Inspector French's Greatest Case by Freeman Wills Crofts Page B

more closely.
    â€œAre you sure this is really Mr. Duke’s signature?” he asked slowly.
    Mr. Schoofs looked at him curiously.
    â€œWhy, yes,” he answered. “At least, it never occurred to me to doubt it.”
    â€œYou might let me see some of his other letters.”
    In a few seconds half a dozen were produced, and French began whistling below his breath as he sat comparing the signatures, using a lens which he took from his pocket. After he had examined each systematically, he laid them down on the table and sat back in his chair.
    â€œThat was stupid of me,” he announced. “I should have learnt all I wanted without asking for these other letters. That signature is forged. See here, look at it for yourself.”
    He passed the lens to Schoofs, who in his turn examined the name.
    â€œYou see, the lines of that writing are not smooth; they are a mass of tiny shakes and quivers. That means that they have not been written quickly and boldly; they have been slowly drawn or traced over pencil. Compare one of these other notes and you will see that while at a distance the signatures look identical, in reality they are quite different. No, Mr. Duke never wrote that. I am afraid Mr. Vanderkemp has been the victim of some trick.”
    Schoofs was visibly excited. He hung on the other’s words and nodded emphatically at his conclusions. Then he swore comprehensively in Dutch. “Good heavens, Inspector!” he cried. “You see the significance of all that?”
    French glanced at him keenly.
    â€œIn what way?” he demanded.
    â€œWhy, here we have a murder and a robbery, and then we have this, occurring at the very same time. … Well, does it not look suggestive?”
    â€œYou mean the two things are connected?”
    â€œWell, what do you think?” Mr. Schoofs replied with some impatience.
    â€œIt certainly does look like it,” French admitted slowly. Already his active brain was building up a theory, but he wanted to get the other’s views. “You are suggesting, I take it, that Vanderkemp may have been concerned in the crime?”
    Schoofs shook his head decidedly.
    â€œI am suggesting nothing of the kind,” he retorted. “That’s not my job. The thing merely struck me as peculiar.”
    â€œNo, no,” French answered smoothly, “I have not expressed myself clearly. Neither of us are making any accusation. We are simply consulting together in a private, and, I hope, a friendly way, each anxious only to find out the truth. Any suggestion may be helpful. If I make the suggestion that Mr. Vanderkemp is the guilty man in order to enable us to discuss the possibility, it does not follow that either of us believe it to be true, still less that I should act on it.”
    â€œI am aware of that, but I don’t make any such suggestion.”
    â€œThen I do,” French declared, “simply as a basis for discussion. Let us suppose then, purely for argument’s sake, that Mr. Vanderkemp decides to make some of the firm’s wealth his own. He is present when the stones are being put into the safe, and in some way when Mr. Duke’s back is turned, he takes an impression of the key. He crosses to London, either finds Gething in the office or is interrupted by him, murders the old man, takes the diamonds, and clears out. What do you think of that?”
    â€œWhat about the letter?”
    â€œWell, that surely fits in? Mr. Vanderkemp must leave this office in some way which won’t arouse your suspicion or cause you to ask questions of the London office. What better way than by forging the letter?”
    Mr. Schoofs swore for the second time. “If he has done that,” he cried hotly, “let him hang! I’ll do everything I can, Inspector, to help you to find out, and that not only on general grounds, but for old Gething’s sake, for whom I had a sincere regard.”
    â€œI thought you would