"You think all that would be in the London papers this evening?" asked Polke.
"Sure to be," replied Starmidge. "I'm hoping we'll hear something from London tomorrow. I say-I've been taking a bit of a look round one or two places tonight, quietly, you know. What's that curious building in Joseph Chestermarke's garden?"
Polke put down his paper and looked unusually interested.
"I don't know!" he answered. "How did you see it? I've never seen inside his garden."
"Climbed a tree on the river-bank and looked over the wall," replied Starmidge.
"Well," said Polke, "I did hear, some few years ago, that he was building something in that garden, but the work was done by Ecclesborough contractors, and nobody ever knew much about it here. I believe Joseph's a bit of an amateur experimenter-but I don't know what he experiments in. Nobody ever goes inside his house-he's a hermit."
"He's got some sort of a forge there, anyhow," said Starmidge. "Or a furnace, or something of that sort."
Then they talked of other things until half-past ten, when the detective retired to his inn and went to bed. He was sleeping soundly when a steady knocking at his door roused him, to hear the voice of his landlady outside. And at the same time he heard the big clock of the parish church striking midnight.
"Mr. Starmidge!" said the voice, "there's a policeman wanting you. Will you go round at once to Mr. Polke's? There's a man come from London about that piece in the newspapers." CHAPTER XV
MR. FREDERICK HOLLIS
Starmidge hastily pulled some garments about him, and flinging a travelling-coat over his shoulders, hurried downstairs, to find a sleepy-looking policeman in the hall.
"How did this man get here-at this time of night?" he asked, as they set off towards the police-station.
"Came in a taxi-cab from Ecclesborough," answered the policeman. "I haven't heard any particulars, Mr. Starmidge, except that he'd read the news in the London paper this evening and set off here in consequence. He's in Mr. Polke's house, sir."
Starmidge walked into the superintendent's parlour, to find him in company with a young man, whom the detective at once sized up as a typical London clerk-a second glance assured him that his clerkship was of the legal variety.
"Here's Detective-Sergeant Starmidge," said Polke. "Starmidge, this gentleman's Mr. Simmons, from London. Mr. Simmons says he's clerk to a Mr. Hollis, a London solicitor. And, having read that description in the papers this last evening, he's certain that the man who came to the Station Hotel here on Saturday is his governor."
Starmidge sat down and looked again at the visitor-a tall, sandy-haired, freckled young man, who was obviously a good deal puzzled.
"Is Mr. Hollis missing, then?" asked Starmidge.
Simmons looked as if he found it somewhat difficult to explain matters.
"Well," he answered. "It's this way. I've never seen him since Saturday. And he hasn't been at his rooms-his private rooms-since Saturday. In the ordinary course he ought to have been at business first thing yesterday-we'd some very important business on yesterday morning, which wasn't done because of his absence. He never turned up yesterday at all-nor today either-we never heard from or of him. And so, when I read that description in the papers this evening, I caught the first express I could get down here-at least to Ecclesborough-I had to motor from there."
"That description describes Mr. Hollis, then?" asked Starmidge.
"Exactly! I'm sure it's Mr. Hollis-it's him to a T!" answered the clerk. "I recognized it at once."
"Let's get everything in order," said Starmidge, with a glance at Polke. "To begin with, who is Mr. Hollis?"
"Mr. Frederick Hollis, solicitor, 59B South Square, Gray's Inn," replied Simmons promptly. "Andwell & Hollis is the name of the firm-but there isn't any Andwell-hasn't been for many a year-he's dead, long since, is Andwell. Mr. Hollis is the only proprietor."
"Don't know him at all," remarked Starmidge. "What's his particular line of practice?"
"Conveyancing," said Simmons.
"Then, naturally, I shouldn't," observed Starmidge. "My acquaintance is chiefly with police-court solicitors. And you say he'd private rooms some where? Where, now?"
"Paper Buildings, Temple," replied the clerk. "He'd a suite of rooms there-he's had 'em for years."
"Bachelor, then?" inquired the detective.
"Yes-he's a bachelor," agreed Simmons.
"You know he hasn't been at his rooms since Saturday-you've ascertained that?" continued Starmidge.
"He's never been at his rooms since he left them after breakfast on Saturday morning," replied Simmons. "I went there at eleven o'clock Monday-that was yesterday-again at four: twice on Tuesday. I was coming away from the Temple when I got the paper and read about this affair."
"When did you see him last?" asked Starmidge.
"Half-past-twelve Saturday. He went out-dressed just as it says in your description. And," concluded the clerk, with a shake of his head which suggested his own inability to understand matters, "he never said a word to me about coming down here."
"Did he say anything to anybody at his rooms about going away?-for the week-end, for instance?" asked the detective. "There'd be somebody there, of course."
"Only a woman who tidied up for him and got his breakfast ready of a morning," said Simmons. "He took all his other meals out. No-he said nothing to her. But he wasn't a week-ender: he very rarely left his rooms except for the office."
"Any of his relations been after him?" inquired Starmidge.
"I don't know anything about his relations-nor friends, either," answered the clerk. "Don't even know the address of one of them, or I'd have gone to seek him on Monday-everything's at a standstill. He was a lonely sort of man-I never heard of his relations or friends."
"How long have you been with him, then?" asked the detective. "Some time?"
"Six years," replied Simmons.
"And you've no doubt, from the description in the papers, that the gentleman who came here on Saturday last is Mr. Hollis?" asked Starmidge.
The clerk shook his head with an air of conviction.
"None!" he answered. "None whatever!"
Starmidge helped himself to a cigar out of an open box which lay on Polke's table. He lighted it carefully, and smoked for a minute or two in silence. Then he looked at Polke.
"Well, there's a very obvious question to put to Mr. Simmons after all that," he remarked. "Have you any idea," he continued, turning to the clerk, "of any reason that would bring Mr. Hollis to Scarnham?"
Simmons shook his head more vigorously than before.
"Not the ghost of an idea!" he exclaimed.
"There was no business being done with anybody at Scarnham?" asked Starmidge.
"Not in our office!" asserted Simmons. "I'm sure of that. I know all the business that we have in hand. To tell you the truth, gentlemen, though you may think me very ignorant, I never even heard of Scarnham myself until I read the paper this evening."
"Quite excusable," said Starmidge. "I never heard of it myself until Monday. Well-this is all very queer, Mr. Simmons. What does Mr. Polke think? And what's Mr. Polke got to suggest!"
Polke, who had been listening silently, turned to the clerk.
"Did you chance to look at Mr. Hollis's letters-recent letters, I mean-" he asked, "to see if you would find anything inviting him down here?"
"I did," replied Simmons promptly. "I looked through all the letters on his desk and in his drawers yesterday afternoon. I didn't find anything that explained his absence. And when I was at his rooms this evening I looked at some letters on his mantelpiece-nothing there. I tell you, I haven't the least notion as to what could bring him to Scarnham."