The Face of a Stranger

"Oh yes? That's a new departure for Marner-"

"If it's the same man," Monk said cautiously. "I don't know that it is. I don't know anything about him but his name, and only part of that. Where do I find him?"

"Thirteen Gun Lane, Limehouse." He hesitated. "If you get anything, Monk, will you tell me, as long as it isn't the actual murder? Is that what you're after?"

"No. No, I just want some information. If I find evidence of fraud I'll bring it back for you." He smiled bleakly. "You have my word."

The man's face eased into a smile. "Thank you."

Monk went early in the morning and was in Limehouse by nine o'clock. He would have been there sooner had there been any purpose. He had spent much of the time since he woke at six pla

It was a long way from Grafton Street and he took a hansom eastward through Clerkenwell, Whitechapel and down towards the cramped and crowded docks and Limehouse. It was a still morning and the sun was gleaming on the river, making white sparkles on the water between the black barges coming up from the Pool of London. Across on the far side were Bermondsey-the Venice of the Drains-and Rotherhithe, and ahead of him the Surrey Docks, and along the shining Reach the Isle of Dogs, and on the far side Deptford and then the beautiful Greenwich with its green park and trees and the exquisite architecture of the naval college.

But his duty lay hi the squalid alleys of Limehouse with beggars, usurers and thieves of every degree-and Zebe-dee Marner.

Gun Lane was a byway off the West India Dock Road, and he found Number 13 without difficulty. He passed an evil-looking idler on the pavement and another lounging in the doorway, but neither troubled him, perhaps considering him unlikely to give to a beggar and too crisp of gait to be wise to rob. There was other, easier prey. He despised them, and understood them at the same time.

Good fortune was with him: Zebedee Marner was in, and after a discreet inquiry, the clerk showed Monk into the upper office.

"Good morning, Mr.-Monk." Marner sat behind a large, important desk, his white hair curled over his ears and his white hands spread on the leather-inlaid surface in front of him. "What can I do for you?"

"You come recommended as a man of many businesses, Mr. Marner," Monk started smoothly, gliding over the hatred in his voice. "With a knowledge of all kinds of things."

"And so I am, Mr. Monk, so I am. Have you money to invest?"

“What could you offer me?''

"All ma

"I am interested also in safety, rather than quick profit," Monk said, ignoring the question. "I wouldn't care to lose what I have."

"Of course not, who would?" Marner spread his hands wide and shrugged expressively, but his eyes were fixed and blinkless as a snake's. "You want your money invested safely?"

"Oh, quite definitely," Monk agreed. "And since I know of many other gentlemen who are also interested in investment, I should wish to be certain that any recommendation I made was secure."

Ma

"So I've heard." Monk nodded. "But is it safe?"

"Some is, some isn't. It is the skill of people like me to know the difference." His eyes were wide again, his hands folded across his paunch. "That is why you came here, instead of investing it yourself.''

"Tobacco?"

Marner's face did not change in the slightest.

"An excellent commodity." He nodded. "Excellent. I ca

"Are you familiar with the market?" Monk asked, swallowing hard to contain his loathing of this man sitting here like a fat white spider in his well-furnished office, safe in his gray web of lies and facades. Only the poor flies like Latterly got caught-a«d perhaps Joscelin Grey.

"Of course," Marner replied complacently. "I know it well."

"You have dealt in it?"

"I have, frequently. I assure you, Mr. Monk, I know very well what I am doing."

"You would not be taken unaware and find yourself faced with a collapse?"

"Most certainly not." Marner looked at him as if he had let fall some vulgarity at the table.

"You are sure?" Monk pressed him.

"I am more than sure, my dear sir." Now he was quite pained. "I am positive."

"Good." Monk at last allowed the venom to flood into his voice. “That is what I thought. Then you will no doubt be able to tell me how the disaster occurred that ruined Major Joscelin Grey's investment in the same commodity. You were co

Marner's face paled and for a moment he was confused to find words.

"I-er-assure you, you need have no anxiety as to its happening again," he said, avoiding Monk's eyes, then looking very directly at him, to cover the lie of intent.

"That is good," Monk answered him coolly. "But hardly of more than the barest comfort now. It has cost two lives already. Was there much of your own money lost, Mr. Marner?"

"Much of mine?" Marner looked startled.

"I understand Major Grey lost a considerable sum?"

"Oh-no. No, you are misinformed." Marner shook his head and his white hair bounced over his ears. "The company did not precisely fail. Oh dear me no. It simply transferred its operation; it was taken over. If you are not a man of affairs, you could not be expected to understand. Business is highly complicated these days, Mr. Monk."

"It would seem so. And you say Major Grey did not lose a great deal of his own money? Can you substantiate that in any way?"

"I could, of course." The smug veils came over Mar-ner's eyes again. "But Major Grey's affairs are his own, of course, and I should not discuss his affairs with you, any more than I should dream of discussing yours with him. The essence of good business is discretion, sir." He smiled, pleased with himself, his composure at least in part regained.

"Naturally," Monk agreed. "But I am from the police, and am investigating Major Grey's murder, therefore I am in a different category from the merely inquisitive." He lowered his voice and it became peculiarly menacing. He saw Marner's face tighten. "And as a law-abiding man," he continued, "I am sure you will be only too happy to give me every assistance you can. I should like to see your records in the matter. Precisely how much did Major Grey lose, Mr. Marner, to the guinea, if you please?"

Marner's chin came up sharply; his eyes were hot and offended.

"The police? You said you wanted to make an investment. ''

"No, I did not say that-you assumed it. How much did Joscelin Grey lose, Mr. Marner?"

"Oh, well, to the guinea, Mr. Monk, he-he did not lose any."

"But the company dissolved."

"Yes-yes, that is true; it was most unfortunate. But Major Grey withdrew his own investment at the last moment, just before the-the takeover."

Monk remembered the policeman from whom he had learned Marner's address. If he had been after Marner for years, let him have the satisfaction of taking him now.

"Oh." Monk sat back, altering his whole attitude, almost smiling. "So he was not really concerned in the loss?"

"No, not at all."

Monk stood up.

"Then it hardly constitutes a part of his murder. I'm sorry to have wasted your time, Mr. Marner. And I thank you for your cooperation. You do, of course, have some papers to prove this, just for my superiors?"