Dope Page 7

  CHAPTER VII. FURTHER EVIDENCE

  The examination of Quentin Gray was three times interrupted by telephonemessages from Vine Street; and to the unsatisfactory character of thesethe growing irascibility of Chief Inspector Kerry bore testimony. Thenthe divisional surgeon arrived, and Burton incurred the wrath of theChief Inspector by deserting his post to show the doctor upstairs.

  "If inspired idiocy can help the law," shouted Kerry, "the man whodid this job is as good as dead!" He turned his fierce gaze in Gray'sdirection. "Thank you, sir. I need trouble you no further."

  "Do you wish me to remain?"

  "No. Inspector Whiteleaf, see these two gentlemen past the Sergeant onduty."

  "But damn it all!" cried Gray, his pent-up emotions at last demanding anoutlet, "I won't submit to your infernal dragooning! Do you realizethat while you're standing here, doing nothing--absolutely nothing--anunhappy woman is--"

  "I realize," snapped Kerry, showing his teeth in canine fashion, "thatif you're not outside in ten seconds there's going to be a cloud of duston the stairs!"

  White with passion, Gray was on the point of uttering other angry andprovocative words when Seton took his arm in a firm grip. "Gray!" hesaid sharply. "You leave with me now or I leave alone."

  The two walked from the room, followed by Whiteleaf. As theydisappeared:

  "Read out all the times mentioned in the last witness's evidence,"directed Kerry, undisturbed by the rencontre.

  Sergeant Coombes smiled rather uneasily, consulting his notebook.

  "'At about half-past six I drove to Bond Street,'" he began.

  "I said the times," rapped Kerry. "I know to what they refer. Just giveme the times as mentioned."

  "Oh," murmured Coombes, "Yes. 'About half-past six.'" He ran his fingerdown the page. "'A quarter to seven.' 'Seven o'clock.' 'Twenty-fiveminutes past seven.' 'Eight o'clock.'"

  "Stop!" said Kerry. "That's enough." He fixed a baleful glance uponGunn, who from a point of the room discreetly distant from the terriblered man was watching with watery eyes. "Who's the smart in all theovercoats?" he demanded.

  "My name is James Gunn," replied this greatly insulted man in a huskyvoice.

  "Who are you? What are you? What are you doing here?"

  "I'm employed by Spinker's Agency, and--"

  "Oh!" shouted Kerry, moving his shoulders. He approached the speaker andglared menacingly into his purple face. "Ho, ho! So you're one of thequeer birds out of that roost, are you? Spinker's Agency! Ah, yes!" Hefixed his gaze now upon the pale features of Brisley. "I've seen youbefore, haven't I?"

  "Yes, Chief Inspector," said Brisley, licking his lips. "Hayward'sHeath. We have been retained by--"

  "You have been retained!" shouted Kerry. "You have!"

  He twisted round upon his heel, facing Monte Irvin. Angry words trembledon his tongue. But at sight of the broken man who sat there alone,haggard, a subtle change of expression crept into his fierce eyes, andwhen he spoke again the high-pitched voice was almost gentle. "You hademployed these men, sir, to watch--"

  He paused, glancing towards Whiteleaf, who had just entered again, andthen in the direction of the inner room where the divisional surgeon wasat work.

  "To watch my wife, Inspector. Thank you, but all the world will knowtomorrow. I might as well get used to it."

  Monte Irvin's pallor grew positively alarming. He swayed suddenlyand extended his hands in a significant groping fashion. Kerry sprangforward and supported him.

  "All right, Inspector--all right," muttered Irvin. "Thank you. It hasbeen a great shock. At first I feared--"

  "You thought your wife had been attacked, I understand? Well--it's notso bad as that, sir. I am going to walk downstairs to the car with you."

  "But there is so much you will want to know--"

  "It can keep until tomorrow. I've enough work in this peep-show here tohave me busy all night. Come along. Lean on my arm."

  Monte Irvin rose unsteadily. He knew that there was cardiac troublein his family, but he had never realized before the meaning of hisheritage. He felt physically ill.

  "Inspector"--his voice was a mere whisper--"have you any theory toexplain--"

  "Mrs. Irvin's disappearance? Don't worry, sir. Without exactly having atheory I think I may say that in my opinion she will turn up presently."

  "God bless you," murmured Irvin, as Kerry assisted him out on to thelanding.

  Inspector Whiteleaf held back the sliding door, the mechanism of whichhad been broken so that the door now automatically remained half closed.

  "Funny, isn't it," said Gunn, as the two disappeared and InspectorWhiteleaf re-entered, "that a man should be so upset about thedisappearance of a woman he was going to divorce?"

  "Damn funny!" said Whiteleaf, whose temper was badly frayed by contactwith Kerry. "I should have a good laugh if I were you."

  He crossed the room, going in to where the surgeon was examining thevictim of this mysterious crime. Gunn stared after him dismally.

  "A person doesn't get much sympathy from the police, Brisley," hedeclared. "That one's almost as bad as him," jerking his thumb in thedirection of the landing.

  Brisley smiled in a somewhat sickly manner.

  "Red Kerry is a holy terror," he agreed, sotto voce, glancing aside towhere Coombes was checking his notes. "Look out! Here he comes."

  "Now," cried Kerry, swinging into the room, "what's the game? Plottingto defeat the ends of justice?"

  He stood with hands thrust in reefer pockets, feet wide apart, glancingfiercely from Brisley to Gunn, and from Gunn back again to Brisley.Neither of the representatives of Spinker's Agency ventured any remark,and:

  "How long have you been watching Mrs. Monte Irvin?" demanded Kerry.

  "Nearly a fortnight," replied Brisley.

  "Got your evidence in writing?"

  "Yes."

  "Up to tonight?"

  "Yes."

  "Dictate to Sergeant Coombes."

  He turned on his heel and crossed to the divan upon which his oilskinoverall was lying. Rapidly he removed his reefer and his waistcoat,folded them, and placed them neatly beside his overall. He retained hisbowler at its jaunty angle.

  A cud of presumably flavorless chewing-gum he deposited in a brass bowl,and from a little packet which he had taken out of his jacket pocket hedrew a fresh piece, redolent of mint. This he put into his mouth, andreturned the packet to its resting-place. A slim, trim figure, he stoodlooking round him reflectively.

  "Now," he muttered, "what about it?"