You are to imagine, if you please, the private room of the Chief Commissioner of Air Police at Whitehall.
A soft Turkey carpet of dull brick-reds and blues covers the parquet floor. The walls are hung with pictures of famous airmen of the past, inventors, fighters, pioneers of the great commercial service of air-liners which now fills the skies and has shrunk the planet—for all practical purposes—to a fifth of its former size. There are two or three huge writing-tables covered with crimson morocco; the chairs are thickly padded and luxurious. A range of tall windows looks down upon the endless stir and movement of the wide street, where the nerves of Empire meet in one central ganglion.
Standing by one of these windows is a light-haired young man of thirty in a lounge suit of dark blue. He wears a rather heavy, carefully-trimmed moustache, and his face is seamed and furrowed with anxiety and grey from want of rest.
Thus you see me in London, two days afterThumbwood brought the terrible news to my bedroom in the hotel at Plymouth.
General Sir Hercules Nichelson, Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Flying Corps, had been with me for half an hour, and was just taking his leave.
"Then all that is satisfactorily arranged, Sir John," he said. "We shall supplement your patrol ships with three war-ships at Plymouth and three at the Scillies. They will, of course, be air cruisers, both faster and better armed than your boats, and between us both we shall put an end to this pest before many days are over."
"I sincerely trust so," I said. "And I do not see how it is possible that there should be any further outrages. The net will be too close. America, with its much greater coastal area, is taking extraordinary precautions."
"It will be impossible for these devilish scoundrels to escape," the General repeated with confidence—the onus of it all was not falling uponhim!—"and now, we quite understand one another."
"Perfectly, I think, Sir Hercules."
"Your chief station officer is to be in full command, under you, at each air-port."
"It was your suggestion, Sir Hercules, and since it came from you, I do think it would be best. My men are always patrolling the air-lines. The organization is complete already."
"Exactly. And as for my fellows, they will be proud to serve under such gallant and experienced officers as those of the A.P."
"It's kind of you to say so."
"Not at all. It is the truth. And now, as an older man, let me give you a little advice, if I am not taking a liberty. Don't let this affect you too much, Sir John. Every sane man knows that neither you nor anyone else could have avoided what has happened, or have provided against it. It is a great thing to have an acute sense of responsibility; I honour you for it. But don't overdo it. I know the strain you are enduring. Don't let it go too far. If you were to break down now, that would be a final disaster...."
The kind, white-haired old man shook me warmly by the hand, and left the room.
Almost immediately young Bickenhall, my private secretary, came in. "Here is the morning's Press, sir," he said, and upon my table he put down various columns cut from the journals of that morning—all dealing with the sensational and terrible events on the Atlantic that were now the common knowledge of the world.
I sat down to glance through them—I was keeping an iron grip upon myself these times—in order to gauge public opinion. It occurs to me that, in order to acquaint you with the progressof events from my awakening at Plymouth till the morning of which I speak, I cannot do better than quote a paragraph here and there from the daily papers. It will bring us up to date more quickly and concisely than in any other way.
This, then, from one of the leading London journals, a weighty, somewhat ponderous sheet, with considerable influence:
"... We have given an account of the first attack upon the air-linerAlbatros, under command of Captain Pring, whose conduct in such a trying situation did not deviate from the best traditions of our British aviators. Most people would have thought that after such a dastardly outrage, the unknown pirate would have been content to rest upon his infamous laurels and retire to his lair, with the valuable booty he had secured. But it was not so. With an audacity unparalleled in the annals of crime, this vulture, on the very next night, commits an outrage which, for ferocity and daring, makes the first one seem like a mere frolic.
"It is now possible to disentangle something of the truth from the various conflicting stories that have reached us, and it is, moreover, confirmed in its essential details by the authorities of the Air Police at Whitehall, who have issued a guarded statement.
"It appears that two nights ago the famous air-linerAtlantisleft the Plymouth sea-drome about nine in the evening. The Captain, Commander Pilot Swainson, was one of the best known and trusted officers in the Transatlantic service. He did not anticipate the slightest danger. Sir John Custance, Chief Commissioner of the Air Police of Great Britain, was himself at Plymouth, having hurried down from London upon receiving news of the first piracy. Sir John insisted that theAtlantisshould be escorted, for half of her journey to America, by the armed Patrol Ship '1,' under command of Superintendent Pilot-Commander Lashmar, D.S.O., himself an officer of great distinction. Half-way across the Atlantic the liner was to be met by a similar escort of the United States A.P., and let us here say that it is difficult to tell what other precautions Sir John Custance could have devised.
"TheAtlantiscarried the Royal Mail and a full complement of passengers, among whom were some distinguished names. Mr. Bootfeller, of the United States Senate, Mr. Greenwell, the well-known publisher, the Duke of Perth, and 'Walty Priest,' the cinema 'star,' were among the men, while in the list of ladies was Miss Constance Shepherd, a young actress, of whom it is not too much to say that she has endeared herself to the British public.
"About two o'clock in the morning disastrous and terrible news began to filter through to the Plymouth wireless stations. It can be summarized as follows: When not more than two hundred and fifty miles west of Ireland, the patrol ship, which was flying three miles or so behind theAtlantis, was suddenly attacked by an unknown airship. The moon had set, the ten-thousand-feet level was dark, and the attack was delivered without the slightest warning. Patrol Ship No. 1 was instantly disabled by a rain of shells. Captain Lashmar was shot dead, and with him perished all of the crew except three men, one of whom was so seriously wounded that his life is despaired of, the other two being only slightly wounded.
"An utter wreck, the patrol ship was just able to descend to the water, where she rested like a wounded and dying bird.
"Meanwhile the unknown ship caught up with theAtlantisand commenced—as in the case of theAlbatros—with shooting away her wireless aerials. The rudder and stern propeller were then destroyed, and the great liner forced to plane to the surface of the water. Six masked and armed ruffians went aboard of her, and a systematic looting of the ship commenced. Captain Swainson could not bear this. He drew a revolver and shot one of the pirates dead. Then, callingon his crew to assist him, he made a determined rush, regardless of consequences. The fight was unequal. Captain Swainson was the only defender who carried fire-arms, while the robbers were provided with heavy automatic pistols.
"Five men of theAtlantiswere killed almost instantly, and the rest cowed, while the systematic robbery continued. And now, alas! 'horrors upon horror's head accumulate.' Their evil work completed, the ruffians sought out Miss Constance Shepherd and her maid, Miss Wilson, from among the passengers. These unfortunate ladies were forced at the pistol's mouth to embark upon the pirates' small boat, in which they were rowed rapidly to the pirate ship and taken on board. The ship then rose from the water and was lost to sight.
"Meanwhile two heroes were at work. On board the broken patrol ship two able navigators, Paget and Fowles, were wounded, indeed, but not entirely disabled. Both men had some knowledge of wireless, and with superhuman toil, as the hours went on, they contrived to rig up a temporary apparatus which, at last, served to send out a brief account of the disaster and a call for help.
"When rescue ships arrived at early dawn, they found that the patrol ship had drifted close to theAtlantis, and that Dr. Weatherall, the surgeon of the liner, had swum aboard the No. 1 and rendered what help he could to the wounded men.
"Press representatives are at Plymouth, but, so far, few of the passengers of theAtlantishave been able, and none have been allowed by the authorities, to make personal statements for publication. This embargo, we are assured, will be removed by this evening.
"This is a precise account of what has happened. We must now turn to the consideration of the situation...."
Another journal, a weekly one this time, headed its remarks with a portrait of my unhappy self. Underneath was written: "The Man the Atlantic Pirates tricked!" The rag had an immense circulation in all the tap rooms of England.
Well, I would see what the blackguards of the country were reading about me. Shrewd young Bickenhall wouldn't have brought the unclean thing in if he hadn't thought it worth while. I give it for what it's worth:
"Poor Johnny Custance! You're up against it good and thick to-day, and no mistake, and Paul Pry"—this was the signature of the tout who wrote the article—"can't say he's very sorry for you. For some time past a little bird has been whispering in the clubs that all is not well in the State of Denmark—to wit, the office of the Commissioner of Air Police at Whitehall. The aristocratic young gentlemen who dailycondescend to drop into this palatial edifice for an hour or two have long held the reputation of being the best dressed of all our minor Government officials, and, considering the salaries they draw from the public purse, this is not surprising. But I have never yet heard that they did any work worth mentioning, or, indeed, anything to justify their precious and beautiful existence.
"Flying Police we must have, and never has the necessity for them been greater than at this moment; but there is a vast deal of difference from the handy pilot of a patrol ship at Plymouth or Portland and the bureaucratic popinjays of Pall Mall.
"Sir John Custance, Bart., is the typical Government official of the musical comedy or the comic paper. He is an aristocrat who, after a short experience in the air, is shoved into the highly-paid and responsible position he holds without any reason that the man in the street can understand. A baronet, and, if report speaks truly, a man of considerable private means, I have—in common with many other people—often asked myself what possible qualification this young gentleman can have for his job. Johnny is a most estimable person, no doubt, in private life. I have heard it remarked that his moustache is one of the most perfect things in the West End of London, and he is frequently tobe seen adorning a stall or box at the Parthenon Theatre. But few people have ever taken him seriously as the head of our Air Police, and now nobody will."
There was a row of stars here, as if Mr. Paul Pry paused for breath, or was stopping to pick up another handful of mud, and then he went on again:
"If the nation is called upon to pay thousands and thousands a year for the upkeep of an efficient service of Air Police, it is entitled to see that it gets it, and that the man in charge is able to provide it. What has happened? A crew of murdering ruffians in an airship have looted two of our greatest air-liners, slaughtered several people, kidnapped one of our most popular actresses, and escaped scot-free. Vanished into the wide! While Sir John Custance twiddles his thumbs in Whitehall and calls upon the air forces of the Admiralty and War Office to supplement his own miserably inefficient organization.
"As usual, we are not without some very special and exclusive information in this office. My readers know from past experience that their Paul is not easily caught napping. I believe that I shall have something to say that will startle everyone in next week's number, though, for certain reasons, I cannot be more explicit atpresent. Before concluding these remarks, however, I must say a word or two about the extraordinary and sinister disappearance of delightful Constance Shepherd. Sad as it is to hear of brave men shot down while doing their duty, there is something peculiarly terrible in the carrying off of the little lady to whom London owes so much. Dear little Connie! We of Bohemia knew and loved you well! Many is the happy hour that Paul Pry has spent in your company, many the bumper of bubbly water he has quaffed to your success!
"No one could possibly have foreseen such a tragic ending to the American journey which Miss Shepherd set out upon with such high hopes. And yet, there was not wanting a slight shadow of premonition. Only a week ago she said to me: 'Paul, I'm not so sure, after all, that everything will go well. There are certain things. I can't tell you of them——' But I must refrain from betraying a confidence. Let it be enough to say that my little friend had her moments of dejection, when she was not entirely happy about the future."
I put down the paper and rang for Bickenhall. "You've read this, I suppose?" I asked, pointing to it.
He nodded. "Lies, of course," he said; "mere words to fill up the column."
"No doubt. Still, the man hints all sorts ofthings, damn him! And one can't neglect any possible clue." I was in a raging fury, and Bickenhall saw it, though he was far from suspecting the true cause.
"The office is in the Strand," he said, "three minutes by taxi. I'll go and interview this Paul Pry and put the fear of God into him."
I knew my Bickenhall. He is an energetic and hefty young man, and though I had little hopes that he would discover anything of value, I had a shrewd suspicion that Mr. Paul Pry was about to experience a peculiarly unpleasant ten minutes.
I was right in both my conjectures.
The secretary returned in half an hour. "Just a ramp," he said. "I found a greasy ruffian smelling of gin in a back room, and frightened him out of his life. He's never met Miss Shepherd, and has no private information whatever. Will apologize in any manner you like."
I am not going to bother you with what the journalists wrote. There were hundreds of columns of suggestions, conjecture, reproof, alarm, and so forth. On the whole my department was let down fairly lightly, and I was glad. Please don't think that I cared twopence for myself. I did not. But I should have bitterly resented any serious reflections on my staff, officers and men, who were, and are, as able and loyal a body as can be found anywhere in the world.
At mid-day I had an appointment with the Home Secretary. He received me with the utmost kindness, and we had half an hour of highly confidential talk. The purport of it will appear later. This is not the place for it.
Towards the end I informed him that I had a request to make.
"Tell me," he answered at once, "and let me repeat that the Government has every confidence in you, Sir John. Don't take this too hardly, I beg of you."
I had a sudden impulse. "I trust," I said, "that my anxiety for the public welfare is in no degree overshadowed by a private sorrow. Indeed, I am sure that it isn't. But, if I may speak in confidence, I should like you to know, sir, that I was engaged to be married to Miss Constance Shepherd."
There was a perceptible silence. I heard the great man take a long inward breath, and murmurto himself, "Poor fellow!" Then he did the right, the quite perfect thing: he stretched out his hand, and took mine in a firm, warm grasp.
When I could speak, I returned to business.
"My request, sir, is this. I want to disappear for a month."
"Disappear, Sir John?"
"That's what it amounts to. Practically, I am going to ask for four weeks' leave of absence. It must be private, though. If the news were published the public would misunderstand, and think I was deserting my post in a time of difficulty and danger."
"Whereas?"
"Whereas I want to investigate this affair in my own way. I believe that the theories of the Press and public, and also those of Scotland Yard—with whom I have been in consultation—are quite wrong. Nor do my communications with America give me any reason to change my opinion. This is a matter of life and death to me. I owe the Government, who have promoted me so rapidly to the high position I occupy, a solution of this mystery. I owe them and the public that the fiends who have committed these outrages should be brought to justice. And, if God allows me, I will do it. My honour and that of my department are at stake. Those two things come before anything else. In addition, I have the privatereasons of which I have told you. And, in order to succeed, I am persuaded that my way is the only way."
"You have certainly the strongest motives a man well could have to urge you on. But can you be a little more explicit?"
"I want to leave Mr. Muir Lockhart in charge at the office. He is perfectly capable of taking charge. He has everything at his fingers' ends. And I shall arrange that he can always communicate with me at any time."
The Home Secretary thought for a moment, and drummed with his fingers on the arm of his chair. He had been a famous barrister, and renowned for the perfection of his turn-out. His finger-nails were pink and polished as the light fell upon them, and I wondered if he had them manicured.
Then he looked up. "Very well, do as you like," he said suddenly. "I take it that you know what you're about. And heartfelt good wishes for your success."
... This is how I plunged into a series of dangerous adventures, a dark underworld of crime and almost superhuman cunning, probably without parallel in modern times.
Arrangements were soon made at Whitehall. Muir Lockhart was an understanding man, and by three o'clock in the afternoon I walked out intothe sunshine free from all official cares for a month. I took a long, deep breath as I crossed the Horse Guards Parade and made my way to the long, green vista of the Mall. "The first act is over," I thought. "The curtain is rising on the real drama. Somewhere in this world there is a man whose discovery and death I owe to Society and to myself."
And I was a man who never failed to pay a debt.
I have given you but little indication of my mental state during the last few days. It won't bear much writing about even now. A cold fury, instead of blood, came and went in my veins, and my heart was ice. Every now and again, especially when I was alone, agony for which there is, there can be, no name got hold of me, and sported with me as the wind sports with a leaf. I suppose I had a tiny foretaste of what is felt by a soul that is eternally damned. Idarednot think too much of Constance and her fate. If I had let myself go that way the running waters would have risen and overwhelmed me utterly. But, thank God, my intellect held. The streak of hardness which had served me so well in my career, and had enabled me to push to the top at an early age, came to the rescue now. Every faculty was sharpened; the will concentrated to a single purpose. I was alone, and I walked in darkness, but I wasconscious of Power—charged to the brim as a battery is charged with the electric fluid. As I walked calmly up St. James', on the way to my chambers, I doubt if a more single-minded and dangerous man than I walked the streets of London.
And I knew, by some mysterious intuition, that I should succeed in the task before me. I had not, as yet, more than the most rudimentary idea how I was going to set about it, but I should succeed. Don't misunderstand me. I had hardly any hope of seeing my dear love alive again. I believed that all the joy of life was finally extinguished. But justice—call it vengeance rather—remained, and I was as sure that I was the chosen instrument of that as I was that I had just passed between Marlborough House and the Palace of St. James.
My expensive but delightful chambers in Half Moon Street were on the second floor—sitting-room, dining-room, bed and dressing rooms and bath.
The sitting-room was panelled in cedar-wood, which had been stained a delicate olive-green, with the mouldings of the panels picked out in dull gold. Connie and her gay young friends, when they came to have tea with me, or supper after the theatre, used to say that it was one of the most charming rooms in London.
I had spent an infinity of time and money onit, determined that it should be "just so." For instance, the carpet was from Kairowan in Tunisia, and had taken a whole family of Arab weavers five years to make. Never was there a more perfect blue—not the crude peacock colour of the cheaper Oriental rugs, but a blue infused with a silver-ash shade, contrasting marvellously with the warm brick-reds and tawny yellows. It was a bargain at four hundred pounds.
I had hung only half a dozen pictures in this room, all modern and all good. My "Boys Bathing," by Charles Conder—better known as the painter of marvellous fans—was a masterpiece of sunlight and sea foam which made me the envy of half the collectors in town. Then I had a William Nicholson—"Chelsea Ware"—that was extraordinarily fascinating. It was just some old Chelsea plates and a jug standing on a table. It doesn't sound fascinating, I know, but the painting was so brilliant, there was such vision in the way it was seen, that one could look at it for hours.
There was an open hearth of rough red brick in the room, deep and square, and when there was a fire it burned in a gipsy brazier of iron. I had a lot of trouble to get this last of the right shape, and finally it had to be made for me, from the design of an artist in Birmingham.
Such a room, with its perfect colour harmoniesand severe lines, required no knick-knacks. Nothing small or petty, however beautiful in itself, could be allowed there. I had two cabinets of magnificent china in my dining-room, but china would have been quite out of place here. Along one wall, about four feet from the floor, was a single shelf of old pewter—cups and flagons of the Tudor period with the double-rose hall-mark—and that was all.
As I entered and flung myself wearily into a chair, the afternoon sunlight poured in through the half-drawn curtains of sea-green silk. In the ceiling a hidden electric fan was whirring, and the room was deliciously cool. And as I looked round, the place seemed hateful beyond all expression. I was sick of it, loathed its beauty and comfort; an insane desire came to take a hammer and wreak havoc there as my eyes fell on the only photograph in the room. It was one of Constance, in a frame of dull silver, studded with turquoises, and she had given it to me no longer than a fortnight ago.
Thumbwood slept at the top of the house. He came in, after I had been resting for a few minutes.
"I've made the necessary arrangements, Charles," I said, "and we shall start operations at once." I had no secrets from this devoted friend and servant.
"Glad to hear it, Sir John. I've been round the town this morning, and there's a lot of talk."
He followed me into the sitting-room and brought me cigars.
"You see," he went on confidentially, "a gentleman's servant, especially if he belongs to the club just off Jermyn Street, and more specially still if he's been a racing man, hears all that's going on quicker than anyone. This morning I've been talking to the porters and valets of two of the best clubs, Sir John. Then I 'ad a crack with Meggit, the bookmaker, what does all the St. James' smaller commissions, and after that I strolled to the Parthenon Theatre, and took out the stage door-keeper and filled him up and made 'im talk a bit. 'Im and me is great friends consequent of my taking so many messages and flowers for you, sir, when Miss Shepherd was acting there."
"Ah! I see you haven't wasted your time." I smiled inwardly at Thumbwood's idea of helping me.
"No, Sir John. I've learned a lot of funny little things, just trifles, so to say, but they may prove useful later on. There's one thing you ought to know at once. Them theatricals have been talking, and it's all over town that Miss Shepherd travelled down to Plymouth with you. It'scertain to be in the papers this afternoon, if it ain't already. There's been half a dozen reporters buzzing round the theatre this morning."
I ground my teeth with anger, but only for a moment. Of course, the thing was inevitable. There was only one thing to do.
I took up the telephone on the writing-table and got put on to theEvening Wire. "I am Sir John Custance," I said to the editor. "I hear that there is a good deal of talk going about London in respect of Miss Constance Shepherd and myself. To avoid the least misconception, I authorize you to state, in your next edition, that Miss Shepherd and I were engaged to be married. I'll send my servant down to your office at once, with a note confirming this conversation."
It was the only way, much as I hated it, to stop malicious gossip, and I scribbled a chit to the editor.
"Get into a taxi and take that at once," I said to Thumbwood. As I gave him the letter, there was a ring at the front-door bell.
The little man went out and I heard voices, one harsh and deep, that seemed familiar.
"Who is it?" I asked as Charles returned. "I can't see anyone...."
"Wouldn't take any denial, sir. It's theAmerican gentleman who picked up Captain Pring after the attack on theAlbatros. Says he must see you."
"Mr. Van Adams?"
"Yes, Sir John."
"Show him in."
A moment afterwards I was shaking hands with the thickset man whose jaw was like a pike's and whose eyes resembled animated steel. Thumbwood went off with the letter. I heard the front door close after him.
Now I don't suppose at that moment I would have seen any other man in London unconnected with my office at Whitehall. I didn't want to see the millionaire, but directly he was inside the room my irritation vanished. He had meant to see me. He had now accomplished his end, and I had a firm conviction that sentries with fixed bayonets wouldn't have kept him out.
He sat down quietly in the chair I indicated, and took a cigar with great deliberation. I was not in the least impatient. I knew now that I was glad that he had come, and waited for him to begin. When he did speak the harsh voice was considerably modified, and no one whatever could have said that he was an American.
"Any success I may have made in life," he said without preliminary, "has come from the faculty of judging men. I started, as a youth, with thispower in a more than ordinary degree. I've been developing it ever since."
He puffed thoughtfully at his cigar. He had said this with calm determination, not in the least as if he were speaking of himself, but merely as a man stating a fact which would be useful a little later on.
For my part I said nothing. I felt as though I was playing a sort of decorous game with rigid rules. To speak then would be to revoke!
"... And, though the ordinary man does not like to hear such a statement, I have a pretty good idea of you, Sir John. You're not an ordinary man. That's why I'm here. I'll put it in two words. I want to help you. Icanhelp you. It is for you to say if you want me."
Now there could only be one answer to a question like that. The man in my arm-chair was one of the most powerful men on earth. Moreover, his reputation stood high. He was no financial pirate. The whole world trusted him.
"I answer that, Mr. Van Adams, with a single word: Thank you."
He nodded as if pleased. "Quite!" he said, and then, half turning in his chair, "of course I don't ask you to tell me any official secrets...."
I laughed at that. The Government would have let this man know all there was to be known upon his simple request.
He saw that I understood. "There are none for one thing," I told him. "You know exactly as much as my department knows, as I told the Home Secretary this morning. There are no developments, except, of course, the protective measures we and the States are taking. The one thing Icantell you, and which is in strict confidence, is that I have arranged for my official duties to be carried on by my assistant for a month. From this afternoon I am absolutely free to do what I like and go where I like. No one will know of this but my confidential servant. I intend to devote this evening to mapping out a plan of campaign."
"That's good, Sir John. That is just what I wanted to hear. Let me explain my motives. They are not complicated. One is that, as one of the chief money-brokers of the world, I naturally want to prevent any financial panic. Next, I am a bit of a sportsman in my way. I like hunting things down. This pursuit appeals to me a good deal. And, last—when I was five-and-thirty, a desperate gang of crooks in San Francisco kidnapped my little daughter Pearl—she that is Duchess of Shropshire now—and held her up to ransom. It was before you took notice, for I'm close on seventy, but the episode created some considerable stir at the time. I can pretty well guess what you are going through now."
As he looked at me his eyes were no longer like living steel, nor his jaw like a pike's.
So he also knew! I mumbled something or other.
"Quite," he answered quickly, and then went on: "In thinking over various ways in which I could be of use I have come to a certain conclusion. Money, I suppose, won't help you—though, of course, any sum is available?"
"I have the Government behind me, and I myself am not poor, thank you."
"It is as I thought. In England I myself can do nothingpersonallythat others cannot do as well. In America I have every sort of influence...."
I looked him in the face. "I am not going to trouble about America in the very least."
"Quite! I see what you mean. And I am absolutely of your opinion. Now I'll come to what Icando for you."
He rose slowly from his chair and came up to me. When he spoke he had dropped his voice a full tone.
"I must let you into one or two little secrets about myself," he said. "In the first place, a man so rich as I am does not become so without making powerful and unscrupulous enemies. Also, American methods are direct. It will probably surprise you to hear that my life hasbeen attempted twelve or fifteen times, but that is the case. Some of the methods were diabolically ingenious, too! However, I stand here to-day, quite unharmed and quite safe. Why? I'll tell you.
"Quite early in my successful career I saw what would happen. I watched other men assassinated, and was determined that it shouldn't happen to me. How was it to be avoided? I thought that point out very carefully, and came to a conclusion. I must find, and then attach to my person, someone of extraordinary intelligence, cunning, skill and personal prowess. My ambitions ran high. I wanted someone who would devote his whole life to my service, a familiar spirit, no less! It took me three years of steady work to find that familiar spirit—to discover the exact combination of qualities I required. But a multi-millionaire is the Magician of to-day, and I have a Genie as clever and infallible as any out of the old 'Arabian Nights.' I pay him the salary of a cinema star, and I say, meaning every word of it, that there isn't another like him in the world. Do you think this tall talk, Sir John?"
It was certainly amazing, but I could not but believe him.
"You startle and you interest me deeply," I replied. "You are to be congratulated."
"I am—on a unique human possession. Well,you can't have failed to see what I'm driving at. I will lend you this man, place his services entirely at your disposal, for a month!"
For a moment or two I was silent. I believed every word that Van Adams said, and I was not hesitating—only just letting the offer, and what it meant, sink into my mind. It became plain. It was like the offer of a rope-ladder to a man in prison, a light and a pickaxe to an entombed miner.
"It is the most generous offer I've ever heard of, Mr. Van Adams. I can't express my thanks. You really mean this?"
"I do. And as an ounce of proof is worth a ton of talk—allow me to introduce you to Mr. Danjuro!"
He turned round as he spoke and I with him. Then I gave a cry of astonishment, which I could not have kept back to save my life.
Standing some yard or so away was a little Japanese gentleman, not much more than five feet high. He wore gold pince-nez, a neat blue lounge suit and brown boots. There was nothing noticeable about him in any way, except an unusually fine cranial development—a massive forehead and a great space between the corners of the dark eyes and the ears.
"Good heavens, how did he get here?" I said.
Van Adams laughed. "I daresay he'll tell you; I don't know," he answered. "I just told him to be here. I wanted to give you an object lesson, in fact. Now, Mr. Danjuro knows all that I know. You can trust him absolutely. He knows what is in front of him, and he knows where to find me when I'm wanted. Now I'll leave you together and say good-afternoon."
He was gone almost before I could thank him.
"Won't you sit down?" I said foolishly. The little Japanese bowed politely and did so.
I was at a loss what to say. My mind was in a whirl. I wanted to laugh, to call Van Adams back, but my dominating sensation was one of supreme annoyance. So this natty, commonplace little Asiatic was the millionaire's "familiar spirit"! He was unique, was he! I cursed myself for several kinds of fool to have saddled myself with this amazing stranger at the beginning of my work. At any rate, I reflected irritably, as I sat down opposite, I could easily send him off on some wild-goose chase or another....
Yes! I was never more annoyed in my life, and my annoyance lasted for exactly sixty seconds. Without the slightest embarrassment of any sort, and with no preliminaries at all, Mr. Danjuro plunged into business. His voice wasclear and low. He had no accent of any kind, though his English was a trifle pedantic and scholarly. He spoke as impersonally as a gramophone.
"... I am entirely with you, Sir John, in your opinion that it is not in the United States of America, but here—in England—that we shall solve the mystery surrounding this dark business."
"But I never said ..."
He smiled faintly, almost wearily. "And since I have the great honour to be associated with you, I trust you will allow me to suggest a plan of campaign."
"I was going to try and think one out to-night."
"It is a privilege to assist. I have come in contact with many crafty and malignant criminals during the last thirty years, but here one detects a master. It will be a pleasure indeed to hunt him down. Have I your honourable permission to smoke?"
With one hand he produced a square of rice paper and a pinch of tobacco from his pocket, and rolled a cigarette on his knee like a conjuring trick. He had not raised his voice, but a sudden gleam came into the oblique black eyes which suggested the deep but hidden ferocity of his race.
He resumed. "From all I have gathered, and I have talked much with Captain Pring, Mr.Rickaby and the passengers of theAlbatros, we have to look for a man who is (1) an aviator in the first rank; (2) an inventor and mechanical genius, or able to command the services of such; (3) a person of some wealth or able to procure money."
I followed him completely and said so. From what we already knew these deductions were perfectly fair ones.
"I thank you. Now we come to the man himself. I believe him to be a person of education, and one who has held a good social position. He is also desperate in his circumstances, and a person to whom material pleasure is the highest good."
"Rickaby said that the men who came aboard theAlbatrosspoke like educated people."
"Yes. Our field of search already begins to grow narrower. Am I right in saying that every aviator in this country must pass an examination and be licensed before he is allowed to fly?"
"It is so. All aviators, professional or amateur, must have a licence from the Air Police. This is registered. I have already had the records for the past ten years searched at Whitehall. But this has yielded no result. There is no one who could possibly be our man."
"It was well thought of, Sir John, if I may say so. But in my opinion we shall have to go back a good deal further than ten years. We nowcome to the question of the pirate airship itself and its peculiar qualities. Let us fix upon one—the silence of its engines. I am aware that the constructors of motor engines have been busy upon this problem for years."
"And with little result. The problem has not been solved."
"Except by our unknown friends. I have already examined all the recent patents of silencing devices at your patent office here. I spent yesterday morning there, and found nothing. The significance of that is obvious. Any ordinary inventor who had discovered something of such importance would protect it at once. We can therefore make up our minds that in no regular motor-engineering works throughout this country has the complete silencer been evolved. It would be impossible for the most brilliant inventor to keep such a thing entirely to himself."
"Again the field shrinks?"
"Yes, Sir John. We now have a man of the character already indicated, who, as he has undoubtedly constructed silent engines, must have done so in secret. He must have had private engineering works in order to make an important part of his machines. The point is, where? On the Continent? I think not. He would be watched far more carefully than in this country. America is still more unlikely. Let us assumeEngland. Having done so, we can, I think, safely deduce that for obvious reasons this man and his confederates—for we know he has them—would endeavour to build his pirate ship as near as possible to the place he intended to use as the base of his operations. And that base—if your experience bears me out—is certainly somewhere or other on the coast?"
"Of course, one would say that it must be so, Mr. Danjuro. And yet it seems impossible. The whole coast of England is patrolled by the coastguards. For all practical purposes England is no bigger than a pocket-handkerchief. I thought of Scotland and the Northern Isles. I thought of wild places on the Irish coast. I have had a fleet of airships surveying and photographing these places for the last two days. No hangar bigger than a motor-shed could have escaped their notice. All the land police of the villages round the coasts have been interrogated by Scotland Yard. Nothing, nothing whatever has been seen."
I spoke with some passion, for I felt it. The sense of impotence was maddening.
The Japanese rolled another cigarette. As he did so the door opened and Thumbwood came in.
"I delivered your note, Sir John, and the editor's compliments and thanks."
"Charles," I said, "this gentleman here is Mr.Danjuro. He is going to help us. Mr. Danjuro is "—I hesitated for a moment, really it was difficult to describe him!—"is one of the foremost detectives in the world!"
Thumbwood's hand went up to his forehead in the stable boy's salute. Then, as he saw my guest full-face, he started. "I saw you this morning, sir," he said. "You were talking to old Mrs. Jessop, the dresser at the Parthenon Theatre. It was in the 'Blue Dragon,' just round the corner by the stage-door."
"And you were with the stage-door keeper. A curious coincidence," Mr. Danjuro replied, with his weary smile, and at a look from me Thumbwood, very puzzled indeed, left the room.
"I spent part of this morning at the Parthenon Theatre, Sir John. Your servant apparently thought of doing the same thing. A man of considerable acumen?—I imagined so. To proceed. Now that we have cleared away a few preliminary obstructions, we arrive at a point which I regard as of great significance. You are engaged—I speak of intimate matters, but purely in my character of a consultant—to Miss Constance Shepherd, a young lady of beauty and celebrity."
... Confound the fellow, he spoke of Connie as if she were a fish!
"That is so," I told him.
"That young lady was kidnapped by theunknown airman. From among all the passengers she and her maid were singled out. Now that fact—upon which you must have already pondered considerably—is a key fact. Was it done for the purpose of holding this lady up to ransom? I see the suggestion has been made in the Press. I answer no. In the first place, it would be altogether too dangerous a game, and the attempt would certainly lead to discovery. Secondly, there were other people on board who would have been more profitable prey. The Duke of Perth, for instance, or the cinema actor who receives sixty thousand pounds a year. Now it is extremely improbable that in the rush and excitement of the attack and robbery of theAtlantis, the pirate leader was suddenly struck by a pretty face. Indeed, we know from accounts of the passengers that Miss Shepherd was deliberately searched for. That indicates with certainty that the pirate knew she was on board, and had a design of capturing her. In its turn, this predicates a former acquaintance, and, undoubtedly, a repulse in the past. Hence my inquiries and my interview with the theatre dresser this morning."
I astonished that little man. It was the first and last time. Leaping up in my chair, I believe I shouted like a madman. At any rate, Thumbwood was inside the room before I could find words to speak.
Something had flashed upon me, white-hot and sudden, as an electric advertisement flashes out upon one at night. It was something that I had entirely and utterly forgotten until now.
"There was a man," I gasped, "a scoundrel who had been annoying Miss Shepherd for a long time. He wanted to marry her. She told me of it.And he was once a celebrated flying man!"
"Long ago, in the Great War," said Danjuro calmly. "Major Helzephron, V.C. I was aware of it."
"And one of the boys if ever there was one, sir!" Thumbwood broke in. "Warned off the course everywhere. I've got a bit of information too!"
I stared at them, trembling with excitement. And then reality, like a cold douche of water, brought me to my senses. Of course, it was impossible. The thing was a mere coincidence. Why, while the first ship—theAlbatros—had been attacked, this man, Helzephron, was in London! He had travelled west in the same train with me and Connie.
"May I ask exactly what you know, Sir John?"
... I told Danjuro precisely what had happened at Paddington and how Connie herself had explained it.
He listened to me in attentive silence. When I had finished, I saw that a small leatherpocket-book had appeared in his hands—everything that the fellow did had the uncanny effect of a clever trick—and he was turning over the leaves.
"So far," he began, "in the consideration of this problem we have been eliminating impossibilities, or improbabilities so strong that they amount to that. This has left us with a small residuum of fact, unproved fact, but sufficient to work from. One thing emerges clearly. It is the nature and personality of our unknown friend. It is not too much to say that heMUSTbe very like what we have imagined him to be. A certain person appears dimly on the scene—this Major Helzephron. Let us see how his personality squares with the personality we have been deducing. Mr. Thumbwood has apparently collected some information. I have done so, too. Let us pool results!" He looked at Charles, who blushed.
"Out with it, Charles; you've done splendidly," I said.
"Well, Sir John, I found out that this gentleman is a pretty bad wrong-'un, judging by the company he keeps. And he used to annoy Miss Shepherd something chronic. He'd wait at the stage-door and try and speak to her when she got into the car after the performance, and he was always leaving notes and flowers with the stage-door keeper. Miss Shepherd would never take them. She always sent them back from her room. Itgot so bad at last that she complained to the stage manager, and he had a plain clothes man from Vine Street there one night. Major Helzephron was told off pretty plainly, I hear. He used to come very nasty sometimes, and once or twice he was fair blotto! And Mr. Meggit, the commission agent, knows him well. He's done a lot of racing in his time, and no open scandal. But he knows how to work the market, and the best men won't lay him the odds no more."
I shrugged my shoulders. It was only what one expected. The man was one of the fast blackguards who infest the West End of London; that was all. There were dozens like him. The facts only seemed to prove that he could not possibly be connected with the Atlantic outrages.
"You see?" I said to the Japanese, sure that he would follow my thought. Then I thanked good little Charles and he left the room.
"That is the surface," Danjuro replied. "I cross-examined awomanwho was in constant attendance on Miss Shepherd. From her I learnt just what your servant has discovered. But I went a little deeper. It is a case of genuine overmastering passion on the part of this man. Nothing less. He is of a dangerous age for that to come to him, certainly over forty-five years. A woman knows. But that is not all."
"So far we have learnt nothing of importance."I was getting restive, I wanted to bedoingsomething. And yet, what was there to do? If I had thought all night by myself I could not have mapped out the situation more clearly. And as I looked at the little man, half lost in a big saddlebag chair, I felt ashamed of my irritation. A brain packed in ice was there, a logical machine of the first order. I could not expect humanity, sympathy, from such a one. Still, it would have helped! Hadn't I lost the one thing that made life worth living? What might not be happening to Connie even now?
... He read my thoughts like a book, confound him!
"I understand your feelings, believe me, Sir John," he said, "but I must go my own way. We have not been talking for an hour yet! And if it is any consolation for you to know, let me say that it is imperative that we leave London to-night."
"My nerves are strained. Please go on," I answered. "I can hardly tell you what a godsend your appearance on the scene really is to me."
"In my business as agent and guard to my patron, Mr. Van Adams, it is always necessary that I keep more or less in touch with a certain circle of what I may describe as the aristocracy, the brains of International Crime. It has proved useful. After my visit to the Parthenon thismorning I called upon an old acquaintance, the Honourable James Brookfield."
"Lord Slidon's son? The man who got five years ..."
"Yes. Of course, everyone knows his name. He made one little slip. Mr. Brookfield is very acute, and a great student of character. Entirely incapable of understanding a man or woman of decent morals and normal instincts, he is infallible in his judgment of the criminal type. Mr. Brookfield owes me any little service he can render, and I supplemented my request for information with a note for fifty pounds."
"And you learnt ...?"
"That Major Helzephron is all we have just heard, but a far more sinister and formidable person than anyone suspects. He is a man of marked intellectual powers. Below the veneer of coarse pleasures and fast life in London and Paris, there is something that glows like a hot coal. His appearances in town are irregular and fitful. His real life, Brookfield is certain of this, is lived far away from cities. And it isa life with a purpose."
Quite suddenly and unexpectedly Mr. Danjuro began to reveal himself.
The last words were spoken in a changed voice. The flatness and monotony had vanished. The words vibrated in the room, and I felt the thrillof them. It was the power of personality, and from then onwards I was hand in glove with this bizarre thinking machine that Fate had sent me.
I tried to emulate Danjuro's dispassionate and scientific method.
"It is curious," I said, "that a real intellect should care to spend part of its time in rake-helling round the low clubs, the gambling-rooms and stage-doors of London. Such a thing is known, but it is rare."
"You put your finger instantly upon what seems a weak spot in my character sketch. But let us assume that it has been done with a deep motive."
"Ah!" He knew, or suspected, something more. He referred to his notebook.
"Two years ago a certain Mr. Herbert Gascoigne was expelled from Christ Church College, Oxford."
"Sent down, we call it; but go on."
"The case was a bad one. The young man had established a sort of gambling club and ruined several of his contemporaries. It was discovered that he was using a roulette wheel that had been tampered with. He came to London and drifted into the worst gang of swindlers. Major Helzephron met him. They became very friendly. The younger man was obviously under the influence of the elder.Finally Gascoigne deserted his old haunts and has disappeared."
I began to see light.
"On several occasions my astute friend, Mr. Brookfield, has witnessed precisely the same phenomenon. Some young man of the upper classes has been ruined socially, and our enigmatic friend has taken him up, been seen about with him, and so forth. Finally the young man vanishes."
"It is not philanthropy, Mr. Danjuro."
"It is not, and it gives rise to curious speculations. Where could a Napoleonic criminal, patiently planning and meditating a stupendous coup, find a better recruiting ground than among the desperate and ruined young men of his own class? The plan is in itself evidence of genius. They speak his language, he understands their way of thought; there are a thousand bonds between them. I can conceive no more solid and formidable combination than just this. The one last virtue remaining to these desperate and outcast young men will be loyalty to their leader. Society has cast them out, therefore they will make war on Society. Given that attitude of mind, a leader like Major Helzephron, and a plan so daring, and the thing becomes plain as daylight. And if this man had not fallen into an overmastering passion for Miss Shepherd there wouldhave been no means of getting on his trail at all."
It was only with great difficulty that I could control my thoughts. We seemed miles nearer the truth than I had been an hour ago. Then one idea emerged clearly.
"Quite so. And isn't it all in our favour that we, and we alone, are in a position to connect Helzephron with the piracy? He will think himself perfectly secure?"
"I do not for a moment believe," Danjuro replied with emphasis, "that a single soul besides ourselves has the least suspicion. The man will have taken supreme care to cover his tracks. My inquiries could have suggested nothing to the people I interviewed. Mr. Brookfield thinks I required my information for quite another reason. Yes, Sir John, we have a task of immense difficulty and danger before us. You must recognize that to the full. My sincere belief is that it would be somewhat safer to venture into a cage of cobras than where we have to go. But"—he took out his watch—"it is five o'clock. Let us say that the game begins at this moment! Very well. We, and not the enemy, have scored the first point!"
He suddenly glided from his chair with a single sinuous movement. As he stood up he was transformed. The bland modern look faded from his face. It grew terrible. The eyes narrowed toslits of light, the square jaw protruded, the grey lips were caught up in a tiger-grin, and the slim body seemed to swell out with iron muscle like a wrestler stripped in the arena.
You have seen some of the real old Japanese colour-prints, pictures of the ancient Samurai or the frightful Akudogi shouting at you—yes? The flat, awful stolidity, the incarnate hate....
Then you have seen something of what I saw then.
Wow! Millionaire Van Adams was well served!
"It is a good deal to ask, Sir John," said Danjuro briskly, "but, for the moment, will you place yourself entirely in my hands?"
"I am perfectly content to do so."
"Then permit me to press the bell." He did so.
"I left a black bag in the hall," Danjuro said politely when Thumbwood came in. "Would you please let me have it?"
The bag was brought. Danjuro placed it on the table and opened it.
"You are very well known, Sir John," he remarked. "Major Helzephron and his friends have either seen you at some time or other, or have certainly seen the numerous pictures of you that have appeared in the newspapers during the last few days. It is imperative that you change your appearance at once. I foresaw that and have brought materials."
I am afraid I whistled with dismay. The ideadidn't please me in the very least. "Is it really necessary?..."
"Absolutely. But it will not inconvenience you. Will you go into your bedroom and clip off your moustache with scissors, afterwards shaving the upper lip clean? You see, the man who leaves London to-night must not in the least resemble the Chief Commissioner of Air Police."
I went and did it. I had to. When the operation was over I shouldn't have known myself, it made such a difference. I never knew that I had such a grim and forbidding mouth!
I returned to the sitting-room. Mr. Danjuro did not make the least comment, but he removed my collar and tie with the deftness of a barber and fastened a towel round my neck. Then he sponged my skin all over with some faintly pink stuff out of a bottle. When he had done that, he began on my hair with something else, and finally my eyebrows.
"May I ask what you are doing?" I said after a time.
"I am dyeing your hair black, Sir John. The dye can be removed at any time. The appearance is absolutely natural. The drug I am using is not generally known. I procure it from a friend in the Honcho Dori at Yokohama, and also the liquid which has already changed your skin from blond to swarthy. I will treat your hands in a minute."
I suppose I was three-quarters of an hour under his ministrations before he stepped back and looked at me critically. "Part your hair in the centre, instead of at the side, wear a low collar instead of a high one, and spectacles—they can be of plain glass—and you need not have the slightest fear of recognition. In fact, Sir John, as far as outward appearance goes, you have already ceased to exist!"
There was a mirror over the mantel-shelf. I stood up and looked. It was marvellous! It was uncanny, too. A dark-haired, dark-skinned stranger leered out of the glass at me, and I turned away with mingled feelings of amazement and disgust.
"Do you drive an automobile?" the Japanese asked.
I jumped at the suddenness of the question, for my thoughts were far away. "Yes, I have a touring car of my own in a neighbouring garage."
"It will be better not to use it. We shall take one of Mr. Van Adams' cars. It is ready."
I laughed. "I've a lot to hear yet, you know, Mr. Danjuro, though I have placed myself in your hands without reserve. But you made very sure of me beforehand, didn't you?"
"It is Mr. Van Adams' command," he answered simply, and I reflected that here, indeed, was a man with a single soul.
"We shall leave London at midnight," he went on, "and drive through the whole of the night. I, also, am an expert chauffeur, and we can relieve each other."
"Thumbwood can drive, too. Of course we take him with us?"
"He will be of the greatest assistance. Now, Sir John, if you want to take a little sleep, now is the time. I should like to consult with your servant, if I may, and have a chat with him. We shall have a good deal to do with one another."
Strangely enough, I did feel drowsy, despite my excitement. A couple of hours' sleep would refresh me wonderfully, and I knew it.
"Very well; I think it is a good suggestion. Say for two hours."
"By all means. I will carry out some other arrangements meanwhile. You shall have full explanations later on, and I thank you sincerely for the confidence you have reposed in me."
While we were talking we had left the room and crossed the hall.
"A pleasant sleep," he said, politely opening the door for me. "We will go and have a look at Major Helzephron later on."
"What?" I shouted.
"He is in London. I have never seen him and I must certainly do so."
"In London?" I cried, a dozen conflicting thoughts crowding and crushing into my mind.
"... It is the reason that we leave London to-night."
Then he had shut the door on me and was gone. I had known him less than two hours. I was a man accustomed to rule, whose whole life was spent in giving orders, and I lay down on my bed like a lamb without a further question. And, what is more, I did exactly as Mr. Danjuro had said. I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
At a little after eight Mr. Danjuro and myself sat at dinner at the Restaurant Mille Colonnes. Most people know that expensive and luxurious home of epicures, with Nicholas, its stout and arrogant proprietor, and M. Dulac, its famous chef.
We sat in the south gallery, at the extreme end, against the wall. The electric lights in the roof above us had been extinguished, and our table was lighted by candles in red shades. Indeed, we sat in a sort of darkness which must have made us almost invisible to the other diners, most of whom sat in the longer arm of the gallery at right angles to our own.
We, on the contrary, could see everything. We could look over the gilded rail into the hall of the restaurant below, and every detail of the gallery on our own level was clear and distinct, thoughthere was such a towering erection of flowers and ferns in the centre of our table that it obscured what would otherwise have been a perfect view.
I wore a low, turned-down collar and a dark flannel suit. Danjuro, also, had changed his clothes, and, in some real but indefinite way, his appearance. He wore a flannel suit and a straw hat, and also a necktie which I suddenly spotted as that of my old college, Christ Church, Oxford. But the extraordinary thing about him was that he seemed fifteen years younger.
He had promised to explain at the "Mille Colonnes." As we began upon the salted prawns and the stuffed olives he did so.
"You are now Mr. Johns, an Oxford tutor, Sir John. I am a young Japanese gentleman, my own name will serve, whom you are coaching. We are going into the country with this disguise. It is one which will easily account for your being in the company of an Asiatic gentleman, and which you will have no difficulty in sustaining."
It was, indeed, a simple and excellent plan for avoiding undue curiosity. I said so, and then: "Now perhaps you will tell me where we are going. I have my ideas...."
"We are going west," he answered gravely. "To Cornwall."
My heart beat fast. It was what I wanted him to say. "To the home of Helzephron?"
"Yes. For it is there we shall be in the very centre of the web. In those far western solitudes, despite the recent opening up of the Duchy to tourists, there are still vast spaces of lonely moorland and unvisited coast where one may walk for half a day and meet no living soul. There is a great Hinterland between the little town of St. Ives and the Land's End that for all practical purposes is unknown and unexplored. Later on, I will show you certain maps.... It is in one of the remotest spots of all that Major Helzephron has his house. I tell you, Sir John," he continued, with a sort of passion, "that in those lost and forgotten solitudes, where England stretches out her granite foot to spurn the Atlantic, strange secrets lie hid to-day! On those grey and lonely moors, where the last Druids practised their mysterious rites, and which are still covered with sinister memorials of the past, lies the explanation of the terror which is troubling the world! There, and there only, shall we discover the secrets of the air, and—if human skill and determination are of any avail—Miss Constance Shepherd!"
An obsequious waiter came with icedconsommé. He was followed by the great Nicholas himself, bulging out of his buttoned frock-coat—Nicholas never wore evening dress—who bowed low and had a whispered confabulation with Danjuro.
I remarked on this unusual honour. "I dowhat I wish here," the Japanese replied. "It is, of course, through Mr. Van Adams. I hold this place in the hollow of my hand—as you will presently see!"
He gave one of his rare and weary smiles, and then said quietly: "Please do not get up or move. Major Helzephron has just come into the gallery!"
I could not have moved. His words turned me to stone.
"I felt sure," he went on, "that for a day or two Helzephron would show himself in London. Knowing what we know—or at least suspect—such a move was a certainty. He is in the habit of coming here. He booked his usual seat at this restaurant, and his usual box at the Parthenon Theatre—and for reasons obvious to you and me, if to no one else in the world! I confess to an anxiety to look upon this man."
"You have had this corner darkened?" I said quickly. "No one can seeushere?"
"Not clearly. And Helzephron would not know who we are if he did see us. But, as he is sure to come upon us in Cornwall, it is better to take no risks. To that end I have had a little device arranged for us which proved of great service to me once in Chicago."
He bent forward to the mass of ferns and flowers in the centre of the table, disarranging the greeneryat its base. At once a green-painted tube became visible, and then a slanting mirror, the size of a postcard.
"What on earth is that?" I whispered.
"An adaptation of the periscope!" he replied, taking a magnifying glass from his pocket, adjusting it, and bending over the mirror. "The lens is focussed upon Helzephron's table. With this magnifier I enlarge the image in the mirror. Ah! So that is the honourable gentleman!"
A faint hissing noise came from him. His face stiffened into fixed and horrible intentness as he stared through his magnifier at the little oblong of mirror.
"Shi-ban, Go-ban, hei!" he muttered. "There are two, then. I expect the younger man is the Honourable Herbert Gascoigne, of whom we have heard!"
The hissing noise continued, the ecstasy of attention did not relax for two or three minutes.
At last Danjuro looked up. His face, which had seemed carved out of jade, relaxed.
"Will you take my seat?" he said politely, handing me his reading-glass. "A little drama will commence in a few minutes. It will interest you!"