The “frying” of them took the shape of first going outside and walking round the Stone Drum, and then of stepping back to the door and beckoning Narkom and Lord Fallowfield and young James Drake out to him.
“Anybody in the habit of sitting out here to read or paint or anything of that sort?” he asked abruptly.
“Good gracious, no!” replied Lord Fallowfield. “Whatever makes you ask such a thing as that, Mr. Cleek?”
“Nothing, only that I have found four little marks disposed of at such regular distances that they seem to have been made by the four legs of a chair resting, with a rather heavy weight upon it, on the leads of the roof and immediately under one of the bowman’s slits in the Stone Drum. A chair with casters, I should imagine, from the character of the marks. We are on a level with the sleeping quarters of the servants in the house proper, I believe, and chairs with casters are not usual in servants’ bedrooms in most houses. Are they so here?”
“Certainly not,” put in young Drake. “Why, I don’t believe there is a chair with casters on the whole blessed floor. Is there, Lord Fallowfield? You ought to know.”
“Yes, there is, Jim. There are three in fact; they all are in the old armoury. Been there a dog’s age; and they so matched the old place your poor father never had them taken out.”
“The ‘old armoury’? What’s that, your lordship, may I ask?”
“Oh, a relic of the old feudal times, Mr. Cleek. You see,on account of the position of the Stone Drum, the weapon room, or arming-room, had to be up here on a level with the wing roof, instead of below stairs, as in the case of other ‘towers.’ That’s the place over there—the window just to the left of the door leading into the building proper. It is full of the old battle flags, knights’ pennants, shields, cross-bows, and the Lord knows what of those old days of primitive warfare. We Fallowfields always preserved it, just as it was in the days of its usefulness, for its historical interest and its old association with the name. Like to have a look at it?”
“Very much indeed,” replied Cleek, and two minutes later he was standing in the place and revelling in its air of antiquity.
As Lord Fallowfield had declared, the three old chairs which supplied seating accommodation were equipped with casters, but although these were the prime reason for Cleek’s visit to the place, he gave them little more than a passing glance, bestowing all his attention upon the ancient shields and the quaint old cross-bows with which the walls were heavily hung in tier after tier almost to the groined ceiling.
“Primitive times, Mr. Narkom, when men used to go out with these jimcrack things and bang away at each other with skewers!” he said, taking one of them down and examining it in a somewhat casual manner, turning it over, testing its weight, looking at its catch, and running his fingers up and down the propelling string. “Fancy a chap with one of these things running up against a modern battery or sailing out into a storm of shrapnel! Back to your hook, grandfather”—hanging it up again—“times change and we with time. By the way, your lordship, I hope you will be better able to give an account ofyourwhereabouts last night than I hear that Mr. Drake here is able to do regarding his.”
“I? Good heavens, man, what do you mean?” flung out his lordship, so taken aback by the abruptness of the remark that the very breath seemed to be knocked out of him. “Upon my soul, Mr. Cleek——”
“Gently, gently, your lordship. You must certainly realize that in the circumstances the same necessity must exist for you to explain your movements as exists for Mr. Drake. I am told that in the event of the elder Mr. Drake’s death this property was to come to you wholly unencumbered by any charge or any restrictions whatsoever.”
“Good God! So it was. Upon my soul, I’d forgotten all about that!” exclaimed his lordship with such an air that he was either speaking the absolute truth or was a very good actor indeed.
“Jim! My boy! Oh, good heavens! I never gave the thing a thought—never one! No, Mr. Cleek, I can give no account of my movements other than to say that I went to bed directly I left the Stone Drum. Or—yes. I can prove that much, by George! I can, indeed. Ojeebi was with me, or, at least, close at my heels at the time, and he saw me go into my room, and must have heard me lock the door.”
“Ojeebi? Who is he?”
“My father’s Japanese valet,” put in young Drake. “Been with him for the past five years. If he tells you that he saw Lord Fallowfield go into his room and lock the door after him, you can rely upon that as an absolute and irrefutable truth. ‘Whitest’ little yellow man that ever walked on two feet; faithful as a dog, and as truthful as they make ’em.”
“And they don’t make ’em any too truthful, as a rule, in his country, by Jove!” said Cleek. “Still, of course, as he could not possibly have anything to gain——Call him up, will you, and let us hear what he has to say with regard to Lord Fallowfield’s statement.”
Young Drake rang for a servant, issued the necessary order, and some five or six minutes later a timid little yellow man with the kindest face and the most gentle step a man could possess came into the room, his soft eyes reddened with much weeping, and tear-stains marking his sallow cheeks.
“Oh, Mr. Jim! Oh, Mr. Jim! the dear, kind old ‘boss’! He gone! he gone!” he broke out disconsolately as he caught sight of his late master’s son, and made as if to prostrate himself before him.
“That’s all right, Ojeebi—that’s all right, old man!” interrupted young Drake, with a smothered “blub” in his voice and a twitching movement of his mouth. “Cut it out! I’m not iron. Say, this gentleman wants to ask you a few questions, Ojeebi; deliver the goods just as straight as you know how.”
“Me, Mr. Jim? Gentleman want question me?” The small figure turned, the kindly face lifted, and the sorrowful eyes looked up into Cleek’s unemotional ones.
“Yes,” said he placidly; and forthwith told him what Lord Fallowfield claimed.
“That very true,” declared Ojeebi. “The lord gentleman he right ahead of me. I see him go into his room and hear him lock door. That very true indeed.”
“H’m! Any idea of the time?”
“Yes—much idea. Two minutes a-past twelve. I see clock as I go past Lady Marj’ie’s room.”
“What were you doing knocking about that part of the house at that hour of the night? Your room’s up here in the servant’s quarters, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. But I go take ice-water to the boss’s room. Boss never go to bed nights without ice-water handy, sir. ’Merican boss never do.”
“Yes! Quite so, quite so! Where did you get the ice from—and how? Chop it from a big cake?”
“No, sir. It always froze to fit bottle. I get him from the ice-make room downstairs.”
“He means the refrigerating room, Mr. Cleek,” explained young Drake. “You know, I take it, what a necessary commodity we Americans hold ice to be. Indeed, the dear old dad wouldn’t think a dinner was a dinner without ice-water on the table, and ice-cream for the final course. And as there was no possibility of procuring a regular and adequate supply in an out-of-the-way spot like this, he had a complete artificial ice-making plant added to the place, and overcame the difficulty in that way. That is what Ojeebi means by the ‘ice-make room.’ What he means about its being frozen to fit the bottles is this: The ice which is to be used for drinking purposes is manufactured in forms or vessels which turn it out in cubes, so that whenever it is wanted all that a servant has to do is to go to the plant, and the man in charge supplies him with all the cubes required.”
“Ah, I see,” said Cleek, and stroked his chin. “Well, that’s all, I reckon, for the time being. Ojeebi has certainly backed up your statement to the fullest, your lordship, so we can dispense with him entirely. And now, if I have your permission, gentlemen, I should like to feel myself privileged to go poking about the house and grounds for the next hour or so in quest of possible clues. At the end of that time I will rejoin you here, and shall hope to have something definite to report. So if you don’t mind my going——Thanks very much. Come along, Mr. Narkom. I’ve a little something for you to do, and—an hour will do it, or I’m a dogberry.”
With that he took his departure from the armoury and, with the superintendent following, went down through the house to the grounds and out into the screen of close crowding, view-defying trees.
Here he paused a minute to pull out his notebook andscribble something on a leaf, and then to tear out that leaf and put it into Mr. Narkom’s hand.
“Rush Lennard off to the post-office with that, will you? and have it wired up to town as soon as possible,” he said. “Prepay the reply, and get that reply back to me as soon as telegraph and motor can get it here.”
Then he swung off out of the screen of the trees and round the angle of the building, and set about hunting for the refrigerating plant.
It was five and after when the superintendent, pale and shaking with excitement, came up the long drive from the Hall gates and found Cleek lounging in the doorway of the house, placidly smoking a cigarette and twirling a little ball of crumpled newspaper in his hand.
“Right was I, Mr. Narkom?” he queried smilingly.
“Good God, yes! Right as rain, old chap. Been carrying it for upward of a twelvemonth, and no doubt waiting for an opportunity to strike.”
“Good! And while you have been attending to your little part of the business I’ve been looking out for mine, dear friend. Look!” said Cleek, and opened up the little ball of paper sufficiently to show what looked like a cut-glass scent bottle belonging to a lady’s dressing-bag close stoppered with a metal plug sealed round with candle wax. “Woorali, my friend; and enough in it to kill an army. Come along—we’ve got to the bottom of the thing, let us go up and ‘report.’ The gentlemen will be getting anxious.”
They were; for on reaching the armoury they found young Drake and Lord Fallowfield showing strong traces of the mental strain under which they were labouring and talking agitatedly with Lady Marjorie Wynde, who had, in the interim, come up and joined them, and was herself apparently in need of something to sustain and to strengthen her; for Ojeebi was standing by with an extended salver, from which she had just lifted to her lips a glass of port.
“Good God! I never was so glad to see anybody in my life, gentlemen,” broke out young Drake as they appeared.“It’s beyond the hour you asked for—ages beyond—and my nerves are almost pricking their way through my skin. Mr. Cleek—Mr. Narkom—speak up, for heaven’s sake. Have you succeeded in finding out anything?”
“We’ve done better than that, Mr. Drake,” replied Cleek, “for we have succeeded in finding out everything. Look sharp there, Mr. Narkom, and shut that door. Lady Marjorie looks as if she were going to faint, and we don’t want a whole houseful of servants piling in here. That’s it. Back against the door, please; her ladyship seems on the point of crumpling up.”
“No, no, I’m not; indeed, I’m not!” protested Lady Marjorie with a forced smile and a feeble effort to hold her galloping nerves in check. “I am excited and very much upset, of course, but I am really much stronger than you would think. Still, if you would rather I should leave the room, Mr. Cleek——”
“Oh, by no means, your ladyship. I know how anxious you are to learn the result of my investigations. And, by that token, somebody else is anxious, too—the doctor. Call him in, will you, Mr. Drake? He is still with the others in the Stone Drum, I assume.”
He was; and he came out of it with them at young Drake’s call, and joined the party in the armoury.
“Doctor,” said Cleek, looking up as he came in, “we’ve got to the puzzle’s unpicking, and I thought you’d be interested to hear the result. I was right about the substance employed, for I’ve found the stuff and I’ve nailed the guilty party. It was woorali, and the reason why there was no trace of a weapon was because the blessed thing melted. It was an icicle, my friend, an icicle with its point steeped in woorali, and if you want to know how it did its work—why, it was shot in there from the cross-bow hanging on the wall immediately behind me, and the person who shot it in was so short that a chair was necessary to get up tothe bowman’s slit when——No, you don’t, my beauty! There’s a gentleman with a noose waiting to pay his respects to all such beasts as you!”
Speaking, he sprang with a sharp, flashing movement that was like to nothing so much as the leap of a pouncing cat, and immediately there was a yap and a screech, a yell and a struggle, a click of clamping handcuffs, and a scuffle of writhing limbs, and a moment later they that were watching saw him rise with a laugh, and stand, with his hands on his hips, looking down at Ojeebi lying crumpled up in a heap, with gyves on his wrists and panic in his eyes, at the foot of the guarded door.
“Well, my pleasant-faced, agreeable little demon, it’ll be many a long day before the spirits of your ancestors welcome you back to Nippon!” Cleek said as the panic-stricken Jap, realizing what was before him, began to shriek and shriek until his brain and nerves sank into a collapse and he fainted where he lay. “I’ve got you and I’ve got the woorali. I went through your trunk and found it—as I knew I should from the moment I clapped eyes upon you. If the laws of the country are so lax that they make it possible for you to do what you have done, they also are stringent enough to make you pay the price of it with your yellow little neck!”
“In the name of heaven, Mr. Cleek,” spoke up young Drake, breaking silence suddenly, “what can the boy have done? You speak as if it were he that murdered my father; but, man, why should he? What had he to gain? What motive could a harmless little chap like this have for killing the man he served?”
“The strongest in the world, my friend—the greed of gain!” said Cleek. “What he could not do in your father’s land it is possible for him to do in this one, which foolishly allows its subjects to insure even the life of its ruler without his will, knowledge, or consent. For nearly a twelvemonththis little brute has been carrying a heavy insurance upon the life of Jefferson P. Drake; but, thank God, he’ll never live to collect it. What’s that, Doctor? How did I find that out? By the simplest means possible, my dear sir.
“For a reason which concerns nobody but myself, I dropped in at the Guildford office of the Royal British Life Assurance Society in the latter part of last May, and upon that occasion I marked the singular circumstance that a Japanese was then paying the premium of an already existing policy. Why I speak of it as a singular circumstance, and why I let myself be impressed by it, lie in the fact that, as the Japanese regard their dead ancestors with absolute veneration and the privilege of being united with them a boon which makes death glorious, life assurance is not popular with them, since it seems to be insulting their ancestors and makes joining them tainted with the odour of baser things. Consequently, I felt pretty certain that it was some other life than his own he was there to pay the regularly recurring premium upon. The chances are, Doctor, that in the ordinary run of things I should never have thought of that man or that circumstance again. But it so happens that I have a very good memory for faces and events, so when I came down here to investigate this case, and in the late Mr. Drake’s valet saw that Japanese man again—voila! I should have been an idiot not to put two and two together.
“The remainder, a telegram inquiring if an insurance upon the life of Jefferson P. Drake, the famous inventor, had been effected by anybody but the man himself, settled the thing beyond question. As for the rest, it is easy enough to explain. Your remark that the little puddle found upon the floor of the Stone Drum appeared to you to bear a distinct resemblance to the water resulting from melted snow, added to what I already knew regarding the refrigerating plant installed here, put me on the track of theice; and as the small spot on the temple was of so minute a character, I knew that the weapon must have been pointed. A pointed weapon of ice leaves but one conclusion possible, Doctor. I have since learned from the man in charge of the refrigerating plant that this yellow blob of iniquity here was much taken by the icicles which the process of refrigeration caused to accumulate in the place and upon the machine itself during rotation, and that last night shortly after twelve o’clock he came down and broke off and carried away three of them. How I came to know what motive power he employed to launch the poisoned shaft can be explained in a word. Most of the weapons—indeed, all but one—hanging on the wall of this armoury are lightly coated with dust, showing that it must be a week or more since any housemaid’s work was attended to in this particular quarter. One of them is not dusty. Furthermore, when I took it down for the purpose of examining it I discovered that, although smeared with ink or paint to make it look as old as the others, the bowstring was of fresh catgut, and there was a suspicious dampness about the ‘catch,’ which suggested either wet hands or the partial melting, under the heat of living flesh, of the ‘shaft,’ which had been an icicle. That’s all, Doctor; that’s all, Mr. Drake; that’s quite all, Lord Fallowfield. A good, true-hearted young chap will get both the girl he wants and the inheritance which should be his by right; a good, true friend will get back the ancestral home he lost through misfortune and has regained through chance, and a patient and faithful lady will, in all probability, get the man she loves without now having to wait until he comes into a dead man’s shoes. Lady Marjorie, my compliments. Doctor, my best respects, and gentlemen all—good afternoon.”
And here with that weakness for the theatrical which was his besetting sin, he bowed to them with his hat laid over his heart, and walked out of the room.
“No, Mr. Narkom, no. As an instrument of death the icicle isnotnew,” said Cleek, answering the superintendent’s question as the limousine swung out through the gates of Heatherington Hall and faced the long journey back to London. “If you will look up the records of that energetic female, Catherine de Medici, Queen of France, you will find that she employed it in that capacity upon two separate occasions; and coming down to more modern times, you will also find that in the year 1872 the Russian, Lydia Bolorfska, used it at Galitch, in the province of Kostroma, to stab her sleeping husband. But as a projectile, itisnew—as asuccessfulprojectile, I mean—for there have been many attempts made, owing to its propensity to dissolve after use, to discharge it from firearms, but never in one single instance have those attempts resulted in success. The explosion has always resulted in shivering and dispersing it in a shower of splinters as it leaves the muzzle of the weapon. There can be no doubt, however, that could it be propelled in a perfectly horizontal position, the power behind it would, in spite of its brittle nature, drive it through a pine board an inch thick. But, as I have said, the motive power always defeats the object by landing it against the target in a mass of splinters.”
“I see. And the Jap got over that by employing a cross-bow; and that, of course, did the trick.”
“No. I doubt if he would have been able to put enough power behind that to drive it into the man’s body with deadly effect, if, indeed, he could make it enter it at all.Where Ojeebi scored over all others lay in the fact that with his plan there was no necessity to have the icicle enter the victim’s body at all. He required nothing more than just sufficient power of propulsion to break the skin and establish contact with the blood, and then that hellish compound on the point of the projectile could be depended upon to do the rest. It did, as you know, and then dropped to the floor and melted away, leaving nothing but a little puddle of water behind it.”
“But, Cleek, my dear chap, how do you account for the fact that when the doctor came to analyze that water he found no trace of the poison in it?”
“He did, Mr. Narkom, only that he didn’t recognize it. Woorali is extremely volatile, for one thing, and evaporates rapidly. For another, there was a very small quantity used—a very small quantity necessary, so malignant it is—and the water furnished by the melting icicle could dilute that little tremendously. It would not be able to obliterate all trace of it, however, but the infinitesimal portion remaining would make spring water give the same answer in analysis as that given by the water resulting from melted snow. It was when Doctor Hague mentioned the fact that if it wasn’t for the utter absurdity of looking for such a substance in England in July, he should have said itwasmelted snow, that I really got my first clue. Later, however, when——But come, let’s chuck it! I’ve had enough of murder and murderers for one day—let’s talk of something else. Our new ‘turnout,’ here, for instance. You have ‘done yourself proud’ this time and no mistake—she certainlyisa beauty, Mr. Narkom. By the way, what have you done with the old red one? Sold it?”
“Not I, indeed. I know a trick worth two of that. I send it out, empty, every day, in the hope of having those Apache johnnies follow it, and have a plain-clothes man trailing along behind in a taxi, ready to nip in and followthem if they do. But they don’t—that is, they haven’t up to the present; but there’s always hope, you know.”
“Not in that direction, I’m afraid. Waldemar’s a better general than that, believe me. Knowing that we have discovered his little plan of following the red limousine just as we discovered his other, of following me, he will have gone off on another tack, believe me.”
“Scotland! You don’t think, do you, that he can possibly have found out anything about the new one and has set in to followthis?”
“No, I do not. As a matter of fact I fancy he has started to do what he ought to have done in the beginning—that is, to keep a close watch on the criminal news in the papers day by day, and every time a crime of any importance crops up, pay his respects to the theatre of it and find out who is the detective handling the case. A ducat to a doughnut he’d have been on our heels down here to-day if this little business of the Stone Drum had been made public in time to get into the morning papers. He means to have me, Mr. Narkom, if having me is possible; and he’s down to the last ditch and getting desperate. Yesterday’s cables from Mauravania are anything but reassuring.”
“I know. They say that unless something happens very shortly to turn the tide in Ulric’s favour and quell the cries for ‘Restoration,’ the King’s downfall and expulsion are merely a matter of a few days at most. But what’s that got to do with it that you suggest its bearing upon any need for haste on Waldemar’s part?”
“Only that, with matters in such a state, he cannot long defer his return to the army of his country and the defence of its king,” replied Cleek, serenely. “And every day he loses in failing to pay his respects to your humble servant in the manner he desires to do increases the strain of the situation and keeps him from the service of his royal master.”
“Well, I wish to God something would happen to blow him and his royal master and their blooming royal country off the map, dammem!” blazed out Narkom, too savage to be choice of words. “We’ve never had a moment’s peace, you and I, since the dashed combination came into the game. And for what, I should like to know? Not that it’s any use askingyou. You’re so devilish close-mouthed a man might as well ask questions of a ton of coal for all answer he may hope to get. I shall always believe, however, that you did something pretty dashed bad to the King of Mauravania that time you were over there on that business about the Rainbow Pearl, to make the beggar turn against you, as I believe hehas.”
“Then, you will always believe what isn’t true,” replied Cleek, lighting a fresh cigarette. “I simply restored the pearl and his Majesty’s letter to the hands of Count Irma, and did not so much as see the King while I was there. Why should I?—a mere police detective, who had been hired to do a service and paid for it like any other hireling. I took my money and I went my way; that’s all there was about it. If it has pleased Count Waldemar to entertain an ugly feeling of resentment toward me, I can’t help that, can I now?”
“Oh, then, it’s really a personal affair between you and him, after all?”
“Something like that. He doesn’t approve of my—er—knowing things that I do know; and it would be the end of a very promising future for him if I told. Here—have a cigarette and smoke yourself into a better temper. You look savage enough to bite a nail in two.”
“I’d bite it in four if it looked anything like that Waldemar johnnie, by James!” asserted the superintendent, vigorously. “And if ever he lays a hand onyou——Look here, Cleek: I know it sounds un-English, very Continental, rotten ‘soft’ from one man to another, but—dammit,Cleek, I love you! I’d go to hell for you! I’d die fighting for you! Do you understand?”
“Perfectly,” said Cleek; then he put out his hand and took Mr. Narkom’s in a hard, firm grip, and added, gently: “My friend, my comrade, mypal! Side by side—together—to the end.” And the car ran on for a good half mile before either spoke again.
“Mr. Narkom!”
It was an hour later, and Cleek’s voice broke the silence abruptly. He had taken out his notebook and had been scribbling in it for some little time, but now, as he spoke, he tore out the written leaf and passed it over to the superintendent.
“Mr. Narkom, I refused, in the beginning, to give you the address of the little house at which I was located. Here it is. Put it in your pocketbook against future need, will you?”
“Yes, certainly. But cinnamon! old chap, what good is it to me now when you’ve left the place?”
“You will understand, perhaps, when I tell you that Miss Lorne is its present occupant. It was for that I took it in the beginning. There may come a need to communicate with her; there may come a need for her to communicate with you. There’s always a chance, you know, that a candle may be put out when the wind blows at it from all directions; and if anything should happen—I mean if—er—anything having a bearing upon me personally that you think sheoughtto be told should come to pass—well, just go to her at once, will you?—there’s a dear friend. That’s the address (don’t lose it) and full directions how to get there speedily. I am giving it to you now, as we shall soon be in town again and I shall leave you directly we arrive there. I’m in haste to get back to Dollops and see if between us we can’t hit upon some plan, he and I, to get at the whereabouts of Waldemar. That plain-clothesman of yours is like the butler with the bottle of cider—he ‘doesn’t seem to get any forrarder.’”
“Kibblewhite!” blurted out the superintendent, sitting up sharply. “Well, of all the born jackasses, of all the mutton-heads in this world——”
“Well, he doesn’t seem to be very bright, I must say.”
“He? Lud! I wasn’t talking abouthim; I was talking about myself. I had something to tell you to-day, and this blessed business drove it clean out of my head. Kibblewhite had the dickens and all of a time trying to get at that chap Serpice, as you may remember?”
“I do—in a measure. Succeeded in finding out, finally, that the carriage he drove was one he hired from a liveryman by the month, I think was the last report you gave me; but couldn’t get any further with the business because Serpice took it into his head not to call for the carriage again and made off, this Kibblewhite chap didn’t know where, and appears never to have found a means of discovering.”
“No; he didn’t. But ten days ago he got word from the liveryman that Serpice had just turned up and was about to make use of the carriage again; and off Kibblewhite cut, hotfoot, in the hope of being able to follow him. No go, however. By the time he arrived at the stable Serpice had already gone; so there was nothing left for the poor disappointed chap to do but to go out on the hunt and see if he couldn’t pick him up somewhere in the streets.”
“Which he didn’t, of course?”
“Excuse me—which hedid. But it was late in the afternoon and he was coming back to the stable with the carriage empty. Also, it was in the thick of the traffic at Ludgate Circus, and Kibblewhite was so afraid the fellow might mix himself up in it and give him the slip that he took a chance shot to prevent it. Nipping up the officer on point, he made himself and his business known, and, in a winking, in nips the constable, hauls Mr. Serpice up sharp,and arrests him for driving a public vehicle without a license.”
“Well played, Kibblewhite!” approved Cleek. “That, of course, meant that the fellow would be arrested and have to give his address and all the rest of it?”
“So Kibblewhite himself thought; but what does the beggar do but turn the tables on him in the most unexpected manner by absolutely refusing to do anything of the kind, and, as he didnothave a license, and would not call anybody to pay his fine, the magistrate finished the business by committing him tojailfor ten days in default. And here’s the thing I was ass enough to forget: His ten days’ imprisonment was up this morning; Kibblewhite, in disguise, was to be outside the jail to follow him when he was discharged and see where he went, and he told me to look for him to turn up at the Yard before six this evening with a full report of the result of his operations.”
“Bravo!” said Cleek, leaning back in his seat, with a sigh of satisfaction. “I’ve changed my mind about leaving you, Mr. Narkom; we will go on to the Yard together. As, in all probability, after ten days without being able to communicate with his pals or with Waldemar, our friend Serpice will be hot to get to them at once and explain the cause of his long absence, the chances are that Kibblewhite will have something of importance to report at last.”
He had, as they found out when, in the fulness of time, they arrived at the Yard and were told that he was waiting for them in the superintendent’s office, and in his excitement he almost threw it at them, so eager he was to report.
“I’ve turned the trick at last, Superintendent,” he cried. “The silly josser played straight into my hands, sir. The minute he was out of jail he made a beeline for Soho, and me after him, and there he ‘takes to earth’ in a rotten little restaurant in the worst part of the district; and when I nips over and has a look inside, there he was shakin’ hands witha lot of Frenchies of his own kind, and them all prancin’ about and laughin’ like they’d gone off their bloomin’ heads. I sees there aren’t no back door to the place, and I knows from that that he’d have to come out the same way as he went in, so off I nips over to the other side of the street and lays in wait for him.
“After about ten minutes or so, out he comes—him and another of the lot—moppin’ of his mouth with his coat-sleeve, and off they starts in a great hurry, and me after them. They goes first to a barber shop, where the man I was followin’ nips in, has a shave, a hair-cut and a wash-up, while the chap that was with him toddles off and fetches him a clean shirt and a suit of black clothes. In about fifteen minutes out my man comes again, makin’ a tolerable respectable appearance, sir, after his barberin’ and in his clean linen and decent clothes. Him and his mate stands talkin’ and grinnin’ for a minute or so, then they shakes hands and separates, and off my man cuts it, westward.
“Sir, I sticks to him like a brother. I follers him smack across to the Strand and along that to the Hotel Cecil, and there the beggar nips in and goes up the courtyard as bold as you please, sends up his name to a gent, the gent sends down word for him to be showed up at once, and in that way I spots my man. For when I goes up to the clerk and shows my badge and asks who was the party my johnnie had asked for, he tells me straight and clear: ‘Gentleman he’s making a suit of clothes for—Baron Rodolf de Montravenne, an Austrian nobleman, who has been stopping here for weeks!”
Cleek twitched round his eye and glanced at Narkom.
“‘Things least hidden are best hidden,’” he quoted, smiling. “The dear count knows a thing or two, you perceive. You have done very well indeed, Kibblewhite. Here is your ten-pound note and many thanks for your services. Good evening.”
Kibblewhite took the money and his departure immediately; but so long as he remained within hearing distance—so long as the echo of his departing steps continued to sound—Cleek remained silent, and the curious crooked smile made a loop in his cheek. But of a sudden:
“Mr. Narkom,” he said, quietly “I shan’t be found in any of my usual haunts for the next few days. If, however, you should urgently need me, call at the Hotel Cecil and ask for Captain Maltravers—and call in disguise, please; our friend the count is keen. Remember the name. Or, better still, write it down.”
“But, good God! Cleek, such a risk as that——”
“No—please—don’t attempt to dissuade me. I want that man, and I’ll get him if getting him be humanly possible. That’s all. Thanks very much. Good-bye.”
Then the door opened and shut, and by the time Mr. Narkom could turn round from writing down the name he had been given, he was quite alone in the room.
“Num-bah Nine-ninety-two—Captain Maltravers, please. Nine-ninety-two. Num-bah Nine-ninety-two!”
Thrice the voice of the page—moving and droning out his words in that perfunctory manner peculiar unto the breed of hotel pages the world over—sounded its dreary monotone through the hum of conversation in the rather crowded tearoom without producing the slightest effect; then, of a sudden, the gentleman seated in the far corner reading the daily paper—a tall, fair-haired, fair-moustached gentleman with “The Army” written all over him in capital letters—twitched up his head, listened until the call was given for the fourth time, and, thereupon, snapped his fingers sharply, elevated a beckoning digit, and called out crisply: “Here, my boy—over here—this way!”
The boy went to him immediately, extended a small, circular metal salver, and then, lifting the thumb which held in position the hand-written card thereon, allowed the slip of pasteboard to be removed.
“Gentleman, sir—waiting in the office,” he volunteered.
“Captain Maltravers” glanced at the card, frowned, rose with it still held between his fingers, and within the space of a minute’s time walked into the hotel’s public office and the presence of a short, stout, full-bearded “dumpling” of a man with the florid complexion and the country-cut clothes of a gentleman farmer, who half sat and half leaned upon the arm of a leather-covered settle nervously tapping with the ferule of a thick walking-cane, a boot whose exceedinglyhigh sole and general construction mutely stood sponsor for a withered and shortened leg.
“My dear Yard; I am delighted to see you!” exclaimed the “captain” as he bore down on the little round man and shook hands with him heartily. “Grimshaw told me that you would be coming up to London shortly, but I didn’t allow myself to hope that it would be so soon as this. Gad! it’s a dog’s age since I’ve seen you. Come along up to my own room and let us have a good old-fashioned chat. Key of Nine-ninety-two, please, clerk. Thanks very much. Come along, Yard—this way, old chap!”
With that he linked his arm in his caller’s, bore him clumping and wobbling to the nearby lift, and thence, in due course, to the door of number Nine-ninety-two and the seclusion which lay behind it. He was still chattering away gayly as the lift dropped down out of sight and left them, upon which he shut the door, locked it upon the inside, and stopping long enough to catch up a towel and hang it over the keyhole, turned on his heel and groaned.
“What! am I not to have even a two days’ respite, you indefatigablemachine?” he said, as he walked across the room and threw himself into a chair with a sigh of annoyance. “Think! it was only this morning that I ventured upon the first casual bow of a fellow guest with the dear ‘Baron’; only at luncheon we exchanged the first civil word. But the ice was broken and I should have had him ‘roped in’ by teatime—I am sure of it. And now you come and nip my hopes in the bud like this. And in a disguise that a fellow as sharp as he would see through in a wink if he met you.”
“It was the best I could do, Cleek—I’m not a dabster in the art of making up, as you know.” Mr. Narkom’s voice was, like his air, duly apologetic. “Besides, I hung around until I saw him go out before I ventured in; although I was on thorns the whole blessed time. I had to see you, oldchap—I simply had to—and every minute was of importance. I shouldn’t have ventured to come at all if it hadn’t been imperative.”
“I’m sure of that,” said Cleek, recovering his good humour instantly. “Don’t mind my beastly bad temper this afternoon, there’s a good friend. It’s a bit of a disappointment, of course, after I’d looked forward to a clear field just as soon as Waldemar should return, but——It is you, first and foremost, at all times and under all circumstances. Other matters count as nothing with me whenyoucall. Always remember that.”
“I do, old chap. It’s because I do that I went to the length of promising Miss Larue that I’d lay the case before you.”
“Miss Larue? A moment, please. Will the lady to whom you refer be Miss Margaret Larue, the celebrated actress? The one in question who treated me so cavalierly last August in that business regarding the disappearance of that chap James Colliver?”
“Yes. He was her brother, you recollect, and—don’t get hot about it, Cleek. I know she treated you very badly in that case, and so does she, but——”
“She treated me abominably!” interposed Cleek, with some heat. “First setting me on the business, and then calling me off just as I had got a grip on the thing and was within measuring distance of the end. I can’t forgive that; and I never could fathom her reason for it. If it was as you yourself suggested at the time, because she shrank from the notoriety that was likely to accrue to her from letting everybody in the world know that ‘Jimmy the Shifter’ was her own brother, she ought to have thought of that in the beginning—when she acknowledged it so openly—instead of making such an ass of me by her high-handed proceeding of calling me off the scent at its hottest, as if I were a tame puppy to be pulled this way and that with a string. I objectto being made a fool of, Mr. Narkom; and there’s no denying the fact that Miss Larue treated me very badly in that James Colliver case—very badly and very cavalierly indeed.”
Unquestionably Miss Larue had. Even Mr. Narkom had to admit that; for the facts which lay behind these heated remarks were not such as are calculated to make any criminal investigator pleased with his connection therewith. Clearly set forth, those facts were as follows:
On the nineteenth day of the preceding August, James Colliver had disappeared, as suddenly and as completely and with as little trace left behind as does a kinematograph picture when it vanishes from the screen.
Now the world at large had never heard of James Colliver until he did disappear, and it is extremely doubtful if it would have done so even then but that circumstances connected with his vanishment brought to light the startling disclosure that the worthless, dissolute hulk of a man who was known to the habitués of half the low-class public houses in Hoxton by the pseudonym of “Jimmy the Shifter” was not only all that time and drink had left of the once popular melodramatic actor Julian Monteith, but that he was, in addition thereto, own brother to Miss Margaret Larue, the distinguished actress who was at that moment electrifying London by her marvellous performance of the leading rôle inThe Late Mrs. Cavendish.
The reasons which impelled Miss Larue to let the public discover that her real name was Maggie Colliver, and that “Jimmy the Shifter” was related to her by such close ties of blood, were these:The Late Mrs. Cavendishwas nearing the close of its long and successful run at the Royalty, and its successor was already in rehearsal for early production. That successor was to be a specially rewritten version of the old-time favourite playCatharine Howard; or, The Tomb, the Throne, and the Scaffold, with Miss Larue, of course, inthe part of the ambitious and ill-fated Catharine. Preparations were on foot for a production which would be splendidly elaborate as to scenery and effects, and absolutely accurate as to detail. For instance, the costume which Henry VIII had worn at the time of his marriage with Catharine Howard was copied exactly, down to the minute question of the gaudy stitchery on the backs of the gloves and the toes of the shoes; and permission had been obtained to make the mimic betrothal ring which the stage “Henry” was to press upon the finger of the stage “Catharine” an exact replica of the real one, as preserved among the nation’s historic jewels. Not to be outdone in this matter of accuracy, Miss Larue naturally aimed to have the dresses and the trinkets she wore as nearly like those of the original Catharine as it was possible to obtain. As her position in the world of art was now so eminent and had brought her into close touch with the elect, it was not difficult for the lady to borrow dresses, and even jewels, of the exact period from the heirlooms treasured by members of the nobility, that these might be copied in mimic gems for her by the well-known theatrical and show supply company of Henry Trent & Son, Soho.
To this firm, which was in full charge of the preparation of dresses, properties, and accessories for the great production, was also entrusted the making of a “cast” of Miss Larue’s features and the manufacture therefrom of a wax head with which it was at first proposed to lend a touch of startling realism to the final scene of the execution of Catharine on Tower Hill, but which was subsequently abandoned after the first night as being unnecessarily gruesome and repulsive.
It was during the course of the final rehearsals for this astonishing production, and when the army of supers who had long been drilling for it at other hours was brought for the first time into contact with the “principals,” that MissLarue was horrified to discover among the members of that “army” her dissolute brother, “Jimmy the Shifter.”
For years—out of sheer sympathy for the wife who clung to him to the last, and the young son who was growing up to be a fine fellow despite the evil stock from which he had sprung—Miss Larue had continuously supplied this worthless brother with money enough to keep him, with the strict proviso that he was never to come near any theatre where she might be performing, nor ever at any time to make known his relationship to her. She now saw in this breaking of a rule, which heretofore he had inviolably adhered to, clear evidence that the man had suddenly become a menace, and she was in great haste to get him out of touch with her colleagues before anything could be done to disgrace her.
In so sudden and so pressing an emergency she could think of no excuse but an errand by which to get him out of the theatre, and of no errand but one—the stage jewels which Messrs. Trent & Son were making for her. She therefore sat down quickly at the prompt table, and, drawing a sheet of paper to her, wrote hurriedly: