out to get the best for himself. Suicide wouldn’t be his line except as a last resource, and, so far as I know, he was not in difficulties.’
‘You don’t seem to have liked him very much.’
‘I didn’t like him at all,’ Hurst returned with some warmth, ‘though maybe it’s not quite the thing to be saying so with the chap just dead. But his death doesn’t alter facts. I didn’t like him and I don’t know anyone else who did.’
‘How do you account for that?’
Mr Hurst shrugged his shoulders.
‘Hard to say. Manner perhaps. But he wasn’t popular anyhow.’
‘It’s always an astonishment to me,’ Vandam remarked easily, ‘what a difference manner makes—a thing, as you might say, that there’s really nothing in. However, that’s by the way. You tell me this deceased gentleman was not popular. Now, was there anyone he actually had a row with?’
Mr Hurst favoured his visitor with a keen glance.
‘Plenty,’ he said, dryly. ‘I had a row with him myself last week. He has got across most of us at one time or another.’
‘I don’t mean trifling differences,’ Vandam insisted. ‘Were there any really serious quarrels?’
‘I could hardly tell,’ Hurst answered. ‘Once, I know, he had a scrap with another man—one of our own staff too. I went into one of the yards and I found him and this chap, a man called Swayne, fighting rings round with half the storemen looking on. Would you call that a serious quarrel?’
‘I could hardly tell either,’ Vandam smiled. ‘Were they in earnest about it?’
‘In earnest! They were out for each other’s blood. It was the devil’s own job to get them separated. They were evenly matched; both big, strongly developed men, and for a time it might have gone either way. Then Smith got Swayne down, and I wouldn’t mind betting he’d have throttled him only for the others. They rushed in and dragged him off. Swayne was nearly unconscious. They were both pretty wild at first, and each swore he would do the other in, but next day the thing seemed to have blown over.’
‘Which was in the wrong?’
‘I don’t know. No one ever did know what started it. But Smith was always nagging at Swayne, and I expect he went too far. I don’t know how Swayne stood it the way he did.’
‘Was that long ago?’
‘About a month, I should think.’
‘It looks as if Smith had some hold over Swayne.’
‘That’s what I’ve thought more than once. Swayne isn’t a bad chap and he’s certainly no coward, but he always seemed to have the wind up where Smith was concerned.’
‘He’s on your staff, you say?’
‘Yes, he’s our sales manager.’
‘I’d better see him,’ Vandam declared. ‘He might know something that would help.’
‘Then I’m afraid you’ll have some way to look. He’s just gone to England on three months’ leave to visit his relatives. Lucky chap! I wish I could get a trip like that.’
Inspector Vandam’s hopes, which had been steadily rising during the conversation, suffered a sudden drop.
‘Oh,’ he said helplessly, ‘he’s gone to England, has he? But you say he’s coming back?’
‘Yes. We’re keeping his job for him. He’s a smart fellow, too good to lose.’
‘Is it long since he left?’
‘Only just gone. He left last night.’
The night before! The night of the murder! Vandam’s hopes made a sharp recovery. Certainly he must find out more about this Swayne.
He resumed his interrogation. It seemed that Smith had also been at loggerheads with no less a person than Mr Crawley, the manager. They had had friction over some private business, the details of which Hurst did not know. But Crawley had not allowed the matter to affect their business relations, and Hurst believed it also had blown over.
Vandam asked a number of other questions, but without gaining much more information. In spite of his careful probing, he could hear of no one else whose relations with Smith were really suspicious. Therefore, having obtained the address of Swayne’s landlady with the object of prosecuting inquiries there, he thanked Hurst for his trouble, and took his leave.
His next business was at Smith’s rooms, and a few minutes’ walk brought him to Rotterdam Road. It was a street of compara-
tively new houses, mostly residential, but with a sprinkling of shops and offices. No. 25 was wedged in between a tobacconist’s and an exhibition of gas stoves, and showed in its lower windows cards bearing the legend, ‘Apartments.’ The Inspector knocked at the door.
It was opened by an elderly woman with hard features and a careworn expression, who explained that she was the landlady. Upon Vandam stating his business, she invited him in, and answered all his questions freely. But here he did not learn a great deal beyond the mere fact that Smith had occupied rooms in the house. Mrs Regan seemed genuinely shocked at the news of her lodger’s death, though Vandam suspected this was due more to the loss of a paying client and the unwelcome notoriety which would be brought on her establishment than to personal regard for the deceased.
It seemed that Smith shared a sitting-room with a Mr Holt, a bank official, though the two men occupied separate bedrooms. On the previous evening, the night of the murder, Smith had returned at about six for supper, his usual custom. Holt was later that night and did not turn up until past seven. Mrs Regan in bringing up Smith’s tray had ‘passed the time of day’ with him, as was her habit when either gentleman was alone. Smith seemed restless and excited. She imagined he had something on his mind, and this opinion was confirmed when she found later on that he had eaten hardly any supper. He had gone out shortly after eight; she had not seen him, but he had called through her door that he was going out into the country and might not be back that night. He had never returned, nor had he sent her any message.
Mrs Regan gave her late lodger a good character ‘as young men go,’ but with a curious reticence in her manner, which Vandam put down to personal dislike. The deceased was rather silent and uncommunicative, but was not too inconsiderate about giving trouble. He did not often drink to excess, nor did he bring undesirables to the house, though he kept pretty late hours. But principally he was a good pay. It seemed that to Mrs Regan prompt payment covered a greater multitude of sins than charity.
The landlady could not give a list of Smith’s friends. He had very few visitors, and of those who did come she seldom learned the names. She suggested that Mr Holt would be better able to help, and gave his business address, the Central Branch of the Union Bank.
Neither could she, in answer to Vandam’s veiled questionings, suggest anyone who might have had a grudge against the deceased. The Inspector was satisfied from the way she made her statement that she was being as helpful as she could, and thanked her politely.
‘I must search his rooms, I’m afraid,’ he continued. ‘Perhaps you would show me up?’
