CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE COOK-GENERAL
From where he stood, in the shelter of a shop-door, some twenty yards away, Wedgwood was able to witness all the little details of the meeting between Nottidge and his correspondent, and he speedily became aware that the lady was somewhat shy, if not suspicious, and needed indisputable assurance of Nottidge's good faith. He saw Nottidge produce what was obviously a card-case and present a card; he witnessed certain gestures on Nottidge's part which were pantomimic of asseverations of honesty and confidence. And eventually, after an exchange of speech between the two which occupied some minutes, Nottidge led his newly-made acquaintance in the detective's direction, and Wedgwood purposely stepped into the full glare of a neighbouring lamp. But the young woman did not see him; she was giving all her attention to Nottidge.
"This is my friend," said Nottidge as they came up. "You can rely on his———"
The young woman looked up at Wedgwood, and let out a cry of dismay.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "It's—it's the man who came to our door!"
"Just to ask if Mr. Levigne was at home," said Wedgwood, reassuringly. "No harm in that, miss. I didn't know I was going to meet Mr. Nottidge then—came across him by accident, after leaving you."
Nottidge looked from one to the other, evidently mystified, and Wedgwood hastened to explain matters.
"I made a call at a house in Cleveland Square just before meeting you," he said. "This young lady opened the door. So—she recognizes me!"
"Knew you at once," agreed the young woman. She had recovered her composure by that time, and was eyeing her two companions with knowing glances. Suddenly she pointed at Wedgwood and turned to Nottidge.
"Is he—somebody you employ about that affair you've been advertising about?" she asked.
"Quite right!" replied Nottidge. "He's concerned, anyway."
She nodded as if satisfied.
"Well, of course," she said, "of course, all I want is to know that I'm safe about getting the reward you mentioned. I don't want to give away what I know for nothing! If I tell what I can tell, I expect to be paid!"
"You need have no fear on that point," answered Nottidge hastily. "Look here—this gentleman—you may as well know it—is a famous detective, Mr. Wedgwood! He'll assure you that you can depend on me for your money."
"If the information given leads to the young lady being found," said Wedgwood. "Mr. Nottidge doesn't know yet what your information amounts to."
"Let's hear what it is," said Nottidge. He looked about him, up and down the street. "We can't stand here, out in the cold," he went on. "I noticed a better sort of saloon bar down there at the corner—let's go in there and talk. You've no objection, I suppose?" he continued, turning to the young woman. "Quite respectable, I assure you!"
The young woman replied that she had no objection to anything, as long as it was proper, and she allowed herself to be escorted into a quiet corner of a saloon lounge and to accept a glass of port, a sip or two at which loosened her tongue.
"I'd better tell you all about it," she began in a confidential whisper. "My name—which I didn't put in my letter—is Robinson, Miss Arabella Robinson. I'm cook-general to Mr. Levigne in Cleveland Square; been there rather more than a year. It's not a difficult place, for Mr. Levigne is away from home a good deal, and there's no family beyond a lady who's his private secretary, Miss Monniment. And there's a day-woman comes to help—she comes at eight of a morning and stays till eight at night, so of course I'm not over-worked, and I've a good chance of observing things. Now, Mr. Levigne, he's one of those gentlemen that are what I call difficult to deal with! You never know when he'll be in for his dinner, or if he'll be in at all, or if he's coming home that night. Unless it's known for a fact that he's away from London, which he often is, my orders are to have dinner ready at a certain hour every night—if he comes, well, there it is; if he doesn't, well—he doesn't!"
"Trying!" said Wedgwood, sympathetically.
"Oh, it's his concern!" replied Miss Robinson. "Somebody eats what he doesn't! But I want you to understand that all the doings in that house are uncertain—I never know whether Miss Monniment will be there during the day, or whether she'll go to the City—Mr. Levigne has an office there, somewhere. Well, now, about this business that you've been advertising for information about. I never saw the advertisement until last night, and then only by accident—it caught my eye when I was sorting out a bundle of old newspapers—or I should have written before. For I'm certain that what I have to tell relates to that!"
"I hope so!" exclaimed Nottidge. "You mean—to the missing lady?"
"That's what I do mean," assented Miss Robinson. "To her, and no other! It was this way: About a week or so ago, neither Mr. Levigne nor Miss Monniment were in to dinner one night—he'd been out all day, and she went out about six o'clock—on that occasion, to be sure, she told me there'd be nobody in to dinner, for she and Mr. Levigne were both dining out. Well, about—I'm not quite sure as to the time, but it would be between nine and ten o'clock, Mr. Levigne and Miss Monniment came home, and they brought with them a young lady———"
"What like?" demanded Nottidge impatiently. "Describe her!"
"Just what you described her like in that advertisement," replied Miss Robinson, calmly. "You hit 'em both off in that! Of course, I recognized the description of Miss Monniment and her long fur coat at once, and the young lady, too!"
"Well?" asked Nottidge. "Go on!"
"Miss Monniment came to me and said they'd been to meet Mr. Levigne's niece, and they'd brought her to stay the night, and I was to get a room ready at once. There wasn't any difficulty about that, because Mr. Levigne sometimes had gentlemen to stay there for a day or two, so we always had a room that wanted little done to it. And of course the young lady stayed.
"Did you see her!" asked Wedgwood.
"Why, of course! I saw her that night, and again in the morning."
"Did she seem willing to be there?"
"She seemed quite at home, as far as I could see. I heard her laughing and talking quite freely with Miss Monniment and Mr. Levigne."
"And you say they brought her home for the night? Do you mean that she was only there one night?"
"Only that one night! Next morning she and Miss Monniment and Mr. Levigne all had breakfast together. Then Mr. Levigne went off—to his business, I suppose. About noon Miss Monniment came to me and said that she was going away for a few days and told me to call a taxi-cab. She and the young lady went off in it. The young lady hadn't any luggage, but Miss Monniment took two suitcases with her. One of them was empty, by the feel of it."
"Did you hear any order given to the driver as to where he was to go?" enquired Wedgwood.
"Yes—to Whiteleys, here in Westbourne Grove."
"That would be to do some shopping for the young lady," muttered Wedgwood. "Well—have you heard or seen anything of them since?"
"No, neither! Miss Monniment has never been back, and I haven't heard Mr. Levigne mention her. He's been away a good deal—he's away now. But then, as I say, you never know where to have him. He turns up any minute."
"Should you know the driver of that taxi-cab if you saw him again?"
"No, I shouldn't! I didn't fetch him from a rank. He was going through the square, with his flag up. Just set somebody down, I should think."
"And you haven't the least notion, from any little thing you recollect, as to where Miss Monniment was going with the young lady nor as to where they are?" asked Wedgwood. "You didn't hear anything mentioned, or see any labels addressed, or anything of that sort?"
"No—I heard nothing and saw nothing: I've no idea where they are."
Wedgwood considered this information during a moment's silence, during which Nottidge watched him anxiously, as if wondering what conclusion he had come to.
"Do you take in the letters at Mr. Levigne's?" asked the detective, suddenly turning to Miss Robinson. "Or are they dropped into a locked box?"
"They're dropped into a box, but it isn't locked. I take them out of a morning, and at any other time, and if Mr. Levigne's at home I take them to him. If he isn't I give them to Miss Monniment—if she's in. If she isn't, they're put in Mr. Levigne's study."
"Do you know Miss Monniment's handwriting when you see it?"
"Yes, well enough!"
"Very well," said Wedgwood. "Have you seen it on any envelope since she went away—any envelope addressed to Mr. Levigne?"
"I can't say that I have," replied Miss Robinson. "I may have done, you know."
"Keep a sharp look-out for any letter in her handwriting," commanded the detective. "If you see one, note down the postmark! And then drop a card to Mr. Nottidge giving particulars of the postmark. Understand?"
"Oh, yes, I understand that!" said Miss Robinson, smiling. "Very well! You mean, if it's Manchester, I just write down Manchester; if it's Paris, I write Paris?"
"You've got it!" assented Wedgwood. "Do it at once, if you see anything from her. Now another question or two. Have you ever seen a woman named Clagne, Mrs. Clagne, at Mr. Levigne's?"
"I've never seen anybody that I know by that name," answered Miss Robinson. "There was an oldish woman came there one evening some little time ago and had dinner with Mr. Levigne and Miss Monniment—a queer-looking woman, dressed in very old-fashioned style."
"Tall, thin woman?" suggested the detective. "Dark eyes!"
"Black eyes—yellow skin—scraggy," said Miss Robinson. "Regular old witch, I thought her!"
"Well, what do you mean by some little time ago?" asked Wedgwood. "Six months? Three months?"
"All about a month—I can't say exactly. But I remember her well enough, though I don't know her name. I was in and out of the room while they were having dinner, and I couldn't keep my eyes off her—I thought I'd never seen such an old creature! She'd a big diamond ring on her finger!"
Wedgwood felt a disposition to jump in his seat.
"A—what?" he asked.
"A ring, with a big diamond in it!" said Miss Robinson. "I noticed it, and I noticed her skinny hands and fingers—it looked queer on a hand like hers. Once, when I went into the room she'd taken it off, and Mr. Levigne was looking at it, turning it over and over in the light. 'It's very loose in the setting,' I heard him say. 'You'll be losing it if you don't have it reset. You'd better leave it with me, and let me get it done for you.'"
"Did she make any answer to that?" asked the detective.
"She said something—I don't know what."
"Did she let him keep it?"
"That I can't say, either. Dinner was just about over then, and I didn't go into the room again."
"Did she go away after dinner?"
"Not immediately after. She was for some time in Mr. Levigne's study, talking to him and Miss Monniment. She went away about ten o'clock."
"And you say that was about a month ago?"
"A month to three weeks."
"You'd know her again if you saw her?" suggested Wedgwood.
"I should think so!" agreed Miss Robinson. "Queerest old frump I ever saw in my life! I wondered what she was doing there."
Wedgwood rose, looking at his watch. He motioned Nottidge aside, and after impressing upon him the importance of inculcating the young woman with the doctrines of privacy and perception, nodded a farewell to her and went away. For Wedgwood had made another discovery, and he wanted to think, and as he journeyed homeward he tabulated what he had got to think about.
First of all, there seemed little doubt, from the cook-general's description of her, that the woman who had dined with Levigne and his secretary one night, three weeks or a month ago (which was about the time when Janet Clagne was visiting the Patellos at Tooting) was Janet Clagne herself. Nor was there any doubt that she was then wearing a ring in which was set a fine diamond the setting, according to Levigne, as reported by Miss Arabella Robinson, being loose. There was nothing unusual or remarkable in Janet Clagne possessing such a valuable thing—her husband, according to the Patellos, had been a jeweller: she had probably preserved the ring as a memento. But now arose two immensely important questions:
1. Did Janet Clagne hand over her ring to Levigne so that he might have the diamond safely reset?
2. Was the diamond which he, Wedgwood, had picked up in Miss Tandy's room the diamond in question?
Beyond formulating these questions Wedgwood thought little more of them that night. He was wearied by his long day's labours and went quickly to bed. And before he had time to think of them next morning he found something else to think about. Almost the first thing he saw on opening his newspaper was the name Mortover.