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By Passion Driven: A Story of a Wasted Life

Chapter XII

page 81

Chapter XII.

You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful;
I never was nor never will be false.

Detective Fane at once set about his enquiries. From the investigations he had already made, he started with a preconception as to who was the guilty party. His first place of enquiry was at the Bank of Australasia, as to the notes. He called there without delay, and found that three £20 notes had that morning been changed for gold, but he could not ascertain by whom. Another had been received in the exchanges from the Colonial Bank, but no fifties had as yet come to hand. Enquiries at the Colonial Bank led to the discovery that the £20 note received through that institution had been paid into the account of Harry Williams. This fact did not bear out the detective's theory. Pushing his enquiries further, he found that this £20 had been paid in by Harry himself. This information the detective thought it wise to impart to Mr. Bruce immediately. Calling at the warehouse, he found that gentleman engaged, but the officer waited a few minutes and saw him.

They concluded that it was best to speak to Harry at once, and he was called in and addressed by his uncle.

“Harry, where did you get that £20 note you paid into your banking account to-day?”

“I didn't pay in £20 to-day, uncle.”

page 82

“When was it then?” asked the detective, opening his pocket book and producing the bank slip.

“I haven't paid in since last salary day.”

Fane handed the slip to Mr. Bruce; the latter passed it to his nephew.

“Then what does this mean, Harry?”

“It's some mistake, sir; I never saw this before.”

Harry spoke firmly, and with evident truthfulness. There was no hesitation or want of candour in his manner.

“Is not that your handwriting?” enquired Fane.

“No. It's certainly like mine, and intended to pass for it.” Then, turning to his uncle, Harry continued—“This is evidently the same forger as copied the Auckland letter.”

Detective Fane was puzzled. He had no ordinary thief to deal with, and he must have his ground made sure at every step.”

“Were you at the office last night?” continued Fane.

“Yes,” replied Harry, “with Mr. Small.”

“Did you leave together?”

“Yes.”

“At what time?”

“It struck half-past ten as we passed the Telegraph Office.”

“Did you lock up everything on leaving?”

“Yes.”

“And nobody had any business there after that?”

“No. I walked with Mr. Small as far as his lodgings, and then went home myself.”

The detective was getting these particulars because he had noticed a light in the office of Bruce and Co. between 11 and 12 o'clock that night. This fact he kept to himself, however. His duty and object in this instance was to get information, not to give it.

After obtaining from Harry a few more unimportant page 83 particulars, the detective told him he did not further require him.

That same evening Fane resumed his task of watching Herman Lane, and supplemented his own exertions by putting on a man to ascertain in what manner the cashier passed his leisure time.

Fane was not surprised to find that Herman's first hours of freedom were spent at the old rendezvous in Rattray Street. Thither he went alone, but it was an easy conjecture as to whom he met there, and what served to pass the time. The detective knew what enquiries he could make at this hotel without fear of his visit being spoken of. The barman was a young man who had been brought up in the town, and was known extensively as sensible and trustworthy. To him, therefore, Fane addressed his questions as to whether any big Bank of Australasia notes had been changed in the house. He found that one for £10 had been changed for smaller notes during the day by John Samson.

This was only a slight matter, but it helped to piece out the detective's theory.

With an eagerness begotten of long professional practice, the detective seized upon every circumstance which tended to justify his already-formed hypothesis as to the crime he was dealing with. Strict impartiality in the enquiries of the detective department would be an impossibility. Every officer, to be worth his salt, must soon adopt some hypothesis as to the case he has in hand, and if enquiries are to be pursued with any vigour, they must necessarily be directed towards the support of this. That this frequently leads them off on a wrong track is undeniable; but the process of throwing light upon any one path must cast some reflection upon each branching way, and lead to the discovery of any important divergence. No officer who page 84 flounders along in the general quagmire, in preference to first exhausting the leadings of the different pathways, will ever be a success in his profession.

The patience with which Fane waited for the appearance of Herman Lane was eventually rewarded by the latter's emerging from the hotel in company with Mote and Samson. His face was flushed, as if from recent drinking, but there was no indication of it in his gait or manner. The men stood for a few minutes in front of the doorway, engaged in earnest conversation, then they separated, Samson proceeding up Rattray Street, and the others walking leisurely along in the direction of Princes Street. Here Lane and Mote stood for some minutes conversing, the burden of their talk evidently being of an appointment to meet later on at some rendezvous. Then Mote started off along Princes Street, leaving Lane, who, crossing the street, proceeded towards Bond Street, and made all haste along that street until he arrived opposite the warehouse of Bruce and Co. Here he stopped, and after making sure that the office was unoccupied, crossed over towards the door, where he stood and looked around him to ascertain if anybody was in the street. Not seeing any one about, he hastily unlocked the door, passed in, and closed it behind him. The detective came quickly across to one of the front windows, and stood waiting under it expecting a light to appear. In this, however, he was disappointed; Lane was evidently not using a light for what had brought him there. Fane then stood upon the window sill, but found that from there he could not see beyond Mr. Bruce's private room, while it was in the public office that Lane was at work. The detective tried another window with like result, and was forced to give up that idea and return to his post of observation opposite. He had not been there long until Lane came out into the street, and, without page 85 turning or looking round, hurried again along Bond Street, the officer following. He walked quickly along Princes Street, through the Octagon, and joined Mote in front of the Town Hall. Together they hastened down a narrow right-of-way off George Street, and their follower saw them stop and knock at one of a row of small cottages well known to the police. Having seen them enter this, the detective concluded that there would not be much chance of either of them coming out again that night, and he therefore terminated his investigations for the present, and proceeded home to “think out” the information he had gained.

Seated in his armchair, Detective Fane indulged in a mental unravelling of the mysteries of the case upon which he was engaged. With the assistance of an old companion, in the shape of a well-coloured meerschaum pipe, which he had constantly between his teeth when seated in his well-worn chair, he turned over and over the different phases of the events he had brought to light. Piecing together, after fully reviewing separately all the little items of evidence collected, he reasoned out the different theories he could suggest as solutions of the mystery, and finally made up his mind that one course, and one only, lay before him.

Having arrived at this conclusion, he removed his pipe from his mouth, and further thought being then almost impossible, he went to bed.

With Detective Fane, going to bed meant only one thing. All his actions were the result of long and careful training. When he determined to do anything he did it. To lie down to sleep meant going to sleep almost immediately. At whatever time he wished to wake in the morning he made up his mind beforehand, and wake he would precisely at that hour, and without fail—so unfailingly, in fact, that he had often declared he needed no other test by which to adjust page 86 his watch. He regulated his hours of sleep by the exigencies of the work he had in hand. On this occasion there was no need for early rising, so he took full advantage of the time at his disposal, and slept well into the following morning.

After arranging his programme for the day, he made a call on Mr. Bruce. He had not yet interviewed Small, so he went to him in his private room, and got from the manager all the information in his possession. He then reported to Mr. Bruce the result of his proceedings on the previous night, and explained the course he thought advisable to pursue. The object of Lane's visit to the office at night he had not been able to conjecture, nor was explanation forthcoming there. So far no discovery had been made. Lane had no right whatever with an office key, and must have obtained it surreptitiously.

After determining the course to take, the detective left the office, and Mr. Bruce engaged in the business before him. The merchant was oppressed with conjectures as to what the immediate future had in store for him, and could not dismiss from his mind apprehensions on the subject of the inquiries being made by the detective, and dark forebodings as to the results likely to flow from them.

Herman was at the office as usual that morning, and had apparently no idea or suspicion of what was going on around him.