MR. FORTUNE EXPLAINS by H.C. BAILEY 1931

Author:H.C. BAILEY, 1931
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackmask Online
Published: 2001-10-05T18:00:00+00:00

SIXTH EXPLANATION. THE SILVER CROSS

WITH the simple purpose of asking him to dinner Mr. Fortune strolled into the room of the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department.

He was received with enthusiasm. “The very man!”Lomas chuckled. “Now we'll tell you all about it. Superintendent. This is Mr. Fortune. Sit down, Reginald. Momentous case for you.”

Mr. Fortune moaned gently. Mr. Fortune blinked at him and saw also a solemn, fattish man. “Superintendent Billson of Downshire,” Lomas explained.

“Very jolly county,” Mr. Fortune sighed.

“I've heard of Mr. Fortune,” said the Superintendent with reverence.

“Now, Reginald, what's that?” Lomas held out to him a little flat piece of grey metal. It was in the shape of a cross, but the arms curved down at the ends. It was marked with a faint irregular pattern.

“Is it some kind of religious thing, would you say, sir?” Superintendent Billson said eagerly.

“Lots of crosses aren't Christian, you know,” Reggie mumbled. “This wasn't.”

“What is it, then, sir?”

Reggie studied it. “Well, it's silver. It was made as a bit of jewellery. Probably a charm also. Possibly charged with magic. By South American Indians. Pretty far south, I should say.”

Billson listened with his mouth open. Billson slapped his thigh. “That's good enough!” he cried. “That's got him, eh, Mr. Lomas?”

“I should say so. Very neat little clue, Billson.”

Reggie blinked at them again. “Yes. Now tell me what I've done,” he said plaintively.

“Billson has a bit of a case against a parson, but he didn't want to make a charge unless he was sure of a conviction. So he came to consult us.”

“Very touchin' faith.” Reggie turned the silver cross over. “And the evidence is this?”

“There's more than that, sir.” Billson was not pleased. “Mr. Lomas didn't put it quite right, if I may say so. The parson in the case is a queer fish. He's never got on with the other clergy or the county people or anybody but a few what you might call devotees. You see, if we put up a case against a man like that without we can prove it absolutely, it looks as if we were trying to down him because he set the big folks' backs up. We'd be making him a martyr and fall down over it, and that sort o' thing gets the police a bad name. That's how the Chief Constable looks at it, so he said to come and ask you gentlemen at Scotland Yard about this trinket. Now you've recognized it, we've got our evidence. You'd be ready to swear it came from South America, Mr. Fortune?”

“Oh yes. Yes. If and when necessary. And the next thing, please?”

“I don't think we shall want any more from you, sir. That'll about settle the Reverend Neath.”

“What's the charge?”

Lomas laughed. “Oh, very grave, Reginald. Theft. Matter of twenty pounds.”

“Twenty—five, sir,” said Billson severely. “It was like this, Mr. Fortune. The Reverend Neath came into our county matter of five years ago. He was what you might call an odd job parson, taking duty when men went sick, doing a bit of mission work.

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