# The Chestermarke Instinct/Chapter 19

CHAPTER XIX
THE DEAD MAN'S BROTHER
Polke hastily followed the policeman from the room—to return immediately with a quiet-looking elderly gentleman in whom Neale and Starmidge saw a distinct likeness to the dead man.
"His brother!" whispered Polke, as he handed a chair to the visitor. "So you've seen about this in the newspapers, sir?" he went on, turning to Mr. Leonard Hollis. "And you thought you'd better come over, I suppose?"
"I have not only read about it in the newspapers," answered the visitor, "but I last night—very late—received a telegram from my brother's clerk—Mr. Simmons—who evidently found my address at my brother's rooms. So I left Birmingham—where I now live—at once, to see you. Now, have you heard anything of my brother?"
Polke shook his head solemnly and warningly.
"I'm sorry to say we have, sir," he replied. "You'd better prepare for the worst news, Mr. Hollis. We found the body this morning—not two hours ago. And—we don't know, as yet, how he came by his death. The doctors say it may have been pure accident. Let's hope it was! But there are strange circumstances, sir—very strange!"
​Hollis quietly rose from his chair.
"I suppose I can see him?" he asked.
Polke led him out of the room, and Starmidge turned to Neale.
"We're gradually getting at something, Mr. Neale," he said. "All this leads somewhere, you know. Now, since we found that incomplete cheque, there's a question I wanted to ask you. You've left Chestermarke's Bank now, and under the circumstances we're working in you needn't have any delicacy about answering questions about them. Do you know of any recent transaction of theirs which involved ten thousand pounds?"
"No!" replied Neale. "I certainly don't."
"Nor any sum approaching it?" suggested Starmidge. "Or exceeding it?"
"Nothing whatever!" reiterated Neale. "I know of all recent banking transactions at Chestermarke's, and I can't think—I've been thinking since we saw that cheque—of anything that the cheque had to do with."
"Well—it's a queer thing," remarked the detective meditatively. "I'll lay anything Hollis brought that cheque down here for some specific purpose—and who on earth is there in this place that he could bring it to but Chestermarke's? However, we'll see if I don't trace something about it when I get up to town, and then———"
Polke and the dead man's brother came back, talking earnestly. The superintendent carefully closed the door, and begging his visitor to be seated again, turned to Starmidge.
​"I've told Mr. Hollis all the main facts of the case," he said. "Of course, he identified his brother at once."
"When did you see him last, sir?" asked Starmidge.
"Some eight or nine months ago," replied Hollis. "He came to see me, in Birmingham. Previous to that, I hadn't seen him for several years. I ought to tell you," he went on, turning to Polke, "that for a great many years I have lived abroad—tea-planting in Ceylon. I came back to England about a year ago, and eventually settled down at Edgbaston. I suppose my brother's clerk found my address on an old letter or something last night, and wired to me in consequence."
"When Simmons was here," observed Starmidge, "he said that your brother seemed to have no relations."
"I daresay Simmons would get that impression," remarked Hollis. "My brother was a very reserved man, who was not likely to talk much of his family. As a matter of fact, I am about the only relation he had—except some half-cousins, or something of that sort."
"Can you tell us anything about your brother's position?" asked Starmidge. "The clerk said he didn't practise very much, and had means of his own."
"Quite true," assented Hollis. "I believe he had a comfortable income, apart from his practice—perhaps five or six hundred a year. He mentioned to me that he only did business for old clients."
​"Do you think he'd be likely to have a sum of ten thousand pounds lying at his bankers?" inquired Starmidge.
Hollis looked sharply at the detective and then shook his head.
"Not unless it was for some special purpose," he answered. "He might have such a sum if he'd been selling out securities for re-investment. But my impression is—in fact, it's more than an impression—I'm sure that he bought himself an annuity of about the amount I mentioned just now, some years ago. You see, he'd no children, and he knew that I was a well-to-do man, so—he used his capital in that way."
"Would you be surprised to see a cheque of his drawn for ten thousand pounds?" asked Starmidge suddenly.
"Frankly, I should!" replied Hollis, with a smile. "That is, if it was on his private account."
"Do you happen to know who kept his private account?" inquired Starmidge.
"Yes," answered Hollis. "He banked with an old private firm called Vanderkiste, Mullineau & Company, of Lombard Street."
Starmidge, after a whispered word with Polke, took up the envelope in which he had placed the dead man's letter-case, and produced the cheque.
"Look at that, sir," he said, laying it before the visitor. "Is that your brother's handwriting?"
"His handwriting—oh, yes!" exclaimed Hollis. "Most certainly! But—there's no signature!"
"No—and there's no name of any payee," said ​Starmidge. "That's where the mystery comes in. But—this—and this letter-case and its contents—was found on him, and there's no doubt he came down to Scarnham intending to pay that cheque to somebody. You can't throw any light on that, sir?"
The visitor, who continued to regard the cheque with evident amazement, at last turned away from it and glanced at his three companions.
"Well," he said, "I don't know that I can. But one principal reason why I hurried here, after getting Simmons' telegram last night, is this: In the newspapers there is a good deal of mention of a Mr. John Horbury, manager of a bank in this town. He, too, you tell me, has disappeared. Now, I happen to possess a remarkably good memory, and it was at once stirred by seeing that name. My brother Frederick and I were at school together at Selburgh—Selburgh Grammar School, you know—quite thirty-five or six years ago. One of our schoolmates was a John Horbury. And—he came from this place—Scarnham."
The three listeners looked at each other. And Neale started, as if at some sudden reminiscence, and he spoke quickly.
"I've heard Mr. Horbury speak of his schooldays at Selburgh!" he said. "And—now I come to think of it—he had some books with the school coat-of-arms on the sides—prizes."
"Just so!" remarked Hollis. "I remember Jack Horbury very well indeed, though I never saw him after I left school, nor heard of him either, until I saw all this news about him in the papers. Of course, ​your missing bank manager is the John Horbury my brother and I were at school with! And I take it that the reason my brother came down to Scarnham last Saturday was—to see John Horbury."
Starmidge had been listening to all this with close attention. He was now more than ever convinced that he was at last on some track—but so far he could not see many steps ahead. Nevertheless, his next step was clearly enough discernible.
"You say you saw your brother some eight or nine months ago, sir?" he remarked. "Did he mention Mr. Horbury to you at that time?"
"No, he didn't," replied Hollis.
"Did he ever—recently, I mean—ever mention his name to you in a letter?" asked Starmidge.
"No—never! I don't know," said Hollis, "that he or I ever spoke to each other of John Horbury from the time we left school. John Horbury was not, as it were, a very particular chum of ours. We knew him—as we knew a hundred other boys. As I have already told you, the two names, Horbury, Scarnham, in the newspapers yesterday, immediately recalled John Horbury, our schoolmate, to me. Up to then, I don't suppose I'd ever thought of him for—years! And I don't suppose he'd ever thought of me, or of my brother. Yet—I feel sure my brother came here to see him. For business reasons, I suppose."
"The odd thing about that, Mr. Hollis," remarked Polke, "is that we can't find the slightest reason, either from anybody here, or from your brother's ​clerk in London, why your brother should come to see Horbury, whether for business, or for any other purpose. And as to his remembering Mr. Frederick Hollis, well, here's Mr. Neale—Mr. Horbury was his guardian—and Mr. Neale, of course, has known him all his life. Now, Mr. Neale never heard him mention Mr. Frederick Hollis by name at any time. And there's now staying in the town Mr. Horbury's niece, Miss Fosdyke; she, too, never heard her uncle speak of any Mr. Hollis. Then, as to business—the partners at Chestermarke's Bank declare that they know nothing whatever of your brother—Mr. Gabriel, the senior partner, has seen the poor gentleman, and didn't recognize him. So—we at any rate, are as wise as ever. We don't know what your brother came here for!"
Hollis bowed his head in full acceptance of the superintendent's remarks. But he looked up at Starmidge and smiled.
"Exactly!" he said. "I quite understand you, Mr. Polke. But—I am convinced that my brother came here to see John Horbury. Why he came, I know no more than you do—but I hope to know!"
"You'll stay in the town a bit, sir?" suggested Polke. "You'll want to make arrangements for your poor brother's funeral, of course. Aught that we can do, sir, to help, shall be done."
"I'm much obliged to you, Mr. Polke," replied Hollis. "Yes, I shall certainly stay in Scarnham. In fact," he went on, rising and looking quietly from one man to the other, "I shall stay in Scarn​ham until I, or you, or somebody have satisfactorily explained how my brother came to his death! shall spare neither effort nor money to get at the truth—that's my determination!"
"There's somebody else in like case with you, Mr. Hollis," observed Polke. "Miss Fosdyke's just as concerned about her uncle as you are about your brother. She declares she'll spend a fortune on finding him—or finding out what's happened to him. It was Miss Fosdyke insisted on having Detective-Sergeant Starmidge down at once."
Hollis quietly scrutinized the detective.
"Well?" he asked. "And what do you make of it?"
But Starmidge was not in the mood for saying anything more just then, and he put his questioner off, asking him, at the same time, to keep the matter of the cheque to himself. Presently Hollis went away with Neale, to whom he wished to talk, and Starmidge, after a period of what seemed to be profound thought, turned to Polke.
"Superintendent!" he said earnestly. "With your leave, I'd like to try an experiment."
"What experiment?" demanded Polke.
Starmidge pointed to the ten thousand pound cheque, which was still lying on the table.
"I'd like to take that cheque across to Chestermarke's Bank, and show it to the partners," he answered.
"Good heavens!—why?" exclaimed Polke. "I thought you didn't want anybody to know about it."
"Never mind—I've an idea," said the detective. ​"I'd just like them to see it, anyway, and," he added, with a wink, "I'd like to see them when they do see it!"
"You know best," said Polke. "If you think it well, do it."
Starmidge put the cheque in an envelope and walked over to the bank. He was shown into the partners' room almost immediately, and the two men glanced at him with evident curiosity.
"Sorry to trouble you, gentlemen," said Starmidge, in his politest manner. "There's a little matter you might help us in. We've been searching this unfortunate gentleman's clothing, you know, for papers and so on. And in his letter-case we found—this!"
He had the cheque ready behind his back, and he suddenly brought it forward, and laid it immediately before the partners, on Gabriel's desk, at the same time stepping back so that he could observe both men.
"Queer, isn't it, gentlemen?" he remarked quietly. "Incomplete!"
Gabriel Chestermarke, in spite of his habitual control, started: Joseph, bending nearer to the desk, made a curious sound of surprise. A second later they both looked at Starmidge—each as calm as ever. "Well?" said Gabriel.
"You don't know anything about that, gentlemen?" asked Starmidge, affecting great innocence.
"Nothing!" answered Gabriel.
"Of course not!" murmured Joseph, a little derisively.
"I thought you might recognize that handwrit​ing," suggested Starmidge, using one of his previously invented excuses.
"No!" replied Gabriel. "Don't know it!"
"From Adam's writing," added Joseph.
"You know the name of the bankers, I suppose, gentlemen?" asked the detective.
"Vanderkiste? Oh, yes!" assented Gabriel. "Well-known city firm. But I don't think we've ever done business with them," he added, turning to his nephew.
"Never!" replied Joseph. "In my time, at any rate."
Starmidge picked up the cheque and carefully replaced it in its envelope.
"Much obliged to you, gentlemen," he said, retreating towards the door. "Oh!—you'll be interested in hearing, no doubt, that the dead man's brother, Mr. Leonard Hollis, of Birmingham, has come. He's identified the body."
"And what does he think, or suggest?" asked Joseph, glancing out of the corners of his eyes at Starmidge. "Has he any suggestions—or ideas?"
"He thinks his brother came here to meet Mr. Horbury," answered Starmidge.
"That's so evident that it's no news," remarked Joseph. "Perhaps he can suggest where Horbury's to be found."
Starmidge bowed and went out and straight back to Polke. He handed him the cheque and the letter-case.
"Lock 'em up!" he said. "Now then, listen! You can do all that's necessary about that inquest. I'm ​off to town. Sit down, and I'll tell you why. And what I tell you, keep to yourself."
That evening, Starmidge, who had driven quietly across the country from Scarnham to Ecclesborough, joined a London express at the Midland Station in the big town. The carriages were unusually full, and he had some difficulty in finding the corner seat that he particularly desired. But he got one, at last, at the very end of the train, and he had only just settled himself in it when he saw Gabriel Chestermarke hurry past. Starmidge put his head out of the window and watched—Gabriel entered a first-class compartment in the next coach.
"First stop Nottingham!" mused the detective. And he pulled a sheaf of telegram forms out of his pocket, and leisurely began to write a message which before he signed his name to it had run into many words.