Proof of Guilt by Charles Todd

Author:Charles Todd [Todd, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery, Historical
ISBN: 9780062015686
Amazon: 006222283X
Goodreads: 15776723
Publisher: William Morrow
Published: 2013-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Rutledge made good time to London, and he arrived at French, French & Traynor just as Gooding was locking the door for the night.

Rutledge called to him. “Can I give you a lift?”

The senior clerk hesitated, then said, “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

He got into the motorcar and heaved a sigh. “You’ve come more quickly than I expected,” he said. “Still, we could have talked in my office.”

“Yes, I’m sure that would have been best. Why were you expecting me?”

“Didn’t they tell you at the Yard? I called because I’ve had word of Mr. Traynor. I reported it as soon as I’d heard.”

Traynor. The other partner in the firm. Expected any day from Portugal.

“Yes, all right. Tell me.”

“We’ve been waiting for word regarding his arrival. With Mr. French still missing, I thought it best— Several days ago I took it upon myself to contact our representative in Lisbon. I had a response today. Mr. Traynor had indeed left Madeira and arrived in Lisbon. Political matters in Portugal are rather uncertain at present, and he and Mr. French had agreed it would be wise to take certain steps to protect the firm’s interests.”

“What interests?”

“Primarily banking. Mr. Traynor saw to it that the bulk of our funds in Lisbon were transferred to an account here in London, but there was also some concern about the reliability of shipping if the situation grew worse. That too has been resolved. According to our man of business, Mr. Traynor then arranged to travel on to London, and he sailed three weeks ago. It doesn’t take three weeks to reach England from Lisbon.”

“Go on.”

“He’d taken passage on a Greek vessel bound for Portsmouth. Our man of business saw him off, and that’s the last word we’ve had of him. I contacted the shipping line’s agent in Portsmouth. There’s no doubt Mr. Traynor came aboard. In fact he had dinner with the captain on his first night. When the Medea docked in Portsmouth on Saturday morning, as scheduled, Mr. Traynor’s luggage was in his cabin, ready to be taken ashore along with that of others disembarking, and there was a gratuity for the cabin steward in an envelope. When it was discovered several hours later that the luggage hadn’t been claimed, it was put into storage. A trunk and two valises. Meanwhile the cabin Mr. Traynor occupied was cleaned for passengers just coming aboard, and all was in order.”

It was a clear and concise report.

Rutledge turned to stare at Gooding. “Was he carrying the firm’s money from the Lisbon bank?”

“No, sir, that came through channels while he was still in Lisbon, as it should have done. But where has Mr. Traynor got to? He hasn’t come here, he hasn’t arrived at the London house—he’s simply vanished. With this information in hand, I contacted the Yard today and asked for you. In fact, I stayed late in the hope that you were making sure my information was correct before coming here tonight.”

Rutledge, still sitting in the motorcar in front of French, French & Traynor, asked Gooding to repeat every detail.

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