BRITISH MYSTERIES - Fergus Hume Collection: 21 Thriller Novels in One Volume. Fergus Hume

‘he doesn’t turn up to-morrow I’ll have a look for him again. If that don’t do I’ll tell the police, and I shouldn’t wonder,’ went on Slivers, musingly, ‘I shouldn’t wonder if they called on Madame Midas.’

      Chapter XV.

       Slivers in Search of Evidence

       Table of Contents

      Slivers was puzzled over Villiers’ disappearance, so he determined to go in search of evidence against Madame Midas, though for what reason he wanted evidence against her no one but himself—and perhaps Billy—knew. But then Slivers always was an enigma regarding his reasons for doing things, and even the Sphinx would have found him a difficult riddle to solve.

      The reasons he had for turning detective were simply these: It soon became known that Madame Midas had been robbed by her husband of the famous nugget, and great was the indignation of everyone against Mr Villiers. That gentleman would have fared very badly if he had made his appearance, but for some reason or another he did not venture forth. In fact, he had completely disappeared, and where he was no one knew. The last person who saw him was Barty Jarper, who left him at the corner of Lydiard and Sturt Streets, when Mr Villiers had announced his intention of going home. Mrs Cheedle, however, asserted positively that she had never set eyes on him since the time she stated to Slivers, and as it was now nearly two weeks since he had disappeared things were beginning to look serious. The generally received explanation was that he had bolted with the nugget, but as he could hardly dispose of such a large mass of gold without suspicion, and as the police both in Ballarat and Melbourne had made inquiries, which proved futile, this theory began to lose ground.

      It was at this period that Slivers asserted himself—coming forward, he hinted in an ambiguous sort of way that Villiers had met with foul play, and that some people had their reasons for wishing to get rid of him. This was clearly an insinuation against Madame Midas, but everyone refused to believe such an impossible story, so Slivers determined to make good his words, and went in search of evidence.

      The Wopples Family having left Ballarat, Slivers was unable to see Mr Theodore Wopples, who had been in Villiers’ company on the night of his disappearance.

      Mr Barty Jarper, however, had not yet departed, so Slivers waylaid him, and asked him in a casual way to drop into his office and have a drink, with a view of finding out from him all the events of that night.

      Barty was on his way to a lawn tennis party, and was arrayed in a flannel suit of many colours, with his small, white face nearly hidden under a large straw hat. Being of a social turn of mind, he did not refuse Slivers’ invitation, but walked into the dusty office and assisted himself liberally to the whisky.

      ‘Here’s fun, old cock!’ he said, in a free and easy manner, raising his glass to his lips; ‘may your shadow never be less.’

      Slivers hoped devoutly that his shadow never would be less, as that would involve the loss of several other limbs, which he could ill spare; so he honoured Mr Jarper’s toast with a rasping little laugh, and prepared to talk.

      ‘It’s very kind of you to come and talk to an old chap like me,’ said Slivers, in as amiable a tone as he could command, which was not much. ‘You’re such a gay young fellow!’

      Mr Jarper acknowledged modestly that he was gay, but that he owed certain duties to society, and had to be mildly social.

      ‘And so handsome!’ croaked Slivers, winking with his one eye at Billy, who sat on the table. ‘Oh, he’s all there, ain’t he, Billy?’

      Billy, however, did not agree to this, and merely observed ‘Pickles,’ in a disbelieving manner.

      Mr Jarper felt rather overcome by this praise, and blushed in a modest way, but felt that he could not return the compliment with any degree of truth, as Slivers was not handsome, neither was he all there.

      He, however, decided that Slivers was an unusually discerning person, and worthy to talk to, so prepared to make himself agreeable.

      Slivers, who had thus gained the goodwill of the young man by flattery, plunged into the subject of Villiers’ disappearance.

      ‘I wonder what’s become of Villiers,’ he said, artfully pushing the whisky bottle toward Barty.

      ‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ said Barty in a languid, used-up sort of voice, pouring himself out some more whisky, ‘I haven’t seen him since last Monday week.’

      ‘Where did you leave him on that night?’ asked Slivers.

      ‘At the corner of Sturt and Lydiard Streets.’

      ‘Early in the morning, I suppose?’

      ‘Yes—pretty early—about two o’clock, I think.’

      ‘And you never saw him after that?’

      ‘Not a sight of him,’ replied Barty; ‘but, I say, why all this thusness?’

      ‘I’ll tell you after you have answered my questions,’ retorted Slivers, rudely, ‘but I’m not asking out of curiosity—its business.’

      Barty thought that Slivers was very peculiar, but determined to humour him, and to take his leave as early as possible.

      ‘Well, go on,’ he said, drinking his whisky, ‘I’ll answer.’

      ‘Who else was with you and Villiers on that night?’ asked Slivers in a magisterial kind of manner.

      ‘A French fellow called Vandeloup.’

      ‘Vandeloup!’ echoed Slivers in surprise; ‘oh, indeed! what the devil was he doing?’

      ‘Enjoying himself,’ replied Barty, coolly; ‘he came into the theatre and Villiers introduced him to me; then Mr Wopples asked us all to supper.’

      ‘You went, of course?’

      ‘Rather, old chap; what do you take us for?’—this from Barty, with a knowing wink.

      ‘What time did Vandeloup leave?’ asked Slivers, not paying any attention to Barty’s pantomime.

      ‘About twenty minutes to twelve.’

      ‘Oh! I suppose that was because he had to drive out to the Pactolus?’

      ‘Not such a fool, dear boy; he stayed all night in town.’

      ‘Oh!’ ejaculated Slivers, in an excited manner, drumming on the table with his fingers, ‘where did he stay?’

      ‘At the Wattle Tree Hotel.’

      Slivers mentally made a note of this, and determined to go there and find out at what time Vandeloup had come home on the night in question, for this suspicious old man had now got it into his head that Vandeloup was in some way responsible for Villiers’ disappearance.

      ‘Where did Villiers say he was going when he left you?’ he asked.

      ‘Straight home.’

      ‘Humph! Well, he didn’t go home at all.’

      ‘Didn’t he?’ echoed Barty, in some astonishment. ‘Then what’s become of him? Men don’t disappear in this mysterious way without some reason.’

      ‘Ah, but there is a reason,’ replied Slivers, bending across the table and clawing at the papers thereon with the lean fingers of his one hand.

      ‘Why! what do you think is the reason?’ faltered Barty, letting his eye-glass drop out of his eye, and edging his chair further away from this terrible old man.

      ‘Murder!’ hissed the other through his thin lips. ‘He’s been murdered!’

      ‘Lord!’ ejaculated Barty, jumping up from his chair