________________________________________________
_ Six months later T. X. Meredith was laboriously tracing an elusive
line which occurred on an ordnance map of Sussex when the Chief
Commissioner announced himself.
Sir George described T. X. as the most wholesome corrective a
public official could have, and never missed an opportunity of
meeting his subordinate (as he said) for this reason.
"What are you doing there?" he growled.
"The lesson this morning," said T. X. without looking up, "is
maps."
Sir George passed behind his assistant and looked over his
shoulder.
"That is a very old map you have got there," he said.
"1876. It shows the course of a number of interesting little
streams in this neighbourhood which have been lost sight of for
one reason or the other by the gentleman who made the survey at a
later period. I am perfectly sure that in one of these streams I
shall find what I am seeking."
"You haven't given up hope, then, in regard to Lexman?"
"I shall never give up hope," said T. X.,"until I am dead, and
possibly not then."
"Let me see, what did he get - fifteen years!"
"Fifteen years," repeated T. X.,"and a very fortunate man to
escape with his life."
Sir George walked to the window and stared out on to busy
Whitehall.
"I am told you are quite friendly with Kara again."
T. X. made a noise which might be taken to indicate his assent to
the statement.
"I suppose you know that gentleman has made a very heroic attempt
to get you fired," he said.
"I shouldn't wonder," said T. X. "I made as heroic an attempt to
get him hung, and one good turn deserves another. What did he do?
See ministers and people?"
"He did," said Sir George.
"He's a silly ass," responded T. X.
"I can understand all that"-the Chief Commissioner turned round -
"but what I cannot understand is your apology to him."
"There are so many things you don't understand, Sir George," said
T. X. tartly, "that I despair of ever cataloguing them."
"You are an insolent cub," growled his Chief. "Come to lunch."
"Where will you take me?" asked T. X. cautiously.
"To my club."
"I'm sorry," said the other, with elaborate politeness, "I have
lunched once at your club. Need I say more?"
He smiled, as he worked after his Chief had gone, at the
recollection of Kara's profound astonishment and the gratification
he strove so desperately to disguise.
Kara was a vain man, immensely conscious of his good looks,
conscious of his wealth. He had behaved most handsomely, for not
only had he accepted the apology, but he left nothing undone to
show his desire to create a good impression upon the man who had
so grossly insulted him.
T. X. had accepted an invitation to stay a weekend at Kara's
"little place in the country," and had found there assembled
everything that the heart could desire in the way of fellowship,
eminent politicians who might conceivably be of service to an
ambitious young Assistant Commissioner of Police, beautiful ladies
to interest and amuse him. Kara had even gone to the length of
engaging a theatrical company to play "Sweet Lavender," and for
this purpose the big ballroom at Hever Court had been transformed
into a theatre.
As he was undressing for bed that night T. X. remembered that he
had mentioned to Kara that "Sweet Lavender" was his favorite play,
and he realized that the entertainment was got up especially for
his benefit.
In a score of other ways Kara had endeavoured to consolidate the
friendship. He gave the young Commissioner advice about a railway
company which was operating in Asia Minor, and the shares of which
stood a little below par. T. X. thanked him for the advice, and
did not take it, nor did he feel any regret when the shares rose 3
pounds in as many weeks.
T. X. had superintended the disposal of Beston Priory. He had the
furniture removed to London, and had taken a flat for Grace
Lexman.
She had a small income of her own, and this, added to the large
royalties which came to her (as she was bitterly conscious) in
increasing volume as the result of the publicity of the trial,
placed her beyond fear of want.
"Fifteen years," murmured T. X.,as he worked and whistled.
There had been no hope for John Lexman from the start. He was in
debt to the man he killed. His story of threatening letters was
not substantiated. The revolver which he said had been flourished
at him had never been found. Two people believed implicitly in
the story, and a sympathetic Home Secretary had assured T. X.
personally that if he could find the revolver and associate it
with the murder beyond any doubt, John Lexman would be pardoned.
Every stream in the neighbourhood had been dragged. In one case a
small river had been dammed, and the bed had been carefully dried
and sifted, but there was no trace of the weapon, and T. X. had
tried methods more effective and certainly less legal.
A mysterious electrician had called at 456 Cadogan Square in
Kara's absence, and he was armed with such indisputable authority
that he was permitted to penetrate to Kara's private room, in
order to examine certain fitments.
Kara returning next day thought no more of the matter when it was
reported to him, until going to his safe that night he discovered
that it had been opened and ransacked.
As it happened, most of Kara's valuable and confidential
possessions were at the bank. In a fret of panic and at
considerable cost he had the safe removed and another put in its
place of such potency that the makers offered to indemnify him
against any loss from burglary.
T. X. finished his work, washed his hands, and was drying them
when Mansus came bursting into the room. It was not usual for
Mansus to burst into anywhere. He was a slow, methodical,
painstaking man, with a deliberate and an official, manner.
"What's the matter?" asked T. X. quickly.
"We didn't search Vassalaro's lodgings," cried Mansus
breathlessly. "It just occurred to me as I was coming over
Westminster Bridge. I was on top of a bus - "
"Wake up!" said T. X. "You're amongst friends and cut all that
'bus' stuff out. Of course we searched Vassalaro's lodgings!"
"No, we didn't, sir," said the other triumphantly. "He lived in
Great James Street."
"He lived in the Adelphi," corrected T. X.
"There were two places where he lived," said Mansus.
"When did you learn this?" asked his Chief, dropping his
flippancy.
"This morning. I was on a bus coming across Westminster Bridge,
and there were two men in front of me, and I heard the word
'Vassalaro' and naturally I pricked up my ears."
"It was very unnatural, but proceed," said T. X.
"One of the men - a very respectable person - said, 'That chap
Vassalaro used to lodge in my place, and I've still got a lot of
his things. What do you think I ought to do?'"
"And you said," suggested the other.
"I nearly frightened his life out of him," said Mansus. "I said,
'I am a police officer and I want you to come along with me.'"
"And of course he shut up and would not say another word," said T.
X.
"That's true, sir," said Mansus, "but after awhile I got him to
talk. Vassalaro lived in Great James Street, 604, on the third
floor. In fact, some of his furniture is there still. He had a
good reason for keeping two addresses by all accounts."
T. X. nodded wisely.
"What was her name?" he asked.
"He had a wife," said the other, "but she left him about four
months before he was killed. He used the Adelphi address for
business purposes and apparently he slept two or three nights of
the week at Great James Street. I have told the man to leave
everything as it is, and that we will come round."
Ten minutes later the two officers were in the somewhat gloomy
apartments which Vassalaro had occupied.
The landlord explained that most of the furniture was his, but
that there were certain articles which were the property of the
deceased man. He added, somewhat unnecessarily, that the late
tenant owed him six months' rent.
The articles which had been the property of Vassalaro included a
tin trunk, a small writing bureau, a secretaire bookcase and a few
clothes. The secretaire was locked, as was the writing bureau.
The tin box, which had little or nothing of interest, was
unfastened.
The other locks needed very little attention. Without any
difficulty Mansus opened both. The leaf of the bureau, when let
down, formed the desk, and piled up inside was a whole mass of
letters opened and unopened, accounts, note-books and all the
paraphernalia which an untidy man collects.
Letter by letter, T. X. went through the accumulation without
finding anything to help him. Then his eye was attracted by a
small tin case thrust into one of the oblong pigeon holes at the
back of the desk. This he pulled out and opened and found a small
wad of paper wrapped in tin foil.
"Hello, hello!" said T. X.,and he was pardonably exhilarated. _
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