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Updated: May 23, 2025
Three quarters of an hour later he startled a quiet and peaceful telegraphist by darting, breathless and dirty, into a sleepy country post office, snatching a telegraph form and scribbling down a message in shaky handwriting: Rathbury, New Scotland Yard, London. Arrest Jane Baylis at once for murder of John Maitland. Coming straight to town with full evidence. Frank Spargo.
Spargo got up from his desk and walked around his room for a few minutes, Rathbury meanwhile finding and lighting another cigar. At last Spargo came back and clapped a hand on the detective's shoulder. "Look here, Rathbury!" he said. "It's very evident that you're now going on the lines that Aylmore did murder Marbury. Eh?" Rathbury looked up. His face showed astonishment.
"Your people haven't found anything out, then?" asked Spargo. "Nothing beyond the irreproachable history of Mr. Aylmore since he returned to this country, a very rich man, some ten years since," answered Rathbury, smiling. "They've no previous dates to go on. What are you going to do next, Spargo?" "Seek out that Miss Baylis," replied Spargo.
"There must have been something." "There was something," he replied. "The thing stick, bludgeon, whatever you like to call it, some foreign article with which Marbury was struck down was found last night." "Well?" asked Spargo. "It was proved to be Aylmore's property," answered Rathbury. "It was a South American curio that he had in his rooms in Fountain Court."
"My work, my son. You see, I thought a lot. And especially after we'd found out that Marbury was Maitland." "You mean after I'd found out," remarked Spargo. Rathbury waved his cigar. "Well, well, it's all the same," he said. "You help me, and I help you, eh? Well, as I say, I thought a considerable lot.
That paper and that man are connecting links between you and somebody else." "Possibly," agreed Breton. "You want to find the somebody else?" "I want you to help me to find the somebody else," answered Spargo. "I believe this is a big, very big affair: I want to do it. I don't believe in police methods much. By the by, I'm just going to meet Rathbury. He may have heard of something.
"If I don't see Rathbury tonight I'll see him in the morning," said Spargo. He rose as if to go, but after lingering a moment, sat down again. "Look here," he continued, "I don't know how this thing stands in law, but would it be a very weak case against Aylmore if the prosecution couldn't show some motive for his killing Marbury?" Breton smiled.
"There's some of his hair on it mixed with blood," he answered. "No doubt about that. Well anything come of your jaunt westward?" "Yes," replied Spargo. "Lots!" "Good?" asked Rathbury. "Extra good. I've found out who Marbury really was." "No! Really?" "No doubt, to my mind. I'm certain of it." Rathbury sat down at his desk, watching Spargo with rapt attention. "And who was he?" he asked.
"And what did you say to that?" he asked quietly. Myerst looked from his questioner to Rathbury. And Rathbury thought it time to enlighten the caller. "I may as well tell you, Mr. Myerst," he said smilingly, "that this is Mr. Spargo, of the Watchman. Mr. Spargo wrote the article about the Marbury case of which you spoke when you came in. Mr.
Rathbury laughed. "Well, we may find out something about this scrap of paper," he observed. And he waved a signal to the nearest taxi-cab driver.
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