The Rayner-Slade AmalgamationFletcher, J. S. (Joseph Smith)
General
The Rayner-Slade Amalgamation
Fletcher, J. S. (Joseph Smith)
Detective and mystery stories
"It's this," answered Chettle, pulling his chair nearer to the table at
which he and his host sat. "When I got back to Hull they told me at the
police headquarters that a young man had been in two or three times,
while I was away, asking if he could see the London detective who was
down about the Station Hotel affair. They told him I'd gone up to town
again, and tried to find out what he wanted, but he wouldn't tell them
anything--said he'd either see me or go up to London himself. So then
they let him know I was coming back, and told him he'd probably find me
there at noon to-day. And at noon to-day he turns up at the
police-station--a young fellow about twenty-five or so, who looked like
what he was, a clerk. A very cute, sharp chap he was, the sort that's
naturally keen about his own interests--name of Martindale--and before
he'd say a word he wanted to see my credentials, and made me swear to
treat what he said as private, and then he pulled out a copy of that
reward bill of yours, and wanted to know a rare lot about that, all of
which amounted to wanting to find out what chance he had of getting hold
of some of the fifty thousand, if not all. And," continued Chettle with a
laugh, "I'd a lot of talking and explaining and wheedling to do before
he'd tell anything."
"Had he aught to tell?" asked Allerdyke. "So many of 'em think they have,
and then they haven't."
"Oh, he'd something to tell!" replied Chettle. "Right enough, he'd a good
deal to tell. This--he told me at last, as if every word he let out was
worth a ransom, that he was a parcels office clerk in the North Eastern
Railway Station at Hull, and that since the 13th of May until the day
before yesterday he'd been away in the North of Scotland on his
holidays--been home to his people, in fact--he is a Scotsman, which, of
course, accounts for his keenness about the money. Now, then--on the
night of May 12th--the night, as you know, Mr. Allerdyke, of your
cousin's supposed murder, but anyway, of his arrival at Hull--this young
man Martindale was on duty in the parcels office till a very late hour.
About ten to a quarter past ten, as near as he could recollect, a
gentleman came into the parcels office, carrying a small, square parcel,
done up in brown paper and sealed in several places with black wax. He
wanted to know when the next express would be leaving for London, and if
he could send the parcel by it. Martindale told him there would be an
express leaving for Selby very shortly, and there would be a connection
there for a Great Northern express to King's Cross. The gentleman then
wanted to know what time his parcel would be likely to be delivered in
London if he sent it by that train. Martindale told him that as near as
he could say it would be delivered by noon on the next morning, and added
that he could, by paying an extra fee, have it specially registered and
delivered. The gentleman at once acceded to this, handed the parcel
over, paid for it, and left.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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