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Page 82
"Yes," replied Murgatroyd, "23rd November, of course."
"What time, now, on the 23rd?" asked the detective.
"Time?" said Murgatroyd. "Oh--in the evening."
"Bit vague," remarked Prydale. "What time in the evening?"
"As near as I can recollect," replied Murgatroyd, "it 'ud be just about
half-past eight. I was thinking of closing."
"Ah!" said Prydale, with a glance at Byner, who had already told him of
Parrawhite's presence at the _Green Man_ on the other side of the town,
a good two miles away, at the hour which Murgatroyd mentioned. "Ah!--he
was here in your shop at half-past eight on the evening of November 23rd
last? Asking about a ticket to America?"
"New York," muttered Murgatroyd.
"And he came next morning and bought one?" asked the detective.
"I told Mr. Eldrick that," said Murgatroyd, a little sullenly.
"How much did it cost?" inquired Byner.
"Eight pound ten," replied Murgatroyd. "Usual price."
"What did he pay for it in?" continued Prydale.
"He gave me a ten-pound note and I gave him thirty shillings change,"
answered Murgatroyd.
"Just so," assented Prydale. "Now what line might that be by?"
Murgatroyd was becoming uneasy under all these questions, and his
uneasiness was deepened by the way in which both his visitors watched
him. He was a man who would have been a bad witness in any
case--nervous, ill at ease, suspicious, inclined to boggle--and in this
instance he was being forced to invent answers.
"It was--oh, the Royal Atlantic!" he answered at last. "I've an agency
for them."
"So I noticed from the bills and placards in your window," observed the
detective. "And of course you issue these tickets on their paper--I've
seen 'em before. You fill up particulars on a form and a counterfoil,
don't you? And you send a copy of those particulars to the Royal
Atlantic offices at Liverpool?"
Murgatroyd nodded silently--this was much more than he bargained for,
and he did not know how much further it was going. And Prydale gave him
a sudden searching look.
"Can you show us the counterfoil in this instance?" he asked.
Murgatroyd flushed. But he managed to get out a fairly quick reply. "No,
I can't," he answered, "I sent that book back at the end of the year."
"Oh, well--they'll have it at Liverpool," observed Prydale. "We can get
at it there. Of course, they'll have your record of the entire
transaction. He'd be down on their passenger list--under the name of
Parsons, I think, Mr. Murgatroyd?"
"He gave me that name," said Murgatroyd.
Prydale gave Byner a look and both rose.
"I think that's about all," said the detective. "Of course, our next
inquiry will be at Liverpool---at the Royal Atlantic. Thank you, Mr.
Murgatroyd--much obliged."
Before the watchmaker could collect himself sufficiently to say or ask
more, Prydale and his companion had walked out of the shop and gone
away. And then Murgatroyd realized that he was in for--but he did not
know what he was in for. What he did know was that if Prydale went or
sent over to Liverpool the whole thing would burst like a bubble. For
the Royal Atlantic people would tell the detectives at once that no
passenger named Parsons had sailed under their auspices on November 24th
last, and that he, Murgatroyd, had been telling a pack of lies.
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