Detective and mystery stories; Police -- Great Britain -- Fiction
At this point, the hall porter of the Wanderers’ rang through to say
that Mr. Hessel was not in the Club—and would not divulge whether he
had been in it that day or was expected. Cursing the ultra-discretion
of Clubland, Poole determined to try Hessel’s rooms, of which he had
previously obtained the address. No reply could be extracted from the
flat in Whitehall Court. Nothing daunted, Poole determined to walk
round there; it was just possible that Mr. Hessel was at this hour
himself walking home from club or office. He was right; when he got to
the great block of flats behind the War Office, he found that the
banker had just come in.
Mr. Hessel received the detective with a friendly smile. At Poole’s
request, he repeated his account of the accident, but without throwing
any fresh light on the question of the blow. He had not actually seen
the man knock against Sir Garth, but he felt sure that he must have
been conscious if anything so definite as a blow had been delivered.
As to time, he had no means of fixing precise limits, but he would say
soon after six. Poole thanked him for his information and turned to
the question of appearance.
“Would you say that the man was a gentleman, sir?” he asked; “perhaps
I ought to put it rather differently: did he appear to be a man of
leisure, a business or professional man, a clerk—or what?”
Hessel thought for a time, before answering.
“Now you press me,” he said. “I find it rather difficult to answer.
From his remarks—something about a message to the Admiralty, as I told
you—I certainly formed the unconscious impression that he was of the
clerk type. But I am not really at all sure. He was quite a
nice-looking, pleasant-spoken young fellow; he might really quite well
have been a professional man, I suppose. His clothes were not very
smart, so far as I remember—but of course that tells one little in
these hard times.”
“You saw him quite clearly, sir?”
“Oh, yes—quite.”
“Is it possible that he was someone that you know by sight—disguised?”
Hessel stared at the detective.
“Who do you mean?” he asked.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account