The Stowmarket Mystery Part 16

He pulled out his watch. The man dashed along the corridor, much to the amazement of a pa.s.sing chamber-maid. He returned, bearing the bag in triumph.

"Seventeen seconds! By the law of equity you are ent.i.tled to eighteenpence."

Brett produced the money and led the gaping waiter out of the room, promptly shutting the door on him.

"He's a rum gentleman that," said the waiter to the girl.

"He must be, to make you hurry in such fas.h.i.+on. Why, you wouldn't have gone faster for a free pint."

"I consider that an impertinent observation." With tilted nose the man turned and cannoned against Hume.

"Here!" cried the latter. "Run to the stables and get me a horse and trap.

If they are ready in two minutes I'll give you two s.h.i.+llings."

"Talk about makin' money!" gasped the waiter, as he flew downstairs, "this is coinin'. But, by gum, they _are_ in a hurry."

Brett unlocked his bag and took from it the book of newspaper cuttings.

"Ah!" he said, after a rapid glance at his concluding notes. "I thought so. Here is what I wrote when the affair was fresh in my mind:--

"'Why were no inquiries made at Stowmarket to learn what, if any, strangers were in the town on New Year's Eve?

"'Most minute investigations should be pursued with reference to Margaret Hume-Frazer's friends and a.s.sociates.

"'Has Fergusson ever been asked if his master received any visitors on the day of the murder or during the preceding week? If so, who were they?

"What is the precise purpose of the knife attached to the j.a.panese sword?

It appears to be too small to be used as a dagger. In any case, the sword scabbard would be an unsuitable place to carry an auxiliary weapon, to European ideas.'

"Now, I wonder if Fergusson is still at the Hall? The other matters must wait."

Winter returned about the same time as Hume. Brett and the latter dressed for dinner, and the adroit detective, not to be beaten, borrowed a dress-suit from the landlord, after telegraphing to London for his own clothes.

During the progress of the meal the little party scrupulously refrained from discussing business, an excellent habit always insisted on by Brett.

They had reached the stage of coffee and cigars when a waiter entered and whispered something to the police officer.

"'Rabbit Jack' is here," exclaimed Winter.

"Capital! Tell him to wait."

When the servant had left, Brett detailed his proposed test. He and Hume would go into the hotel garden, after donning overcoats and deer-stalker hats, for Hume told him that both his cousin and he himself had worn that style of headgear.

They would stand, with their faces hidden, beneath the trees, and Winter was to bring the poacher towards them, after asking him to pick out the man who most resembled the person he had seen standing in the avenue at Beechcroft.

The test was most successful. "Rabbit Jack" instantly selected Hume.

"It's either the chap hisself or his dead spit," was the poacher's dictum.

Then he was cautioned to keep his own counsel as to the incident, and he went away to get gloriously drunk on half-a-sovereign.

In the seclusion of the sitting-room, Winter related the outcome of his inquiries. They were negative.

Landlords and barmaids remembered a few commercial travellers by referring to old lodgers, but they one and all united in the opinion that New Year's Eve was a most unlikely time for the hotels to contain casual visitors.

"I was afraid it would be a wild-goose chase from the start," opined Winter.

"Obviously," replied Brett; "yet ten minutes ago you produced a man who actually watched the murderer for a considerable time that night."

Whilst Winter was searching his wits for a suitable argument, the barrister continued:

"Where is Fergusson now?"

"I can answer that," exclaimed Hume. "He is my father's butler. When Capella came to Beechcroft, the old man wrote and said he could not take orders from an Italian. It was like receiving instructions from a French cook. So my father brought him to Glen Tochan."

"Then your father must send him to London. He may be very useful. I understand he was very many years at Beechcroft?"

"Forty-six, man and boy, as he puts it."

"Write to-morrow and bring him to town. He can stay at your hotel. I will not keep him long; just one conversation--no more. Can you or your father tell me anything else about that sword?"

"I fear not. Admiral Cunningham--"

"I guess I'm the authority there," broke in Winter. "I got to know all about it from Mr. Okasaki."

"And who, pray, is Mr. Okasaki?"

"A j.a.panese gentleman, who came to Ipswich to hear the first trial. He was interested in the case, owing to the curious fact that a murder in a little English village should be committed with such a weapon, so he came down to listen to the evidence. And, by the way, he took a barmaid back with him. There was rather a sensation."

"The j.a.ps are very enterprising. What did he tell you about the sword?"

The detective produced a note-book.

"It is all here," he said, turning over the leaves. "A j.a.panese Samurai, or gentleman, in former days carried two swords, one long blade for use against his enemies, and a shorter one for committing suicide if he was beaten or disgraced. The sword Mr. Hume gave his cousin was a short one, and the knife which accompanied it is called the Ko-Katana, or little sword. As well as I could understand Mr. Okasaki, a j.a.p uses this as a pen-knife, and also as a queer sort of visiting-card. If he slays an enemy he sticks the Ko-Katana between the other fellow's ribs, or into his ear, and leaves it there."

"A P.P.C. card, in fact!"

"You always have some joke against the P.C.'s," growled the detective. "I never--"

"You have just made a most excellent one yourself. Please continue, Winter. Your researches are valuable."

"That is all. Would you like to see the Ko-Katana that killed Sir Alan?"

"Yes. Where is it?"

"In the Black Museum at Scotland Yard. I will take you there."

"Thank you. By the way, concerning this man, Okasaki. Supposing we should want any further information from him on this curious topic, can you find him? You say he indulged in some liaison with an Ipswich girl, so I a.s.sume he has not gone back to j.a.pan."