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Page 38
"Good heavens!" I said. "The young fool seems determined to put a rope
around his own neck."
"As a matter of fact," continued Gatton, "he was _not_ unobserved. He
was followed right across St. James's Park. By the lake he lingered
for some time; and the man tracking him kept carefully out of sight,
of course. There was nobody else about at the moment, and presently,
thinking himself safe, Coverly dropped his bag in the water!
Immediately he set off walking rapidly again, and he was followed
right to Miss Merlin's door. But the spot where he had dropped the bag
had been marked, of course, and when I came in here to-day it had been
fished, up--and placed there for my inspection."
With ever-growing misgivings.
"What does it contain?" I asked.
Inspector Gatton walked across to the chair and threw the bag open.
First he took out several lumps of wet coal.
"To weight it, of course," he said.
Then one by one he withdrew from the clammy interior a series of
ragged garments, the garments of a tramp. A pair of heavy boots there
were, a pair of patched trousers and an old shabby coat, a greasy cap,
and finally a threadbare red muffler!
Gatton looked hard at me.
"He will have to break his obstinate silence now," he said. "Failing
our discovery of new clews pointing in another direction, this is
hanging evidence!"
"It is maddening!" I cried. "Can nothing be done, Gatton? Is there no
possible line of inquiry hitherto neglected which might lead to the
discovery of the truth? For whatever your own ideas may be, personally
I am certain that Coverly is innocent."
Gatton replaced the sodden garments one by one in the bag, frowning as
he did so, and:
"It occurred to me this morning," he replied, "that there _is_ one
inquiry which in justice to the suspected man and in order to round
off the investigation, should be instituted. I'm afraid Coverly will
have a bad time in the Coroner's court, but it is even possible that
something might be done before the inquest. Now--"
He looked at me quizzically, and:
"Knowing your keen personal interest in the case, I am going to make a
suggestion. It is probably going outside the intentions of the chief
in regard to your share of the inquiry, but I'll risk that. I
stipulate, however, that anything you learn is to be communicated
direct to me, not to the _Planet_. Is this arrangement consistent with
your journalistic conscience?"
"Quite," I said eagerly; "my contributions to the _Planet_ are always
subject, of course, to your censorship. What is it that you propose I
should do?"
"This," said Gatton tersely; "I should like to know under what
circumstances Mr. Roger Coverly died."
"Roger Coverly?" I echoed.
"The son of Sir Burnham Coverly," continued Gatton, "and therefore the
direct heir to the title. He died somewhere abroad about five or six
years ago, and as a result the late Sir Marcus inherited the baronetcy
on the death of his uncle, Sir Burnham. You will remember that the
man, Morris, spoke of the ill-feeling existing between Lady Burnham
Coverly and Sir Marcus, because of the premature death of her own son,
of course."
"I follow you," I said eagerly. "You suggest that I should go down to
Friar's Park and interview Lady Burnham Coverly?"
"Exactly," replied Gatton. "It's very irregular, of course, but I know
you well enough to take my chance of a carpeting. I may send a C.I.D.
man down as well. I've too much to do in town to think of going
myself; but I will advise you of any such step."
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