself again."

At last the case was beginning to look more hopeful. I thought I could see a faint spark of light ahead.

"Did you happen to say anything about this to the other detectives when they were making inquiries after the crime had been committed?" I asked, with a little anxiety.

"No, I did not," she replied. "I never gave it a thought. It was such a long time before the murder, you see, and to tell the truth I had forgotten all about it. It was only when you began to talk of Italy and of his having been there, that I remembered it. You don't mean to say you think that letter had something to do with the man's death?"

"That is a very difficult question to answer," I observed. "I think, however, it is exceedingly likely it may have had some connection with it. At any rate we shall see. Now will you think for one moment, and see whether you can tell me the exact day on which that letter arrived?"

She considered for a few moments before she answered.

"I believe I can, if you will give me time to turn it over in my mind,"

she said. "My husband was at home that morning, and Willie, that's my little boy, was very much upset because I would not let him stay away from school to help his father in the garden. Yes, sir, I can tell you the exact date. It was on a Monday, and the third of June."

I thanked her for the information she had given me, and then went off to see what use it was likely to prove to me. The letter from Italy had been delivered in Brisbane on the third of June. The murder was committed on the night of the nineteenth of July, or, in other words, forty-six days later. With all speed I set off to the office of the Royal Mail Steams.h.i.+p Company, where I asked to be shown their pa.s.senger-list for the vessel that arrived on the nineteenth of July.

When it was handed to me I scanned it eagerly in the hope of discovering an Italian name. There were at least a dozen in the steerage, and one in the first-cla.s.s. I was relieved, however, to find that all but the first-cla.s.s pa.s.sengers had disembarked at Cairns, further up the coast.

The name of the exception was Steffano Gairdi, and he was a pa.s.senger from Naples.

"You can't tell me anything more definite about this gentleman, I suppose?" I said to the clerk who was attending to me. "Did you happen to see him?"

"He was in here only this morning," the man replied.

"Here, when?" I inquired, with such surprise that the other clerks looked up from their books at me in astonishment. "Do you mean to tell me that the gentleman I am asking about was here this morning?"

"I do," he replied. "He came in to book his return pa.s.sage to Italy. He only undertook the voyage for the sake of his health."

"Then it's just possible you may know where he is staying now?" I asked, not however with much hope of success. "If you can tell me, I shall be under an obligation to you."

"I can tell you that also," the young man answered. "He is staying at the Continental Hotel in Adelaide Street."

"I am more obliged to you than I can say," I returned. "You have rendered me a great service."

"Don't mention it," said the clerk. "I am very glad to have been able to give you the information you required."

I thanked him once more and left the office. Now if Mr. Steffano Gairdi happened to have a cut or the mark of one upon the inside of his left hand, I felt that I should be within measurable distance of the end of the affair. But how was I to get a view of his hands? If he were the man I wanted, he would probably be on his guard, and he had already proved himself to be sufficiently acute to make me careful how I went to work with him. I had no time to lose, however. The next boat sailed for Europe in two days' time, and he had booked his pa.s.sage in her. For that reason alone, I knew that I must be quick if I wished to acc.u.mulate sufficient evidence against him to justify the issue of a warrant for his arrest. I accordingly walked on to the Continental Hotel, and asked to see the manager, with whom I had the good fortune to be acquainted. I was shown into his private office, and presently he joined me there. He was familiar with my connection with the police force, and laughingly remarked that he hoped I had not called upon him in my official capacity.

"As a matter of fact that is just what I am doing," I replied. "I want you to give me some information concerning one of your guests. I believe I am right in saying that you have an Italian gentleman, named Gairdi, staying at your hotel?"

"That is certainly so," he admitted. "I hope there is nothing against him?"

"It is rather soon to say that," I said. "I am suspicious of the man--and I want to ask you a few questions concerning him."

"As many as you like," he returned. "I cannot say, however, that I know very much about him. He has been up the country, and only returned to Brisbane yesterday."

"Is this the first occasion on which he has stayed here?"

"No," the manager replied. "He was here nearly a month ago for a couple of nights, and he had had his room reserved for him while he was away."

"Perhaps you can tell me if he slept here on the night of July the nineteenth?"

"If you will excuse me for a moment I can soon let you know," said the manager, and then crossed the room to go into an outer office. A few moments later he returned and nodded his head. "Yes, he slept here that night, and went to Toowoomba next day."

"One more question, and then I have done. Did you happen to notice that night, or before he left next day, whether he had hurt his left hand?"

"It's strange that you should speak of that," said the manager. "He had cut his left hand rather badly with a broken gla.s.s, so he told us. We gave him some sticking-plaster to do it up with."

"That will do beautifully," I said. "And now perhaps you will add to the kindness you have already done me by letting me see the gentleman in question. I don't want to speak to him, but I want to impress his countenance upon my mind."

"Why not go into lunch?" the manager inquired. "You will then be able to study him to your heart's content, without his being any the wiser.

You're not in uniform, and no one would take you for a detective."

"An excellent idea," I replied. "By the way, while I am upon the subject, I suppose I can rely upon your saying nothing about the matter to him, or to any one else?"

"You may depend upon me implicitly," he answered. "I should be scarcely likely to do so, for my own sake. I trust the matter is not a very serious one. I should not like to have any scandal in the hotel."

"Well, between ourselves," I observed, "I am afraid it is rather a serious affair. But you may be sure I will do all I can to prevent your name or the hotel's being mixed up in it."

Then, as he had proposed, I followed him into the dining-room and took my place at a small table near the window. At that adjoining me, a tall, swarthy individual, with close-cropped hair, an Italian without doubt, was seated. He glanced at me as I took my place, and then continued his meal as if he were unaware of my presence in the room.

By the time I had finished my lunch I had thoroughly impressed his face and personality upon my memory, and felt sure that, if necessary, I should know him anywhere again. My labours, however, were by no means over; in fact they were only just beginning. What I had against him so far would scarcely be sufficient to justify our applying for a warrant for his arrest. If I wanted to bring the crime home to him, it would be necessary for me to connect him with it more closely than I had yet done. But how to do this in the short s.p.a.ce of time that was at my disposal I could not see. The murderer, as I have already said, was no ordinary one, and had laid his plans with the greatest care. He had taken away the knife, and in all probability had got rid of it long since. No one had seen him enter the house on the night in question, nor had any one seen him leave it again. I was nearly beside myself with vexation. To be so near my goal, and yet not be able to reach it, was provoking beyond endurance. But my lucky star was still in the ascendant, and good fortune was to favour me after all.

As I have already observed, when the crime had become known, the permanent detective force had been most a.s.siduous in the attentions they had given it. The only piece of valuable evidence, however, that they had been able to acc.u.mulate, was a footprint on a flower-bed near the centre of the yard, and another in the hall of the house itself. Now it was definitely settled, by a careful comparison of these imprints, that the murderer, whoever he might have been, wore his boots down considerably on the left heel, and on the inside. Now, as every bootmaker will tell you, while the outer is often affected in this way, the inner side seldom is. I noticed, however, that this was the case with the man I suspected. The heel of his left boot was very much worn down and on the inside. The right, however, was intact.

On leaving the Continental Hotel, I made my way to the Police Commissioner's office, obtained an interview with him, and placed the evidence I had gleaned before him. He was good enough to express his approval of my endeavours, but was doubtful whether the case against the Italian was strong enough yet to enable us to definitely bring the crime home to the man.

"At any rate it will justify our issuing a warrant for his arrest," he said, "and that had better be done with as little delay as possible.

Otherwise he will be out of the country."

A warrant was immediately procured and an officer was detailed to accompany me in case I should need his a.s.sistance. When we reached the Continental Hotel I inquired for Senor Gairdi, only to be informed that he had left the hotel soon after lunch.

"It is only what I expected," I said to my companion. "His suspicions are aroused, and he is going to try and give us the slip."

"I think not," said the manager. "I fancy you will find that he is on board the steamer. You must remember that she sails at daybreak."