"Are you anything of a betting man?" he asked.
"Naught much-odd half-crown now and then," replied Polke. "Why?"
"Lay you a fiver to a shilling Miss Fosdyke won't see anything of Horbury's-nor get any information!" answered Starmidge, more slyly than ever. "She won't be allowed!"
Polke gave the detective a shrewd look.
"I dare say!" he said. "Whew!-it's a queer game, this, Starmidge. First moves of it, anyway."
"Let's get on to the next," counselled Starmidge. "Where's this journalist?"
Mr. Parkinson, a high-browed, shock-headed young man, who combined the duties of editor and reporter with those of advertisement canvasser and business manager of the one four-page sheet which Scarnham boasted, received the two police officials in a small office in which there was just room for himself and his visitors to squeeze themselves.
"I was about coming round to you, Mr. Polke," he said. "Can you let me have the facts of this Horbury affair?"
"We've come to save you the trouble," answered Polke. "This gentleman-Detective-Sergeant Starmidge, of the C.I.D., Mr. Parkinson-wants to have a bit of a transaction with you."
Parkinson eyed the famous detective with as much wonder as Neale had felt on the previous evening.
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Pleased to meet you, sir-I've heard of you. What can I do for you, Mr. Starmidge?"
"Can you wire-at our expense-a full account of all that I shall tell you, to a London Press agency that'll distribute it amongst all the London papers at once?" asked Starmidge. "You know what I mean?"
"I can," answered Parkinson. "And principal provincials, too. It'll be in all the evening papers this very night, sir."
"Then come on," said Starmidge, dropping into a chair by the editorial desk. "I'll tell you all about it."
Polke listened admiringly while the detective carefully narrated the facts of what was henceforth to be known as the Scarnham Mystery. Nothing appeared to have escaped Starmidge's observation and attention. And he was surprised to find that the detective's presentation of the case was not that which he himself would have made. Starmidge did no more than refer to the fact that Lady Ellersdeane's jewels were missing: he said nothing whatever about the rumours that some of Chestermarke's securities were said to have disappeared. But on one point he laid great stress-the visit of the little gentleman with the large grey moustache to the Station Hotel at Scarnham on the evening whereon John Horbury disappeared, and to the fragments of conversation overheard by Mrs. Pratt. He described the stranger as Mrs. Pratt had described him, and appealed to him, if he read this news, to come forward at once. Finally, he supplemented his account with a full description of John Horbury, carefully furnished by the united efforts of Polke and Parkinson, and wound up by announcing the five hundred pounds reward.
"All over England, tonight, and tomorrow morning, sir," said Parkinson, gathering up his copy. "Now I'm off to wire this at once. Great engine the Press, Mr. Starmidge!-I dare say you find it very useful in your walk of life."
Starmidge followed Polke into the Market-Place again.
"Now for that reward bill," he said. "I don't set so much store by it, but it's got to be done. It all helps. There's Miss Fosdyke-going to have a try at her bit."
He pointed down the broad pavement with an amused smile. Miss Betty Fosdyke, attired in her smartest, was just entering the portals of Chestermarke's Bank. CHAPTER X
THE CHESTERMARKE WAY
Mrs. Carswell herself opened the door of the bank-house in response to Miss Fosdyke's ring. She started a little at sight of the visitor, and her eyes glanced involuntarily and, as it seemed to Betty, with something of uneasiness, at the side-door which led into the Chestermarkes' private parlour. And Betty immediately interpreted the meaning of that glance.
"No, Mrs. Carswell," she said, before the housekeeper could speak, "I haven't come to call on either Mr. Gabriel or Mr. Joseph Chestermarke-I came to see you. Mayn't I come in?"
Mrs. Carswell stepped back into the hall, and Betty followed. For a moment the two looked at each other. And in the elder woman's eyes there was still the same expression, and it was with obvious uncertainty, if not with positive suspicion, that she waited.
"You have not heard anything of Mr. Horbury?" asked Betty, who was not slow to notice the housekeeper's demeanour.
"Nothing!" replied Mrs. Carswell, with a shake of the head. "Nothing at all! No one has told me anything."
Betty turned to the door of the dining-room.
"Very well," she said. "I dare say you know, Mrs. Carswell, that I am my uncle's nearest relation. Now I want to go through his papers and things. I want to see his desk-his last letters-anything-and everything there is."
She laid a hand on the door-and Mrs. Carswell suddenly found her tongue.
"Oh, miss!" she said, in a low, frightened voice, "you can't! That room's locked up. So is the study-where all Mr. Horbury's papers are. So is his bedroom. Mr. Joseph Chestermarke locked them all up last night-he has the keys. Nobody's to go into them-nor into any other room-without his permission."
Betty's cheeks began to glow, and an obstinate look to settle about her lips.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "But I think I shall have something to say to that, Mrs. Carswell. Ask Mr. Joseph Chestermarke to come here a minute."
The housekeeper shrunk back.
"I daren't, Miss Fosdyke!" she answered. "It would be as much as my place was worth!"
"I thought you were my uncle's housekeeper," suggested Betty. "Aren't you? Or are you employed by Mr. Joseph Chestermarke? Come, now?"
Mrs. Carswell hesitated. It was very evident that she was afraid. But of what?
"So far as I know," continued Betty, "this is my uncle's house, and you're his servant. Am I right or wrong, Mrs. Carswell?"
"Right as regards my being engaged by Mr. Horbury," replied the housekeeper. "But the house belongs to-them! Mr. Horbury-so I understand-had the use of it-it was reckoned as part of his salary. It's their house, miss."
"But, anyway, my uncle's effects are his-and I mean to see them," insisted Betty. "If you won't call Mr. Joseph-or Mr. Gabriel-out, I shall walk into the bank at the front door, and demand to see them. You'd better let one of them know I'm here, Mrs. Carswell-I'm not going to stand any nonsense."
Mrs. Carswell hesitated a little, but in the end she knocked timidly at the private door. And presently Joseph Chestermarke opened it, looked out, saw Betty, and came into the hall. He offered his visitor no polite greeting, and for once he forgot his accustomed sneering smile. Instead, he gave the housekeeper a swift look which sent her away in haste, and he turned to Betty with an air of annoyance.
"Yes?" he asked abruptly. "What do you want?"
"I want to go into my uncle's house-into his rooms," said Betty. "I am his next-of-kin-I wish to examine his papers."
"You can't!" answered Joseph. "We haven't examined them ourselves yet."
"What right have you to examine them?" demanded Betty.
"Every right!" retorted Joseph.
"Not his private belongings!" she said firmly.
"This is our house-you're not going into it," declared Joseph. "Nobody's going into it-without our permission."
"We'll see about that, Mr. Joseph Chestermarke!" replied Betty. "If-supposing-my uncle is dead, I've the right to examine anything he's left. I insist upon it! I insist on seeing his papers, looking through his desk. And at once!"
"No!" said Joseph. "Nothing of the sort. We don't know that you've any right. We don't know that you're his next-of-kin. We're not-legally-aware that you're his niece. You say you are-but we don't know it-as a matter of real fact. You'd better go away."
Betty's cheeks flamed hotly and her eyes flashed.