Chapter 3. ANOTHER MAN

uracyofhisobservationofitsgenerallook,guidedGaffertoareadyconclusion. ‘Thisgentleman,MrLightwood,isonthatbusiness.’ ‘MrLightwood?’ Duringapause,Mortimerandthestrangerconfrontedeachother.Neitherknewtheother. ‘Ithink,sir,’saidMortimer,breakingtheawkwardsilencewithhisairyself-possession,‘thatyoudidmethehonourtomentionmyname?’ ‘Irepeatedit,afterthisman.’ ‘YousaidyouwereastrangerinLondon?’ ‘Anutterstranger.’ ‘AreyouseekingaMrHarmon?’ ‘No.’ ‘ThenIbelieveIcanassureyouthatyouareonafruitlesserrand,andwillnotfindwhatyoufeartofind.Willyoucomewithus?’ Alittlewindingthroughsomemuddyalleysthatmighthavebeendepositedbythelastill-savouredtide,broughtthemtothewicket-gateandbrightlampofaPoliceStationwheretheyfoundtheNight-Inspector,withapenandink,andruler,postinguphisbooksinawhitewashedoffice,asstudiouslyasifhewereinamonasteryontopofamountain,andnohowlingfuryofadrunkenwomanwerebangingherselfagainstacell-doorintheback-yardathiselbow.Withthesameairofareclusemuchgiventostudy,hedesistedfromhisbookstobestowadistrustfulnodofrecognitionuponGaffer,plainlyimporting,‘Ah!weknowallaboutyou,andyou’lloverdoitsomeday’andtoinformMrMortimerLightwoodandfriends,thathewouldattendthemimmediately.Then,hefinishedrulingtheworkhehadinhand(itmighthavebeenilluminatingamissal,hewassocalm),inaveryneatandmethodicalmanner,showingnottheslightestconsciousnessofthewomanwhowasbangingherselfwithincreasedviolence,andshriekingmostterrificallyforsomeotherwoman’sliver. ‘Abull’s-eye,’saidtheNight-Inspector,takinguphiskeys.Whichadeferentialsatelliteproduced.‘Now,gentlemen.’ Withoneofhiskeys,heopenedacoolgrotattheendoftheyard,andtheyallwentin.Theyquicklycameoutagain,noonespeakingbutEugene:whoremarkedtoMortimer,inawhisper,‘NotmuchworsethanLadyTippins.’ So,backtothewhitewashedlibraryofthemonastery—withthatliverstillinshriekingrequisition,asithadbeenloudly,whiletheylookedatthesilentsighttheycametosee—andtherethroughthemeritsofthecaseassummedupbytheAbbot.Nocluetohowbodycameintoriver.Veryoftenwasnoclue.Toolatetoknowforcertain,whetherinjuriesreceivedbeforeorafterdeathoneexcellentsurgicalopinionsaid,beforeotherexcellentsurgicalopinionsaid,after.Stewardofshipinwhichgentlemancamehomepassenger,hadbeenroundtoview,andcouldsweartoidentity.Likewisecouldsweartoclothes.Andthen,yousee,youhadthepapers,too.Howwasithehadtotallydisappearedonleavingship,‘tillfoundinriver?Well!Probablyhadbeenuponsomelittlegame.Probablythoughtitaharmlessgame,wasn’tuptothings,anditturnedoutafatalgame.Inquestto-morrow,andnodoubtopenverdict. ‘Itappearstohaveknockedyourfriendover—knockedhimcompletelyoffhislegs,’MrInspectorremarked,whenhehadfinishedhissummingup.‘Ithasgivenhimabadturntobesure!’Thiswassaidinaverylowvoice,andwithasearchinglook(notthefirsthehadcast)atthestranger. MrLightwoodexplainedthatitwasnofriendofhis. ‘Indeed?’saidMrInspector,withanattentiveear‘wheredidyoupickhimup?’ MrLightwoodexplainedfurther. MrInspectorhaddeliveredhissummingup,andhadaddedthesewords,withhiselbowsleaningonhisdesk,andthefingersandthumbofhisrighthand,fittingthemselvestothefingersandthumbofhisleft.MrInspectormovednothingbuthiseyes,ashenowadded,raisinghisvoice: ‘Turnedyoufaint,sir!Seemsyou’renotaccustomedtothiskindofwork?’ Thestranger,whowasleaningagainstthechimneypiecewithdroopinghead,lookedroundandanswered,‘No.It’sahorriblesight!’ ‘Youexpectedtoidentify,Iamtold,sir?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Haveyouidentified?’ ‘No.It’sahorriblesight.O!ahorrible,horriblesight!’ ‘Whodidyouthinkitmighthavebeen?’askedMrInspector.‘Giveusadescription,sir.Perhapswecanhelpyou.’ ‘No,no,’saidthestranger‘itwouldbequiteuseless.Good-night.’ MrInspectorhadnotmoved,andhadgivennoorderbut,thesatelliteslippedhisbackagainstthewicket,andlaidhisleftarmalongthetopofit,andwithhisrighthandturnedthebull’s-eyehehadtakenfromhischief—inquiteacasualmanner—towardsthestranger. ‘Youmissedafriend,youknoworyoumissedafoe,youknoworyouwouldn’thavecomehere,youknow.Well,thenain’titreasonabletoask,whowasit?’Thus,MrInspector. ‘Youmustexcusemytellingyou.Noclassofmancanunderstandbetterthanyou,thatfamiliesmaynotchoosetopublishtheirdisagreementsandmisfortunes,exceptonthelastnecessity.Idonotdisputethatyoudischargeyourdutyinaskingmethequestionyouwillnotdisputemyrighttowithholdtheanswer.Good-night.’ Againheturnedtowardsthewicket,wherethesatellite,withhiseyeuponhischief,remainedadumbstatue. ‘Atleast,’saidMrInspector,‘youwillnotobjecttoleavemeyourcard,sir?’ ‘Ishouldnotobject,ifIhadonebutIhavenot.’Hereddenedandwasmuchconfusedashegavetheanswer. ‘Atleast,’saidMrInspector,withnochangeofvoiceormanner,‘youwillnotobjecttowritedownyournameandaddress?’ ‘Notatall.’ MrInspectordippedapeninhisinkstand,anddeftlylaiditonapieceofpaperclosebesidehimthenresumedhisformerattitude.Thestrangersteppeduptothedesk,andwroteinarathertremuloushand—MrInspectortakingsidelongnoteofeveryhairofhisheadwhenitwasbentdownforthepurpose—‘MrJuliusHandford,ExchequerCoffeeHouse,PalaceYard,Westminster.’ ‘Stayingthere,Ipresume,sir?’ ‘Stayingthere.’ ‘Consequently,fromthecountry?’ ‘Eh?Yes—fromthecountry.’ ‘Good-night,sir.’ Thesatelliteremovedhisarmandopenedthewicket,andM