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diff --git a/old/2417.txt b/old/2417.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc9b5e4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2417.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11990 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Okewood of the Secret Service, by Valentine Williams + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Okewood of the Secret Service + +Author: Valentine Williams + +Posting Date: December 24, 2009 [EBook #2417] +Release Date: December, 2000 +Last Updated: March 23, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OKEWOOD OF THE SECRET SERVICE *** + + + + +Produced by Polly Stratton. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + +OKEWOOD OF THE SECRET SERVICE + + +by + +Valentine Williams + +(pseud. Douglas Valentine) + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. THE DEPUTY TURN + II. CAPTAIN STRANGWISE ENTERTAINS A GUEST + III. MR. MACKWAYTE MEETS AN OLD FRIEND + IV. MAJOR OKEWOOD ENCOUNTERS A NEW TYPE + V. THE MURDER AT SEVEN KINGS + VI. "NAME O'BARNEY" + VII. NUR-EL-DIN + VIII. THE WHITE PAPER PACKAGE + IX. METAMORPHOSIS + X. D. O. R. A. IS BAFFLED + XI. CREDENTIALS + XII. AT THE MILL HOUSE + XIII. WHAT SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES REVEALED + XIV. BARBARA TAKES A HAND + XV. MR. BELLWARD IS CALLED TO THE TELEPHONE + XVI. THE STAR OF POLAND + XVII. MR. BELLWARD ARRANGES A BRIDGE EVENING + XVIII. THE GATHERING OF THE SPIES + XIX. THE UNINVITED GUEST + XX. THE ODD MAN + XXI. THE BLACK VELVET TOQUE + XXII. WHAT THE CELLAR REVEALED + XXIII. MRS. MALPLAQUET GOES DOWN TO THE CELLAR + XXIV. THE TWO DESERTERS + XXV. TO MRS. MALPLAQUET'S + XXVI. THE MAN IN THE SUMMER HOUSE + XXVII. THE RED LACQUER ROOM + XXVIII. AN OFFER FROM STRANGWISE + XXIX. DOT AND DASH + XXX. HOHENLINDEN TRENCH + XXXI. THE 100,000 POUND KIT + + + +CHAPTER I. THE DEPUTY TURN + +Mr. Arthur Mackwayte slipped noiselessly into the dining-room and +took his place at the table. He always moved quietly, a look of +gentle deprecation on his face as much as to say: "Really, you +know, I can't help being here: if you will just overlook me this +time, by and by you won't notice I'm there at all!" That was how +he went through life, a shy, retiring little man, quiet as a +mouse, gentle as a dove, modesty personified. + +That is, at least, how Mr. Arthur Mackwayte struck his friends in +private life. Once a week, however, he fairly screamed at the +public from the advertisement columns of "The Referee": +"Mackwayte, in his Celebrated Kerbstone Sketches. Wit! Pathos! +Tragedy!!! The Epitome of London Life. Universally Acclaimed as +the Greatest Portrayer of London Characters since the late Chas. +Dickens. In Tremendous Demand for Public Dinners. The Popular +Favorite. A Few Dates still Vacant. 23, Laleham Villas, Seven +Kings. 'Phone" and so on. + +But only professionally did Mr. Mackwayte thus blow his own +trumpet, and then in print alone. For the rest, he had nothing +great about him but his heart. A long and bitter struggle for +existence had left no hardness in his smooth-shaven flexible +face, only wrinkles. His eyes were gray and keen and honest, his +mouth as tender as a woman's. + +His daughter, Barbara, was already at table pouring out the +tea--high tea is still an institution in music-hall circles. Mr. +Mackwayte always gazed on this tall, handsome daughter of his +with amazement as the great miracle of his life. He looked at her +now fondly and thought how.... how distinguished, yes, that was +the word, she looked in the trim blue serge suit in which she +went daily to her work at the War Office. + +"Rations a bit slender to-night, daddy," she said, handing him his +cup of tea, "only sardines and bread and butter and cheese. Our +meatless day, eh?" + +"It'll do very well for me, Barbara, my dear," he answered in his +gentle voice, "there have been times when your old dad was glad +enough to get a cup of tea and a bite of bread and butter for his +supper. And there's many a one worse off than we are today!" + +"Any luck at the agent's, daddy?" + +Mr. Mackwayte shook his head. + +"These revues are fair killing the trade, my dear, and that's a +fact. They don't want art to-day, only rag-time and legs and all +that. Our people are being cruelly hit by it and that's a fact. +Why, who do you think I ran into at Harris' this morning? Why, +Barney who used to work with the great Charles, you know, my +dear. For years he drew his ten pound a week regular. Yet there +he was, looking for a job the same as the rest of us. Poor +fellow, he was down on his luck!" + +Barbara looked up quickly. + +"Daddy, you lent him money...." + +Mr. Mackwayte looked extremely uncomfortable. + +"Only a trifle, my dear, just a few shillings.... to take him +over the week-end.... he's getting something.... he'll repay me, +I feel sure...." + +"It's too bad of you, daddy," his daughter said severely. "I gave +you that ten shillings to buy yourself a bottle of whiskey. You +know he won't pay you back. That Barney's a bad egg!" + +"Things are going bad with the profession," replied Mr. Mackwayte. +"They don't seem to want any of us old stagers today, Barbara!" + +"Now, daddy, you know I don't allow you to talk like that. Why, +you are only just finished working.... the Samuel Circuit, too!" + +Barbara looked up at the old man quickly. + +"Only, four weeks' trial, my dear.... they didn't want me, else +they would have given me the full forty weeks. No, I expect I am +getting past my work. But it's hard on you child...." + +Barbara sprang up and placed her hand across her father's mouth. + +"I won't have you talk like that, Mac"--that was her pet name for +him--"you've worked hard all your life and now it's my turn. Men +have had it all their own way before this war came along: now +women are going to have a look in. Presently' when I get to be +supervisor of my section and they raise my pay again, you will be +able to refuse all offers of work. You can go down to Harris with +a big cigar in your mouth and patronize him, daddy..." + +The telephone standing on the desk in the corner of the cheap +little room tingled out sharply. Barbara rose and went across to +the desk. Mr. Mackwayte thought how singularly graceful she +looked as she stood, very slim, looking at him whimsically across +the dinner-table, the receiver in her hand. + +Then a strange thing happened. Barbara quickly put the receiver +down on the desk and clasped her hands together, her eyes opened +wide in amazement. + +"Daddy," she cried, "it's the Palaceum... the manager's office... +they want you urgently! Oh, daddy, I believe it is an +engagement!" + +Mr. Mackwayte rose to his feet in agitation, a touch of color +creeping into his gray cheeks. + +"Nonsense, my dear!" he answered, "at this time of night! Why, +it's past eight... their first house is just finishing... they +don't go engaging people at this time of day... they've got other +things to think of!" + +He went over to the desk and picked up the receiver. + +"Mackwayte speaking!" he said, with a touch of stage majesty in +his voice. + +Instantly a voice broke in on the other end of the wire, a +perfect torrent of words. + +"Mackwayte? Ah! I'm glad I caught you at home. Got your props +there? Good. Hickie of Hickie and Flanagan broke his ankle during +their turn at the first house just now, and I want you to take +their place at the second house. Your turn's at 9.40: it's a +quarter past eight now: I'll have a car for you at your place at +ten to nine sharp. Bring your band parts and lighting directions +with you... don't forget! You get twenty minutes, on! Right! +Goodbye!" + +"The Palaceum want me to deputize for Hickie and Flanagan, my +dear," he said a little tremulously' "9.40... the second house... +it's... it's very unexpected!" + +Barbara ran up and throwing her arms about his neck, kissed him. + +"How splendid!" she exclaimed, "the Palaceum, daddy! You've never +had an engagement like this before... the biggest hall in +London...!! + +"Only for a night, my dear"' said Mr. Mackwayte modestly. + +"But if they like you, daddy, if it goes down... what will you +give them, daddy?" + +Mr. Mackwayte scratched his chin. + +"It's the biggest theatre in London"' he mused, "It'll have to be +broad effects... and they'll want something slap up modern, my +dear, I'm thinking..." + +"No, no, daddy" his daughter broke in vehemently "they want the +best. This is a London audience, remember, not a half-baked +provincial house. This is London, Mac, not Wigan! And Londoners +love their London! You'll give 'em the old London horse bus +driver, the sporting cabby, and I believe you'll have time to +squeeze in the hot potato man..." + +"Well, like your poor dear mother, I expect you know what's the +best I've got" replied Mr. Mackwayte, "but it'll be a bit awkward +with a strange dresser... I can't get hold of Potter at this +time, of night... and a stranger is sure to mix up my wigs and +things..." + +"Why, daddy, I'm going with you to put out your things..." + +"But a lady clerk in the War Office, Barbara... a Government +official, as you might say... go behind at a music-hall... it +don't seem proper right, my dear!" + +"Nonsense, Mac. Where Is your theatre? Come along. We'll have to +try and get a taxi!" + +"They're sending a car at ten to nine, my dear!" + +"Good gracious! what swells we are! And it's half-past eight +already! Who is on the bill with you?" + +"My dear, I haven't an idea... I'm not very well up in the London +programmes' I'm afraid... but it is sure to be a good programme. +The Palaceum is the only house that's had the courage to break +away from this rotten revue craze!" + +Barbara was in the hall now, her arms plunged to the shoulder in +a great basket trunk that smelt faintly of cocoa-butter. Right +and left she flung coats and hats and trousers and band parts, +selecting with a sure eye the properties which Mr. Mackwayte +would require for the sketches he would play that evening. In the +middle of it all the throbbing of a car echoed down the quiet +road outside. Then there came a ring at the front door. + +* * * * * * + +At half-past nine that night, Barbara found herself standing +beside her father in the wings of the vast Palaceum stage. Just +at her back was the little screened-off recess where Mr. +Mackwayte was to make the quick changes that came in the course +of his turn. Here, since her arrival in the theatre, Barbara had +been busy laying out coats and hats and rigs and grease-paints on +the little table below the mirror with its two brilliant electric +bulbs, whilst Mr. Mackwayte was in his dressing-room upstairs +changing into his first costume. + +Now, old Mackwayte stood at her elbow in his rig-out as an old +London bus-driver in the identical, characteristic clothes which +he had worn for this turn for the past 25 years. He was far too +old a hand to show any nervousness he might feel at the ordeal +before him. He was chatting in undertones in his gentle, +confidential way to the stage manager. + +All around them was that curious preoccupied stillness hush of +the power-house which makes the false world of the stage so +singularly unreal by contrast when watched from the back. The +house was packed from floor to ceiling, for the Palaceum's policy +of breaking away from revue and going back to Mr. Mackwayte +called "straight vaudeville" was triumphantly justifying itself. + +Standing in the wings, Barbara could almost feel the electric +current running between the audience and the comedian who, with +the quiet deliberation of the finished artist, was going through +his business on the stage. As he made each of his carefully +studied points, he paused, confident of the vast rustle of +laughter swelling into a hurricane of applause which never failed +to come from the towering tiers of humanity before him, +stretching away into the roof where the limelights blazed and +spluttered. Save for the low murmur of voices at her side, the +silence behind the scenes was absolute. No one was idle. Everyone +was at his post, his attention concentrated on that diminutive +little figure in the ridiculous clothes which the spot-lights +tracked about the stage. + +It was the high-water mark of modern music-hall development. The +perfect smoothness of the organization gave Barbara a great +feeling of contentment for she knew how happy her father must be. +Everyone had been so kind to him. "I shall feel a stranger +amongst the top-liners of today, my dear," he had said to her in +the car on their way to the hall. She had had no answer ready for +she had feared he spoke the truth. + +Yet everyone they had met had tried to show them that Arthur +Mackwayte was not forgotten. The stage-door keeper had known him +in the days of the old Aquarium and welcomed him by name. The +comedian who preceded Mr. Mackwayte and who was on the stage at +that moment had said, "Hullo, Mac! Come to give us young 'uns +some tips?" And even now the stage manager was talking over old +days with her father. + +"You had a rough but good schooling, Mac," he was saying, "but, +by Jove, it gave us finished artists. If you saw the penny +reading line that comes trying to get a job here... and gets it, +by Gad!... it'd make you sick. I tell you I have my work cut out +staving them off! It's a pretty good show this week, though, and +I've given you a good place, Mac... you're in front of +Nur-el-Din!" + +"Nur-el-Din?" repeated Mr. Mackwayte' "what is it, Fletcher? A +conjurer?" + +"Good Lord' man' where have you been living?" replied Fletcher. +"Nur-el-Din is the greatest vaudeville proposition since Lottie +Collins. Conjurer! That's what she is, too, by Jove! She's the +newest thing in Oriental dancers... Spaniard or something... +wonderful clothes, what there is of 'em... and jewelry... wait +till you see her!" + +"Dear me"' said Mr. Mackwayte' "I'm afraid I'm a bit behind the +times. Has she been appearing here long?" + +"First appearance in London, old man' and she's made good from +the word 'Go!' She's been in Paris and all over the Continent, +and America, too, I believe, but she had to come to me to soar to +the top of the bill. I saw at once where she belonged! She's a +real artiste, temperament, style and all that sort of thing and a +damn good producer into the bargain! But the worst devil that +ever escaped out of hell never had a wickeder temper! She and I +fight all the time! Not a show, but she doesn't keep the stage +waiting! But I won! I won't have her prima donna tricks in this +theatre and so I've told her! Hullo, Georgie's he's finishing..." + +The great curtain switched down suddenly, drowning a cascade of +applause, and a bundle of old clothes, twitching nerves, liquid +perspiration and grease paint hopped off the stage into the +centre of the group. An electric bell trilled, the limelights +shut off, with a jerk that made the eyes ache, a back-cloth +soared aloft and another glided down into its place, the comedian +took two, three, four calls, then vanished into a horde of dim +figures scuttling about in the gloom. + +An electric bell trilled again and deep silence fell once more, +broken only by the hissing of the lights. + +"You ought to stop behind after your turn and see her, Mac," the +stage manager's voice went on evenly. "All right, Jackson! On you +go, Mac!" + +Barbara felt her heart jump. Now for it, daddy! + +The great curtain mounted majestically and Arthur Mackwayte, +deputy turn, stumped serenely on to the stage. + + + +CHAPTER II. CAPTAIN STRANGWISE ENTERTAINS A GUEST + +It was the slack hour at the Nineveh Hotel. The last groups about +the tea-tables in the Palm Court had broken up, the Tzigane +orchestra had stacked its instruments together on its little +platform and gone home, and a gentle calm rested over the great +hotel as the forerunner of the coming dinner storm. + +The pre-dinner hour is the uncomfortable hour of the modern hotel +de luxe. The rooms seem uncomfortably hot, the evening paper +palls, it is too early to dress for dinner, so one sits yawning +over the fire, longing for a fireside of one's own. At least that +is how it strikes one from the bachelor standpoint, and that is +how it appeared to affect a man who was sitting hunched up in a +big arm-chair in the vestibule of the Nineveh Hotel on this +winter afternoon. + +His posture spoke of utter boredom. He sprawled full length in his +chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his, eyes +half-closed, various editions of evening papers strewn about the +ground at his feet. He was a tall, well-groomed man, and his +lithe, athletic figure looked very well in its neat uniform. + +A pretty little woman who sat at one of the writing desks in the +vestibule glanced at him more than once. He was the sort of man that +women look at with interest. He had a long, shrewd, narrow head, +the hair dark and close-cropped, a big, bold, aquiline nose, and +a firm masterful chin, dominated by a determined line of mouth +emphasised by a thin line of moustache. He would have been very +handsome but for his eyes, which, the woman decided as she +glanced at him, were set rather too close together. She thought +she would prefer him as he was now, with his eyes glittering in +the fire-light through their long lashes. + +But what was most apparent was the magnificent physical fitness +of the man. His was the frame of the pioneer, the man of the +earth's open spaces and uncharted wilds. He looked as hard as +nails, and the woman murmured to herself, as she went on with her +note, "On leave from the front." + +Presently, the man stirred, stretched himself and finally sat up. +Then he started, sprang to his feet, and strode easily across the +vestibule to the reception desk. An officer was standing there in +a worn uniform, a very shabby kit-bag by his side, a dirty old +Burberry over his arm. + +"Okewood!" said the young man and touched the other on the +shoulder, "isn't it Desmond Okewood? By Jove, I am glad to see +you!" + +The new-comer turned quickly. + +"Why, hullo," he said, "if it isn't Maurice Strangwise! But, good +heavens, man, surely I saw your name in the casualty list... +missing, wasn't it?" + +"Yep!" replied the other smiling, "that's so! It's a long story +and it'll keep! But tell me about yourself... this," he kicked +the kit-bag with the toe of his boot, "looks like a little leave! +Just in from France?" + +He smiled again, baring his firm, white teeth, and looking at him +Desmond suddenly remembered, as one recalls a trifle, his trick +of smiling. It was a frank enough smile but... well, some people +smile too much. + +"Got in just now by the leave train," answered Desmond. + +"How much leave have you got?" asked Strangwise. + +"Well," said the other, "it's a funny thing, but I don't know!" + +"Say, are they giving unlimited leave over there now?" + +Desmond laughed. + +"Hardly," he replied. "But the War Office just applied for me to +come over and here I am! What they want me for, whether it's to +advise the War Council or to act as Quartermaster to the Jewish +Battalion I can't tell you! I shan't know until tomorrow morning! +In the meantime I'm going to forget the war for this evening!" + +"What are you going to do to-night?" asked Strangwise. + +Desmond began to check off on his fingers. + +"Firstly, I'm going to fill the biggest bath in this hotel with +hot water, get the biggest piece of Pears' soap in London, and +jump in: Then, if my tailor hasn't betrayed me, I'm going to put +on dress clothes, and whilst I am dressing summon Julien (if he's +maitre d'hotel here) to a conference, then I'm going to eat the +best dinner that this pub can provide. Then..." + +Strangwise interrupted him. + +"The bath is on you, if you like," he said, "but the dinner's on +me and a show afterwards. I'm at a loose end, old man, and so are +you, so we'll hit up together! We'll dine in the restaurant here +7.30, and Julien shall come up to your room so that you can order +the dinner. Is it a go?" + +"Rather," laughed Desmond, "I'll eat your dinner, Maurice, and +you shall tell me how you managed to break out of the casualty +list into the Nineveh Hotel. But what do all these anxious-looking +gentry want?" + +The two officers turned to confront a group of four men who were +surveying them closely. One of them, a fat, comfortable looking +party with grizzled hair, on seeing Desmond, walked up to him. + +"Hullo!" said Desmond, "it's Tommy Spencer! How are you, Spencer? +What's the betting in Fleet Street on the war lasting another +five years? Have you come to interview me?" + +The tubby little man beamed and shook hands effusively. + +"Glad to see you looking so well, Major," he said, "It's your +friend we want..." + +"What? Strangwise? Here, Maurice, come meet my friend Tommy +Spencer of the "Daily Record," whom I haven't seen since we went +on manoeuvres together down at Aldershot! Captain Strangwise, +Tommy Spencer! Now, then, fire away; Spencer!" + +Strangwise smiled and shook his head. + +"I'm very pleased to know your friend, Desmond," he said, "but, +you know, I can't talk! I had the strictest orders from the War +Office... It's on account of the other fellows, you know..." + +Desmond looked blankly at him. Then he--turned to Spencer. + +"You must let me into this, Spencer," he said, "what's old +Maurice been up to? Has he been cashiered for wearing shoes or +what?" + +Spencer's manner became a trifle formal. + +"Captain Strangwise has escaped from a prisoners' of war camp in +Germany, Major," he said, "we've been trying to get hold of him +for days! He's the talk of London!" + +Desmond turned like a shot. + +"Maurice!" he cried, "'pon my soul, I'm going to have an +interesting evening... why, of course, you are just the sort of +fellow to do a thing like that. But, Spencer, you know, it won't +do... fellows are never allowed to talk to the newspaper men +about matters of this kind. And if you're a good fellow, Spencer, +you won't even say that you have seen Strangwise here... you'll +only get him into trouble!" + +The little man looked rather rueful. + +"Oh, of course, Major, if you put it that way," he said. + +"... And you'll use your influence to make those other fellows +with you drop it, will you, Spencer? And then come along to the +bar and we'll have a drink for old times' sake!" + +Spencer seemed doubtful about the success of his representations +to his colleagues but he obediently trotted away. Apparently, he +succeeded in his mission for presently he joined the two officers +alone in the American Bar. + +"I haven't seen Strangwise for six months, Spencer," said Desmond +over his second cocktail. "Seeing him reminds me how astonishing +it is the way fellows drop apart in war. Old Maurice was attached +to the Brigade of which I am the Brigade Major as gunner officer, +and we lived together for the best part of three months, wasn't +it, Maurice? Then he goes back to his battery and the next thing +I hear of him is that he is missing. And then I'm damned if he +doesn't turn up here!" + +Spencer cocked an eye at Strangwise over his Martini. + +"I'd like to hear your story, despite the restrictions," he said. + +Strangwise looked a trifle embarrassed. + +"Maybe I'll tell you one day," he replied in his quiet way, +"though, honestly, there's precious little to tell..." + +Desmond marked his confusion and respected him for it. He rushed +in to the rescue. + +"Spencer," he said abruptly, "what's worth seeing in London? We +are going to a show to-night. I want to be amused, mark you, not +elevated!" + +"Nur-el-Din at the Palaceum," replied the reporter. + +"By Jove, we'll go there," said Desmond, turning to Maurice. +"Have you ever seen her? I'm told she's perfectly marvelous..." + +"It's an extraordinarily artistic turn," said Spencer, "and +they're doing wonderful business at the Palaceum. You'd better go +and see the show soon, though, for they tell me the lady is +leaving the programme." + +"No!" exclaimed Strangwise so suddenly that Desmond turned round +and stared at him. "I thought she was there for months yet..." + +"They don't want her to go," answered Spencer, "she's a perfect +gold-mine to them but I gather the lady is difficult... in fact, +to put it bluntly she's making such a damn nuisance of herself +with her artistic temperament that they can't get on with her at +all." + +"Do you know this lady of the artistic temperament, Maurice?" +asked Desmond. + +Strangwise hesitated a moment. + +"I met her in Canada a few years ago," he said slowly, "she was a +very small star then. She's a very handsome and attractive girl, +in spite of our friend's unfavorable verdict. There's something +curiously real about her dancing, too, that you don't find in +this sort of show as a rule!" + +He stopped a moment, then added abruptly: + +"We'll go along to the Palaceum to-night, if you like, Desmond," +and Desmond joyfully acquiesced. To one who has been living for +weeks in an ill-ventilated pill-box on the Passchendaele Ridge, +the lights and music and color of a music-hall seem as a +foretaste of Paradise. + +And that was what Desmond Okewood thought as a few hours later he +found himself with Maurice Strangwise in the stalls of the vast +Palaceum auditorium. In the unwonted luxury of evening clothes he +felt clean and comfortable, and the cigar he way smoking was the +climax of one of Julien's most esoteric efforts. + +The cards on either side of the proscenium opening bore the +words: "Deputy Turn." On the stage was a gnarled old man with +ruddy cheeks and a muffler, a seedy top hat on his head, a +coaching whip in his hand, the old horse bus-driver of London in +his habit as he had lived. The old fellow stood there and just +talked to the audience of a fine sporting class of men that +petrol has driven from the streets, without exaggerated humor or +pathos. Desmond, himself a born Cockney, at once fell under the +actor's spell and found all memories of the front slipping away +from him as the old London street characters succeeded one +another on the stage. Then the orchestra blared out, the curtain +descended, and the house broke into a great flutter of applause. + +Desmond, luxuriating in his comfortable stall puffed at his cigar +and fell into a pleasant reverie. + +He was contrasting the ghastly nightmare of mud and horrors from +which he had only just emerged with the scene of elegance, of +civilization; around him. + +Suddenly, his attention became riveted on the stage. The +atmosphere of the theatre had changed. Always quick at picking up +"influences," Desmond instantly sensed a new mood in the throngs +around him. A presence was in the theatre, an instinct-awakening, +a material influence. The great audience was strangely hushed. +The air was heavy with the tent of incense. The stringed +instruments and oboes in the orchestra were wandering into +[Updater's note: a line appears to be missing from the source here] +rhythmic dropped. + +Maurice touched his elbow. + +"There she is!" he said. + +Desmond felt inclined to shake him off roughly. The interruption +jarred on him. For he was looking at this strangely beautiful +girl with her skin showing very brown beneath a wonderful silver +tiara-like headdress, and in the broad interstices of a +cloth-of-silver robe with short, stiffly wired-out skirt. She was +seated, an idol, on a glittering black throne, at her feet with +their tapering dyed nails a fantastically attired throng of +worshipers. + +The idol stirred into life, the music of the orchestra died away. +Then a tom-tom began to beat its nervous pulse-stirring throb, +the strident notes of a reed-pipe joined in and the dancer, +raised on her toes on the dais, began to sway languorously to and +fro. And so she swayed and swayed with sinuously curving limbs +while the drums throbbed out faster with ever-shortening beats, +with now and then a clash of brazen cymbals that was torture to +overwrought nerves. + +The dancer was the perfection of grace. Her figure was lithe and +supple as a boy's. There was a suggestion of fire and strength +and agility about her that made one think of a panther as she +postured there against a background of barbaric color. The grace +of her movements, the exquisite blending of the colors on the +stage, the skillful grouping of the throng of worshipers, made up +a picture which held the audience spellbound and in silence until +the curtain dropped. + +Desmond turned to find Strangwise standing up. + +"I thought of just running round behind the scenes for a few +minutes," he said carelessly. + +"What, to see Nur-el-Din? By Jove, I'm coming, too!" promptly +exclaimed Desmond. + +Strangwise demurred. He didn't quite know if he could take him: +there might be difficulties: another time... But Desmond got up +resolutely. + +"I'll be damned if you leave me behind, Maurice," he laughed, "of +course I'm coming, too! She's the most delightful creature I've +ever set eyes on!" + +And so it ended by them going through the pass-door together. + + + +CHAPTER III. MR. MACKWAYTE MEETS AN OLD FRIEND + +That night Nur-el-Din kept the stage waiting for five minutes. It +was a climax of a long series of similar unpardonable crimes in +the music-hall code. The result was that Mr. Mackwayte, after +taking four enthusiastic "curtains," stepped off the stage into a +perfect pandemonium. + +He found Fletcher, the stage manager, livid with rage, surrounded +by the greater part of the large suite with which the dancer +traveled. There was Madame's maid, a trim Frenchwoman, Madame's +business manager, a fat, voluble Italian, Madame's secretary, an +olive-skinned South American youth in an evening coat with velvet +collar, and Madame's principal male dancer in a scanty Egyptian +dress with grotesquely painted face. They were all talking at the +same time, and at intervals Fletcher muttered hotly: "This time +she leaves the bill or I walk out of the theatre!" + +Then a clear voice cried: + +"Me voila!" and a dainty apparition in an ermine wrap tripped +into the centre of the group, tapped the manager lightly on the +shoulder and said: + +"Allons! I am ready!" + +Mr. Mackwayte's face creased its mask of paint into a thousand +wrinkles. For, on seeing him, the dancer's face lighted up, and, +running to him with hands outstretched, she cried: + +"Tiens! Monsieur Arthur!" while he ejaculated: + +"Why, it's little Marcelle!" + +But now the stage manager interposed. He whisked Madame's wrap +off her with one hand and with the other, firmly propelled her on +to the stage. She let him have his way with a merry smile, dark +eyes and white teeth flashing, but as she went she said to Mr. +Mackwayte: + +"My friend, wait for me! Et puis nous causerons! We will 'ave a +talk, nest-ce pas?" + +"A very old friend of mine, my dear," Mr. Mackwayte said to +Barbara when, dressed in his street clothes, he rejoined her in +the wings where she stood watching Nur-el-Din dancing. "She was +an acrobat in the Seven Duponts, a turn that earned big money in +the old days. It must be... let's see... getting on for twenty +years since I last set eyes on her. She was a pretty kid in those +days! God bless my soul! Little Marcelle a big star! It's really +most amazing!" + +Directly she was off the stage, Nur-el-Din came straight to Mr. +Mackwayte, pushing aside her maid who was waiting with her wrap. + +"My friend," she cooed in her pretty broken English, "I am so +glad, so glad to see you. And this is your girl... ah! she 'as +your eyes, Monsieur Arthur, your nice English gray eyes! Such a +big girl... ah! but she make me feel old!" + +She laughed, a pretty gurgling laugh, throwing back her head so +that the diamond collar she was wearing heaved and flashed. + +"But you will come to my room, hein?" she went on. "Marie, my +wrap!" and she led the way to the lift. + +Nur-el-Din's spacious dressing-room seemed to be full of people +and flowers. All her little court was assembled amid a perfect +bower of hot-house blooms and plants. Head and shoulders above +everybody else in the room towered the figure of an officer in +uniform, with him another palpable Englishman in evening dress. + +Desmond Okewood thought he had never seen anything in his life +more charming than the picture the dancer made as she came into +the room. Her wrap had fallen open and beneath the broad bars of +her cloth-of-silver dress her bosom yet rose and fell after the +exertions of her dance. A jet black curl had strayed out from +beneath her lofty silver head-dress, and she thrust it back in +its place with one little brown bejeweled hand whilst she +extended the other to Strangwise. + +"Tiens, mon capitaine!" she said. Desmond was watching her +closely, fascinated by her beauty, but noticed an unwilling, +almost a hostile tone, in her voice. + +Strangwise was speaking in his deep voice. + +"Marcelle," he said, "I've brought a friend who is anxious to +meet you. Major Desmond Okewood! He and I soldiered together in +France!" The dancer turned her big black eyes full on Desmond as +she held out her hand to him. + +"Old friends, new friends," she cried, clapping, her hands like a +child, "I love friends. Captaine, here is a very old friend," she +said to Strangwise as Mr. Mackwayte and Barbara came into the +rooms, "Monsieur Arthur Mackwayte and 'is daughter. I 'ave know +Monsieur Arthur almos' all my life. And, Mademoiselle, permit me? +I introduce le Captaine Strangwise and 'is friend... what is the +name? Ah, Major Okewood!" + +Nur-el-Din sank into a bergere chair beside her great mirror. + +"There are too many in this room," she cried, "there is no air! +Lazarro, Ramiro, all of you, go outside, my friends!" + +As Madame's entourage surged out, Strangwise said: + +"I hear you are leaving the Palaceum, Marcelle!" + +He spoke so low that Mr. Mackwayte and Barbara, who were talking +to Desmond, did not hear. Marcelle, taking off her heavy +head-dress, answered quickly: + +"Who told you that?" + +"Never mind," replied Strangwise. "But you never told me you were +going. Why didn't you?" + +His voice was stern and hard now, very different from his usual +quiet and mellow tones. But he was smiling. + +Marcelle cast a glance over her shoulder. Barbara was looking +round the room and caught the reflection of the dancer's face in +a mirror hanging on the wall. To her intense astonishment, she +saw a look of despair, almost of terror, in Nur-el-Din's dark +eyes. It was like the frightened stare of some hunted beast. +Barbara was so much taken aback that she instinctively glanced +over her shoulder at the door, thinking that the dancer had seen +something there to frighten her. But the door was shut. When +Barbara looked into the mirror again, she saw only the reflection +of Nur-el-Din's pretty neck and shoulders. The dancer was talking +again in low tones to Strangwise. + +But Barbara swiftly forgot that glimpse of the dancer's face in +the glass. For she was very happy. Happiness, like high spirits, +is eminently contagious, and the two men at her side were +supremely content. + +Her father's eyes were shining with his little success of +the evening: on the way upstairs Fletcher had held out hopes to +him of a long engagement at the Palaceum while as for the other, +he was radiant with the excitement of his first night in town +after long months of campaigning. + +He was thinking that his leave had started most propitiously. +After a man has been isolated for months amongst muddy +masculinity, the homeliest woman will find favor in his eyes. And +to neither of these women, in whose presence he so unexpectedly +found himself within a few hours of landing in England, could the +epithet "homely" be applied. Each represented a distinct type of +beauty in herself, and Desmond, as he chatted with Barbara, was +mentally contrasting the two women. Barbara, tall and slim and +very healthy, with her braided brown hair, creamy complexion and +gray eyes, was essentially English. She was the typical woman of +England, of England of the broad green valleys and rolling downs +and snuggling hamlets, of England of the white cliffs gnawed by +the restless ocean. The other was equally essentially a woman of +the South. Her dark eyes, her upper lip just baring her firm +white teeth, spoke of hot Latin or gypsy blood surging in her +veins. Hers was the beauty of the East, sensuous, arresting, +conjuring up pictures of warm, perfumed nights, the thrumming of +guitars, a great yellow moon hanging low behind the palms. + +"Barbara!" called Nur-el-Din from the dressing table. Mr. +Mackwayte had joined her there and was chatting to Strangwise. + +"You will stay and talk to me while I change n'est-ce pas? Your +papa and these gentlemen are going to drink a whiskey-soda with +that animal Fletcher... quel homme terrible... and you shall join +them presently." + +The men went out, leaving Barbara alone with the dancer. Barbara +noticed how tired Nur-el-Din was looking. Heir pretty, childish +ways seemed to have evaporated with her high spirits. Her face +was heavy and listless. There were lines round heir eyes, and her +mouth had a hard, drawn look. + +"Child," she said, "give me, please, my peignoir... it is behind +the door,... and, I will get this paint off my face!" + +Barbara fetched the wrapper and sat down beside the dancer. But +Nur-el-Din did not move. She seemed to be thinking. Barbara saw +the hunted look she had already observed in her that evening +creeping over her face again. + +"It is a hard life; this life of ours, a life of change, ma +petite! A great artiste has no country, no home, no fireside! For +the past five years I have been roaming about the world! Often I +think I will settle down, but the life holds me!" + +She took up from her dressing-table a little oblong plain silver +box. + +"I want to ask you a favor, ma petite Barbara!" she said. "This +little box is a family possession of mine: I have had it for many +years. The world is so disturbed to-day that life is not safe for +anybody who travels as much as I do! You have a home, a safe home +with your dear father! He was telling me about it! Will you take +this little box and keep it safely for me until... until... the +war is over... until I ask you for it?" + +"Yes, of course," said Barbara, "if you wish it, though, what +with these air raids, I don't know that London is particularly +safe, either." + +"Ah! that is good of you," cried Nur-el-Din, "anyhow, the little +box is safer with you than with me. See, I will wrap it up and +seal it, and then you will take it home with you, n'est-ce pas?" + +She opened a drawer and swiftly hunting among its contents +produced a sheet, of white paper, and some sealing-wax. She +wrapped the box in the paper and sealed it up, stamping the seals +with a camel signet ring she drew off her finger. Then she handed +the package to Barbara. + +There was a knock at the door. The maid, noiselessly arranging +Madame's dresses in the corner opened it. + +"You will take care of it well for me," the dancer said to +Barbara, and her voice vibrated with a surprising eagerness, "you +will guard it preciously until I come for it..." She laughed and +added carelessly: "Because it is a family treasure, a life +mascotte of mine, hein?" + +Then they heard Strangwise's deep voice outside. + +Nur-el-Din started. + +"Le Captaine is there, Madame," said the French maid, "'e say +Monsieur Mackwayte ask for Mademoiselle!" + +The dancer thrust a little hand from the folds of her silken +kimono. + +"Au revoir, ma petite," she said, "we shall meet again. You will +come and see me, nest-ce pas? And say nothing to anybody +about..." she pointed to Barbara's bag where the little package +was reposing, "it shall be a secret between us, hein? Promise me +this, mon enfant!" + +"Of course, I promise, if you like!" said Barbara, wonderingly. + +At half-past eight the next morning Desmond Okewood found himself +in the ante-room of the Chief of the Secret Service in a cross +and puzzled mood. The telephone at his bedside had roused him at +8 a.m. from the first sleep he had had in a real bed for two +months. In a drowsy voice he had protested that he had an +appointment at the War Office at 10 o'clock, but a curt voice had +bidden him dress himself and come to the Chief forthwith. Here he +was, accordingly, breakfastless, his chin smarting from a hasty +shave. What the devil did the Chief want with him anyhow? He +wasn't in the Secret Service, though his brother, Francis, was. + +A voice broke in upon his angry musing. + +"Come in, Okewood!" it said. + +The Chief stood at the door of his room, a broad-shouldered +figure in a plain jacket suit. Desmond had met him before. He +knew him for a man of many questions but of few confidences, yet +his recollection of him was of a suave, imperturbable +personality. To-day, however, the Chief seemed strangely +preoccupied. There was a deep line between his bushy eyebrows as +he bent them at Desmond, motioning him to a chair. When he spoke, +his manner was very curt. + +"What time did you part from the Mackwaytes at the theatre last +night?" + +Desmond was dumbfounded. How on earth did the Chief know about +his visit to the Palaceum? Still, he was used to the omniscience +of the British Intelligence, so he answered promptly: + +"It was latish, sir; about midnight, I think!" + +"They went home to Seven Kings alone!" + +"Yes, sir, in a taxi!" Desmond replied. + +The Chief contemplated his blotting-pad gloomily. Desmond knew it +for a trick of his when worried. + +"Did you have a good night?" he said to Desmond, suddenly. + +"Yes," he said, not in the least understanding the drift of the +question. "... though I didn't mean to get up quite so early!" + +The Chief ignored this sally. + +"Nothing out of the ordinary happened during the night, I +suppose?" he asked again. + +Desmond shook his head. + +"Nothing that I know of, sir," he said. + +"Seen Strangwise this morning?" + +Desmond gasped for breath. So the Chief knew about him meeting +Strangwise, too! + +"No, sir!" + +A clerk put his head in at the door. + +"Well, Matthews!" + +"Captain Strangwise will be along very shortly, sir," he said. + +The Chief looked up quickly. + +"Ah, he's all right then! Good." + +"And, sir," Matthews added, "Scotland Yard telephoned to say that +the doctor is with Miss Mackwayte now." + +Desmond started up. + +"Is Miss Mackwayte ill?" he exclaimed. + +The Chief answered slowly, as Matthews withdrew: "Mr. Mackwayte +was found murdered at his house early this morning!" + + + +CHAPTER IV. MAJOR OKEWOOD ENCOUNTERS A NEW TYPE + +There is a sinister ring about the word "murder," which reacts +upon even the most hardened sensibility. Edgar Allan Poe, who was +a master of the suggestive use of words, realized this when he +called the greatest detective story ever written "The Murders in +the Rue Morgue." From the very beginning of the war, Desmond had +seen death in all its forms but that word "murdered," spoken with +slow emphasis in the quiet room, gave him an ugly chill feeling +round the heart that he had never experienced on the battlefield. + +"Murdered!" Desmond repeated dully and sat down. He felt stunned. +He was not thinking of the gentle old man cruelly done to death +or of the pretty Barbara prostrate with grief. He was overawed by +the curious fatality that had plucked him from the horrors of +Flanders only to plunge him into a tragedy at home. + +"Yes," said the Chief bluntly, "by a burglar apparently--the +house was ransacked!" + +"Chief," he broke out, "you must explain. I'm all at sea! Why did +you send for me? What have you got to do with criminal cases, +anyway? Surely, this is a Scotland Yard matter!" + +The Chief shook his head. + +"I sent for you in default of your brother, Okewood!" he said. +"You once refused an offer of mine to take you into my service, +but this time I had to have you, so I got the War Office to +wire..." + +"Then my appointment for ten o'clock to-day was with you?" +Desmond exclaimed in astonishment. + +The Chief nodded. + +"It was," he said curtly. + +"But," protested Desmond feebly, "did you know about this murder +beforehand!" + +The Chief threw back his head and laughed. + +"My dear fellow," he said; "I'm not quite so deep as all that. I +haven't second sight, you know!" + +"You've got something devilish like it, sir!" said Desmond. "How +on earth did you know that I was at the Palaceum last night?" + +The Chief smiled grimly. + +"Oh, that's very simple," he said. "Shall I tell you some more +about yourself? You sat..." he glanced down at the desk in front +of him,"... in Stall E 52 and, after Nur-el-Din's turn, +Strangwise took you round and introduced you to the lady. In her +dressing-room you met Mr. Mackwayte and his daughter. After +that..." + +"But," Desmond interrupted quickly, "I must have been followed by +one of your men. Still, I can't see why my movements should +interest the Secret Service, sir!" + +The Chief remained silent for a moment. Then he said: + +"Fate often unexpectedly takes a hand in this game of ours, +Okewood. I sent for you to come back from France but old man +Destiny wouldn't leave it at that. Almost as soon as you landed +he switched you straight on to a trail that I have been patiently +following up for months past. That trail is..." + +The telephone on the desk rang sharply. + +"Whose trail?" Desmond could not forbear to ask as the Chief took +off the receiver. + +"Just a minute," the Chief said. Then he spoke into the +telephone: + +"Marigold? Yes. Really? Very well, I'll come straight along +now... I'll be with you in twenty minutes. Good-bye!" + +He put down the receiver and rose to his feet. + +"Okewood," he cried gaily, "what do you say to a little detective +work? That was Marigold of the Criminal Investigation +Department... he's down at Seven Kings handling this murder case. +I asked him to let me know when it would be convenient for me to +come along and have a look round, and he wants me to go now. Two +heads are better than one. You'd better come along!" + +He pressed a button on the desk. + +The swift and silent Matthews appeared. + +"Matthews," he said, "when Captain Strangwise comes, please tell +him I've been called away and ask him to call back here at two +o'clock to see me." + +He paused and laid a lean finger reflectively along his nose. + +"Are you lunching anywhere, Okewood?" he 'said. Desmond shook his +head. + +"Then you will lunch with me, eh? Right. Come along and we'll try +to find the way to Seven Kings." + +The two men threaded the busy corridors to the lift which +deposited them at the main entrance. A few minutes later the +Chief was dexterously guiding his Vauxhall car through the +crowded traffic of the Strand, Desmond beside him on the front +seat. + +Desmond was completely fogged in his mind. He couldn't see light +anywhere. He asked himself in vain what possible connection could +exist between this murder in an obscure quarter of London and the +man at his side who, he knew, held in his firm hands lines that +stretched to the uttermost ends of the earth? What kind of an +affair was this, seemingly so commonplace that could take the +Chief's attention from the hundred urgent matters of national +security that occupied him? + +The Chief seemed absorbed in his driving and Desmond felt it +would be useless to attempt to draw him out. They wended their +way through the city and out into the squalid length of the Mile +End Road. Then the Chief began to talk. + +"I hate driving through the City," he exclaimed, "but I always +think it's good for the nerves. Still, I have a feeling that I +shall smash this old car up some day. That friend of yours, +Strangwise, now he's a remarkable man! Do you know his story?" + +"About his escape from Germany?" asked Desmond. + +The Chief nodded. + +"He told me something about it at dinner last night," said +Desmond, "but he's such a modest chap he doesn't seem to like +talking about it!" + +"He must have a cool nerve," replied the Chief, "he doesn't know +a word of German, except a few scraps he picked up in camp. Yet, +after he got free, he made his way alone from somewhere in +Hanover clear to the Dutch frontier. And I tell you he kept his +eyes and ears open!" + +"Was he able to tell you anything good" asked Desmond. + +"The man's just full of information. He couldn't take a note of +any kind, of course, but he seems to have a wonderful memory. He +was able to give us the names of almost every unit of troops he +came across." + +He stopped to skirt a tram, then added suddenly: + +"Do you know him well, Okewood?" + +"Yes, I think I do," said Desmond. "I lived with him for about +three months in France, and we got on top-hole together. He's a +man absolutely without fear." + +"Yes," agreed the Chief. "But what about his judgment? Would you +call him a well-balanced fellow? Or is he one of these +harum-scarum soldier of fortune sort of chaps?" + +"I should say he was devilish shrewd," replied the other. +"Strangwise is a very able fellow and a fine soldier. The +Brigadier thought a lot of him. There's very little about +artillery work that Strangwise doesn't know. Our Brigadier's a +good judge, too... he was a gunner himself once, you know." + +"I'm glad to hear you say that," answered the Chief, "because +there are some things he has told us, about the movements of +troops, particularly, that don't agree in the least with our own +Intelligence reports. I am an old enough hand at my job to know +that very often one man may be right where fifty independent +witnesses are dead wrong. Yet our reports from Germany have been +wonderfully accurate on the whole." + +He stopped. + +"Tell me," he asked suddenly, "is Strangwise a liar, do you +think?" + +Desmond laughed. The question was so very unexpected. + +"Let me explain what I mean," said the Chief. "There is a type of +man who is quite incapable of telling the plain, unvarnished +truth. That type of fellow might have the most extraordinary +adventure happen to him and yet be unable to let it stand on its +merits. When he narrates it, he trims it up with all kinds of +embroidery. Is Strangwise that type?" + +Desmond thought a moment. + +"Your silence is very eloquent," said the Chief drily. + +Desmond laughed. + +"It's not the silence of consent," he said, "but if you want me +to be quite frank about Strangwise, Chief, I don't mind telling +you I don't like him overmuch. We were very intimate in France. +We were in some very tight corners together and he never let me +down. He showed himself to be a very fine fellow, indeed. There +are points about him I admire immensely. I love his fine +physique, his manliness. I'm sure he's got great strength of +character, too. It's because I admire all this about him that I +think perhaps it's just jealousy on my part when I feel..." + +"What?" said the Chief. + +"Well," said Desmond slowly, "I feel myself trying to like +something below the surface in the man. And then I am balked. +There seems to be something abysmally deep behind the facade, if +you know what I mean. If I think about it much, it seems to me +that there is too much surface about Strangwise and not enough +foundation! And he smiles... Well, rather often, doesn't he?" + +"I know what you mean," said the Chief. "I always tell my young +men to be wary when a man smiles too much. Smiles are sometimes +camouflage, to cover up something that mustn't be seen +underneath! Strangwise is a Canadian, isn't he?" + +"I think so," answered Desmond, "anyhow, he has lived there. But +he got his commission over here. He came over some time in 1915, +I believe, and joined up." + +"Ah, here we are!" cried the Chief, steering the car down a +turning marked "Laleham Villas." + +Laleham Villas proved to be an immensely long terrace of small +two-story houses, each one exactly like the other, the only +difference between them lying in the color of the front doors and +the arrangement of the small strip of garden in front of each. +The houses stretched away on either side in a vista of +smoke-discolored yellow brick. The road was perfectly straight +and, in the dull yellow atmosphere of the winter morning, +unspeakably depressing. + +The abode of small clerks and employees, Laleham Villas had +rendered up, an hour before, its daily tribute of humanity to the +City-bound trains of the Great Eastern Railway. The Mackwayte's +house was plainly indicated, about 200 yards down on the +right-hand side, by a knot of errand boys and bareheaded women +grouped on the side-walk. A large, phlegmatic policeman stood at +the gate. + +"You'll like Marigold," said the Chief to Desmond as they got out +of the car, "quite a remarkable man and very sound at his work!" + +British officers don't number detective inspectors among their +habitual acquaintances, and the man that came out of the house to +meet them was actually the first detective that Desmond had ever +met. Ever since the Chief had mentioned his name, Desmond had +been wondering whether Mr. Marigold would be lean and pale and +bewildering like Mr. Sherlock Holmes or breezy and wiry like the +detectives in American crook plays. + +The man before him did not bear the faintest resemblance to +either type. He was a well-set up, broad-shouldered person of +about forty-five, very carefully dressed in a blue serge suit and +black overcoat, with a large, even-tempered countenance, which +sloped into a high forehead. The neatly brushed but thinning +locks carefully arranged across the top of the head testified to +the fact that Mr. Marigold had sacrificed most of his hair to the +vicissitudes of his profession. When it is added that the +detective had a small, yellow moustache and a pleasant, +cultivated voice, there remains nothing further to say about Mr. +Marigold's external appearance. But there was something so patent +about the man, his air of reserve, his careful courtesy, his +shrewd eyes, that Desmond at once recognized him for a type, a +cast from a certain specific mould. All services shape men to +their own fashion. There is the type of Guardsman, the type of +airman, the type of naval officer. And Desmond decided that Mr. +Marigold must be the type of detective, though, as I have said, +he was totally unacquainted with the genus. + +"Major Okewood, Marigold," said the Chief, "a friend of mine!" + +Mr. Marigold mustered Desmond in one swift, comprehensive look. + +"I won't give you my hand, Major," the detective said, looking +down at Desmond's proffered one, "for I'm in a filthy mess and no +error. But won't you come in, sir?" he said to the Chief and led +the way across the mosaic tile pathway to the front door which +stood open. + +"I don't think this is anything in your line, sir," said Mr. +Marigold to the Chief as the three men entered the house, "it's +nothing but just a common burglary. The old man evidently heard a +noise and coming down, surprised the burglar who lost his head +and killed him. The only novel thing about the whole case is that +the old party was shot with a pistol and not bludgeoned, as is +usually the case in affairs of this kind. And I shouldn't have +thought that the man who did it was the sort that carries a +gun..." + +"Then you know who did it?" asked the Chief quietly. + +"I think I can safely say I do, sir," said Mr. Marigold with the +reluctant air of one who seldom admits anything to be a fact, "I +think I can go as far as that! And we've got our man under lock +and key!" + +"That's a smart piece of work, Marigold," said the Chief. + +"No, sir," replied the other, "you could hardly call it that. He +just walked into the arms of a constable over there near +Goodmayes Station with the swag on him. He's an old hand... we've +known him for a receiver for years! + +"Who is it?" asked the Chief, "not one of my little friends, I +suppose, eh, Marigold!" + +"Dear me, no, sir," answered Mr. Marigold, chuckling, "it's one +of old Mackwayte's music-hall pals, name o' Barney!" + + + +CHAPTER V. THE MURDER AT SEVEN KINGS + +"This is Mrs. Chugg, sir," said Mr. Marigold, "the charwoman who +found the body!" + +The Chief and Desmond stood at the detective's side in the +Mackwaytes' little dining-room. The room was in considerable +disorder. There was a litter of paper, empty bottles, overturned +cruets and other debris on the floor, evidence of the +thoroughness with which the burglar had overhauled the cheap +fumed oak sideboard which stood against the wall with doors and +drawers open. In the corner, the little roll-top desk showed a +great gash in the wood round the lock where it had been forced. +The remains of a meal still stood on the table. + +Mrs. Chugg, a diminutive, white-haired, bespectacled woman in a +rusty black cape and skirt, was enthroned in the midst of this +scene of desolation. She sat in an armchair by the fire, her +hands in her lap, obviously supremely content with the position +of importance she enjoyed. At the sound of Mr. Marigold's voice, +she bobbed up and regarded the newcomers with the air of a +tragedy queen. + +"Yus mister," she said with the slow deliberation of one who +thoroughly enjoys repeating an oft-told tale, "I found the pore +man and a horrid turn it give me, too, I declare! I come in early +this morning a-purpose to turn out these two rooms, the +dining-room and the droring-room, same as I always do of a +Saturday, along of the lidy's horders and wishes. I come in 'ere +fust, to pull up the blinds and that, and d'reckly I switches on +the light 'Burglars!' I sez to meself, 'Burglars! That's wot it +is!' seeing the nasty mess the place was in. Up I nips to Miss +Mackwayte's room on the first floor and in I bursts. 'Miss,' sez +I, 'Miss, there's been burglars in the house!' and then I sees +the pore lamb all tied up there on 'er blessed bed! Lor, mister, +the turn it give me and I ain't telling you no lies! She was +strapped up that tight with a towel crammed in 'er mouth she +couldn't 'ardly dror 'er breath! I undid 'er pretty quick and the +fust thing she sez w'en I gets the towl out of her mouth, the +pore dear, is 'Mrs. Chugg,' she sez all of a tremble as you might +say, 'Mrs. Chugg' sez she, 'my father! my father!' sez she. With +that up she jumps but she 'adn't put foot to the floor w'en down +she drops! It was along of 'er being tied up orl that time, dyer +see, mister! I gets 'er back on the bed. 'You lie still, Miss,' +says I, 'and I'll pop in and tell your pa to come in to you!' +Well; I went to the old genelmun's room. Empty!" + +Mrs. Chugg paused to give her narrative dramatic effect. + +"And where did you find Mr. Mackwayte?" asked the Chief in such a +placid voice that Mrs. Chugg cast an indignant glance at him. + +"I was jes' going downstairs to see if 'e was in the kitching or +out at the back," she continued, unheeding the interruption, +"when there on the landing I sees a foot asticking out from under +the curting. I pulls back the curting and oh, Lor! oh, dear, oh, +dear, the pore genelmun, 'im as never did a bad turn to no one!" + +"Come, come, Mrs. Chugg!" said the detective. + +The charwoman wiped her eyes and resumed. + +"'E was a-lying on his back in 'is dressing-gown, 'is face all +burnt black, like, and a fair smother o' blood. Under 'is hed +there was a pool o' blood, mister, yer may believe me or not..." + +Mr. Marigold cut in decisively. + +"Do you wish to see the body, sir?" the detective asked the +Chief, "they're upstairs photographing it!" + +The Chief nodded. He and Desmond followed the detective upstairs, +whilst Mrs. Chugg resentfully resumed her seat by the fire. On +her face was the look of one who has cast pearls before swine. + +"Any finger-prints?" asked the Chief in the hall. + +"Oh, no," he said, "Barney's far too old a hand for that sort o' +thing!" + +The landing proved to be a small space, covered with oilcloth and +raised by a step from the bend made by the staircase leading to +the first story. On the left-hand side was a window looking on a +narrow passage separating the Mackwayte house from its neighbors +and leading to the back-door. By the window stood a small +wicker-work table with a plant on it. At the back of the landing +was a partition, glazed half-way up and a door--obviously the +bath-room. + +The curtain had been looped right over its brass rod. The body +lay on its back at the foot of the table, arms flung outward, one +leg doubled up, the other with the foot just jutting out over the +step leading down to the staircase. The head pointed towards the +bath-room door. Over the right eye the skin of the face was +blackened in a great patch and there was a large blue swelling, +like a bruise, in the centre. There was a good deal of blood on +the face which obscured the hole made by the entrance of the +bullet. The eyes were half-closed. A big camera, pointed +downwards, was mounted on a high double ladder straddling the +body and was operated by a young man in a bowler hat who went on +with his work without taking the slightest notice of the +detective and his companions. + +"Close range," murmured Desmond, after glancing at the dead man's +face, "a large calibre automatic pistol, I should think!" + +"Why do you think it was a large calibre pistol, Major?" asked +Mr. Marigold attentively. + +"I've seen plenty of men killed at close range by revolver and +rifle bullets out at the front," replied Desmond, "but I never +saw a man's face messed up like this. In a raid once I shot a +German at point blank range with my revolver, the ordinary Army +issue pattern, and I looked him over after. But it wasn't +anything like this. The only thing I've seen approaching it was +one of our sergeants who was killed out on patrol by a Hun +officer who put his gun right in our man's face. That sergeant +was pretty badly marked, but..." + +He shook his head. Then he added, addressing the detective: +"Let's see the gun! Have you got it?" + +Mr. Marigold shook his head. + +"He hadn't got it on him," he answered, "he swears he never had a +gun. I expect he chucked it away somewhere. It'll be our business +to find it for him!" + +He smiled rather grimly, then added: + +"Perhaps you'd care to have a look at Miss Mackwayte's room, +sir!" + +"Is Miss Mackwayte there" asked the Chief. + +"I got her out of this quick," replied Mr. Marigold, "she's had a +bad shock, poor girl, though she gave her evidence clearly enough +for all that... as far as it goes and that's not much. Some +friends near by have taken her in! The doctor has given her some +bromide and says she's got to be kept quiet..." + +"What's her story!" queried the Chief. + +"She can't throw much light on the business. She and her father +reached home from the theatre about a quarter past twelve, had a +bit of supper in the dining-room and went up to bed before one +o'clock. Miss Mackwayte saw her father go into his room, which is +next to hers, and shut the door. The next thing she knows is that +she woke up suddenly with some kind of a loud noise in her +ears... that was the report of the pistol, I've no doubt... she +thought for a minute it was an air raid. Then suddenly a hand was +pressed over her mouth, something was crammed into her mouth and +she was firmly strapped down to the bed." + +"Did she see the man?" asked Desmond. + +"She didn't see anything from first to last," answered the +detective, "as far as she is concerned it might have been a woman +or a black man who trussed her up. It was quite dark in her +bedroom and this burglar fellow, after binding and gagging her, +fastened a bandage across her eyes into the bargain. She says she +heard him moving about her room and then creep out very softly. +The next thing she knew was Mrs. Chugg arriving at her bedside +this morning." + +"What time did this attack take place?" asked the Chief. + +"She has no idea," answered the detective. "She couldn't see her +watch and they haven't got a striking clock in the house." + +"But can she make no guess!" + +"Well, she says she thinks it was several hours before Mrs. Chugg +arrived in the morning... as much as three hours, she thinks!" + +"And what time did Mrs. Chugg arrive!" + +"At half-past six!" + +"About Mackwayte... how long was he dead when they found him? +What does the doctor say?" + +"About three hours approximately, but you know, they can't always +tell to an hour or so!" + +"Well," said the Chief slowly, "it looks as if one might figure +the murder as having been committed some time between 3 and 3.30 +a.m." + +"My idea exactly," said Mr. Marigold. "Shall we go upstairs?" + +He conducted the Chief and Desmond up the short flight of stairs +to the first story. He pushed open the first door he came to. + +"Mackwayte's room, on the back," he said, "bed slept in, as you +see, old gentleman's clothes on a chair--obviously he was +disturbed by some noise made by the burglar and came out to see +what was doing! And here," he indicated a door adjoining, "is +Miss Mackwayte's room, on the front; as you observe. They don't +use the two rooms on the second floor, except for box-rooms... one's +full of old Mackwayte's theatre trunks and stuff. They keep +no servant; Mrs. Chugg comes in each morning and stays all day. +She goes away after supper every evening." + +Desmond found himself looking into a plainly furnished but dainty +bedroom with white furniture and a good deal of chintz about. +There were some photographs and pictures hanging on the walls. +The room was spotlessly clean and very tidy. + +Desmond remarked on this, asking if the police had put the room +straight. + +Mr. Marigold looked quite shocked. + +"Oh, no, everything is just as it was when Mrs. Chugg found Miss +Mackwayte this morning. There's Miss Mackwayte's gloves and +handbag on the toilet-table just as she left 'em last night. I +wouldn't let her touch her clothes even. She went over to Mrs. +Appleby's in her dressing-gown, in a taxi." + +"Then Master Burglar didn't burgle this room?" asked the Chief. + +"Nothing touched, not even the girl's money," replied Marigold. + +"Then why did he come up here at all?" asked Desmond. + +"Obviously, the old gentleman disturbed him," was the detective's +reply. "Barney got scared and shot the old gentleman, then came +up here to make sure that the daughter would not give him away +before he could make his escape. He must have known the report of +the gun would wake her up." + +"But are there no clues or finger-prints or anything of that kind +here, Marigold?" asked the Chief. + +"Not a finger-print anywhere," responded the other, "men like +Barney are born wise to the fingerprint business, sir." + +He dipped a finger and thumb into his waistcoat pocket. + +"Clues? Well, I've got one little souvenir here which I daresay a +writer of detective stories would make a good bit of." + +He held in his hand a piece of paper folded flat. He unfolded it +and disclosed a loop of dark hair. + +"There!" he said mockingly, straightening out the hair and +holding it up in the light. "That's calculated to set one's +thoughts running all over the place, isn't it? That piece of hair +was caught in the buckle of one of the straps with which Miss +Mackwayte was bound to the bed. Miss Mackwayte, I would point +out, has brown hair. Whose hair do you think that is?" + +Desmond looked closely at the strand of hair in the detective's +fingers. It was long and fine and glossy and jetblack. + +The Chief laughed and shook his head. + +"Haven't an idea, Marigold," he answered, "Barney's, I should +imagine, that is, if he goes about with black ringlets falling +round his shoulders." + +"Barney?" echoed the detective. "Barney's as bald as I am. +Besides, if you saw his sheet, you'd realize that he has got into +the habit of wearing his hair short!" + +He carefully rolled the strand of hair up, replaced it in its +paper and stowed it in his waistcoat pocket. + +"It just shows how easily one is misled in a matter of this +kind," he went on. "Supposing Barney hadn't got himself nabbed, +supposing I hadn't been able to find out from Miss Mackwayte her +movements on the night previous to the murder, that strand of +hair might have led me on a fine wild goose chase!" + +"But, damn it, Marigold," exclaimed the Chief, laughing, "you +haven't told us whose hair it is?" + +"Why, Nur-el-Din's, of course!" + +The smile froze on the Chief's lips, the laughter died out of his +eyes. Desmond was amazed at the change in the man. The languid +interest he had taken in the different details of the crime +vanished. Something seemed to tighten up suddenly in his face and +manner. + +"Why Nur-el-Din?" he asked curtly. + +Mr. Marigold glanced quickly at him. Desmond remarked that the +detective was sensible of the change too. + +"Simply because Miss Mackwayte spent some time in the dancer's +dressing-room last night, sir," he replied quietly, "she probably +sat at her dressing-table and picked up this hair in hers or in +her veil or something and it dropped on the bed where one of +Master Barney's buckles caught it up." + +He spoke carelessly but Desmond noticed that he kept a watchful +eye on the other. + +The Chief did not answer. He seemed to have relapsed into the +preoccupied mood in which Desmond had found him that morning. + +"I was going to suggest, sir," said Mr. Marigold diffidently, "if +you had the time, you might care to look in at the Yard, and see +the prisoner. I don't mind telling you that he is swearing by all +the tribes of Judah that he's innocent of the murder of old +Mackwayte. He's got an amazing yarn... perhaps you'd like to hear +it!" + +Mr. Marigold suddenly began to interest Desmond. His proposal was +put forward so modestly that one would have thought the last +thing he believed possible was that the Chief should acquiesce in +his suggestion. Yet Desmond had the feeling that the detective +was far from being so disinterested as he wished to seem. It +struck Desmond that the case was more complicated than Mr. +Marigold admitted and that the detective knew it. Had Mr. +Marigold discovered that the Chief knew a great deal more about +this mysterious affair than the detective knew himself? And was +not his attitude of having already solved the problem of the +murder, his treatment of the Chief as a dilettante criminologist +simply an elaborate pose, to extract from the Chief information +which had not been proffered? + +The Chief glanced at his watch. + +"Right," he said, "I think I'd like to go along." + +"I have a good deal to do here still," observed Mr. Marigold, +"so, if you don't mind, I won't accompany you. But perhaps, sir, +you would like to see me this afternoon?" + +The Chief swung round on his heel and fairly searched Mr. +Marigold with a glance from beneath his bushy eyebrows. The +detective returned his gaze with an expression of supreme +innocence. + +"Why, Marigold," answered the Chief, "I believe I should. Six +o'clock suit you?" + +"Certainly, sir," said Mr. Marigold. + +Desmond stood by the door, vastly amused by this duel of wits. +The Chief and Mr. Marigold made a move towards the door, Desmond +turned to open it and came face to face with a large framed +photograph of the Chief hanging on the wall of Miss Mackwayte's +bedroom. + +"Why, Chief," he cried, "you never told me you knew Miss +Mackwayte!" + +The Chief professed to be very taken aback by this question. +"Dear me, didn't I, Okewood?" he answered with eyes laughing, +"she's my secretary!" + + + +CHAPTER VI. "NAME O'BARNEY" + +"Miss Mackwayte telephoned to ask if I could go and see, her," +said the Chief to Desmond as they motored back to White hall, +"Marigold gave me the message just as we were coming out. She +asked if I could come this afternoon. I'm going to send you in my +place, Okewood. I've got a conference with the head of the French +Intelligence at three, and the Lord knows when I shall get away. +I've a notion that you and Miss Mackwayte will work very well +together." + +"Certainly," said Desmond, "she struck me as being a very +charming and clever girl. Now I know the source of your +information about my movements last night!" + +"That you certainly don't!" answered the Chief promptly, "if I +thought you did Duff and No.39 should be sacked on the spot!" + +"Then it wasn't Miss Mackwayte who told you?" + +"I haven't seen or heard from Miss Mackwayte since she left my +office yesterday evening. You were followed!" + +"But why?" + +"I'll tell you all about it at, lunch!" + +Bated once more, Desmond retired into his shell. By this he was +convinced of the utter impossibility of making the Chief +vouchsafe any information except voluntarily. + +Mr. Marigold had evidently announced their coming to Scotland +Yard, for a very urbane and delightful official met them at the +entrance and conducted them to a room where the prisoner was +already awaiting them in charge of a plain clothes man. There the +official excused himself and retired, leaving them alone with the +prisoner and his escort. + +Barney proved to be a squat, podgy, middle-aged Jew of the +familiar East End Polish or Russian type. He had little black +beady eyes, a round fat white face, and a broad squabby Mongol +nose. His clothes were exceedingly seedy, and the police had +confiscated his collar and tie. This absence of neckwear, coupled +with the fact that the lower part of his face was sprouting with +a heavy growth of beard, gave him a peculiarly villainous +appearance: + +He was seated on a chair, his head sunk on his breast. His eyes +were hollow, and his face overspread with a horrible sickly +greenish pallor, the hue of the last stage of fear. His hands, +resting on his knees, twisted and fiddled continually. Every now +and then convulsive shudders shook him. The man was quite +obviously on the verge of a collapse. + +As the Chief and Desmond advanced into the room, the Jew looked +up in panic. Then he sprang to his feet with a scream and flung +himself on his knees, crying: + +"Ah, no! Don't take me away! I ain't done no 'arm, gentlemen! +S'welp me, gentlemen, I ain't a murderer! I swear..." + +"Get him up!" said the Chief in disgust, "and, look here, can't +you give him a drink? I want to speak to him. He's not fit to +talk rationally in this state!" + +The detective pushed a bell in the wall, a policeman answered it, +and presently the prisoner was handed a stiff glass of whiskey +and water. + +After Barney had swallowed it, the Chief said: + +"Now, look here, my man, I want you to tell me exactly what +happened last night. No fairy tales, remember! I know what you +told the police, and if I catch you spinning me any yarns on to +it, well, it'll only be the worse for you. I don't mind telling +you, you're in a pretty bad mess!" + +The prisoner put down the glass wearily and wiped his forehead +with the back of his hand. Though the room was bitterly cold, the +perspiration stood out in beads on his brow. + +"I have told the trewth, sir," he said hoarsely, "and it goes +against me, don't it? Hafen't I not gif myself op to the +policeman? Couldn't I not haf drop the svag and ron away? For +sure! And vy didn't I not do it? For vy, because of vot I seen in +that house. I've 'ad my bit of trobble mit the police and vy +should I tell them how I vos op to a game last night if I vas not +a-telling the trewth, eh! I've been on the crook, gentlemen, I +say it, ja, but I ain't no murderer, God choke me I ain't! + +"I've earned gut monney in my time on the 'alls but life is very +'ardt, and I've been alvays hongry these days. Yesterday I meet +old Mac wot I used to meet about the 'alls I vos workin' along o' +my boss... at the agent's it vos were I vos lookin' for a shop! +The perfesh always makes a splash about its salaries, gentlemen, +and Mac 'e vos telling me vot a lot o' monney he make on the +Samuel Circuit and 'ow 'e 'ad it at home all ready to put into +var savings certif'kits. I never done a job like this von before, +gentlemen, but I vos hardt pushed for money, s'welp me I vos! + +"I left it till late last night because of these air raids... I +vanted to be sure that ole Mac and 'is daughter should be asleep. +I god in from the back of the louse, oi, oi, bot it vos dead +easy! through the scollery vindow. I cleared op a bagful of stuff +in the dining-room... there vosn't, anything vorth snatching +outer the parlor... and sixty-five quid out of an old cigar-box +in the desk. The police 'as got it... I give it all back! I say I +haf stolen, but murder? No!" He paused. + +"Go on," said the Chief. + +The prisoner looked about him in a frightened way. + +"I vos jus' thinking I had better be getting avay, he continued +in his hoarse, gutteral voice, 'ven snick.!... I hears a key in +the front door. I vos, standing by the staircase... I had no time +to get out by the vay I had kom so I vent opstairs to the landing +vere there vos a curtain. I shlip behind the curtain and vait! I +dare not look out but I listen, I listen.. I hear some one go +into the dining-room and move about. I open the curtain a little +way... so!... because I think I vill shlip downstairs vile the +other party is in the dining-room... and there I sees ole Mac in +his dressing-gown just coming down from the first floor. The same +moment I hear a step in the front hall. + +"I see ole Mac start but he does not stop. He kom right +downstairs, and I step back behind the curtain ontil I find a +door vich I push. I dare not svitch on my light but presently I +feel the cold edge of a bath with my hands. I stay there and +vait. Oi, oi, oi, how shall you belief vot I tell?" + +He broke off trembling. + +"Go on, Barney," said the detective, "can't you see the gentlemen +are waiting?" + +The Jew resumed, his voice sinking almost to a whisper. + +"It vos quite dark behind the curtain but from the bathroom, +through the open door, I could just see ole Mac standing with his +back to me, a-holding the curtain. He must haf shlip in there to +watch the other who vos komming opstairs. Then... then... I hear +a step on the stair... a little, soft step... then ole Mac he +open the curtain and cry 'Who are you?' Bang! the... the... other +on the stairs he fire a shot. I see the red flash and I smell +the... the powder not? The other, he does not vait... he just go +on opstairs and ole Mac is lying there on his back with the blood +a-trickling out on the oil-cloth. And I, vith my bag on my back, +I creep downstair and out by the back again, and I ron and ron +and then I valks. Gott! how I haf walked! I vos so frightened! +And then, at last, I go to a policeman and gif 'myself op!" + +Barney stopped. The tears burst from his eyes and laying his +grimy face on his arm, he sobbed. + +The detective patted him on the back. + +"Pull yourself together, man!" he said encouragingly. + +"This man on the stairs," queried the Chief, "did you see him?" + +"Ach was!" replied the prisoner, turning a tearstained face +towards him, "I haf seen nothing, except old Mac's back vich vos +right in vront of me, it vos so dark!" + +"But couldn't you see the other person at all, not even the +outline" persisted the Chief. + +The prisoner made a gesture of despair. + +"It vos so dark, I say! Nothing haf I seen! I haf heard only his +step!" + +"What sort of step? Was it heavy or light or what? Did this +person seem in a hurry?" + +"A little light tread... so! won, two! won, two!, and qvick like +'e think 'e sneak opstairs vithout nobody seeing!" + +"Did he make much noise" + +"Ach was! hardly at all... the tread, 'e vos so light like a +woman's..." + +"Like a woman's, eh!", repeated the Chief, as if talking to +himself, "Why do you think that?" + +"Because for vy it vos so gentle! The' staircase, she haf not +sqveak as she haf sqveak when I haf creep away!" + +The Chief turned to the plain clothes man. + +"You can take him away now, officer," he said. + +Barney sprang up trembling. + +"Not back to the cell," he cried imploringly, "I cannot be alone. +Oh, gentlemen, you vill speak for me! I haf not had trobble vith +the police this long time! My vife's cousin, he is an elder of +the Shool he vill tell you 'ow poor ve haf been..." + +But the Chief crossed the room to the door and the detective +hustled the prisoner away. + +Then the official whom they had seen before came in. + +"Glad I caught you," he said. "I thought you would care to see +the post mortem report. The doctor has just handed it in." + +The chief waved him off. + +"I don't think there's any doubt about the cause of death," he +replied, "we saw the body ourselves..." + +"Quite so," replied the other, "but there is something +interesting about this report all the same. They were able to +extract the bullet!" + +"Oh," said the Chief, "that ought to tell us something!" + +"It does," answered the official. "We've submitted it to our +small arms expert, and he pronounces it to be a bullet fired by +an automatic pistol of unusually large calibre." + +The Chief looked at Desmond. + +"You were right there," he said. + +"And," the official went on, "our man says, further, that, as far +as he knows, there is only one type of automatic pistol that +fires a bullet as big as this one!" + +"And that is?" asked the Chief. + +"An improved pattern of the German Mauser pistol," was the +other's startling reply. + +The Chief tapped a cigarette meditatively on the back of his +hand. + +"Okewood," he said, "you are the very model of discretion. I have +put your reticence to a pretty severe test this morning, and you +have stood it very well. But I can see that you are bristling +with questions like a porcupine with quills. Zero hour has +arrived. You may fire away!" + +They were sitting in the smoking-room of the United Service Club. +"The Senior," as men call it, is the very parliament of Britain's +professional navy and army. Even in these days when war has flung +wide the portals of the two services to all-comers, it retains a +touch of rigidity. Famous generals and admirals look down from +the lofty walls in silent testimony of wars that have been. Of +the war that is, you will hear in every cluster of men round the +little tables. Every day in the hour after luncheon battles are +fought over again, personalities criticized, and decisions +weighed with all the vigorous freedom of ward-room or the mess +ante-room. + +And so to-day, as he sat in his padded leather chair, surveying +the Chief's quizzing face across the little table where their +coffee was steaming, Desmond felt the oddness of the contrast +between the direct, matter-of-fact personalities all around them, +and the extraordinary web of intrigue which seemed to have spun +itself round the little house at Seven Kings. + +Before he answered the Chief's question, he studied him for a +moment under cover of lighting a cigarette. How very little, to +be sure, escaped that swift and silent mind! At luncheon the +Chief had scrupulously avoided making, the slightest allusion to +the thoughts with which Desmond's mind was seething. Instead he +had told, with the gusto of the born raconteur, a string of +extremely droll yarns about "double crosses," that is, obliging +gentlemen who will spy for both sides simultaneously, he had come +into contact with during his long and varied career. Desmond had +played up to him and repressed the questions which kept rising to +his lips. Hence the Chief's unexpected tribute to him in the +smoking room. + +"Well," said Desmond slowly, "there are one or two things I +should like to know. What am I here for? Why did you have me +followed last night? How did you know, before we ever went to +Seven Kings, that Barney did not murder old Mackwayte? And +lastly..." + +He paused, fearing to be rash; then he risked it: + +"And lastly, Nur-el-Din?" + +The Chief leant back in his chair and laughed. + +"I'm sure you feel much better now," he said. Then his face grew +grave and he added: + +"Your last question answers all the others!" + +"Meaning Nur-el-Din?" asked Desmond. + +The Chief nodded. + +"Nur-el-Din," he repeated. "That's why you're here, that's why I +had you followed last night, that's why I..." he hesitated for +the word, "let's say, presumed (one knows for certain so little +in our work) that our friend Barney had nothing to do with the +violent death of poor old Mackwayte. Nur-el-Din in the center, +the kernel, the hub of everything!" + +The Chief leant across the table and Desmond pulled his chair +closer. + +"There's only one other man in the world can handle this job, +except you," he began, "and that's your brother Francis. Do you +know where he is, Okewood?" + +"He wrote to me last from Athens," answered Desmond, "but that +must be nearly two months ago." + +The Chief laughed. + +"His present address is not Athens," he said, "if you want to +know, he's serving on a German Staff somewhere at the back of +Jerusalem the Golden. Frankly, I know you don't care about our +work, and I did my best to get your brother. He has had his +instructions and as soon as he can get away he will. That was not +soon enough for me. It had to be him or you. So I sent for you." + +He stopped and cleared his throat. Desmond stared at him. He +could hardly believe his eyes. This quiet, deliberate man was +actually embarrassed. + +"Okewood," the Chief went on, "you know I like plain speaking, +and therefore you won't make the mistake of thinking I'm trying +to flatter you." + +Desmond made a gesture. + +"Wait a moment and hear me out," the Chief went on. "What is +required for this job is a man of great courage and steady nerve. +Yes, we have plenty of fellows like that. But the man I am +looking for must, in addition to possessing those qualities, know +German and the Germans thoroughly, and when I say thoroughly I +mean to the very core so that, if needs be, he may be a German, +think German, act German. I have men in my service who know +German perfectly and can get themselves up to look the part to +the life. But they have never been put to the real, the searching +test. Not one of them has done what you and your brother +successfully accomplished. The first time I came across you, you +had just come out of Germany after fetching your brother away. To +have lived for weeks in Germany in wartime and to have got clear +away is a feat which shows that both you and he can be trusted to +make a success of one of the most difficult and critical missions +I have ever had to propose. Francis is not here. That's why I +want you." + +The Chief paused as if weighing something in his mind. + +"It's not the custom of either service, Okewood," he said, "to +send a man to certain death. You're not in this creepy, crawly +business of ours. You're a pukka soldier and keen on your job. So +I want you to know that you are free to turn down this offer of +mine here and now, and go back to France without my thinking a +bit the worse of you." + +"Would you tell me something about it?" asked Desmond. + +"I'm sorry I can't," replied the other. "There must be only two +men in this secret, myself and the fellow who undertakes the +mission. Of course, it's not certain death. If you take this +thing on, you'll have a sporting chance for your life, but that's +all. It's going to be a desperate game played against a desperate +opponent. Now do you understand why I didn't want you to think I +was flattering you? You've got your head screwed on right, I +know, but I should hate to feel afterwards, if anything went +wrong, that you thought I had buttered you up in order to entice +you into taking the job on!" + +Desmond took two or three deep puffs of his cigarette and dropped +it into the ash-tray. + +"I'll see you!" he said. + +The Chief grinned with delight. + +"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I knew you were my man!" + + + +CHAPTER VII. NUR-EL-DIN + +The love of romance is merely the nobler form of curiosity. And +there was something in Desmond Okewood's Anglo-Irish parentage +that made him fiercely inquisitive after adventure. In him two +men were constantly warring, the Irishman, eager for romance yet +too indolent to go out in search of it, and the Englishman, +cautious yet intensely vital withal, courting danger for danger's +sake. + +All his ill-humor of the morning at being snatched away from his +work in France had evaporated. In the Chief he now saw only the +magician who was about to unlock to him the realms of Adventure. +Desmond's eyes shone with excitement as the other, obviously +simmering with satisfaction, lit another cigarette and began to +speak. + +"The British public, Okewood," he said, hitching his chair +closer, "would like to see espionage in this country rendered +impossible. Such an ideal state of things is, unfortunately out +of the question. Quite on the contrary, this country of ours is +honeycombed with spies. So it will ever be, as long as we have to +work with natural means: at present we have no caps of +invisibility or magician's carpets available. + +"As we cannot hope to kill the danger, we do our best to scotch +it. Personally, my modest ambition is to make espionage as +difficult as possible for the enemy by knowing as many as +possible of his agents and their channels of communication, and +by keeping him happy with small results, to prevent him from +finding out the really important things, the disclosure of which +would inevitably compromise our national safety." + +He paused and Desmond nodded. + +"The extent of our business," the Chief resumed, "is so large, +the issues at stake so vital, that we at the top have to ignore +the non-essentials and stick to the essentials. By the +nonessentials I mean the little potty spies, actuated by sheer +hunger or mere officiousness, the neutral busybody who makes a +tip-and-run dash into England, the starving waiter, miserably +underpaid by some thieving rogue in a neutral country--or the +frank swindler who sends back to the Fatherland and is duly paid +for long reports about British naval movements which he has +concocted without setting foot outside his Bloomsbury lodgings. + +"These folk are dealt with somehow and every now and then one of +'em gets shot, just to show that we aren't asleep, don't you +know? But spasmodic reports we can afford to ignore. What we are +death on is anything like a regular news service from this +country to Germany; and to keep up this steady flow of reliable +information is the perpetual striving of the men who run the +German Secret Service. + +"These fellows, my dear Okewood, move in darkness. Very often we +have to grope after 'em in darkness, too. They don't get shot, or +hardly ever; they are far too clever for that. Between us and +them it is a never-ending series of move and countermove, check +and counter-check. Very often we only know of their activities by +enemy action based on their reports. Then there is another leak +to be caulked, another rat-hole to be nailed up, and so the game +goes on. Hitherto I think I may say we have managed to hold our +own!" + +The Chief stopped to light another cigarette. Then he resumed but +in a lower voice. + +"During the past month, Okewood," he said, "a new organization +has cropped up. The objective of every spy operating in this +country is, as you may have surmised, naval matters, the +movements of the Fleet, the military transports, and the food +convoys. This new organization has proved itself more efficient +than any of its predecessors. It specializes in the movement of +troops to France, and in the journeys of the hospital ships +across the Channel. Its information is very prompt and extremely +accurate, as we know too well. There have been some very +disquieting incidents in which, for once in a way, luck has been +on our side, but as long as this gang can work in the dark there +is the danger of a grave catastrophe. With its thousands of miles +of sea to patrol, the Navy has to take a chance sometimes, you +know! Well, on two occasions lately, when chances were taken, the +Hun knew we were taking a chance, and what is more, when and +where we were taking it!" + +The Chief broke off, then looking Desmond squarely in the eyes, +said: + +"This is the organization that you're going to beak up!" + +Desmond raised his eyebrows. + +"Who is at the head of it?" he asked quietly. + +The Chief, smiled a little bitterly. + +"By George!" he cried, slapping his thigh, "you've rung the bell +in one. Okewood, I'm not a rich man, but I would gladly give a +year's pay to be able to answer that question. To be perfectly +frank with you, I don't know who is at the back of this crowd, +but..." his mouth set in a grim line, "I'm going to know!" + +He added whimsically: + +"What's more, you're going to find out for me!" + +Desmond smiled at the note of assurance in his voice. + +"I suppose you've got something to go on?" he asked. "There's +Nur-el-Din, for instance. What about her?" + +"That young person," replied the Chief, "is to be your particular +study. If she is not the center of the whole conspiracy, she is, +at any rate, in the thick of it. It will be part of your job to +ascertain the exact role she is playing." + +"But what is there against her?" queried Desmond. + +"What is there against her? The bad company she keeps is against +her. 'Tell me who your friends are and I'll tell you who you are' +is a maxim that we have to go on in our profession, Okewood. You +have met the lady. Did you see any of her entourage? Her business +manager, a fat Italian who calls himself Lazarro, did you notice +him? Would you be surprised to hear that Lazarro alias Sacchetti +alias Le Tardenois is a very notorious international spy who +after working in the Italian Secret Service in the pay of the +Germans was unmasked and kicked out of Italy... that was before +the war? This pleasant gentleman subsequently did five years in +the French penal settlements in New Caledonia for robbery with +violence at Aix-les-Bains... oh, we know a whole lot about him! +And this woman's other friends! Do you know, for instance, where +she often spends the week-end? At the country-place of one Bryan +Mowbury, whose name used to be Bernhard Marburg, a very old hand +indeed in the German Secret Service. She has identified herself +right and left with the German espionage service in this country. +One day she lunches with a woman spy, whose lover was caught and +shot by the French. Then she goes out motoring with..." + +"But why in Heaven's name are all these people allowed to run +loose?" broke in Desmond. "Do you mean to say you can't arrest +them?" + +"Arrest 'em? Arrest 'em? Of course, we can arrest 'em. But what's +the use? They're all small fry, and we have to keep out a few +lines baited with minnows to catch the Tritons. None of 'em can +do any harm: we watch 'em much too closely for that. Once you've +located your spy, the battle's won. It's when he--or it may be a +she--is running loose, that I get peeved!" + +The Chief sprang impatiently to his feet and strode across the +smoking-room, which was all but empty by this time, to get a +match from a table. He resumed his seat with a grunt of +exasperation. + +"I can't see light, Okewood!" he sighed, shaking his head. + +"But is this all you've got against Nur-el-Din?" asked Desmond. + +"No," answered the other slowly, "it isn't. If it were, I need +not have called you in. We would have interned or deported her. +No, we've traced back to her a line leading straight from the +only member of the new organization we have been able to lay by +the heels." + +"Then you've made an arrest?" + +The Chief nodded. + +"A fortnight ago... a respectable, retired English business man, +by name of Basil Bellward... taken with the goods on him, as the +saying is..." + +"An Englishman, by Jove!" + +"It's hardly correct to call him an Englishman, though he's posed +as an English business man for so long that one is almost +justified in doing so. As a matter of fact, the fellow is a +German named Wolfgang Bruhl and it is my belief that he was +planted in this country at least a dozen years ago solely for the +purpose of furnishing him with good, respectable credentials for +an emergency like this." + +"But surely if you found evidence of his connection with this +gang of spies, it should be easy to get a clue to the rest of the +crowd?" + +"Not so easy as you think," the Chief replied. "The man who +organized this system of espionage is a master at his craft. He +has been careful to seal both ends of every connection, that is +to say, though we found evidence of Master Bellward-Bruhl being +in possession of highly confidential information relating to the +movements of troops, we discovered nothing to show whence he +received it or how or where he was going to forward it. But we +did find a direct thread leading straight back to Nur-el-Din." + +"Really," said Desmond, "that rather complicates things for her, +doesn't it?" + +"It was in the shape of a letter of introduction, in French, +without date or address, warmly recommending the dancer to our +friend, Bellward." + +"Who is this letter from?" + +"It is simply signed 'P.', but you shall see it for yourself when +you get the other documents in the case." + +"But surely, sir, such a letter might be presented in perfectly +good faith..." + +"It might, but not this one. This letter, as an expert has +ascertained beyond all doubt, is written on German manufactured +note-paper of a very superior quality;, the writing is stiff and +angular and not French: and lastly, the French in which it is +phrased, while correct, is unusually pompous and elaborate." + +"Then..." + +"The letter was, in all probability, written by a German!" + +There was a moment's silence. Desmond was thinking despairingly +of the seeming hopelessness of untangling this intricate webwork +of tangled threads. + +"And this murder, sir," he began. + +The Chief shrugged his shoulders. + +"The motive, Okewood, I am searching for the motive. I can see +none except the highly improbable one of Miss Mackwayte being my +confidential secretary. In that case why murder the father, a +harmless old man who didn't even know that his daughter is in my +service, why kill him, I ask you, and spare the girl? On the +other hand, I believe the man Barney's story, and can see that +Marigold does, too. When I first heard the news of the murder +over the telephone this morning, I had a kind of intuition that +we should discover in it a thread leading back to this mesh of +espionage. Is it merely a coincidence that a hair, resembling +Nur-el-Din's, is found adhering to the straps with which Barbara +Mackwayte was bound? I can't think so... and yet..." + +"But do you believe then, that Nur-el-Din murdered-old Mackwayte? +My dear Chief, the idea is preposterous..." + +The Chief rose from his chair with a sigh. + +"Nothing is preposterous in our work, Okewood," he replied. "But +it's 3.25, and my French colleague hates to be kept waiting." + +"I thought you were seeing Strangwise, at two?" asked Desmond. + +"I put him off until six o'clock," replied the Chief, "he knows +Nur-el-Din, and he may be able to give Marigold some pointers +about this affair. You're off to see Miss Mackwayte now, I +suppose. You know where she's staying? Good. Well, I'll say +good-bye, Okewood. I shan't see you again..." + +"You won't see me again? How do you mean, sir?" + +"Because you're going back to France!" + +"Going back to France? When?" + +"By the leave-boat to-night!" + +Desmond smiled resignedly. + +"My dear Chief," he said, "you must be more explicit. What am I +going back to France for?" + +"Why, now I come to think of it," replied the Chief, "I never +told you. You're going back to France to be killed, of course!" + +"To be killed!" + +Desmond looked blankly at the other's blandly smiling face. + +"Two or three days from now," said the Chief, "you will be killed +in action in France. I thought of making it a shell. But we'll +have it a machine gun bullet if you like. Whichever you prefer; +it's all the same to me!" + +He laughed at the dawn of enlightenment in Desmond's eyes. + +"I see," said Desmond. + +"I hope you don't mind," the Chief went on more seriously, "but I +know you have no people to consider except your brother and his +wife. She's in America, and Francis can't possibly hear about it. +So you needn't worry on that score. Or do you?" + +Desmond laughed. + +"No-o-o!" he said slowly, "but I'm rather young to die. Is it +absolutely necessary for me to disappear?" + +"Absolutely!" responded the Chief firmly. + +"But how will we manage it?" asked Desmond. + +"Catch the leave-boat to-night and don't worry. You will receive +your instructions in due course." + +"But when shall I see you again?" + +The Chief chuckled. + +"Depends entirely on yourself, Okewood," he retorted. "When +you're through with your job, I expect. In the meantime, Miss +Mackwayte will act between us. On that point also you will be +fully instructed. And now I must fly!" + +"But I say, sir," Desmond interposed hastily. "You haven't told +me what I am to do. What part am I to play in this business +anyway?" + +"To-morrow," said the Chief, buttoning up his coat, "you become +Mr. Basil Bellward!" + + + +CHAPTER VIII. THE WHITE PAPER PACKAGE + +A taxi was waiting in Pall Mall outside the club and Desmond +hailed it, though secretly wondering what the driver would think +of taking him out to Seven Kings. Rather to his surprise, the man +was quite affable, took the address of the house where Barbara +was staying with her friends and bade Desmond "hop in." +Presently, for the second time that day, he was heading for the +Mile End Road. + +As they zigzagged in and out of the traffic, Desmond's thoughts +were busy with the extraordinary mission entrusted to him. So he +was to sink his own identity and don that of an Anglo-German +business man, his appearance, accent, habits, everything. The +difficulties of the task positively made him cold with fear. The +man must have relations, friends, business acquaintances who +would be sufficiently familiar with his appearance and manner to +penetrate, at any rate in the long run, the most effective +disguise. What did Bellward look like? Where did lie live? How +was he, Desmond, to disguise himself to resemble him? And, above +all, when this knotty problem of make-up had been settled, how +was he to proceed? What should be his first step to pick out from +among all the millions of London's teeming populace the one +obscure individual who headed and directed this gang of spies? + +Why hadn't he asked the Chief all these questions? What an +annoying man the Chief was to deal with to be sure! All said and +done, what had he actually told Desmond? That there was a German +Secret service organization spying on the movements of troops to +France, that this man, Basil Bellward, who had been arrested, was +one of the gang and that the dancer, Nur-el-Din, was in some way +implicated in the affair! And that was the extent of his +confidence! On the top of all this fog of obscurity rested the +dense cloud surrounding the murder of old Mackwayte with the +unexplained, the fantastic, clue of that single hair pointing +back to Nur-el-Din. + +Desmond consoled himself finally by saying that he would be able +too get some light on his mission from Barbara Mackwayte, whom he +judged to be in the Chief's confidence. But here he was doomed to +disappointment. Barbara could tell him practically nothing save +what he already knew, that they were to work together in this +affair. Like him, she was waiting for her instructions. + +Barbara received him in a neat little suburban drawing-room in +the house of her friends, who lived a few streets away from the +Mackwaytes. She was wearing a plainly-made black crepe de chine +dress which served to accentuate the extreme pallor of her face, +the only outward indication of the great shock she had sustained. +She was perfectly calm and collected, otherwise, and she stopped +Desmond who would have murmured some phrases of condolence. + +"Ah, no, please," she said, "I don't think I can speak about it +yet." + +She pulled a chair over for him and began to talk about the +Chief. + +"There's not the least need for you to worry," she said with a +little woeful smile, like a sun-ray piercing a rain-cloud, "if +the Chief says 'Go back to France and wait for instructions,' you +may be sure that everything is arranged, and you will receive +your orders in due course. So shall I. That's the Chief all over. +Until you know him, you think he loves mystery for mystery's +sake. It isn't that at all. He just doesn't trust us. He trusts +nobody!" + +"But that hardly seems fair to us..." began Desmond. + +"It's merely a precaution," replied Barbara, "the Chief takes no +risks. I've not the least doubt that he has decided to tell you +nothing whatsoever about your part until you are firmly settled +in your new role. I'm perfectly certain that every detail of your +part has already been worked out." + +"Oh, that's not possible," said Desmond. "Why, he didn't know +until an hour ago that I was going to take on this job." + +Barbara laughed. + +"The Chief has taught me a lot about judging men by their looks," +she said: "Personally, if I'd been in the Chief's places I should +have gone ahead without consulting you, too." + +The girl spoke with such directness that there was not the least +suggestion of a compliment in her remark, but Desmond blushed to +the roots of his hair. Barbara noticed it and added hastily: + +"I'm not trying to pay you a compliment: I'm just judging by your +type. I believe I can always tell the man that will take on any +job, however dangerous, and carry it through to the end." + +Desmond blushed more furiously than ever. + +He made haste to divert the conversation into a safer channel. + +"Well," he said slowly, "seeing that you and I were intended to +work together, it seems to me to be a most extraordinary +coincidence our meeting like that last night..." + +"It was more than a coincidence," said Barbara, shaking her dark +brown head. "Forty-eight hours ago I'd never heard of you, then +the Chief gave me a telegram to send to your Divisional General +summoning you home, after that he told me that we were to work +together, and a few hours later I run into you in Nur-el-Din's +dressing-room..." + +She broke off suddenly, her gray eyes big with fear. She darted +across the room to an ormolu table on which her handbag was +lying. With astonishment, Desmond watched her unceremoniously +spill out the contents on to the table and rake hastily amongst +the collection of articles which a pretty girl carries round in +her bag. + +Presently she raised herself erect and turning, faced the +officer. She was trembling as though with cold and when she +spoke, her voice was low and husky. + +"Gone!" she whispered. + +"Have you lost anything" Desmond asked anxiously. + +"How could I have forgotten it?" she went on as though he had not +spoken, "how could I have forgotten it? Nearly twelve hours +wasted, and it explains everything. What will the Chief think of +me!" + +Slowly she sank down on the sofa where she had been sitting, +then, without any warning, dropped her head into her hands and +burst into tears. + +Desmond went over to her. + +"Please don't cry," he said gently, "you have borne up so bravely +against this terrible blow; you must try and not let it overwhelm +you." + +All her business-like calm had disappeared now she was that most +distracting of all pictures of woman, a pretty girl overwhelmed +with grief. She crouched curled upon the sofa, with shoulders +heaving, sobbing as though her heart would break. + +"Perhaps you would like me to leave you?" Desmond asked. "Let me +ring for your friends... I am sure you would rather be alone!" + +She raised a tear-stained face to his, her long lashes +glittering. + +"No, no," she said, "don't go, don't go! I want your help. This +is such a dark and dreadful business, more than I ever realized. +Oh, my poor daddy, my poor daddy!" + +Again she hid her face in her hands and cried whilst Desmond +stood erect by her aide, compassionate but very helpless. + +After a little, she dabbed her eyes with a tiny square of +cambric, and sitting up, surveyed the other. + +"I must go to the Chief at once," she said, "it is most urgent. +Would you ring and ask the maid to telephone for a taxi?" + +"I have one outside," answered Desmond. "But won't you tell me +what has happened?" + +"Why," said Barbara, "it has only just dawned on me why our house +was broken into last night and poor daddy so cruelly murdered! +Whoever robbed the house did not come after our poor little bits +of silver or daddy's savings in the desk in the dining room. They +came after something that I had!" + +"And what was that" asked Desmond. + +Then Barbara told him of her talk with Nur-el-Din in the dancer's +dressing-room on the previous evening and of the package which +Nur-el-Din had entrusted to her care. + +"This terrible business put it completely out of my head," said +Barbara. "In the presence of the police this morning, I looked +over my bedroom and even searched my hand-bag which the police +sent back to me this afternoon without finding that the burglars +had stolen anything. It was only just now, when we were talking +about our meeting in Nur-el-Din's room last night, that her +little package suddenly flashed across my mind. And then I looked +through my handbag again and convinced myself that it was not +there." + +"But are you sure the police haven't taken it?" + +"Absolutely certain," was the reply. "I remember perfectly what +was in my hand-bag this morning when I went through it, and the +same things are on that table over there now." + +"Do you know what was in this package!" said Desmond. + +"Just a small silver box, oblong and quite plain, about so big," +she indicated the size with her hands, "about as large as a +cigarette-box. Nur-el-Din said it was a treasured family +possession of hers, and she was afraid of losing it as she +traveled about so much. She asked me to say nothing about it and +to keep it until the war was over or until she asked me for it." + +"Then," said Desmond, "this clears Nur-el-Din!" + +"What do you mean," said Barbara, looking up. + +"Simply that she wouldn't have broken into your place and killed +your father in order to recover her own package..." + +"But why on earth should Nur-el-Din be suspected of such a +thing?" + +"Have you heard nothing about this young lady from the Chief?" + +"Nothing. I had not thought anything about her until daddy +discovered an old friend in her last night and introduced me." + +The Chief's infernal caution again! thought Desmond, secretly +admiring the care with which that remarkable man, in his own +phrase, "sealed both ends of every connection." + +"If I'm to work with this girl," said Desmond to himself, "I'm +going to have all the cards on the table here and now," so +forthwith he told her of the Chief's suspicions of the dancer, +the letter recommending her to Bellward found when the cheese +merchant had been arrested, and lastly of the black hair which +had been discovered on the thongs with which Barbara had been +fastened. + +"And now," Desmond concluded, "the very next thing we must do is +to go to the Chief and tell him about this package of +Nur-el-Din's that is missing." Barbara interposed quickly. + +"It's no use your coming," she said. "The Chief won't see you. +When he has sent a man on his mission, he refuses to see him +again until the work has been done. If he wishes to send for you +or communicate with you, he will. But it's useless for you to try +and see him yourself. You can drop me at the office!" + +Desmond was inclined to agree with her on this point and said so. + +"There is one thing especially that puzzles me, Miss Mackwayte," +Desmond observed as they drove westward again, "and that is, how +anyone could have known about your having this box of +Nur-el-Din's. Was there anybody else in the room when she gave +you the package?" + +"No," said Barbara, "I don't think so. Wait a minute, though, +Nur-el-Din's maid must have come in very shortly after for I +remember the opened the door when Captain Strangwise came to tell +me daddy was waiting to take me home." + +"Do you remember if Nur-el-Din actually mentioned the package in +the presence of the maid!" + +"As far as I can recollect just as the maid opened the door to +Captain Strangwise, Nur-el-Din was impressing on me again to take +great care of the package. I don't think she actually mentioned +the box but I remember her pointing at my bag where I had put the +package." + +"The maid didn't see Nur-el-Din give you the box?" + +"No, I'm sure of that. The room was empty save for us two. It was +only just before Captain Strangwise knocked that I noticed Marie +arranging Nur-el-Din's dresses. She must have come in afterwards +without my seeing her." + +"Well then, this girl, Marie, didn't see the dancer give you the +box but she heard her refer to it. Is that right?" + +"Yes, and, of course, Captain Strangwise..." + +"What about him?" + +"He must have heard what Nur-el-Din was saying, too!" + +Desmond rubbed his chin. + +"I say, you aren't going to implicate old Strangwise, too, are +you?" he asked. + +Barbara did not reflect his smile. + +"He seems to know Nur-el-Din pretty well," she said, "and I'll +tell you something else, that woman's afraid of your friend, the +Captain!" + +"What do you mean?" asked Desmond. + +"I was watching her in the glass last night as he was talking to +her while you and I and daddy were chatting in the corner. I +don't know what he said to her, but she glanced over her shoulder +with a look of terror in her eyes. I was watching her face in the +glass. She looked positively hunted!" + +The taxi stopped. Desmond jumped out and helped his companion to +alight. + +"Au revoir." she said to him, "never fear, you and I will meet +very soon again!" + +With that she was gone. Desmond looked at his watch. It pointed +to a quarter to six. + +"Now I wonder what time the leave-train starts tonight," he said +aloud, one foot on the sideboard of the taxi. + +"At 7.45, sir," said a voice. + +"Desmond glanced round him. Then he saw it was the taxi-driver +who had spoken. + +"7.45, eh?" said Desmond. "From Victoria, I suppose?" + +"Yes, sir," said the taxi-man. + +"By Jove, I haven't much time," ejaculated the officer "and there +are some things I want to get before I go back across the +Channel. And I shall have to see the Railway Transport Officer +about my pass." + +"That's all right, sir," said the taxi-man, "I have your papers +here"; he handed Desmond a couple of slips of paper which he took +from his coat-pocket; "those will take you back to France all +right, I think you'll find!" + +Desmond looked at the papers: they were quite in order and +correctly filled up with his name, rank and regiment, and date. + +The taxi-man cut short any further question by saying: + +"If you'll get into the cab again, sir, I'll drive you where you +want to go, and then wait while you have your dinner and take you +to the station. By the way, your dinner's ordered too!" + +"But who the devil are you?" asked Desmond in amazement. + +"On special service, the same as you, sir!" said the man with a +grin and Desmond understood. + +Really, the Chief was extremely thorough. + +They went to the stores in the Haymarket, to Fortnum and Mason's, +and lastly, to a small, grubby shop at the back of Mayfair where +Desmond and his brother had bought their cigarettes for years +past. Desmond purchased a hundred of their favored brand, the +Dionysus, as a reserve for his journey back to France, and stood +chatting over old times with the fat, oily-faced Greek manager as +the latter tied up his cigarettes into a clean white paper +parcel, neatly sealed up with red sealing wax. + +Then Desmond drove back to the Nineveh Hotel where he left his +taxi-driving colleague in the courtyard on the understanding that +at 7.25 the taxi would be waiting to drive him to the station. + +Desmond went straight upstairs to his room to put his kit +together. In the strong, firmly woven web spread by the Chief, he +felt as helpless as a fly caught in a spider's mesh. He had no +idea of what his plans were. He only knew that he was going back +to France, and that it was his business to get on the leave-boat +that night. + +As he passed along the thickly carpeted, silent corridor to his +room, he saw the door of Strangwise's room standing ajar. He +pushed open the door and walked in unceremoniously. A suitcase +stood open on the floor with Strangwise bending over it. At his +elbow was a table crowded with various parcels, a case of razors, +different articles of kit, and some books. Desmond halted at the +door, his box of cigarettes dangling from his finger. + +"Hullo, Maurice," he said, "are you off, too?" + +Strangwise spun round sharply. The blood had rushed to his face, +staining it with a dark, angry flush. + +"My God, how you startled me!" he exclaimed rather testily. "I +never heard you come in!" + +He turned rather abruptly and went on with his packing. He struck +Desmond as being rather annoyed at the intrusion; the latter had +never seen him out of temper before. + +"Sorry if I butted in," said Desmond, sliding his box of +cigarettes off his finger on to the littered table and sitting +down on a chair. "I came in to say good-bye. I'm going back to +France to-night!" + +Maurice looked round quickly. He appeared to be quite his old +self again and was all smiles now. + +"So soon?" he said. "Why, I thought you were getting a job at the +War Office!" + +Desmond shook his head. + +"Not good enough," he replied, "it's back to the sandbags for +mine. But where are you off to?" + +"Got a bit of leave; the Intelligence folk seem to be through +with me at last, so they've given me six weeks!" + +"Going to the country" asked Desmond. + +Strangwise nodded. + +"Yep," he said, "down to Essex to see if I can get a few duck or +snipe on the fens. I wish you were coming with me!" + +"So do I, old man," echoed Desmond heartily. Then he added in a +serious voice: + +"By the way, I haven't seen you since last night. What a shocking +affair this is about old Mackwayte, isn't it? Are there any +developments, do you know?" + +Strangwise very deliberately fished a cigarette out of his case +which was lying open on the table and lit it before replying. + +"A very dark affair," he said, blowing out a cloud of smoke and +flicking the match into the grate. "You are discreet, I know, +Okewood. The Intelligence people had me up this morning... to +take my evidence..." + +Strangwise's surmise about Desmond's discretion was perfectly +correct. With Desmond Okewood discretion was second nature, and +therefore he answered with feigned surprise: "Your evidence about +what? About our meeting the Mackwaytes last night?" + +After he had spoken he realized he had blundered. Surely, after +all, the Chief would have told Strangwise about their +investigations at Seven Kings. Still... + +"No," replied Strangwise, "but about Nur-el-Din!" + +The Chief had kept his own counsel about their morning's work. +Desmond was glad now that he had dissimulated. + +"You see, I know her pretty well," Strangwise continued, "between +ourselves, I got rather struck on the lady when she was touring +in Canada some years ago, and in fact I spent so much more money +than I could afford on her that I had to discontinue the +acquaintance. Then I met her here when I got away from Germany a +month ago; she was lonely, so I took her about a bit. Okewood, +I'm afraid I was rather indiscreet." + +"How do you mean?" Desmond asked innocently. + +"Well," said Strangwise slowly, contemplating the end of his +cigarette, "it appears that the lady is involved in certain +activities which considerably interest our Intelligence. But +there, I mustn't say any more!" + +"But how on earth is Nur-el-what's her name concerned in this +murder, Maurice?" + +Strangwise shrugged his shoulders. + +"Ah, you'd better ask the police. But I tell you she'll be +getting into trouble if she's not careful!" + +Throughout this conversation Desmond seemed to hear in his ears +Barbara's words: "That woman's afraid of your friend!" He divined +that for some reason or other, Strangwise wanted to create a bad +impression in his mind about the dancer. He scanned Maurice's +face narrowly. Its impenetrability was absolute. There was +nothing to be gleaned from those careless, smiling features. + +"Well," said Desmond, getting up, "nous verrons. I shall have to +make a bolt for it now if I don't want to miss my train. +Good-bye, Maurice, and I hope you'll get some birds!" + +"Thanks, old man. Au revoir, and take care of yourself. My +salaams to the General!". + +They shook hands warmly, then Desmond grabbed his box of +cigarettes in its neat white wrapper with the bold red seals and +hurried off to his room. + +Strangwise stood for a moment gazing after him. He was no longer +the frank, smiling companion of a minute before. His mouth was +set hard and his chin stuck out at a defiant angle. + +He bent over the table and picked up a white paper package sealed +with bold red seals. He poised it for a moment in his hands while +a flicker of a smile stole into the narrow eyes and played for an +instant round the thin lips. Then, with a quick movement, he +thrust the little package into the side pocket of his tunic and +buttoned the flap. + +Whistling a little tune, he went on with his packing. + + + +CHAPTER IX. METAMORPHOSIS + +It was a clear, cold night. A knife-edge icy wind blew from the +north-east and kept the lanyards dismally flapping on the +flag-mast over the customs house. The leave train lay in the +station within a biscuit's throw of the quayside and the black, +blank Channel beyond, a long line of cheerfully illuminated +windows that to those returning from leave seemed as the last +link with home. + +The Corporal of Military Police, who stood at the gangway +examining the passes, stopped Desmond Okewood as the latter held +out his pass into the rays of the man's lantern. + +"There was a message for you, sir," said the Corporal. "The +captain of the Staff boat would h-esteem it a favor, sir, if you +would kindly go to his cabin immediately on h-arriving on board, +sir!" + +"Very good, Corporal!" answered the officer and passed up the +gang plank, enviously regarded by the press of brass-hats and +red-tabs who, for the most part, had a cramped berth below or +cold quarters on deck to look forward to. + +A seaman directed Desmond to the Captain's cabin. It was built +out just behind the bridge, a snug, cheery room with bright +chintz curtains over the carefully screened portholes, a couple +of comfortable benches with leather seats along the walls, a +small bunk, and in the middle of the floor a table set out with a +bottle of whiskey, a siphon and some glasses together with a box +of cigars. + +The Captain was sitting there chatting to the pilot, a short, +enormously broad man with a magenta face and prodigious hands +which were folded round a smoking glass of toddy. + +"Pick 'em up? Rescue 'em?" the pilot ejaculated, as Desmond +walked in, "I'd let 'em sink, every man Jack o' them, the +outrageous murderin' scoundrels. I don't like to hear you +a-talking of such nonsense, Cap'en!" + +On Desmond's entrance the Captain broke off the conversation. He +proved to be a trimly-built man of about fifty with a grizzled +beard, and an air of quiet efficiency which is not uncommonly +found in seamen. The pilot drained his glass and, scrambling to +his feet, nodded to Desmond and stumped out into the cold night +air. + +"Jawin' about the U boats!" said the Captain, with a jerk of his +head towards the cabin door, "I don't know what the feelings of +your men in the trenches are towards Fritz, Major, but I tell you +that no German will dare set foot in any coast port of the United +Kingdom in my life-time or yours, either! Accommodation's a bit +narrow on board. I thought maybe you'd care to spend the night up +here!" + +"Any orders about me?" asked Desmond. + +The Captain went a shade deeper mahogany in the face. + +"Oh no," he replied, with an elaborate assumption of innocence. +"But won't you mix yourself a drink? And try one of my cigars, a +present from a skipper friend of mine who sailed into Tilbury +from Manila last week." + +Desmond sat in the snug cabin, puffing a most excellent cigar +and sipping his whiskey and soda while, amid much shouting of +seamen and screaming of windlasses, the staff boat got clear. +Presently they were gliding past long low moles and black, +inhospitable lighthouses, threading their way through the dark +shapes of war craft of all kinds into the open Channel. There was +a good deal of swell, but the sea was calm, and the vessel soon +steadied down to regular rise and fall. + +They had been steaming for nearly an hour when, through the open +door of the cabin, Desmond saw a seaman approach the captain on +the bridge. He handed the skipper a folded paper. + +"From the wireless operator, sir!" Desmond heard him say. + +The skipper scanned it. Then the engine telegraph rang sharply, +there was the sound of churning water, and the vessel slowed +down. The next moment the Captain appeared at the door of the +cabin. + +"I'm afraid we're going to lose you, Major," he said pleasantly, +"a destroyer is coming up to take you off. There was a wireless +from the Admiral about you." + +"Where are they going to take me, do you know?" asked Desmond. + +The Captain shook his head. + +"I haven't an idea. I've only got to hand you over!" + +He grinned and added: + +"Where's your kit?" + +"In the hold, I expect!" answered Desmond. "The porter at +Victoria told me not to worry about it, and that I should find it +on the other side. And, oh damn it!--I've got a hundred +cigarettes in my kit, too! I bought them specially for the +journey!" + +"Well, take some of my cigars," said the skipper hospitably, "for +your traps'll have to go to France this trip, Major. There's no +time to get 'em up now. I'll pass the word to the Military +Landing Officer over there about 'em, if you like. He'll take +care of 'em for you. Now will you come with me?" + +Desmond scrambled into his coat and followed the Captain down the +steps to the deck. A little distance away from the vessel, the +long shape of a destroyer was dimly visible tossing to and fro in +the heavy swell. A ladder had been let down over the side of the +steamer, and at its foot a boat, manned by a number of heavily +swathed and muffled forms, was pitching. + +A few officers stood by the rail watching the scene with +interest. The skipper adroitly piloted Desmond past them and +fairly thrust him out on to the ladder. + +Desmond took the hint and with a hasty "Good night" to the +friendly captain, staggered down the swaying ladder and was +helped into the boat. The boat shoved off, the bell of the engine +telegraph on the steamer resounded sharply, and the vessel +resumed her interrupted voyage whilst the rowing boat was headed +towards the destroyer. On board the latter vessel an officer met +Desmond at the rail and piloted him to the ward-room. Almost +before they got there, the destroyer was under way. + +The officer who had welcomed him proved to be the second in +command, a joyous person who did the honors of the tiny ward-room +with the aplomb of a Commander in a super-Dreadnought. He mixed +Desmond a drink and immediately started to converse about life at +the front without giving the other a chance of asking whither +they were bound. + +The suspense was not of long duration, however, for in about half +an hour's time, the destroyer slowed down and Desmond's host +vanished. When he reappeared, it was to summon Desmond on deck. + +They lay aside a mole by some steps cut in the solid concrete. +Here Desmond's host took leave of him. + +"There should be a car waiting for you up there," he said. + +There on top of the mole, exposed to the keen blast of the wind, +a large limousine was standing. A chauffeur, who looked blue with +cold, got down from his seat as Desmond emerged from the stairs +and touched his cap. + +"Major Okewood?" he asked. + +"That's my name!" said Desmond. + +"If you'll get in, sir, we'll start at once!" the man replied. + +Befogged and bewildered, Desmond entered the car, which +cautiously proceeded along the breakwater, with glimpses of black +water and an occasional dim light on either hand. They bumped +over the railway-lines and rough cobblestones of a dockyard, +glided through a slumbering town, and so gradually drew out into +the open country where the car gathered speed and fairly raced +along the white, winding road. Desmond had not the faintest idea +of their whereabouts or ultimate destination. He was fairly +embarked on the great adventure now, and he was philosophically +content to let Fate have its way with him. He found himself +wondering rather indolently what the future had in store. + +The car slowed down and the chauffeur switched the headlights on. +Their blinding glare revealed some white gate-posts at the +entrance of a quiet country station. Desmond looked at his watch. +It was half-past one. The car stopped at the entrance to the +booking-office where a man in an overcoat and bowler was waiting. + +"This way, Major, please," said the man in the bowler, and led +the way into the dark and silent station. At the platform a short +train consisting of an engine, a Pullman car and a brakesman's +van stood, the engine under steam. By the glare from the furnace +Desmond recognized his companion. It was Matthews, the Chief's +confidential clerk. + +Matthews held open the door of the Pullman for Desmond and +followed him into the carriage. A gruff voice in the night +shouted: + +"All right, Charley!" a light was waved to and fro, and the +special pulled out of the echoing station into the darkness +beyond. + +In the corner of, the Pullman a table was laid for supper. There +was a cold chicken, a salad, and a bottle of claret. On another +table was a large tin box and a mirror with a couple of electric +lights before it. At this table was seated a small man with gray +hair studying a large number of photographs. + +"If you will have your supper, Major Okewood, sir," said +Matthews, "Mr. Crook here will get to work. We've not got too +much time." + +The sea air had made Desmond ravenously hungry. He sat down +promptly and proceeded to demolish the chicken and make havoc of +the salad. Also he did full justice to the very excellent St. +Estephe. + +As he ate he studied Matthews, who was one of those undefinable +Englishmen one meets in tubes and 'buses, who might be anything +from a rate collector to a rat catcher. He had sandy hair +plastered limply across his forehead, a small moustache, and a +pair of watery blue eyes. Mr. Crook, who continued his study of +his assortment of photographs without taking the slightest notice +of Desmond, was a much more alert looking individual, with a +shock of iron gray hair brushed back and a small pointed beard. + +"Matthew's," said Desmond as he supped, "would it be indiscreet +to ask where we are?" + +"In Kent, Major," replied Matthews. + +"What station was that we started from?" + +"Faversham." + +"And where are we going, might I inquire?" + +"To Cannon Street, sir!" + +"And from there?" + +Mr. Matthews coughed discreetly. + +"I can't really say, sir, I'm sure! A car will meet you there and +I can go home to bed." + +The ends sealed again! thought Desmond. What a man of caution, +the Chief! + +"And this gentleman here, Matthews?" asked Desmond, lighting one +of the skipper's cigars. + +"That, sir, is Mr. Crook, who does any little jobs we require in +the way of make-up. Our expert on resemblances, if I may put it +that way, sir, for we really do very little in the way of +disguises. Mr. Crook is an observer of what I may call people's +points, sir, their facial appearance, their little peculiarities +of manner, of speech, of gait. Whenever there is any question of +a disguise, Mr. Crook is called in to advise as to the +possibilities of success. I believe I am correct in saying, +Crook, that you have been engaged on the Major here for some +time. Isn't it so?" + +Crook looked up a minute from his table. + +"That's right," he said shortly, and resumed his occupation of +examining the photographs. + +"And what's your opinion about this disguise of mine?" Desmond +asked him. + +"I can make a good job of you, Major," said the expert, "and so I +reported to the Chief. You'll want to do your hair a bit +different and let your beard grow, and then, if you pay attention +to the lessons I shall give you, in a week or two, you'll be this +chap here," and he tapped the photograph in his hand, "to the +life." + +So saying he handed Desmond the photograph. It was the portrait +of a man about forty years of age, of rather a pronounced +Continental type, with a short brown beard, a straight, rather +well-shaped nose and gold-rimmed spectacles. His hair was cut en +brosse, and he was rather full about the throat and neck. Without +a word, Desmond stretched out his hand and gathered up a sheaf of +other photos, police photos of Mr. Basil Bellward, front face and +profile seen from right and left, all these poses shown on the +same picture, some snapshots and various camera studies. Desmond +shook his head in despair. He was utterly unable to detect the +slightest resemblance between himself and this rather commonplace +looking type of business man. + +"Now if you'd just step into the compartment at the end of the +Pullman, Major," said Crook, "you'll find some civilian clothes +laid out. Would you mind putting them on? You needn't trouble +about the collar and tie, or coat and waistcoat for the moment. +Then we'll get along with the work." + +The train rushed swaying on through the darkness. Desmond was +back in the Pullman car in a few minutes arrayed in a pair of +dark gray tweed trousers, a white shirt and black boots and +socks. A cut-away coat and waistcoat of the same tweed stuff, a +black bowler hat of rather an old-fashioned and staid pattern, +and a black overcoat with a velvet collar, he left in the +compartment where he changed. + +He found that Crook had opened his tin box and set out a great +array of grease paints, wigs, twists of tow of various colors, +and a number of pots and phials of washes and unguents together +with a whole battery of fine paint brushes. In his hand he held a +pair of barber's clippers and the tips of a comb and a pair of +scissors protruded from his vest pocket. + +Crook whisked a barber's wrap round Desmond and proceeded, with +clippers and scissors, to crop and trim his crisp black hair. + +"Tst-tst" he clicked with his tongue. "I didn't realize your hair +was so dark, Major. It'll want a dash of henna to lighten it." + +The man worked with incredible swiftness. His touch was light and +sure, and Desmond, looking at his reflection in the glass, +wondered to see what fine; delicate hands this odd little expert +possessed. Matthews sat and smoked in silence and watched the +operation, whilst the special ran on steadily Londonwards. + +When the clipping was done, Crook smeared some stuff on a towel +and wrapped it round Desmond's head. + +"That'll brighten your hair up a lot, sir. Now for a crepe beard +just to try the effect. We've got to deliver you at Cannon Street +ready for the job, Mr. Matthews and me, but you won't want to +worry with this nasty messy beard once you get indoors. You can +grow your own beard, and I'll pop in and henna it a bit for you +every now and then." + +There was the smart of spirit gum on Desmond's cheeks and Crook +gently applied a strip of tow to his face. He had taken the +mirror away so that Desmond could no longer see the effect of the +gradual metamorphosis. + +"A mirror only confuses me," said the expert, breathing hard as +he delicately adjusted the false beard, "I've got this picture +firm in my head, and I want to get it transferred to your face. +Somehow a mirror puts me right off. It's the reality I want." + +As he grew more absorbed in his work, he ceased to speak +altogether. He finished the beard, trimmed the eyebrows, applied +a dash of henna with a brush, leaning backwards continually to +survey the effect. He sketched in a wrinkle or two round the eyes +with a pencil, wiped them out, then put them in again. Then he +fumbled in his tin box, and produced two thin slices of grey +rubber. + +"Sorry," he said, "I'm afraid you'll have to wear these inside +your cheeks to give the effect of roundness. You've got an oval +face and the other man has a round one. I can get the fullness of +the throat by giving you a very low collar, rather open and a +size too large for you." + +Desmond obediently slipped the two slices of rubber into his +mouth and tucked them away on either side of his upper row of +teeth. They were not particularly uncomfortable to wear. + +"There's your specs," said Crook, handing him a spectacle case, +"and there's the collar. Now if you'll put on the rest of the +duds, we'll have a look at you, sir." + +Desmond went out and donned the vest and coat and overcoat, and, +thus arrayed, returned to the Pullman, hat in hand. + +Crook called out to him as he entered + +"Not so springy in the step, sir, if you please. Remember you're +forty-three years of age with a Continental upbringing. You'll +have to walk like a German, toes well turned out and down on the +heel every time. So, that's better. Now, have a look at +yourself!" + +He turned and touched a blind. A curtain rolled up with a click, +disclosing a full length mirror immediately opposite Desmond. + +Desmond recoiled in astonishment. He could scarcely credit his +own eyes. The glass must be bewitched, he thought for a moment, +quite overwhelmed by the suddenness of the shock. For instead of +the young face set on a slight athletic body that the glass was +wont to show him, he saw a square, rather solid man in ugly, +heavy clothes, with a brown silky beard and gold spectacles. The +disguise was baffling in its completeness. The little wizard, who +had effected this change and who now stood by, bashfully twisting +his fingers about, had transformed youth into middle age. And the +bewildering thing was that the success of the disguise did not +lie so much in the external adjuncts, the false beard, the +pencilled wrinkles, as in the hideous collar, the thick padded +clothes, in short, in the general appearance. + +For the first time since his talk with the Chief at the United +Service Club, Desmond felt his heart grow light within him. If +such miracles were possible, then he could surmount the other +difficulties as well. + +"Crook," he said, "I think you've done wonders. What do you say, +Matthews?" + +"I've seen a lot of Mr. Crook's work in my day, sir," answered +the clerk, "but nothing better than this. It's a masterpiece, +Crook, that's what it is." + +"I'm fairly well satisfied," the expert murmured modestly, "and I +must say the Major carries it off very well. But how goes the +enemy, Matthews?" + +"It's half past two," replied, the latter, "we should reach +Cannon Street by three. She's running well up to time, I think." + +"We've got time for a bit of a rehearsal," said Crook. "Just +watch me, will you please, Major, and I'll try and give you an +impression of our friend. I've been studying him at Brixton for +the past twelve days, day and night almost, you might say, and I +think I can convey an idea of his manner and walk. The walk is a +very important point. Now, here is Mr. Bellward meeting one of +his friends. Mr. Matthews, you will be the friend!" + +Then followed one of the most extraordinary performances that +Desmond had ever witnessed. By some trick of the actor's art, the +shriveled figure of the expert seemed to swell out and thicken, +while his low, gentle voice deepened into a full, metallic +baritone. Of accent in his speech there was none, but Desmond's +ear, trained to foreigners' English, could detect a slight +Continental intonation, a little roll of the "r's," an unfamiliar +sound about those open "o's" of the English tongue, which are so +fatal a trap for foreigners speaking our language. As he watched +Crook, Desmond glanced from time to time at the photograph of +Bellward which he had picked up from the table. He had an +intuition that Bellward behaved and spoke just as the man before +him. + +Then, at Crook's suggestion, Desmond assumed the role of +Bellward. The expert interrupted him continually. + +"The hands, Major, the hands, you must not keep them down at your +sides. That is military! You must move them when you speak! So +and so!" + +Or again: + +"You speak too fast. Too... too youthfully, if you understand me, +sir. You are a man of middle age. Life has no further secrets for +you. You are poised and getting a trifle ponderous. Now try +again!" + +But the train was slackening speed. They were running between +black masses of squalid houses. As the special thumped over the +bridge across the river, Mr. Crook gathered up his paints and +brushes and photographs and arranged them neatly in his black tin +box. + +To Desmond he said: + +"I shall be coming along to give you some more lessons very soon, +Major. I wish you could see Bellward for yourself: you are very +apt at this game, and it would save us much time. But I fear +that's impossible." + +Even before the special had drawn up alongside the platform at +Cannon Street, Crook and Matthews swung themselves out and +disappeared. When the train stopped, a young man in a bowler hat +presented himself at the door of the Pullman. + +"The car is there, Mr. Bellward, sir!" he said, helping Desmond +to alight. Desmond, preparing to assume his new role, was about +to leave the carriage when a sudden thought struck him. What +about his uniform strewn about the compartment where he had +changed? He ran back. The compartment was empty. Not a trace +remained of the remarkable scenes of their night journey. + +"This is for you," said the young man, handing Desmond a note as +they walked down the platform. + +Outside the station a motor-car with its noisy throbbing awoke +the echoes of the darkened and empty courtyard. Desmond waited +until he was being whirled over the smooth asphalt of the City +streets before he opened the letter. + +He found a note and a small key inside the envelope. + +"On reaching the house to which you will be conveyed," the note +said, "you will remain indoors until further orders. You can +devote your time to studying the papers you will find in the desk +beside the bed. For the present you need not fear detection as +long as you do not leave the house." Then followed a few rough +jottings obviously for his guidance. + +"Housekeeper, Martha, half blind, stupid; odd man, John Hill, +mostly invisible, no risk from either. You are confined to house +with heavy chill. Do not go out until you get the word." + +The last sentence was twice underlined. + +The night was now pitch-dark. Heavy clouds had come up and +obscured the stars and a drizzle of rain was falling. The car +went forward at a good pace and Desmond, after one or two +ineffectual attempts to make out where they were going, was +lulled by the steady motion into a deep sleep. He was dreaming +fitfully of the tossing Channel as he had seen it but a few hours +before when he came to his senses with a start. He felt a cold +draught of air on his face and his feet were dead with cold. + +A figure stood at the open door of the car. It was the chauffeur. + +"Here we are, sir," he said. + +Desmond stiffly descended to the ground. It was so dark that he +could distinguish nothing, but he felt the grit of gravel under +his feet and he heard the melancholy gurgle of running water. He +took a step forward and groped his way into a little porch +smelling horribly of mustiness and damp. As he did so, he heard a +whirr behind him and the car began to glide off. Desmond shouted +after the chauffeur. Now that he stood on the very threshold of +his adventure, he wanted to cling desperately to this last link +with his old self. But the chauffeur did not or would not hear, +and presently the sound of the engine died away, leaving Desmond +to the darkness, the sad splashing of distant water and his own +thoughts. + +And then, for one brief moment, all his courage seemed to ooze +out of him. If he had followed his instinct, he would have turned +and fled into the night, away from that damp and silent house, +away from the ceaseless splashing of waters, back to the warmth +and lights of civilization. But his sense of humor, which is very +often better than courage, came to his rescue. + +"I suppose I ought to be in the devil of a rage," he said to +himself, "being kept waiting like this outside my own house! +Where the deuce is my housekeeper? By Gad, I'll ring the place +down!" + +The conceit amused him, and he advanced further into the musty +porch hoping to find a bell. But as he did so his ear caught the +distant sound of shuffling feet. The shuffle of feet drew nearer +and presently a beam of light shone out from under the door. A +quavering voice called out: + +"Here I am, Mr. Bellward, here I am, sir!" + +Then a bolt was drawn back, a key turned, and the door swung +slowly back, revealing an old woman, swathed in a long shawl and +holding high in her hand a lamp as she peered out into the +darkness. + +"Good evening, Martha," said Desmond, and stepped into the house. + +Save for Martha's lamp, the lobby was in darkness, but light was +streaming into the hall from the half open door of a room leading +off it at the far end. While Martha, wheezing asthmatically, +bolted the front door, Desmond went towards the room where the +light was and walked in. + +It was a small sitting-room, lined with bookshelves, illuminated +by an oil lamp which stood on a little table beside a +chintz-covered settee which had been drawn up in front of the +dying fire. + +On the settee Nur-el-Din was lying asleep. + + + +CHAPTER X. D. O. R. A. IS BAFFLED + +When Barbara reached the Chief's ante-room she found it full of +people. Mr. Marigold was there, chatting with Captain Strangwise +who seemed to be just taking his leave; there was a short, fat, +Jewish-looking man, very resplendently dressed with a large +diamond pin in his cravat and a small, insignificant looking +gentleman with a gray moustache and the red rosette of the Legion +of Honor in his button-hole. Matthews came out of the Chief's +room as Barbara entered the outer office. + +"Miss Mackwayte," he said, "we are all so shocked and so very, +sorry..." + +"Mr. Matthews," she said hastily in a low voice, "never mind +about that now. I must see the Chief at once. It is most urgent." + +Matthews gesticulated with his arm round the room. + +"All these people, excepting the officer there, are waiting to +see him, Miss, and he's got a dinner engagement at eight..." + +"It is urgent, Mr. Matthews, I tell you. If you won't take my +name in, I shall go in myself!" + +"Miss Mackwayte, I daren't interrupt him now. Do you know who's +with him...?" + +Strangwise crossed the room to where Barbara was standing. + +"I can guess what brings you here, Miss Mackwayte," he said +gently. "I hope you will allow me to express my condolences...?" + +The girl shrank back, almost imperceptibly, yet Strangwise, whose +eyes were fixed on her pale face, noticed the spontaneous recoil. +The sunshine seemed to fade out of his debonair countenance, and +for a moment Barbara Mackwayte saw Maurice Strangwise as very few +people had ever seen him, stern and cold and hard, without a +vestige of his constant smile. But the shadow lifted as quickly +as it had fallen. His face had resumed its habitually engaging +expression as he murmured: + +"Believe me, I am truly sorry for you!" + +"Thank you, thank you!" Barbara said hastily and brushed past +him. She walked straight across the room to the door of the +Chief's room, turned the handle and walked in. + +The room was in darkness save for an electric reading lamp on the +desk which threw a beam of light on the faces of two men thrust +close together in eager conversation. One was the Chief, the +other a face that Barbara knew well from the illustrated papers. + +At the sound of the door opening, the Chief sprang to his feet. + +"Oh, it's Miss Mackwayte," he said, and added something in a low +voice to the other man who had risen to his feet. "My dear," he +continued aloud to Barbara, "I will see you immediately; we must +not be disturbed now. Matthews should have told you." + +"Chief," cried Barbara, her hands clasped convulsively together, +"you must hear me now. What I have to say cannot wait. Oh, you +must hear me!" + +The Chief looked as embarrassed as a man usually looks when he is +appealed to in a busy moment by an extremely attractive girl. + +"Miss Mackwayte," he said firmly but with great courtesy, "you +must wait outside. I know how unnerved you are by all that you +have gone through, but I am engaged just now. I shall be free +presently." + +"It is about my father, Chief," Barbara said in a trembling +voice, "I have found out what they came to get!" + +"Ah!" said the Chief and the other man simultaneously. + +"We had better hear what she has to say!" said the other man, +"but won't you introduce me first?" + +"This is Sir Bristowe Marr, the First Sea Lord," said the Chief, +bringing up a chair for Barbara, "Miss Mackwayte, my secretary, +Admiral!" + +Then in a low impassioned voice Barbara told her tale of the +package entrusted to her by Nur-el-Din and its disappearance from +her bedroom on the night of the murder. As she proceeded a deep +furrow appeared between the Chief's bushy eyebrows and he stared +absently at the blotting-pad in front of him. When the girl had +finished her story, the Chief said: + +"Lambelet ought to hear this, sir: he's the head of the French +Intelligence, you know. He's outside now. Shall we have him in? +Miss Mackwayte shall tell her story, and you can then hear what +Lambelet has to say about this versatile young dancer." + +Without waiting for further permission, he pressed a bell on the +desk and presently Matthews ushered in the small man with the +Legion of Honor whom Barbara had seen in the ante-room. + +The Chief introduced the Frenchman and in a few words explained +the situation to him. Then he turned to Barbara: + +"Colonel Lambelet speaks English perfectly," he said, "so fire +away and don't be nervous!" + +When she had finished, the Chief said, addressing Lambelet: + +"What do you make of it, Colonel?" + +The little Frenchman made an expressive gesture. + +"Madame has become aware of the interest you have been taking in +her movements, mon cher. She seized the opportunity of this +meeting with the daughter of her old friend to get rid of +something compromising, a code or something of the kind, qui +sait? Perhaps this robbery and its attendant murder was only an +elaborate device to pass on some particularly important report of +the movements of your ships... qui sait?" + +"Then you are convinced in your own mind, Colonel, that this +woman is a spy?" The clear-cut voice of the First Sea Lord rang +out of the darkness of the room outside the circle of light on +the desk. + +"Mais certainement!" replied the Frenchman quietly. "Listen and +you shall hear! By birth she is a Pole, from Warsaw, of good, +perhaps, even, of noble family. I cannot tell you, for her real +name we have not been able to ascertain... parbleu, it is +impossible, with the Boches at Warsaw, hein? We know, however, +that at a very early age, under the name of la petite Marcelle, +she was a member of a troupe of acrobats who called themselves +The Seven Duponts. With this troupe she toured all over Europe. +Bien! About ten years ago, she went out to New York as a singer, +under the name of Marcelle Blondinet, and appeared at various +second-class theatres in the United States and Canada. Then we +lose track of her for some years until 1913, the year before the +war, when the famous Oriental dancer, Nur-el-Din, who has made a +grand success by the splendor of her dresses in America and +Canada, appears at Brussels, scores a triumph and buys a fine +mansion in the outskirts of the capital. She produces herself at +Paris, Bordeaux, Lyons, Marseilles, Madrid, Milan and Rome, but +her home in Brussels, always she returns there, your understand +me, hein? La petite Marcelle of The Seven Duponts, Marcelle +Blondinet of the cafe chantant, has blossomed out into a star of +the first importance." + +The Colonel paused and cleared his throat. + +"To buy a mansion in Brussels, to run a large and splendid +troupe, requires money. It is the men who pay for these things, +you would say. Quite right, but listen who were the friends of +Madame Nur-el-Din. Bischoffsberg, the German millionaire of +Antwerp, von Wurzburg, of Berne... ah ha! you know that +gentleman, mon cher?" he turned, chuckling, to the Chief who +nodded his acquiescence; "Prince Meddelin of the German Embassy +in Paris and administrator of the German Secret Service funds in +France, and so on and so on. I will not fatigue you with the +list. The direct evidence is coming now. + +"When the war broke out in August, 1914, Madame, after finishing +her summer season in Brussels, was resting in her Brussels +mansion. What becomes of her? She vanishes." + +"She told Samuel, the fellow who runs the Palaceum, that she +escaped from Brussels!" interposed the Chief. + +The Frenchman threw his hands above his head. + +"Escaped, escaped? Ah, oui, par exemple, in a German Staff car. +As I have told my colleague here," he went on, addressing the +Admiral, "she escaped to Metz, the headquarters of the Army Group +commanded by the... the... how do you say? the Prince Imperial?" + +"The Crown Prince," rectified the Chief. + +"Ah, oui,--the Crown Prince. Messieurs, we have absolute +testimony that this woman lived for nearly two years either in +Metz or Berlin, and further, that at Metz, the Crown Prince was a +constant visitor at her house. She was one of the ladies who +nearly precipitated a definite rupture between the Crown Prince +and his wife. Mon Admiral," he went on, addressing the First Sea +Lord again, "that this woman should be at large is a direct menace +to the security of this country and of mine. It is only this +morning that I at length received from Paris the facts which I +have just laid before you. It is for you to order your action +accordingly!" + +The little Frenchman folded his arms pompously and gazed at the +ceiling. + +"How does she explain her movements prior to her coming to this +country" the First Sea Lord asked the Chief. + +For an answer the Chief pressed the bell. + +"Samuel, who engaged her, is outside. You shall hear her story +from him," he said. + +Samuel entered, exuding business acumen, prosperity, geniality. +He nodded brightly to the Chief and stood expectant. + +"Ah, Mr. Samuel," said the Chief, "I wanted to see you about +Nur-el-Din. You remember our former conversation on the subject. +Where did she say she went to when she escaped to Brussels?" + +"First to Ostend," replied the music-hall proprietor, "and then, +when the general exodus took place from there, to her mother's +country place near Lyons, a village called Sermoise-aux-Roses." + +"And what did she say her mother's name was?" + +"Madame Blondinet, sir!" + +The Frenchman rapped smartly on a little pocketbook which he had +produced and now held open in his hand. + +"There, is a Madame Blondinet who has a large farm near +Sermoise-aux-Roses," he said, "and she has a daughter called +Marcelle, who went to America." + +"Why then...?" began the First Sea Lord. + +"Attendez un instant!" + +The Colonel held up a plump hand. + +"Unfortunately for Madame Nur-el-Din, this Marcelle Blondinet +spent the whole of her childhood, in fact, the whole of her life +until she was nineteen years of age, on her mother's farm at a +time when this Marcelle Blondinet was touring Europe with The +Seven Duponts. The evidence is absolute. Mademoiselle here heard +the dancer herself confirm it last night!" + +"Thank you, Mr. Samuel," said the Chief, "we shan't require you +any more. But I'm afraid your Nur-el-Din will have to break her +contract with you." + +"She's done that already, sir!" said Samuel ruefully. + +The Chief sprang to his feet excitedly. + +"Broken it already?" he cried. "What do you mean? Explain +yourself! Don't stand there staring at me!" + +Mr. Samuel looked startled out of his life. + +"There was a bit of a row between her and the stage manager last +night about her keeping the stage waiting again," he said; "and +after lunch today she rang up to say she would not appear at the +Palaceum to-night or any more at all! It's very upsetting for us; +and I don't mind telling you, gentlemen, that I've been to my +solicitors about it..." + +"And why the blazes didn't you come and tell me?" demanded the +Chief furiously. + +"Well, sir, I thought it was only a bit of pique on her part, and +I hoped to be able to talk the lady round. I know what these +stars are!" + +"You've seen her then?" the Chief snapped out. + +"No, I haven't!" Mr. Samuel lamented. "I've been twice to the +Nineveh--that's where she's stopping--and each time she was out!" + +The Chief dismissed him curtly. + +When the door had closed behind him, the Chief said to the First +Sea Lord: + +"This is where D.O.R.A. steps in, I think, sir!" + +"Decidedly!" replied the Admiral. "Will you take the necessary +steps?" + +The Chief nodded and pressed the bell. Matthews appeared. + +"Anything from the Nineveh?" he asked. + +"The lady has not returned, sir!" + +"Anything from Gordon and Duff?" + +"No, sir, nothing all day!" + +The telephone on the desk whirred. The Chief lifted the receiver. + +"Yes. Oh, it's you, Gordon? No, you can say it now: this is a +private line." + +He listened at the receiver for a couple of minutes. The room was +very still. + +"All right, come to the office at once!" + +The Chief hung up the receiver and turned to the Admiral. + +"She's given us the slip for the moment!" he said. "That was +Gordon speaking. He and Duff have been shadowing our lady friend +out of doors for days. She left the hotel on foot after lunch +this afternoon with my two fellows in her wake. There was a bit +of a crush on the pavement near Charing Cross and Duff was pushed +into the roadway and run over by a motor-'bus. In the confusion +Gordon lost the trail. He's wasted all this time trying to pick +it up again instead of reporting to me at once." + +"Zut!" cried the Frenchman. + + + +CHAPTER XI. CREDENTIALS + +The sight of Nur-el-Din filled Desmond with alarm. For a moment +his mind was overshadowed by the dread of detection. He had +forgotten all about Mr. Crook's handiwork in the train, and his +immediate fear was that the dancer would awake and recognize him. +But then he caught sight of his face in the mirror over the +mantelpiece. The grave bearded man staring oddly at him out of +the glass gave him a shock until he realized the metamorphosis +that had taken place in his personality. The realization served +instantly to still his apprehension. + +Nur-el-Din lay on her side, one hand under her face which was +turned away from the fire. She was wearing a big black musquash +coat, and over her feet she had flung a tweed overcoat, +apparently one of Mr. Bellward's from the hatstand in the hall. +Her hat, a very dainty little affair of plain black velvet, was +skewered with a couple of jewelled hatpins to the upholstery of +the settee. + +Desmond watched her for a moment. Her face looked drawn and tired +now that her eyelids, with their long sweeping black lashes, were +closed, shutting off the extraordinary luminosity of her eyes. As +he stood silently contemplating her, she stirred and moaned in +her sleep and muttered some word three or four times to herself. +Desmond was conscious of a great feeling of compassion for this +strangely beautiful creature. Knowing as he did of the +hundred-eyed monster of the British Secret Service that was +watching her, he found himself thinking how frail, how helpless, +how unprotected she looked, lying there in the flickering light +of the fire. + +A step resounded behind him and old Martha shuffled into the +room, carefully shading the lamp she still carried so that its +rays should not fall on the face of the sleeper. + +"I don't know as I've done right, sir," she mumbled, "letting the +pore lady wait here for you like this, but I couldn't hardly help +it, sir! She says as how she must see you, and seeing as how your +first tellygram said you was coming at half-past nine, I lets her +stop on!" + +"When did she arrive" asked Desmond softly. + +"About six o'clock," answered the old, woman. "Walked all the way +up from Wentfield Station, too, sir, and that cold she was when +she arrived here, fair blue with the cold she was, pore dear. +D'reckly she open her lips, I sees she's a furrin' lady, sir. She +asks after you and I tells her as how you are away and won't be +back till this evening. 'Oh!' she says, I then I wait!' And in +she comes without so much as with your leave or by your leave. +She told me as how you knew her, sir, and were expecting to see +her, most important, she said it was, so I hots her up a bit o' +dinner. I hopes as how I didn't do wrong, Mr. Bellward, sir!" + +"Oh, no, Martha, not at all!" Desmond replied--at random. He was +sorely perplexed as to his next move. Obviously the girl could +not stay in the house. What on earth did she want with him? And +could he, at any rate, get at the desk and read the papers of +which the note spoke and which, he did not doubt, were the +dossier of the Bellward case, before she awoke? They might, at +least, throw some light on his relations with the dancer. + +"She had her dinner here by the fire," old Martha resumed her +narrative, "and about a quarter past nine comes your second +tellygram, sir, saying as how you could not arrive till five +o'clock in the morning." + +Desmond glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. The hands +pointed to a quarter past five! He had lost all count of the time +in his peregrinations of the night. + +"I comes in here and tells the young lady as how you wouldn't be +back last night, sir," the old woman continued, "and she says, +'Oh,' she says, 'then, where shall I go?' she says. 'Why don't +you go home, my dear?' says I, 'and pop round and see the master +in the morning,' I says, thinking the pore young lady lives about +here. And then she tells me as how she come all the way from +Lunnon and walked up from the station. As well you know, sir, the +last train up leaves Wentfield Station at five minutes to nine, +and so the pore young lady couldn't get back that night. So here +she had to stop. I got the spare room ready for her and lit a +nice fire and all, but she wouldn't go to bed not until she had +seen you. I do hope as how I've not done wrong, sir. I says to +Mr. Hill, I says..." + +Desmond held up his hand to restrain her toothless babble. +Nur-el-Din had stirred and was sitting up, rubbing her eyes. Then +she caught sight of Desmond and scrambled rather unsteadily to +her feet. + +"Monsieur Bellward?" she said in French, "oh, how glad I am to +see you!" + +"All right, Martha," said Desmond, "see that the spare room is +ready for this lady, and don't go to bed just yet. I shall want +you to take this lady to her room." + +The old woman hobbled away, leaving the two alone. As soon as the +door had closed behind her, Nur-el-Din exclaimed: + +"You know me; hein!" + +Desmond bowed in the most correct Continental manner. + +"Who does not know the charming Nur-el-Din?" he replied. + +"No!" Nur-el-Din commanded with flashing eyes, "no, not that +name! I am Madame Le Bon, you, understand, a Belgian refugee, +from Termonde!" + +Rather taken aback by her imperious manner, Desmond bowed again +but said nothing. + +"I received your letter," the dancer resumed, "but I did not +answer it as I did not require your assistance. But now I wish +your help. It is unfortunate that you were absent from home at +the very time I counted upon your aid." + +She flashed a glance at him as though awaiting an apology. + +"I am extremely sorry," said Desmond, "if I had but known..." + +Nur-el-Din nodded carelessly. + +"I wish to pass the night here," she went on, "in fact, I may be +here for several days. They are becoming inconvenient in London, +you understand." + +"But the theatre, your professional engagements?" + +"Bah, I have left the theatre. I have had enough of these stupid +English people... they know nothing of art!" + +Desmond reflected a moment. Nur-el-Din's manner was most +perplexing. What on earth could induce her to adopt this tone of +condescension towards him? It nettled him. He resolved to try and +find out on what it was based. + +"I am only too happy to be of assistance to you," he said, +"especially in view of the letter of introduction you sent me, +but I must tell you plainly that what you ask is impossible." + +"Impossible?" repeated Nur-el-Din, stamping her feet. +"Impossible? Do you know what you are saying?" + +"Perfectly," replied Desmond negligently. "Obviously, you must +stay here for the rest of the night since you cannot return to +London until the trains start running, but to stay here +indefinitely as you propose to do is out of the question. People +would talk!" + +"Then it is your business to see that they don't!" + +"Your letter of introduction came from one whom I am always +anxious to oblige," Desmond went on. "But the service he is +authorized to claim from me does not entitle him to jeopardize my +other activities." + +He drew a breath. It was a long shot. Would it draw her? + +It did. Nur-el-Din fumbled in her bag, produced a leather +pocket-book and from it produced a slip of paper folded in two. + +"Read that!" she cried, "and then you shall apologize!" + +Desmond took the paper. It was a sheet torn from a book of German +military field messages. "Meldedienst" (Message Service) was +printed in German at the top and there were blanks to be filled +in for the date, hour and place, and at the bottom a printed form +of acknowledgment for the recipient to sign. + +In a large ostentatious, upright German handwriting was written +what follows: + + +"To All Whom it May Concern. + +"The lady who is the bearer of this, whose description is set out +overleaf, is entitled to the full respect and assistance of the +German forces on land and sea and in the air, wherever it may be. +Her person and property are inviolate. + + "Given At Our Headquarters at Metz + "Friedrich Wilhelm "Kronprinz des + "Deutschen Reiches." + + +Across the signature was the impress of a green stamp, +lozenge-shaped, inscribed "Headquarters of the Fifth Army, +General Staff, 21st September, 1914." + +On the back of the slip was a detailed description of Nur-el-Din. + +Desmond bowed and handed the paper back to its owner. + +"Madame must accept my humble excuses," he murmured, hardly +knowing what he was saying, so great was his surprise, "my house +and services are at Madame's disposal!" + +"The other letter was from Count Plettenbach, the Prince's +A.D.C., whom I think you know!" added the dancer in a mollified +voice as she replaced the slip of paper in its pocketbook and +stowed it away in her hand-bag. Then, looking up archly at +Desmond, she said: + +"Am I so distasteful, then, to have in your house?" + +She made a charming picture. Her heavy fur coat had fallen open, +disclosing her full round throat, very brown against the V-shaped +opening of her white silk blouse. Her mouth was a perfect cupid's +bow, the upper lip slightly drawn up over her dazzlingly white +teeth. Before Desmond could answer her question, if answer were +needed, her mood had swiftly changed again. She put her hand out, +a little brown hand, and laying it on his shoulder, looked up +appealingly into his eyes. + +"You will protect me," she said in a low voice, "I cannot bear +this hunted life. From this side, from that, they, are closing in +on me, and I am frightened, so very frightened. Promise you will +keep me from harm!" + +Desmond gazed down into her warm, expressive eyes helplessly. +What she asked was impossible, he knew, but he was a soldier, not +a policeman, he told himself, and under his breath he cursed the +Chief for landing him in such a predicament. To Nur-el-Din he +said gently: + +"Tell me what has happened to frighten you. Who is hunting you? +Is it the police?" + +She withdrew her hand with a gesture of contempt. + +"Bah!" she said bitterly. "I am not afraid of the police." + +Then she sank into a reverie, her gaze fixed on the dying embers +of the fire. + +"All my life has been a struggle," she went on, after a moment, +"first with hunger, then with men, then the police. I am used to +a hard life. No, it is not the police!" + +"Who is it, then" asked Desmond, completely nonplused. + +Nur-el-Din let her eyes rest on his face for a moment. + +"You have honest eyes," she said, "your eyes are not German... +pardon me, I would not insult your race... I mean they are +different from the rest of you. One day, perhaps, those eyes of +yours may persuade me to answer your question. But I don't know +you well enough yet!" + +She broke off abruptly, shaking her head. + +"I am tired," she sighed and all her haughty manner returned, +"let the old woman show me to my room. I will take dejeuner with +you at one o'clock." + +Desmond bowed and stepping out into the hall, called the +housekeeper. Old Martha shuffled off with the girl, leaving +Desmond staring with vacant eyes into the fire. He was conscious +of a feeling of exultation, despite his utter weariness and +craving for sleep. This girl, with her queenly ways, her swiftly +changing moods, her broad gusts of passion, interested him +enormously. If she were the quarry, why, then, the chase were +worth while! But the end? For a brief moment, he had a vision of +that frail, clinging figure swaying up against some blank wall +before a file of levelled rifles. + +Then again he seemed to see old Mackwayte lying dead on the +landing of the house at Seven Kings. Had this frail girl done +this unspeakable deed? To send her to the gallows or before a +firing-squad--was this to be the end of his mission? And the +still, small voice of conscience answered: "Yes! that is what +you have come here to do!" + +Old Martha came shuffling down the staircase. Desmond called to +her, remembering that he did not yet know where his bedroom was. + +"Will you light me up to my room, Martha?" he said, "I want to be +sure that the sheets are not damp!" + +So saying he extinguished the lamp on the table and followed the +old woman upstairs. + + + +CHAPTER XII. AT THE MILL HOUSE + +Clad in a suit of Mr. Basil Bellward's pyjamas of elaborate +blue-flowered silk, Desmond lay propped up in bed in Mr. +Bellward's luxuriously fitted bedroom, sipping his morning +coffee, and studying with absorbed interest a sheet of blue +foolscap. A number of papers lay strewn about the eiderdown +quilt. At the head of the bed a handsome Sheraton bureau stood +open. + +As the French say, Mr. Bellward had refused himself nothing. His +bedroom was most tastefully furnished. The furniture was +mahogany, every piece carefully chosen, and the chintz of +curtains and upholstery was bright and attractive. A most +elaborate mahogany wardrobe was fitted into the wall, and +Desmond, investigating it, had found it to contain a very large +assortment of clothes of every description, all new or nearly so, +and bearing the name of a famous tailor of Cork Street. Folding +doors, resembling a cupboard, disclosed, when open, a marble +basin with hot water laid on, while a curtained door in the +corner of the room gave access to a white tiled bathroom. Mr. +Bellward, Desmond had reflected after his tour of the room on his +arrival, evidently laid weight on his personal comfort; for the +contrast between the cheerful comfort of his bedroom and the +musty gloom of the rooms downstairs was very marked. + +A bright log fire hissed on the open hearth and the room was +pleasantly warm. Old Martha's coffee was excellent, and Desmond, +very snug in Mr. Bellward's comfortable bed, noted with regret +that the clock on the mantel-shelf marked a quarter to twelve. +But then he thought of the tete-a-tete luncheon that awaited him +at one o'clock and his face cleared. He didn't mind getting up so +much after all. + +He fell again to the perusal of the documents which he had found, +as indicated in the note from headquarters, in the desk by the +bed. They were enclosed in two envelopes, one large, the other +small, both without any superscription. The large envelope +enclosed Mr. Bellward's dossier which consisted of a fairly +detailed account of his private life, movements, habits and +friends, and an account of his arrest. The small envelope +contained Desmond's eagerly expected orders. + +Desmond examined the papers in the large envelope first. From +them he ascertained that the house in which he found himself was +called The Mill House, and was situated two and a half miles from +the station of Wentfield on the Great Eastern Railway in Essex. +Mr. Bellward had taken the place some eight years before, having +moved there from the Surrey hills, but had been wont to spend not +more than two months in the year there. For the rest of the time +he traveled abroad, usually passing the winter months on the +Riviera, and the spring in Switzerland or Italy. The war had +brought about a change in his habits, and Harrogate, Buxton and +Bath had taken the place of the Continental resorts which he had +frequented in peace time. + +When in residence at The Mill House, Mr. Bellward had gone up to +London nearly every morning, either walking or going by +motor-cycle to the station, and not returning until dinner-time +in the evening. Sometimes he passed the night in London, and on +such occasions slept at a small hotel in Jermyn Street. His +dossier included, a long and carefully compiled list of the +people he knew in London, mostly men of the rich business set, +stockbrokers, manufacturers, solicitors, and the like. Against +every name was set a note of the exact degree of intimacy +existing between Bellward and the man in question, and any other +information that might serve Bellward's impersonator in good +stead. Desmond laid this list aside for the moment, intending to +study it more closely at his leisure. + +Of intercourse with his neighbors in, the country, Mr. Bellward +apparently had none. The Mill House stood in a lonely part of the +country, remote from the more thickly populated centres of +Brentwood and Romford, on the edge of a wide tract of +inhospitable marshland, known as Morstead Fen, intersected by +those wide deep ditches which in this part of the world are known +as dykes. At this stage in the report there was a note to the +effect that the rector of Wentfield had called twice at The Mill +House but had not found Mr. Bellward at home, and that his visits +had not been returned. There were also some opinions apparently +culled locally regarding the tenant of the Mill House, set out +something in this wise:-- + +"Landlord of the Red Lion, Wentfield: The gentleman has never +been to the Red Lion, but sometimes orders my Ford car and always +pays regularly. + +"The Stationmaster at Wentfield: A gentleman who keeps himself to +himself but very liberal with his money. + +"Sir Marsham Dykes, of The Chase, Stanning: A damned unsociable +churlish fellow. + +"Mr. Tracy Wentfield, of the Channings, Home Green: A very rude +man. He slammed the front door of the house in my face when I +went to ask him for a contribution to our Cottage Hospital. It is +not my habit to repeat idle gossip, but they do say he is a heavy +drinker." + +There was a lot more of this sort of thing, and Desmond turned +from it with a smile to take up the account of Bellward's arrest. +It appeared that, about a fortnight before, on the eve of the +departure for France of a very large draft of troops, a telegram +was handed in at the East Strand telegraph office addressed to +Bellward. This telegram ran thus: + + + "Bellward, Bellward Hotel, Jermyn Street. + "Shipping to you Friday 22,000 please advise correspondents. + "Mortimer." + + +The authorities were unable to deliver this telegram as no +such an hotel as the Hotel Bellward was found to exist in Jermyn +Street. An examination of the address showed clearly that the +sender had absent mindedly repeated the addressee's name in +writing the name of the hotel. An advice was therefore addressed +to the sender, Mortimer, at the address he had given on the back +of the form, according to the regulations, to inform him that his +telegram had not been delivered. It was then discovered that the +address given by Mortimer was fictitious. + +Suspicion being thus aroused, the telegram was forwarded to the +Postal Censor's department whence it reached the Intelligence +Authorities who promptly spotted the connection between the +wording of the telegram and the imminent departure of the drafts, +more especially as the dates tallied. Thereupon, Mr. Bellward was +hunted up and ultimately traced by his correspondence to The Mill +House. He was not found there, but was eventually encountered at +his London hotel, and requested to appear before the authorities +with a view to throwing some light on Mortimer. Under +cross-examination Bellward flatly denied any knowledge of +Mortimer, and declared that a mistake had been made. He cited +various well known city men to speak for his bona-fides and +protested violently against the action of the authorities in +doubting his word. It was ultimately elicited that Bellward was +of German birth and had never been naturalized, and he was +detained in custody while a search was made at The Mill House. + +The search was conducted with great discretion, old Martha being +got out of the way before the detectives arrived and a careful +watch being kept to avoid any chance of interruption. The search +had the most fruitful results. Hidden in a secret drawer of the +Sheraton desk in Bellward's bedroom, was found a most elaborate +analysis of the movements of the transports to France, extremely +accurate and right up to date. There was absolutely no +indication, however, as to whence Bellward received his reports, +and how or to whom he forwarded them. It was surmised that +Mortimer was his informant, but an exhaustive search of the post +office files of telegrams despatched showed no trace of any other +telegram from Mortimer to Bellward save the one in the possession +of the authorities. As for Mortimer, he remained a complete +enigma. + +That, summarised, was the gist of the story of Bellward's arrest. +The report laid great stress on the fact that no one outside half +a dozen Intelligence men had any knowledge (a) of Bellward being +an unnaturalized German, (b) of his arrest. + +Desmond's orders, which he reserved to the last were short and to +the point. They consisted of five numbered clauses. + +"1. You will have a free hand. The surveillance of the house was +withdrawn on your arrival and will not be renewed. + +"2. You will not leave the house until further orders. + +"3. You will keep careful note of any communication that may be +made to you, whether verbal or in writing, of whatever nature it +is. When you have anything to be forwarded, ring up 700 Slanning +on the telephone and give Bellward's name. You will hand your +report to the first person calling at the house thereafter asking +for the letter for Mr. Elias. + +"4. If help is urgently required, ring up 700 Stanning and ask +for Mr. Elias. Assistance will be with you within 15 minutes +after. This expedient must only be used in the last extremity. + +"5. Memorize these documents and burn the lot before you leave +the house." + +"Handy fellow, Mr. Elias," was Desmond's commentary, as he sprang +out of bed and made for the bathroom. At a quarter to one he was +ready dressed, feeling very scratchy and uncomfortable about the +beard which he had not dared to remove owing to Nur-el-Din's +presence in the house. Before he left the bedroom, he paused a +moment at the desk, the documents of the Bellward case in his +hands. He had a singularly retentive memory, and he was loth to +have these compromising papers in the house whilst Nur-el-Din was +there. He took a quick decision and pitched the whole lot into +the fire, retaining only the annotated list of Mr. Bellward's +friends. This he placed in his pocket-book and, after watching +the rest of the papers crumble away into ashes, went downstairs +to lunch. + +Nur-el-Din was in the drawing-room, a long room with two high +windows which gave on a neglected looking garden. A foaming, +churning brook wound its way through the garden, among stunted +bushes and dripping willows, obviously the mill-race from which +the house took its name. The drawing-room was a bare, +inhospitable room, studded here and there with uncomfortable +looking early Victorian armchairs swathed in dust-proof cloths. A +fire was making an unsuccessful attempt to burn in the open +grate. + +Nur-el-Din turned as he entered the room. She was wearing a gray +cloth tailor-made with a white silk, blouse and a short skirt +showing a pair of very natty brown boots. By contrast with her +ugly surroundings she looked fresh and dainty. Her eyes were +bright and her face as smooth and unwrinkled as a child's. + +"Bon jour," she cried gaily, "ah! but I am 'ungry! It is the air +of the country! I love so the country!" + +"I hope you slept well, Madame!" said Desmond solicitously, +looking admiringly at her trim figure. + +"Like a dead man," she replied with a little laugh, translating +the French idiom. "Shall we make a leetle promenade after the +dejeuner? And you shall show me your pretty English country, +voulez-vous? You see, I am dressed for le footing!" + +She lifted a little brown foot. + +They had a delightful luncheon together. Old Martha, who proved +to be quite a passable cook, waited on them. There was some +excellent Burgundy and a carafe of old brandy with the coffee. +Nur-el-Din was in her most gracious and captivating mood. She had +dropped all her arrogance of their last interview and seemed to +lay herself out to please. She had a keen sense of humor and +entertained Desmond vastly by her anecdotes of her stage career, +some not a little risque, but narrated with the greatest +bon-homie. + +But, strongly attracted as he was to the girl, Desmond did not +let himself lose sight of his ultimate object. He let her run on +as gaily as she might but steadily, relentlessly he swung the +conversation round to her last engagement at the Palaceum. He +wanted to see if she would make any reference to the murder at +Seven Kings. If he could only bring in old Mackwayte's name, he +knew that the dancer must allude to the tragedy. + +Then the unexpected happened. The girl introduced the old +comedian's name herself. + +"The only pleasant memory I shall preserve of the Palaceum," she +said in French, "is my meeting with an old comrade of my youth. +Imagine, I had not seen him for nearly twenty years. Monsieur +Mackwayte, his name is, we used to call him Monsieur Arthur in +the old days when I was the child acrobat of the Dupont Troupe. +Such a charming fellow; and not a bit changed! He was doing a +deputy turn at the Palaceum on the last night I appeared there! +And he introduced me to his daughter! Une belle Anglaise! I shall +hope to see my old friend again when I go back to London!" + +Desmond stared at her. If this were acting, the most hardened +criminal could not have carried it off better. He searched the +girl's face. It was frank and innocent. She ran on about +Mackwayte in the old days, his kindliness to everyone, his pretty +wife, without a shadow of an attempt to avoid an unpleasant +topic. Desmond began to believe that not only did the girl have +nothing to do with the tragedy but that actually she knew nothing +about it. + +"Did you see the newspapers yesterday?" he asked suddenly. + +"My friend," said Nur-el-Din, shaking her curls at him. "I never +read your English papers. There is nothing but the war in them. +And this war!" + +She gave a little shudder and was silent. + +At this moment old Martha, who had left them over their coffee +and cigarettes, came into the room. + +"There's a gentleman called to see you, sir!" she said to +Desmond. + +Desmond started violently. He was scarcely used to his new role +as yet. + +"Who is it, Martha?" he said, mastering his agitation. + +"Mr. Mortimer!" mumbled the old woman in her tired voice, "at +least that's what he said his name was. The gentleman hadn't got +a card!" + +Nur-el-Din sprang up from her chair so vehemently that she upset +her coffee. + +"Don't let him come in!" she cried in French. + +"Did you say I was in?" Desmond asked the old housekeeper, who +was staring at the dancer. + +"Why, yes, sir," the woman answered. + +Desmond made a gesture of vexation. + +"Where is this Mr. Mortimer?" he asked + +"In the library, sir!" + +"Tell him I will be with him at once." + +Martha hobbled away and Desmond turned to the girl. + +"You heard what my housekeeper said? The man is here. I shall +have to see him." + +Nur-el-Din, white to the lips, stood by the table, nervously +twisting a little handkerchief. + +"Non, non," she said rapidly, "you must not see him. He has come +to find me. Ah! if he should find out what I have done... you +will not give me up to this man?" + +"You need not see him," Desmond expostulated gently, "I will say +you are not here! Who is this Mortimer that he should seek to do +you harm?" + +"My friend," said the dancer sadly, "he is my evil genius. If I +had dreamt that you knew him I would never have sought refuge in +your house." + +"But I've never set eyes on the man in my life!" exclaimed +Desmond. + +The dancer shook her head mournfully at him. + +"Very few of you have, my friend," she replied, "but you are all +under his orders, nest-ce pas?" + +Desmond's heart leaped. Was Mortimer's the guiding hand of this +network of conspiracy? + +"I've trusted you, Monsieur," Nur-el-Din continued in a pleading +voice, "you will respect the laws of hospitality, and hide me +from this man. You will not give me up! Promise it, my friend?" + +Desmond felt strangely moved. Was this a callous murderess, a +hired spy, who, with her great eyes brimming over with tears, +entreated his protection so simply, so appealingly? + +"I promise I will not give you up to him, Mademoiselle!" he said +and hated himself in the same breath for the part he had to play. +Then he left her still standing by the table, lost in thought. + +Desmond walked through the hall to the room in which he had found +Nur-el-Din asleep on his arrival. His nerves were strung up tight +for the impending encounter with this Mortimer, whoever, whatever +he was. Desmond did not hesitate on the threshold of the room. He +quietly opened the door and walked in. + +A man in a black and white check suit with white gaiters stood on +the hearthrug, his hands tucked behind his back. He had a +curiously young-old appearance, such as is found in professors +and scientists of a certain type. This suggestion was probably +heightened by the very strong spectacles he wore, which magnified +his eyes until they looked like large colored marbles. He had a +heavy curling moustache resembling that affected by the late Lord +Randolph Churchill. There was a good deal of mud on his boots, +showing that he had come on foot. + +The two men measured one another in a brief but courteous glance. +Desmond wondered what on earth this man's profession was. He was +quite unable to place him. + +"Mr. Bellward?" said Mortimer, in a pleasant cultivated voice, "I +am pleased to have this opportunity of meeting you personally." + +Desmond bowed and muttered something conventional. Mortimer had +put out his hand but Desmond could not nerve himself to take it. +Instead he pushed forward a chair. + +"Thanks," said Mortimer sitting down heavily, "I've had quite a +walk across the fen. It's pleasant out but damp! I suppose you +didn't get my letter?" + +"Which letter was that" asked Desmond. + +"Why the one asking you to let me know when you would be back so +that we might meet at last!" + +Desmond shook his head. + +"No," he said, "I didn't get that one. It must have gone astray. +As a matter of fact," he added, "I only got back this morning." + +"Oh, well then, I am fortunate in my visit," said Mortimer. "Did +everything go off all right?" + +"Oh, yes," Desmond hastened to say, not knowing what he was +talking about, "everything went off all right." + +"I don't in the least grudge you the holiday," the other +observed, "one should always be careful to pay the last respects +to the dead. It makes a good impression. That is so important in +some countries!" + +He beamed at Desmond through his spectacles. + +"Was there anything left in your absence?" he asked, "no, there +would be nothing; I suppose!" + +Desmond took a firm resolution. He must know what the man was +driving at. + +"I don't know what you mean," he said bluntly. + +"God bless my soul!" ejaculated Mortimer turning round to stare +at him through his grotesque glasses. And then he said very +deliberately in German: + +"War niemand da?" + +Desmond stood up promptly. + +"What do you want with me?" he asked quietly, "and why do you +speak German in my house?" Mortimer gazed at him blankly. + +"Excellence, most excellent," he gasped. "I love prudence. My +friend, where are your eyes?" + +He put a large, firm hand up and touched the upper edge of the +left lapel of his jacket. Desmond followed his gesture with his +eyes and saw the other's first finger resting on the shiny glass +head of a black pin. Almost instinctively Desmond imitated the +gesture. His fingers came into contact with a glassheaded pin +similarly embedded in the upper edge of the lapel of his own +coat. + +Then he understood. This must be the distinguishing badge of this +confraternity of spies. It was a clever idea, for the black pin +was practically invisible, unless one looked for it, and even if +seen, would give rise to no suspicions. It had obviously escaped +the notice of the Chief and his merry men, and Desmond made a +mental resolve to rub this omission well into his superior on the +first opportunity. He felt he owed the Chief one. + +Mr. Mortimer cleared his throat, as though to indicate the +conclusion of the episode. Desmond sat down on the settee. + +"Nothing came while I was away!" he said. + +"Now that you are back," Mortimer remarked, polishing his glasses +with a bandanna handkerchief, "the service will be resumed. I +have come to see you, Mr. Bellward," he went on, turning to +Desmond, "contrary to my usual practice, mainly because I wished +to confirm by personal observation the very favorable opinion I +had formed of your ability from our correspondence. You have +already demonstrated your discretion to me. If you continue to +show that your prudence is on a level with your zeal, believe I +shall not prove myself ungrateful." + +So saying he settled his glasses on his nose again. + +The action woke Desmond from a brown study. During the operation +of wiping his spectacles, Mr. Mortimer had given Desmond a +glimpse of his eyes in their natural state without the protection +of those distorting glasses. To his intense surprise Desmond had +seen, instead of the weak, blinking eyes of extreme myopia, a +pair of keen piercing eyes with the clear whites of perfect +health. Those blue eyes, set rather close together, seemed dimly +familiar. Someone, somewhere, had once looked at him like that. + +"You are too kind," murmured Desmond, grappling for the thread of +the conversation. + +Mortimer did not apparently notice his absentmindedness. + +"Everything has run smoothly," he resumed, "on the lines on which +we have been working hitherto, but more important work lies +before us. I have found it necessary to select a quiet rendezvous +where I might have an opportunity of conferring in person with my +associates. The first of these conferences will take place very +shortly. I count upon your attendance, Bellward!" + +"I shall not fail you," replied Desmond. "But where is this +rendezvous of yours, might I ask?" + +Mortimer shot a quick glance at him. + +"You shall know in good time," he answered drily. Then he added: + +"Do you mind if I have a few words with Nur-el-Din before I go!" + +The unexpected question caught Desmond off his guard. + +"Nur-el-Din?" he stammered feebly. + +"She is staying with you, I believe," said Mortimer pleasantly. + +Desmond shook his head. + +"There must be some mistake," he averred stoutly, "of course I +know who you mean, but I have never met the lady. She is not +here. What led you to suppose she was?" + +But even as he spoke, his eyes fell on a black object which lay +near his arm stretched out along the back of the settee. It was a +little velvet hat, skewered to the upholstery of the settee by a +couple of jewelled hat-pins. A couple of gaudy cushions lay +between it and Mortimer's range of vision from the chair in which +the latter was sitting. If only Mortimer had not spotted it +already! + +Desmond's presence of mind did not desert him. On the pretext of +settling himself more comfortably he edged up another cushion +until it rested upon the other two, thus effectively screening +the hat from Mortimer's view even when he should get up. + +"I wish she were here," Desmond added, smiling, "one could not +have a more delightful companion to share one's solitude, I +imagine." + +"The lady has disappeared from London under rather suspicious +circumstances;" Mortimer said, letting his grotesque eyes rest +for a moment on Desmond's face, "to be quite frank with you, my +dear fellow, she has been indiscreet, and the police are after +her." + +"You don't say!" cried Desmond. + +"Indeed, it is a fact," replied the other, "I wish she would take +you as her model, my dear Bellward. You are the pattern of +prudence, are you not?" + +He paused perceptibly and Desmond held his breath. + +"She has very few reputable friends," Mortimer continued +presently, "under a cloud as she is, she could hardly frequent +the company of her old associates, Mowbury and Lazarro and Mrs. +Malplaquet, you doubtless know whom I mean. I know she has a very +strong recommendation to you, so I naturally thought--well, no +matter!" + +He rose and extended his hand. + +"Au revoir, Bellward," he said, "you shall hear from me very +soon. You've got a snug little place here, I must say, and +everything in charming taste. I like your pretty cushions." + +The blood flew to Desmond's face and he bent down, on pretense of +examining the cushions, to hide his confusion. + +"They aren't bad," he said, "I got them at Harrod's!" + +He accompanied Mortimer to the front door and watched him +disappear down the short drive and turn out of the gate into the +road. Then feeling strangely ill at ease, he went back to join +Nur-el-Din in the dining-room. But only the housekeeper was +there, clearing the table. + +"If you're looking for the young lady, sir," said old Martha, +"she's gone out!" + +"Oh!" said Desmond, with a shade of disappointment in his voice, +"will she be back for tea?" + +"She's not coming back at all," answered the old woman, "she told +me to tell you she could not stop, sir. And she wouldn't let me +disturb you, neither, sir." + +"But did she leave no note or anything for me?" asked Desmond. + +"No, sir," answered old Martha as she folded up the cloth. + +Gone! Desmond stared gloomily out at the sopping garden with an +uneasy feeling that he had failed in his duty. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. WHAT SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDIES REVEALED + +In a very depressed frame of mind, Desmond turned into the +library. As he crossed the hall, he noticed how cheerless the +house was. Again there came to him that odor of mustiness--of all +smells the most eerie and drear--which he had noticed on his +arrival. Somehow, as long as Nur-el-Din had been there, he had +not remarked the appalling loneliness of the place. + +A big log fire was blazing cheerfully in the grate, throwing out +a bright glow into the room which, despite the early hour, was +already wreathed in shadows. Wearily Desmond pulled a big +armchair up to the blaze and sat down. He told himself that he +must devote every minute of his spare time to going over in his +mind the particulars he had memorized of Mr. Bellward's habits +and acquaintanceships. He took the list of Bellward's friends +from his pocket-book. + +But this afternoon he found it difficult to concentrate his +attention. His gaze kept wandering back to the fire, in whose +glowing depths he fancied he could see a perfect oval face with +pleading eyes and dazzling teeth looking appealingly at him. + +Nur-el-Din! What an entrancing creature she was! What passion +lurked in those black eyes of hers, in her moods, swiftly +changing from gusts of fierce imperiousness to gentle airs of +feminine charm! What a frail little thing she was to have fought +her way alone up the ladder from the lowest rung to the very top! +She must have character and grit, Desmond decided, for he was a +young man who adored efficiency: to him efficiency spelled +success. + +But a spy needs grit, he reflected, and Nur-el-Din had many +qualities which would enable her to win the confidence of men. +Hadn't she half-captivated him, the would-be spy-catcher, +already? + +Desmond laughed ruefully to himself. Indeed, he mused, things +looked that way. What would the Chief say if he could see his +prize young man, his white-headed boy, sitting sentimentalizing +by the fire over a woman who was, by her own confession, +practically an accredited German agent? Desmond thrust his chin +out and shook himself together. He would put the feminine side of +Nur-el-Din out of his head. He must think of her henceforth only +as a member of the band that was spotting targets for those +sneaking, callous brutes of U-boat commanders. + +He went back to the study of the list of Mr. Bellward's friends. +But he found it impossible to focus his mind upon it. Do what he +would, he could not rid himself of the sensation that he had +failed at the very outset of his mission. He was, indeed, he told +himself, the veriest tyro at the game. Here he had had under his +hand in turn Nur-el-Din and Mortimer (who, he made no doubt, was +the leader of the gang which was so sorely troubling the Chief), +and he had let both get away without eliciting from either even +as much as their address. By the use of a little tact, he had +counted on penetrating something of the mystery enveloping the +dancer and her relationship with the gang; for he thought he +divined that Nur-el-Din was inclined to make him her confidant. +With the information thus procured, he had hoped to get on to the +track of the leader of the band. + +But that ugly brute; Mortimer, with his goggle eyes, had spoiled +everything. His appearance had taken Desmond completely by +surprise: to tell the truth, it had thrown our young man rather +off his guard. "If only I might have had a little longer +acquaintance with my part," he reflected bitterly as he sat by +the fire, "I should have been better able to deal with that +pompous ass!" + +Afterwards, when thinking over the opening events of this +extraordinary episode of his career, Desmond rather wondered why +he had not followed Mortimer out of the house that afternoon and +tracked him down to his hiding place. But, as a matter of fact, +the idea did not occur to him at the time. His orders were +positive not to leave the house, and he never even thought of +breaking them--at any rate, not then. + +His orders, also, it is true, were to report to headquarters any +communication that might be made to him; but these instructions, +at least as far as Nur-el-Din's and Mortimer's visits were +concerned, he resolved to ignore. + +For one thing, he felt angry with the Chief who, he argued rather +irrationally, ought to have foreseen and prevented Mortimer thus +taking him by surprise. The Chief liked secrets--well, for a +change, he should be kept in the dark and the laugh would be on +Desmond's side. For a few minutes after Mortimer's departure, +Desmond had felt strongly inclined to go to the telephone which +stood on the desk in the library and ring up Mr. Elias, as he +should have done, but he resisted this impulse. Now, thinking +things over in the firelight, he was glad he had refrained. He +would ferret out for himself the exact part that Nur-el-Din and +Mortimer were playing in this band of spies. Nothing definite had +come of his interviews with them as yet. It would be time enough +to communicate with Headquarters when he had something positive +to report. + +Then Desmond thrust the paper he had been studying back in his +pocket-book and jumped up. He felt that the inaction was stifling +him. He determined to go for a walk round the garden. That, at +least, was in the spirit of his orders. + +Remembering that he was supposed to be suffering from a chill he +donned a heavy Ulster of Bellward's which was hanging in the hall +and wound a muffler round his neck. Then cramming a soft cap on +his head (he noted with satisfaction that Bellward's hats fitted +him remarkably well) he opened the front door and stepped +outside. + +The rain had stopped, but the whole atmosphere reeked of +moisture. Angry-looking, dirty-brown clouds chased each other +across the lowering sky, and there was a constant sound of water, +trickling and gurgling and splashing, in his ears. + +An untidy-looking lawn with a few unkempt and overgrown +rhododendron bushes dotted here and there ran its length in front +of the house and terminated in an iron railing which separated +the grounds from a little wood. A badly water-logged drive, green +with grass in places, ran past the lawn in a couple of short +bends to the front gate. On the other side the drive was bordered +by what had once been a kitchen garden but was now a howling +wilderness of dead leaves, mud and gravel with withered bushes +and half a dozen black, bare and dripping apple trees set about +at intervals. At the side of the house the kitchen garden stopped +and was joined by a flower garden--at least so Desmond judged it +to have been by a half ruined pergola which he had noticed from +the drawing-room windows. Through the garden ran the mill-race +which poured out of the grounds through a field and under a +little bridge spanning the road outside. + +Desmond followed the drive as far as the front gate. The +surrounding country was as flat as a pancake, and in almost every +field lay great glistening patches of water where the land had +been flooded by the incessant rain. The road on which the house +was built ran away on the left to the mist-shrouded horizon +without another building of any kind in sight. Desmond surmised +that Morstead Fen lay in the direction in which he was looking. +To the right, Desmond caught a glimpse of a ghostly spire +sticking out of some trees and guessed that this was Wentfield +Church. In front of him the distant roar of a passing train +showed where the Great Eastern Railway line lay. + +More depressed than ever by the utter desolation of the scene, +Desmond turned to retrace his steps to the house. Noticing a path +traversing the kitchen garden, he followed it. It led to the back +of the house, to the door of a kind of lean-to shed. The latch +yielded on being pressed and Desmond entered the place. + +He found himself in a fair-sized shed, very well and solidly +built of pitch-pine, with a glazed window looking out on the +garden, a table and a couple of chairs, and a large cupboard +which occupied the whole of one side of the wall of the house +against which the shed was built. In a corner of the shed stood a +very good-looking Douglas motor-cycle, and on a nail on the wall +hung a set of motor-cyclist's overalls. A few petrol cans, some +full, some empty, stood against the wall. + +Desmond examined the machine. It was in excellent condition, +beautifully clean, the tank half full of spirits. A little dry +sand on the tires showed that it had been used fairly recently. + +"Old man Bellward's motor-bike that he goes to the station on," +Desmond noted mentally. "But what's in the big cupboard, I +wonder? Tools, I expect!" + +Then he caught sight of a deep drawer in the table. It was +half-open and he saw that it contained various tools and spare +parts, neatly arranged, each one in its appointed place. + +He went over to the cupboard and tried it. It was locked. Desmond +had little respect for Mr. Bellward's property so he went over to +the tool drawer and selected a stout chisel with which to burst +the lock of the cupboard. But the cupboard was of oak, very +solidly built, and he tried in vain to get a purchase for his +implement. He leant his left hand against the edge of the +cupboard whilst with his right he jabbed valiantly with the +chisel. + +Then an extraordinary thing happened. The whole cupboard +noiselessly swung outwards while Desmond, falling forward, caught +his forehead a resounding bang against the edge of the recess in +which it moved. He picked himself up in a very savage frame of +mind--a severe blow on the head is not the ideal cure for +hypochondria--but the flow of objurgatives froze on his lips. For +he found himself looking into Mr. Bellward's library. + +He stepped into the room to see how the cupboard looked from the +other side. He found that a whole section of bookshelves had +swung back with the cupboard, in other words that the cupboard in +the toolshed and the section of bookshelves were apparently all +of one piece. + +He carefully examined the walls on either side of the recess in +the library to see how the mechanism worked. The bookshelves were +open, made of mahogany, the sides elaborately carved with leaves +and flowers. Desmond ran his hand down the perpendicular section +immediately on the right of the recess. About halfway down--to be +exact, it was in line with the fifth shelf from the floor--his +fingers encountered a little knob which gave under pressure--the +heart of a flower which released the section of bookshelves. +Going back to the shed, Desmond examined the place against which +his hand had rested as he sought to force the lock of the +cupboard. As he expected, he found a similar catch let into the +surface of the oak, but so cunningly inlaid that it could scarce +be detected with the naked eye. + +Before proceeding further with his investigations, Desmond softly +turned the lock of the library door. He also shot forward a bolt +he found on the inside of the door of the shed. He did not want +to be interrupted by the housekeeper or the odd man. + +Then he went back to the library and pulled the cupboard to +behind him. It moved quite easily into place. He wanted to have a +look at the bookshelves; for he was curious to know whether the +cupboard was actually all of one piece with the section of +bookshelves as it seemed to be. He was prepared to find that the +books were merely library dummies, but no! He tried half a dozen +shelves at random, and every book he pulled out was real. + +Desmond was not easily baffled, and he determined to scrutinize +every shelf, of this particular section in turn. With the aid of +one of those step-ladders folding into a chair which you +sometimes see in libraries, he examined the topmost shelves but +without result. He took down in turn Macaulay's History of +England, a handsome edition of the works of Swift, and a set of +Moliere without getting any nearer the end of his quest. + +The fourth shelf from the top was devoted to a library edition of +Shakespeare, large books bound in red morocco. Desmond, who, by +this time was getting cramp in the arms from stretching upwards +and had made his hands black with dust, pulled out a couple of +volumes at hazard from the set and found them real books like the +rest. + +"Oh, damn!" he exclaimed, and had half a mind to abandon the +search and have a go with hammer and chisel at the cupboard in +the shed. By this time it was almost dusk in the library, and +Desmond, before abandoning the search, struck a match to have a +final rapid glance over the shelves. The light showed him a +curious flatness about the backs of the last six volumes of +Shakespeare. He dropped the match and laid hold of a volume of +the Comedies. It resisted. He tugged. Still it would not come. +Exerting all his strength, he pulled, the gilt-lettered backs of +the last six volumes came away in his hands in one piece and he +crashed off the ladder to the ground. + +This time he did not swear. He picked himself up quickly, lit the +lamp on the table by the window, and brought it over to the +bookcase. Where Shakespeare's Comedies had stood was now a gaping +void with a small key stuck in a lock, above a brass handle. +Desmond mounted on the steps again and eagerly turned the key. +Then he grasped the handle and puled, the section of bookshelves +swung back like a door, and he found himself face to face with a +great stack of petrol cans. They lay in orderly piles stretching +from the floor to the top of the bookshelves near the railing, +several tiers deep. At a rough computation there must have been +several hundred cans in the recess. And they were all full. + +In a flash Desmond realized what his discovery signified. The +motor-cycle in the shed without was the connecting link between +Bellward and the man with whom he was co-operating in the +organization. Under pretext of reading late in his library +Bellward would send old Martha to bed, and once the house was +quiet, sally forth by his secret exit and meet his confederate. +Even when he was supposed to be sleeping in London he could still +use the Mill House for a rendezvous, entering and leaving by the +secret door, and no one a bit the wiser. In that desolate part of +Essex, the roads are practically deserted after dark. Bellward +could come and go much as he pleased on his motor-cycle. Were he +stopped, he always had the excuse ready that he was going to--or +returning from the station. The few petrol cans that Desmond had +seen openly displayed in the shed without seemed to show that +Bellward received a small quantity of spirit from the Petrol +Board to take him to and from the railway. + +The cache, so elaborately concealed, however, pointed to long +journeys. Did Bellward undertake these trips to fetch news or to +transmit it? And who was his confederate? Whom did he go to meet? +Not Mortimer; for he had only, corresponded with Bellward. Nor +was it Nur-el-Din; for she had never met Bellward, either. + +Who was it, then? + + + +CHAPTER XIV. BARBARA TAKES A HAND + +"No luck, Mr. Marigold," said the Assistant Provost Marshal, "I'm +sorry, but there it is! We've made every possible inquiry about +this Private... er..." he glanced at the buff-colored leave pass +in his hand, "... this Gunner Barling, but we can't trace him so +far. He should have gone back to France the afternoon before the +day on which you found his pass. But he hasn't rejoined his unit. +He's been posted as an absentee, and the police have been warned. +I'm afraid we can't do any more than that!" + +The detective looked at the officer with mild reproach in his +eyes. + +"Dear, dear," he replied, "and I made sure you'd be able to trace +him with that pass!" + +He clicked his tongue against his teeth and shook his head. + +"Dear, dear!" he said again. + +"What's the feller been up to?" asked the A.P.M. Detectives have +a horror of leading questions, and Mr. Marigold shrank visibly +before the directness of the other's inquiry. Before replying, +however, he measured the officer with his calm, shrewd eye. Mr. +Marigold was not above breaking his own rules of etiquette if +thereby he might gain a useful ally. + +"Well, Captain Beardiston," he answered slowly, +"I'll tell you because I think that you may be able to help me a +little bit. It's part of your work to look after deserters and +absentees and those sort o' folk, isn't it?" + +The A.P.M. groaned. + +"Part of my work?" he repeated, "it seems to be my whole life +ever since I came back from the front." + +"If you want to know what this young fellow has been up to," said +Mr. Marigold in his even voice, "it's murder, if I'm not +mistaken!" + +"Murder?" echoed the other in surprise. "Why, not the Seven Kings +murder, surely?" + +The detective gave a brisk nod. + +"That's it," he replied, "I'm in charge of that case, if you +follow me. I found that pass in the front garden of the +Mackwayte's house in Laleham Villas, half trodden into the earth +of the flower-bed by a heavy boot, a service boot, studded with +nails. There had been a lot of rain in the night, and it had +washed the mosaic-tiled pathway up to the front door almost +clean. When I was having a look round the garden, I picked up +this pass, and then I spotted the trace of service boots, a bit +faint, on the beds. You know the way the nails are set in the +issue boots?" + +The officer nodded: + +"I ought to know that foot-print," he said. "It's all over the +roads in northern France." + +"We made inquiries through you," the detective resumed, "and when +I found that this Gunner Barling, the owner of the pass, was +missing, well, you will admit, it looked a bit suspicious." + +"Still, you know," the A.P.M. objected, "this man appears to have +the most excellent character. He's got a clean sheet; he's never +gone absent before. And he's been out with his battery almost +since the beginning of the war." + +"I'm not making any charge against him as yet," answered the +detective, picking up his hat, "but it would interest me very +much, very much indeed, Captain Beardiston, to have five minutes' +chat with this gunner. And so I ask you to keep a sharp lookout +for a man answering to his description, and if you come across +him, freeze on to him hard, and give me a ring on the telephone." + +"Right you are," said the officer, "I'll hold him for you, Mr. +Marigold. But I hope your suspicions are not well-founded." + +For a brief moment the detective became a human being. + +"And so do I, if you want to know," he said. "One can forgive +those lads who are fighting out there almost anything. I've got a +boy in France myself!" + +A little sigh escaped him, and then Mr. Marigold remembered "The +Yard." + +"I'll bid you good-day!" he added in his most official voice and +took his leave. + +He walked down the steps by the Duke of York's column and through +the Horse Guards into Whitehall, seemingly busy with his own +thoughts. A sprucely dressed gentleman who was engaged in the +exciting and lucrative sport of war profiteering turned color and +hastily swerved out towards the Park as he saw the detective +crossing the Horse Guards' Parade. He was unpleasantly reminded +of making the acquaintance of Mr. Marigold over a bucketshop a +few years ago with the result that he had vanished from the eye +of his friends for eighteen months. He congratulated himself on +thinking that Mr. Marigold had not seen him, but he would have +recognized his mistake could he but have caught sight of the +detective's face. A little smile flitted across Mr. Marigold's +lips and he murmured to himself: + +"Our old friend is looking very prosperous just now. I wonder +what he's up to?" + +Mr. Marigold didn't miss much. + +The detective made his way to the Chief's office. Barbara +Mackwayte, in a simple black frock with white linen collar and +cuffs, was at her old place in the ante-room. A week had elapsed +since the murder, and the day before, Mr. Marigold knew, the +mortal remains of poor old Mackwayte had been laid to rest. He +was rather surprised to see the girl back at work so soon. + +She did not speak to him as she showed him into the Chief, but +there was a question lurking in her gray eyes. + +Mr. Marigold looked at her and gravely shook his head. + +"Nothing fresh," he said. + +The Chief was unusually exuberant. Mr. Marigold found him +surrounded, as was his wont, by papers, and a fearsome collection +of telephone receivers. He listened in silence to Mr. Marigold's +account of his failure to trace Barling. + +"Marigold," he said, when the other had finished, "we must +undoubtedly lay hold of this fellow. Let's see now... ah! I have +it!" + +He scribbled a few lines on a writing-pad and tossed it across to +the detective. + +"If your friend's innocent," he chuckled, "that'll fetch him to a +dead certainty. If he murdered Mackwayte, of course he won't +respond. Read it out and let's hear how it sounds!" + +The Chief leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette while the +detective read out: + +"If Gunner Barling, etcetera, etcetera, will communicate with +Messrs. Blank and Blank, solicitors, he will hear of something to +his advantage. Difficulties with the military can be arranged." + +"But I say, sir," objected Mr. Marigold, "the military +authorities will hardly stand for that last, will they?" + +"Won't they, by Jove" retorted the Chief grimly. "They will if I +tell 'em to. No official soullessness for me; thank you! And now, +Marigold, just ask Matthews to fill in Barling's regimental +number and all that and the name and address of the solicitors +who do this kind of thing for us. And tell him we'll insert the +ad. daily until further notice in the Mail, Chronicle, Daily +News, Sketch, Mirror, Evening News..." + +"And Star," put in Mr. Marigold who had Radical tendencies. + +"The Star, too, by all means. That ought to cover the extent of +your pal's newspaper reading, I fancy, eh, Marigold! Right!" + +He held out a hand in farewell. But Mr. Marigold stood his +ground. He was rather a slow mover, and there were a lot of +things he wanted to discuss with the Chief. + +"I was very sorry to see poor Major Okewood in the casualty list +this morning, sir," he said. "I was going to ask you..." + +"Ah, terrible, terrible!" said the Chief. Then he added: + +"Just tell Miss Mackwayte I want her as you go out, will you?" + +The detective was used to surprises but the Chief still bowled +him out occasionally. Before he knew what he was doing, Mr. +Marigold found himself in the ante-room doing as he was bid. + +As soon as her father's funeral was over; Barbara had insisted on +returning to work. The whole ghastly business of the murder and +the inquest that followed seemed to her like a bad dream which +haunted her day and night. By tacit consent no one in the office +had made any further allusion, to the tragedy. She had just +slipped back into her little niche, prompt, punctual, efficient +as ever. + +"No, it's not for the letters," the Chief said to her as she came +in with her notebook and pencil. "I'm going to give you a little +trip down to the country this afternoon, Miss Mackwayte... to, +Essex... the Mill House, Wentfield... you know whom it is you are +to see, eh? I'm getting a little restless as we've had no reports +since he arrived there. I had hoped, by this, to have been able +to put him on the track of Nur-el-Din, but, for the moment, it +looks as if we had lost the scent. But you can tell our friend +all we know about the lady's antecedents--what we had from my +French colleague the other day, you know? Let him have all the +particulars about this Barling case--you know about that, don't +you? Good, and, see here, try and find out from our mutual friend +what he intends doing. I don't want to rush him... don't let him +think that... but I should rather like to discover whether he has +formed any plan. And now you get along. There's a good train +about three which gets you down to Wentfield in just under the +hour. Take care of yourself! See you in the morning!" + +Pressing a bell with one hand and lifting up a telephone receiver +with the other, the Chief immersed himself again in his work. He +appeared to have forgotten Miss Mackwayte's very existence. + +At a quarter to five that evening, Barbara unlatched the front +gate of the Mill House and walked up the drive. She had come on +foot from the station and the exercise had done her good. It had +been a deliciously soft balmy afternoon, but with the fall of +dusk a heavy mist had come creeping up from the sodden, low-lying +fields and was spreading out over the neglected garden of Mr. +Bellward's villa as Barbara entered the avenue. + +The damp gloom of the place, however, depressed her not at all. +She exulted in the change of scene and the fresh air; besides, +she knew that the presence of Desmond Okewood would dispel the +vague fears that had hung over her incessantly ever since her +father's murder. She had only met him twice, she told herself +when this thought occurred to her, but there was something +bracing and dependable about him that was just the tonic she +wanted. + +A porter at the station, who was very intelligent as country +porters go, had told her the way to the Mill House. The way was +not easy to find for there were various turns to make but, with +the aid of such landmarks as an occasional inn, a pond or a barn, +given her by the friendly porter, Barbara reached her +destination. Under the porch she pulled the handle of the bell, +all dank and glistening with moisture, and heard it tinkle loudly +somewhere within the house. + +How lonely the place was, thought Barbara with a little shiver! +The fog was growing thicker every minute and now seemed suspended +like a vast curtain between her and the drive. Somewhere in the +distance she heard the hollow gurgling of a stream. Otherwise, +there was no sound. + +She rang the bell again rather nervously and waited. In her bag +she had a little torch-light (for she was a practical young +person), and taking it out, she flashed it on the door. It +presented a stolid, impenetrable oaken front. She stepped out +into the fog and scanned the windows which were already almost +lost to view. They were dark and forbidding. + +Again she tugged at the bell. Again, with a groaning of wires, +responded the hollow tinkle. Then silence fell once more. Barbara +began to get alarmed. What had happened to Major Okewood? She had +understood that there was no question of his leaving the house +until the Chief gave him the word. Where, then, was he? He was +not the man to disobey an order. Rather than believe that, she +would think that something untoward had befallen him. Had there +been foul play here, too? + +A sudden panic seized her. She grasped the bell and tugged and +tugged until she could tug no more. The bell jangled and pealed +and clattered reverberatingly from the gloomy house, and then, +with a jarring of wires, relapsed into silence. Barbara beat on +the door with her hands, for there was no knocker; but all +remained still within. Only the dank mist swirled in ever denser +about her as she stood beneath the dripping porch. + +"This won't do!" said Barbara, pulling herself together. "I +mustn't get frightened, whatever I do! Major Okewood is very well +capable of defending himself. What's happened is that the man has +been called away and the servants have taken advantage of his +absence to go out! Barbara, my dear, you'll just have to foot it +back to the station without your tea!" + +She turned her back on the door and torch in hand, plunged +resolutely into the fog-bank. The mist was bewilderingly thick. +Still, by going slow and always keeping the gravel under her +feet, she reached the front gate and turned out on the road. + +Here the mist was worse than ever. She had not taken four paces +before she had lost all sense of her direction. The gate, the +railways, were gone. She was groping in a clinging pall of fog. + +Her torch was worse than useless. It only illuminated swirling +swathes of mist and confused her, so she switched it out. In vain +she looked about her, trying to pick up some landmark to guide +her. There was no light, no tree, no house visible, nothing but +the dank, ghostly mist. + +To some temperaments, Nature has no terrors. Barbara, to whose +imagination an empty house at dusk had suggested all kinds of +unimaginable fears, was not in the least frightened by the fog. +She only hoped devoutly that a motor-car or a trap would not come +along behind and run her down for she was obliged to keep to the +road; the hard surface beneath her feet was her only guide. + +She smiled over her predicament as she made her way along. She +frequently found herself going off the road, more than once into +patches of water, with the result that in a few minutes her feet +were sopping. Still she forged ahead, with many vain halts to +reconnoitre while the fog, instead of lifting, seemed to thicken +with every step she took. + +By this time she knew she was completely lost. Coming from the +station there had been, she remembered, a cross-roads with a +sign-board set up on a grass patch, about a quarter of a mile +from the Mill House. She expected every minute to come upon this +fork; again and again she swerved out to the left from her line +of march groping for the sign-post with her hands but she never +encountered it. + +Few sounds came to break in upon the oppressive silence of the +mist. Once or twice Barbara heard a train roaring along in the +distance and, at one of her halts, her ear caught the high rising +note of a motor engine a long way off. Except for these +occasional reminders of the proximity of human beings, she felt +she must be on a desert island instead of less than two score +miles from London. + +Her wrist watch showed her that she had walked for an hour when +she heard a dog barking somewhere on the left of the road. +Presently, she saw a blurred patch of radiance apparently on the +ground in front of her. So deceptive are lights seen through a +fog that she was quite taken aback suddenly to come upon a long +low house with a great beam of light streaming out of the door. + +The house was approached by a little bridge across a broad ditch. +By the bridge stood a tall, massive post upon which a sign +squeaked softly as it swayed to and fro. The inn was built round +three sides of a square, the left-hand side being the house +itself, the centre, the kitchen, and the right-hand side a +tumble-down stable and some sheds. + +The welcome blaze of light coming from the open door was very +welcome to Barbara after her, long journey through the mist. She +dragged her wet and weary feet across the little bridge and went +up to the inn-door. + +She stood for a moment at the entrance dazzled by the effect of +the light on her eyes, which were smarting with the fog. She +found herself looking into a long, narrow, taproom, smelling of +stale beer and tobacco fumes, and lit by oil lamps suspended in +wire frames from the raftered ceiling. The windows were curtained +in cheerful red rep and the place was pleasantly warmed by a +stove in one corner. By the stove was a small door apparently +leading into the bar, for beside it was a window through which +Barbara caught a glimpse of beer-engines and rows of bottles. +Opposite the doorway in which she stood was another door leading +probably to the back of the house. Down the centre of the room +ran a long table. + +The tap-room was empty when Barbara entered but as she sat down +at the table, the door opposite opened, and a short, +foreign-looking woman came out. She stepped dead on seeing the +girl: Her face seemed familiar to Barbara. + +"Good evening" said the latter, "I've lost my way in the fog and +I'm very wet. Do you think I could have my shoes and stockings +dried and get some tea? I..." + +"A moment! I go to tell Meester Rass," said the woman with a very +marked foreign accent and in a frightened kind of voice and +slipped out by the way she came. + +"Where have I met that woman before?" Barbara asked herself, as +she crossed to tile stove to get warm. The woman's face seemed to +be connected in her mind with something unpleasant, something she +wanted to forget. Then a light dawned on her. Why, it was... + +A shrill cry broke in upon her meditations, a harsh scream of +rage. Barbara turned quickly and saw Nur-el-Din standing in the +centre of the room. She was transfigured with passion. Her whole +body quivered, her nostrils were dilated, her eyes flashed fire, +and she pointed an accusing finger at Barbara. + +"Ah! miserable!" she cried in a voice strangled with rage, "ah! +miserable! Te voile enrol." + +A cold chill struck at Barbara's heart. Wherever she went, the +hideous spectre of the tragedy of her father seemed to follow +her. And now Nur-el-Din had come to upbraid her with losing the +treasure she had entrusted to her. + +"Nur-el-Din," the girl faltered in a voice broken with tears. + +"Where is it I Where is the silver box I gave into your charge? +Answer me. Mais reponds, donc, canaille!" + +The dancer stamped furiously with her foot and advanced +menacingly on Barbara. + +An undersized; yellow-faced man came quickly out of the small +door leading from the bar and stood an instant, a helpless +witness of the scene, as men are when women quarrel. + +Nur-el-Din rapped out an order to him in a tongue which was +unknown to Barbara. It sounded something like Russian. The man +turned and locked the door of the bar, then stepped swiftly +across the room and bolted the outer door. + +Barbara recognized the threat that the action implied and it +served to steady her nerves. She shrank back no longer but drew +herself up and waited calmly for the dancer to reach her. + +"The box you gave me," said Barbara very quietly, "was stolen +from me by the person who... who murdered my father!" + +Nur-el-Din burst into a peal of malicious laughter. + +"And you?" she cried, "you are 'ere to sell it back to me, hein, +or to get your blood money from your accomplice? Which is it?" + +On this Barbara's self-control abandoned her. + +"Oh, how dare you! How dare you!" she exclaimed, bursting into +tears, "when that wretched box you made me take was the means of +my losing the dearest friend I ever had!" + +Nur-el-Din thrust her face, distorted with passion, into +Barbara's. She spoke in rapid French, in a low, menacing voice. + +"Do you think this play-acting will deceive me? Do you think I +don't know the value of the treasure I was fool enough to entrust +to your safe keeping? Grand Dieu! I must have been mad not to +have remembered that no woman could resist the price that they +were willing to pay for it! And to think what I have risked for +it! Is all my sacrifice to have been in vain?" + +Her voice rose to a note of pleading and the tears started from +her eyes. Her mood changed. She began to wheedle. + +"Come, ma petite, you will help me recover my little box, +n'est-ce pas? You will find me generous. And I am rich, I have +great savings. I can..." + +Barbara put up her hands and pushed the dancer away from her. + +"After what you have said to me to-night," she said, "I wouldn't +give you back your box even if I had it." + +She turned to the man. + +"Will you tell me the way to the nearest station" she went on, +"and kindly open that door!" + +The man looked interrogatively at Nur-el-Din who spoke a few +words rapidly in the language she had used before. Then she cried +to Barbara: + +"You stay here until you tell me what you have done with the +box!" + +Barbara had turned to the dancer when the latter spoke so that +she did not notice that the man had moved stealthily towards her. +Before she could struggle or cry out, a hand as big as a spade +was clapped over her mouth, she was seized in an iron grip and +half-dragged, half-carried out of the taproom through the small +door opposite the front entrance. + +The door slammed behind them and Barbara found herself in +darkness. She was pushed round a corner and down a flight of +stairs into some kind of cellar which smelt of damp straw. Here +the grip on her mouth was released for a second but before she +could utter more than a muffled cry the man thrust a handkerchief +into her mouth and effectually gagged her. Then he tied her hands +and feet together with some narrow ropes that cut her wrists +horribly. He seemed to be able to see in the dark for, though the +place was black as pitch, he worked swiftly and skillfully. +Barbara felt herself lifted and deposited on a bundle of straw. +In a little she heard the man's heavy foot-step on the stair, +there was a crash as of a trap-door falling to, the noise of a +bolt. Then Barbara fainted. + + + +CHAPTER XV. MR. BELLWARD IS CALLED TO THE TELEPHONE + +A knocking at the door of the library aroused Desmond from his +cogitations. He hastened to replace the volumes of Shakespeare on +their shelf and restore all to its former appearance. Then he +went to the door and opened it. Old Martha stood in the hall. + +"If you please, sir," she wheezed, "the doctor's come!" + +"Oh," said Desmond, rather puzzled, "what doctor?" + +"It's not Dr. Haines from the village, Mr. Bellward, sir," said +the housekeeper, "It's a genel'man from Lunnon!" + +Then Desmond remembered Crook's promise to look him up and +guessed it must be he. He bade Martha show the doctor in and +bring tea for two. + +Desmond's surmise was right. The old woman ushered in Crook, +looking the very pattern of medical respectability, with Harley +Street written all over him from the crown of his glossy top-hat +to the neat brown spats on his feet. In his hand he carried a +small black bag. + +"Well," he said, surveying Desmond, "and how do we find ourselves +to-day? These chills are nasty things to shake off, my dear sir!" + +"Oh, stow that!" growled Desmond, who was in little mood for +joking. + +"Voice inclined to be laryngeal," said Crook putting down his hat +and bag on a chair, "we shall have to take care of our bronchial +tubes! We are not so young as we were!" + +"You can drop all that mumming, Crook!" snapped Desmond +irascibly. + +"Voice rotten," replied Crook calmly surveying him through his +pince-nez. "Really, Major--I should say, Mr. Bellward--you must +take more pains than that. You are talking to me exactly as +though I were a British Tommy. Tut, tut, this will never do, sir! +You must talk thicker, more guttural-like, and open the vowels +well." + +He had dropped his jesting manner altogether and spoke with the +deep earnestness of the expert airing his pet topic. He was so +serious that Desmond burst out laughing. It must be said, +however, that he laughed as much like a German as he knew how. +This appeared to mollify Crook who, nevertheless, read him a long +lecture against ever, for a moment, even when alone, quitting the +role he was playing. Desmond took it in good part; for he knew +the soundness of the other's advice. + +Then old Martha brought tea, and over the cups and saucers Crook +gave Desmond a budget of news. He told of the warrant issued for +the arrest of Nur-el-Din and of the search being made for her. + +Desmond heard the news of Nur-el-Din's disappearance from London +with some consternation. He began to realize that his failure to +detain Nur-el-Din that afternoon might have incalculable +consequences. Sunk in thought, he let Crook run on. He was +wondering whether he ought to give him a message for the Chief, +telling him of Nur-el-Din's visit and of her flight on the +arrival of Mortimer. + +Now, Desmond had a good deal of pride, and like most proud +people, he was inclined to be obstinate. To confess to the Chief +that he had let both Nur-el-Din and Mortimer slip through his +fingers was more than he could face. He could not bear to think +that the Chief might believe him capable of failure, and take +independent measures to guard against possible mistakes. Also, in +his heart of hearts, Desmond was angry with the Chief. He thought +the latter had acted precipitately in getting out a warrant for +Nur-el-Din's arrest before he, Desmond, had had time to get into +the skin of his part. + +So Desmond heard Crook out and made no comment. When the other +asked him if he had anything to tell the Chief, he shook his +head. He was not to know then the consequences which his +disobedience of orders was destined to have. If he had realized +what the result of his obstinacy would be, he would not have +hesitated to send a full report by Crook--and this story might +never have been written! + +But if youth followed reason instead of impulse, the world would +stand still. Desmond was still at an age at which a man is +willing to take on anything and anybody, and he was confident of +bringing his mission to a successful conclusion without any +extraneous aid. So Crook, after changing Desmond's make-up and +giving him a further rehearsal of his role, packed up his pots +and paints and brushes in his black bag and returned to London +with "nothing to report" as the communiques say. + +He repeated his visit every day for the next four days. Crook's +arrival each afternoon was the only break in the monotony of a +life which was rapidly becoming unbearable to Desmond's mercurial +temperament. He found himself looking forward to the wizened +little man's visits and for want of better employment, he threw +himself wholeheartedly into the study of his role under the +expert's able direction. Desmond's beard had sprouted +wonderfully, and Crook assured him that, by about the end of the +week, the tow substitute, which Desmond found a most unmitigated +nuisance, would be no longer necessary. He also showed his pupil +how to paint in the few deft lines about the eyes which completed +the resemblance between Bellward and his impersonator. + +The time hung terribly heavily on Desmond's hands. He had long +since memorized and destroyed the list of Mr. Bellward's friends. +Every morning he spent at least an hour before the mirror in his +bedroom working up the role. With every day he felt more +confident of himself; with every day he grew more anxious to go +to London, and, taking the bull by the horns, boldly visit one of +Mr. Bellward's acquaintances and test the effect of his disguise. + +But no orders came from Headquarters to release him from his +confinement. Moreover, no word arrived from Nur-el-Din nor did +Mortimer send any message or call again at the Mill House. The +silence of the two conspirators made Desmond uneasy. Suppose +Mortimer, who, he felt sure, had caught him out lying about +Nur-el-Din's presence in the house at the time of his visit, had +grown suspicious! What if Nur-el-Din had succeeded in making good +her escape to the Continent? He had had his chance of laying hold +of both suspects and he had failed. Would that chance come again? + +Desmond doubted it. Every morning he awoke long before the dawn +and lay awake until daylight, his mind racked by these +apprehensions. He chafed bitterly at his inaction and he plied +Crook with questions as to whether he had any orders for him. +Each time Crook replied in the negative. + +In the library Desmond found an Ordnance map of Essex. His +military training had given him a good schooling in the use of +maps, and he spent many hours studying the section of the country +about the Mill House, seeking to impress it upon his mind against +future emergencies. + +He was surprised to find how remote the Mill House lay from other +habitations. Between it and Wentfield station, once Wentfield +village was passed, there were only a few lonely farms; but to +the south there was an absolutely uninhabited tract of fen +traversed by the road running past the front gate of the Mill +House. The Mill House was duly marked on the map; with a little +blue line showing the millrace which Desmond traced to its +junction with one of the broad dykes intersecting Morstead Fen. +The only inhabited house to the south of the Bellward villa +appeared to be a lonely public house situated on the far edge of +the fen, a couple of hundred yards away from the road. It was +called "The Dyke Inn." + +One afternoon--it was the fifth day after Desmond's arrival at +Bellward's--Mr. Crook announced that this was to be his last +visit. + +"I go abroad to-night, Mr. Bellward," he said (he always insisted +on addressing Desmond by his assumed name), "a little job o' work +in Switzerland; at Berne, to be precise. Urgent, you might call +it, and really, sir, you've made so much progress that I think I +can safely leave you. And I was to say that you will be able to +go out very soon now." + +"Good!" exclaimed Desmond, rubbing his hands together. "And you +think I'll do, Crook, eh?" + +Crook rubbed his nose meditatively. + +"I'll be quite frank with you, Mr. Bellward," he said: "With a +superficial acquaintance, even with an intimate friend, if he's +as unobservant as most people are, you'll pass muster. But I +shouldn't like to guarantee anything if you were to meet, say, +Mrs. Bellward, if the gentleman has got a wife, or his mother. +Keep out of a strong light; don't show your profile more than you +can help, and remember that a woman is a heap more observant than +a man. + +"That's my advice to you, sir. And now I'll take my leave! You +won't want that tow beard any more after to-day." + +That night Desmond slept well and did not awake until the +sunshine was streaming in between the Venetian blinds in his +bedroom. He felt keen and vigorous, and he had an odd feeling +that something was going to happen to him that day. + +It was a delicious morning, the air as balmy as spring. As he +brushed his hair in front of the window, Desmond saw the peewits +running about in the sunshine on the fields by the road. He made +an excellent breakfast and then, lighting a pipe, opened the +Times which lay folded by his plate. + +He turned first, as was his daily habit, to the casualty list. +There it was! Under the names of the "Killed in Action," he read: +"Okewood, Major D. J. P.," followed by the name of his regiment. +It gave him an odd little shock, though he had looked for the +announcement every day; but the feeling of surprise was quickly +followed by one of relief. That brief line in the casualty list +meant the severing of all the old ties until he had hunted down +his quarry. + +Now he was ready to start. + +He spent the morning in the garden. Here, for the first time, he +met Mr. Hill, the odd man, who, on seeing him, became intensely +busy picking up handfuls of leaves and conveying them to a fire +which was smouldering in a corner. Desmond essayed to enter into +conversation with him but the man was so impenetrably deaf that +Desmond, tiring of bawling, "It's a fine day!" in Mr. Hill's ear, +left him and strolled over to the shed where the motor-cycle was +stored. Here he amused himself for more than an hour in taking +the machine to pieces and putting it together again. He satisfied +himself that the bike was in working order and filled up the +tank. He had an idea that this means of conveyance might come in +useful. + +The day was so mild that he lunched by the open window with the +sunshine casting rainbows on the tablecloth through the +wine-glasses. He was just finishing his coffee when the +housekeeper came in and told him he was wanted on the telephone. + +Desmond sprang from his chair with alacrity. His marching orders +at last! he thought, as he hurried across the hall to the +library. + +"Hullo!" he cried as he picked up the receiver. + +"Is that Mr. Bellward?" answered a nasal voice. + +"Bellward speaking!" said Desmond, wondering who had called him +up. The voice was a man's but it was not the abrupt clear tones +of the Chief nor yet Mr. Matthews' careful accents. + +"Madame Le Bon wishes to see you!" + +Madame Le Bon? thought Desmond. Why, that was the name that +Nur-el-Din had given him. "I am Madame Le Bon, a Belgian +refugee," she had said. + +"Do you know whom I mean?" the voice continued. + +"Certainly," replied Desmond. "You will come alone. Otherwise, +Madame will not see you. You understand? If you do not come +alone, you will waste your time!" + +"Where are you speaking from?" Desmond asked. + +"If you will turn to the left on leaving your front gate," the +voice resumed, "and follow the road, a messenger will meet you +and take you to the lady." + +"But..." Desmond began. + +"Will you come at once? And alone?" the nasal voice broke in +sharply. + +Desmond took a moment's thought. To go was to disobey orders; not +to go was to risk losing a second chance of meeting Nur-el-Din. +To telephone to 700 Stanning for assistance would bring a +hornets' nest about his ears; yet he might only see the dancer if +he went alone. He lost no time in making up his mind. The Chief +must allow him latitude for meeting emergencies of this kind. He +would go. + +"I will come at once," said Desmond. + +"Good," said the voice and the communication ceased. + +Somewhere aloft there sits a sweet little cherub whose especial +job is to look after the headstrong. It was doubtless this +emissary of providence that leant down from his celestial seat +and whispered in Desmond's ear that it would be delightful to +walk out across the fen on this sunny afternoon. Desmond was in +the act of debating whether he would not take the motor-bike, but +the cherub's winning way clinched it and he plumped for walking. + +In the hall he met the housekeeper who told him she wanted to go +into Stanning to do some shopping that afternoon. Desmond told +her that he himself was going out and would not be back for tea. +Then, picking a stout blackthorn out of the hallstand, he strode +down the drive and out into the road. + +It was still beautifully fine, but already the golden sunshine +was waning and there were little wisps and curls of mist stealing +low along the fields. Desmond turned to the left, on leaving the +Mill House, as he was bid and saw the road running like a khaki +ribbon before him into the misty distance. + +Swinging his stick, he strode on rapidly. The road was neglected, +broken and flinty and very soft. After he had gone about a mile +it narrowed to pursue its way between two broad ditches lined +with pollard willows and brimful of brown peaty water. By this +time he judged, from his recollection of the map, that he must be +on Morstead Fen. An interminable waste of sodden, emerald green +fields, intersected by ditches, stretched away on either hand. + +He had walked for half an hour when he made out in the distance a +clump of trees standing apart and seemingly in the middle of the +fields. Then in the foreground he descried a gate. A figure was +standing by it. + +As he approached the gate he saw it was a small boy. On remarking +the stranger, the urchin opened the gate and without looking to +right or left led off down the road towards the clump of trees: +Desmond followed at his leisure. + +As they neared the trees, the low red roof of a house detached +itself. By this time the sun was sinking in a smear of red across +a delicately tinted sky. Its dying rays held some glittering +object high up on the side of the house. + +At first Desmond thought it was a window, but presently the light +went out, kindled again and once more vanished. It was too small +for a window, Desmond decided, and then, turning the matter over +in his mind, as observant people are accustomed to do even with +trifles, he suddenly realized that the light he had seen was the +reflection of the sun on a telescope or glasses. + +They were now within a few hundred yards of the house. The road +had made a right angle turn to the left, but the diminutive guide +had quitted it and struck out along a very muddy cart track. +Shading his eyes, Desmond gazed at the house and presently got a +glimpse of a figure at a window surveying the road through a pair +of field glasses. Even as he looked, the figure bobbed down and +did not reappear. + +"They want to be sure I'm alone," thought Desmond, and +congratulated himself on having had the strength of mind to break +his orders. + +The cart-track led up to a little bridge over a ditch. By the +bridge stood a tall pole, on the top of which was a blue and gold +painted sign-board inscribed, "The Dyke Inn by J. Rass." The +urchin led him across the bridge and up to the door of the inn. + +An undersized, yellow-faced man, wearing neither collar nor tie, +came to the door as they approached. Although of short stature, +he was immensely broad with singularly long arms. Altogether he +had something of the figure of a gorilla, Desmond thought on +looking at him. + +The man put a finger up and touched his forelock. + +"Madame Le Bon is upstairs waiting for you!" he said in a nasal +voice which Desmond recognized as that he had heard on the +telephone. "Please to follow me!" + +He led the way across a long low tap-room through a door and past +the open trap-door of a cellar to a staircase. On the first +landing, lit by a window looking out on a dreary expanse of fen, +he halted Desmond. + +"That's her room," he said, pointing to a door opposite the head +of the staircase, half a dozen steps up, and so saying, the +yellow-faced man walked quickly downstairs and left him. Desmond +heard his feet echo on the staircase and the door of the tap-room +slam. + +He hesitated a moment. What if this were a trap? Suppose +Mortimer, growing suspicious, had made use of Nur-el-Din to lure +him to an ambush in this lonely place? Why the devil hadn't he +brought a revolver with him? + +Then Desmond's Irish blood came to his rescue. He gave his head a +little shake, took a firm hold of his stick which was a stoutish +sort of cudgel and striding boldly up to the door indicated, +tapped. + +"Entrez!" said a pretty voice that made Desmond's heart flutter. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. THE STAR OF POLAND + +The room in which Desmond found Nur-el-Din was obviously the +parlor of the house. Everything in it spoke of that dreary period +in art, the middle years of the reign of Victoria the Good. The +wall-paper, much mildewed in places, was an ugly shade of green +and there were dusty and faded red curtains at the windows and +draping the fireplace. Down one side of the room ran a hideous +mahogany sideboard, almost as big as a railway station buffet, +with a very dirty tablecloth. The chairs were of mahogany, +upholstered in worn black horsehair and there were two pairs of +fly-blown steel engravings of the largest size on the wall. In +the centre of the apartment stood a small round table, covered +with a much stained red tablecloth and there was a door in the +corner. + +The dainty beauty of Nur-el-Din made a very forlorn picture amid +the unmatched savagery of this English interior. The dancer, who +was wearing the same becoming gray tweed suit in which Desmond +had last seen her, was sitting sorrowfully at the table when +Desmond entered. At the sight of him she sprang up and ran to +meet him with outstretched hands. + +"Ah!" she cried, "comme je suis heureuse de vous voir! It is good +of you to come!" + +And then, without any warning, she burst into tears and putting +her hands on the man's shoulders, hid her head against his chest +and sobbed bitterly. + +Desmond took one of her hands, small and soft and warm, and +gently disengaged her. His mind was working clearly and rapidly. +He felt sure of himself, sure of his disguise; if this were an +exhibition of woman's wiles, it would find him proof; on that he +was resolved. Yet, dissolved in tears as she was, with her long +lashes glistening and her mouth twitching pitifully, the dancer +seemed to touch a chord deep down in his heart. + +"Come, come," said Desmond gutturally, with a touch of bonhomie +in his voice in keeping with his ample girth, "you mustn't give +way like this, my child! What's amiss? Come, sit down here and +tell me what's the matter." + +He made her resume her seat by the table and pulled up one of the +horsehair chairs for himself. Nur-el-Din wiped her eyes on a tiny +lace handkerchief, but continued to sob and shudder at intervals. + +"Marie, my maid," she said in French in a broken voice, "joined +me here to-day. She has told me of this dreadful murder!" + +Desmond stiffened to attention. His mind swiftly reverted to the +last woman he had seen cry, to Barbara Mackwayte discovering the +loss of the package entrusted to her charge by the woman who sat +before him. + +"What murder?" he asked, striving to banish any trace of interest +from his voice. He loathed the part he had to play. The dancer's +distress struck him as genuine. + +"The murder of Monsieur Mackwayte," said Nur-el-Din, and her +tears broke forth anew. + +"I have read of this in the newspapers," said Desmond. "I +remember you told me he was a friend of yours." + +Briefly, with many sobs, the dancer told him of the silver box +which she had entrusted to Barbara Mackwayte's charge. + +"And now," she sobbed, "it is lost and all my sacrifice, all my +precautions, have been in vain!" + +"But how?" asked Desmond. "Why should you think this box should +have been taken? From what I remember reading of this case in the +English newspapers there was a burglary at the house, but the +thief has been arrested and the property restored. You have only +to ask this Miss--what was the name? ah! yes, Mackwayte for your +box and she will restore it!" + +"No, no!" Nur-el-Din answered wearily, "you don't understand. +This was no burglary. The man who murdered Monsieur Arthur +murdered him to get my silver box." + +"But," objected Desmond, "a silver box! What value has a trifling +object like that? My dear young lady, murder is not done for a +silver box!" + +"No, no," Nur-el-Din repeated, "you don't understand! You don't +know what that box contained!" + +Then she relapsed into silence, plucking idly at the shred of +cambric she held between her fingers. + +Already dusk was falling and the room was full of shadows. The +golden radiance of the afternoon had died and eerie wraiths of +fog were peering-in at the window. + +Desmond held his peace. He felt he was on the threshold of a +confession that might rend the veil of mystery surrounding the +murder at Seven Kings. He stared fixedly at the ugly red +tablecloth, conscious that the big eyes of the girl were +searching his face. + +"You have honest eyes," she said presently. "I told you that once +before... that night we met at your house... do you remember? +Your eyes are English. But you are a German, hein?" + +"My mother was Irish," said Desmond and felt a momentary relief +that, for once, he had been able to speak the truth. + +"I want a friend," the girl resumed wearily, "someone that I can +trust. But I look around and I find no one. You serve the German +Empire, do you not?" + +Desmond bowed. + +"But not the House of Hohenzollern?" the girl cried, her voice +trembling with passion. + +"I am not of the Emperor's personal service, if that is what you +mean, madame," Desmond returned coldly. + +"Then, since you are not altogether an iron Prussian," Nur-el-Din +resumed eagerly, "you can differentiate. You can understand that +there is a difference between working for the cause of Germany +and for the personal business of her princes." + +"But certainly," answered Desmond, "I am not an errand boy nor +yet a detective. I regard myself as a German officer doing his +duty on the front. We have many fronts besides the Western and +the Eastern. England is one. + +"Ah," exclaimed the girl, clasping her hands together and looking +at him with enraptured eyes, "I see you understand! My friend, I +am much tempted to make a confidant of you!" + +Desmond looked at her but did not speak. Again he felt that +silence was now his only role. He tried hard to fix his mind on +his duty; but the man in him was occupied with the woman who +looked so appealingly at him. + +"... but if I do," the girl went on and her voice was hurried and +anxious, "you must swear to me that you will respect my +confidence, that you will not betray me to the others and that +you will, if need be, protect me." + +Seeing that Desmond remained silent, she hastened to add: + +"Believe me, what I ask you to do is not in opposition to your +duty. My friend, for all my surroundings, I am not what I seem. +Fate has drawn me into the system of which you form part; but, +believe me, I know nothing of the service to which you and +Mortimer and the rest belong!" + +She spoke with painful earnestness and in a tone so mournful that +Desmond felt himself profoundly moved. "If only she is not +acting!" he thought, and sought to shake himself free from the +spell which this girl seemed able to cast about him at will. + +"Promise me that you will respect my confidence and help me!" she +said and held out her hand. + +Desmond's big hand closed about hers and he felt an odd thrill of +sympathy with her as their hands met. + +"I promise!" he said and murmured to himself something very like +a prayer that he might not be called upon to redeem his word. + +She let her eyes rest for a moment on his. + +"Be careful!" she urged warningly, while the ghost of a smile +flitted across her face. "Very soon I may call upon you to make +good your words!" + +"I promise!" he repeated--and his eyes never left hers. + +"Then," she cried passionately, "find out who has stolen for the +Crown Prince the Star of Poland at the price of the life of a +harmless old man!" + +"The Star of Poland!" repeated Desmond. "What is the Star of +Poland?" + +The girl drew herself up proudly and there was a certain dignity +about her manner as she answered. + +"I am a Pole," she said, "and to us Poles, the Star of Poland has +stood for centuries as a pledge of the restoration of our +long-lost kingdom. It was the principal jewel of the Polish +Coronation sword which vanished many hundreds of years ago--in +the thirteenth century, one of my compatriots once told me--and +it was one of the most treasured national possessions in the +Chateau of our great king, John Sobieski at Villanoff, outside +Warsaw. My friend, I am not religious, and since my childhood I +have renounced the ancient faith of my fathers, but, when I think +of the extraordinary chain of circumstances by which this +treasure came into my possession, I almost believe that God has +chosen me to restore this gem to the King of an independent +Poland. + +"Four years ago I was in the United States, a very humble dancer +in vaudeville of the third or fourth class. When I was appearing +at Columbus, Ohio, I met a German, a man who had been an officer +in the Prussian Guard but had come to grief and had been forced +to emigrate. + +"This man's name was Hans von Schornbeek. Like so many German +officers who go to America, in his time he had been +everything--waiter, lift-man, engine-driver and heaven knows what +else, but when I met him he was apparently well-off. It was only +later on that I knew he was one of your principal secret agents +in America. + +"He praised my talents highly and offered to furnish the capital +to start me as an Oriental dancer with a large company of my own. +There was only one condition attaching to his offer, a condition, +ma foi! which was not disagreeable to me. It was that, after six +months tour in the States and Canada, I should go to Brussels and +settle down there in a house that Herr von Schornbeek would +present me with. + +"Mon ami, in those days, I understood nothing at all of +diplomacy. I knew only that I was often hungry and that I had a +little talent which, were it given a chance, might keep me from +want. Herr von Schornbeek fulfilled his promises to me. I had my +company, I did my tour of America and Canada with great success +and finally I came to Europe and made my debut at Brussels. + +"I knew Brussels already from the old days. As a half-starved, +unhappy child with a troupe of acrobats, I had often appeared +there. But now I came to Brussels as a conqueror. A beautiful +villa in the suburb of Laeken was ready to receive me and I found +that a large credit had been opened in my name at one of the +principal banks so that I could keep open house. + +"I think I scarcely realized then the role that I was destined to +fill by the German Secret Service. In all my life before, I had +never been happy, I had never ceased to struggle for my bare +existence, I had never had pretty clothes to wear, and motor-cars +and servants of my own." + +She paused and glanced around her. The room was almost dark; the +fog outside hung like a veil before the window. + +"Light the lamp!" she begged, "I do not like the dark!" + +Desmond struck a match and kindled an oil lamp, which stood on +the sideboard. + +"Ah! my friend," the girl resumed. "I took my fill of life with +both hands. The year was 1913. Now I know that I was one of the +German agents for the penetration of Belgium in preparation of +what was coming. My mission was to make friends among the +Belgians and the French and the cosmopolitan society of Brussels +generally, and invite them to my house where your people were +waiting to deal with them. + +"My pretty villa became the rendezvous for half the rascals of +Europe, men and women, who used to meet there with all kinds of +mysterious Germans. Sometimes there was a scandal. Once a Belgian +Colonel was found shot in the billiard-room; they said it was +suicide and the thing was hushed up, but dame! now that I know +what I know... + +"Enfin! I shut my eyes to it all... it was none of my business... +and I revelled in my robes, my dancing, my new life of luxury! + +"And then the war came. I was at Laeken, resting after a visit to +Rome. There was a lot of talk about the war amongst the people +who came to my house, but I did not see how it could affect me, +an artiste, and I never read the newspapers. My German friends +assured me that, in a little while, the German army would be at +Brussels; that, if I remained quietly at home, all would be well. +They were very elated and confident, these German friends of +mine. And rightly; for within a few weeks the Germans entered the +city and a General quartered himself in my villa. It was he who +brought the Crown Prince to see me. + +"Mon cher, you know this young man and his reputation. I am not +excusing myself; but all my life had been spent up to then in the +bas-fonds of society. I had never known what it was to be courted +and admired by one who had the world at his feet. Parbleu! one +does not meet a future Emperor every day! + +"Enfin! the Prince carried me with him back to Metz, where he had +his headquarters. He was very epris with me, but you know his +temperament! No woman can hold him for more than a few weeks, +vain and weak and arrogant as he is. But pardon! I was forgetting +that you are a good German. I fear I offend your +susceptibilities..." + +Desmond laughed drily. + +"Madame," he said, "I hope I have preserved sufficient liberty of +judgment to have formed my own opinion about our future +sovereign. Most Germans have..." + +"Alors," she broke in fiercely, her voice shaking with passion, +"you know what an ignoble canaille is this young man, without +even enough decency of feeling to respect the troops of whom he +has demanded such bloody sacrifices. At Metz we were near enough +to the fighting to realize the blood and tears of this war. But +the Prince thought of nothing, but his own amusement. To live as +he did, within sound of the guns, with parties every night, women +and dancing and roulette and champagne suppers--bah! c'etait trop +fort! It awakened in me the love of country which lies dormant in +all of us. I wanted to help my country, lest I might sink as low +as he..." + +"One day the Prince brought a young officer friend of his to dine +with me. This officer had come from the Eastern front and had +been present at the capture of Warsaw. After dinner he took a +leather case out of his pocket and said to the Prince: 'I have +brought your Imperial Highness a little souvenir from Poland!' As +he spoke he touched a spring and the case flew open, displaying +an enormous diamond, nearly as big as the great Orloff diamond +which I have seen at Petrograd, surrounded by five other +brilliants, the whole set like a star. + +"'The Star of Poland,' said the young officer (the Prince called +him 'Erich;' I never heard his full name), 'it comes from the +long-lost Coronation sword of the Polish kings. I took it for +your Imperial Highness from the Chateau of John Sobieski at +Villanoff. + +"I could not take my eyes off the gem. As the Prince held it down +under the lamp to study it, it shone like an electric light. I +had met many of my fellow countrymen in America and I had often +heard of this jewel, famous in our unhappy history. + +"The Prince, who was gay with champagne, laughed and said: + +"'These lousy Poles will have no further use for this pretty +trinket, thanks to our stout German blows, will they, Erich?' + +"And his friend replied: + +"'We'll give them a nice new German constitution instead, your +Imperial Highness!' + +"The Prince, as I have said, was very merry that night. He let me +take the jewel from its case and hold it in my hands. Then I +fastened it in my hair before the mirror and turned to show +myself to the Prince and his companion. + +"'Donnerwetter! said Willie. 'It looks wonderful in your hair, +Marcelle!' + +"Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he cried: + +"'Erich! What do you say, Marcelle is a Pole. She shall have the +Star of Poland and wear it in memory of me!' + +"The other thought this a famous idea, and so the jewel passed +into my hands. That same evening I resolved that it should be a +sacred duty on my part to keep it in safety until I could hand it +back to the lawful sovereign of an independent Poland. + +"I was very unhappy at Metz until the Star of Poland came to +comfort me. When I was alone, I used to take it from its case and +feast my eyes upon it. I made many attempts to get away, but the +Prince would never let me go, though he had long since tired of +me and I was merely one of his harem of women. Pfui!" + +She gave an exclamation of disgust. + +"It was the Crown Princess who eventually came to my rescue," she +continued. "Long-suffering wife as she is, the stories that came +to her ears from Metz were such that she went to the Emperor and +declared that she would insist upon a divorce. There was a great +scandal. The Prince's headquarters were moved and at length I got +my release. + +"I had no money. This was a detail which the Prince overlooked. +But I wanted to resume my stage work, so, with great difficulty, +through the influence of the Prince, I obtained a passport to +Holland and from there got across to England. + +"I had hoped to turn my back once and for all on my connection +with the Prince. But your German Secret Service had been warned +about me. The Imperial Authorities were obviously afraid that I +might tell tales out of school. Scarcely had I arrived in London +when a man who called himself Bryan Mowbury, but who looked and +spoke like a German, came to see me and said he had been +instructed to 'look after me.' What that meant, I was soon to +discover. In a very few days I found that I was under the +supervision of your Secret Service here. In fact, Mowbury gave me +to understand that any indiscretion on my part as to my stay at +Metz would result in my immediate denunciation to the English +police as a spy. + +"My friend, I had no alternative. I am not German; I am not +English; I am a Pole. I have good friends in Germany, I have good +friends in England, and their quarrels are not mine. I held my +peace about the past and submitted to the incessant watch which +Mowbury and his friends kept on my movements. + +"And then one day I had a letter. It was from Count Plettenbach, +the Crown Prince's aide-de-camp, as I knew by the hand-writing, +for it was signed with an assumed name. In this letter the Count, +'on behalf of a mutual friend,' as he put it, requested me to +hand back to a certain Mr. Mortimer, his accredited +representative, 'Erich's present.' There were cogent reasons, it +was added, for this unusual request. + +"I sent no reply to that letter, although an address in +Switzerland was given to which an answer might be despatched. I +was resolved, come what may, not to part with the Star of Poland. +When Mortimer came, five days later, I told him the jewel was not +mine to hand over, that it was part of the regalia of Poland and +that I would never give it up. + +"Mortimer replied that the German and Austrian Governments had +decided to restore the independence of Poland, that probably an +Austrian Archduke would be made king and that it was essential +that the Star of Poland should be restored in order to include it +in the regalia for the Coronation. But I knew what this +Austro-German kingdom of Poland was to be, a serf state with not +a shadow of that liberty for which every Pole is longing. Since I +have been in England, I have kept in touch with the Polish +political organizations in this country. Rass, as he calls +himself, the landlord of this inn, is one of the most prominent +of the Polish leaders in England. + +"Mortimer reasoned with me in vain and finally went away +empty-handed. But he did not abandon hope. Four successive +attempts were made to get the jewel away from me. Twice my +apartments at the Nineveh Hotel were rifled; once my +dressing-room at the theatre was entered and searched whilst I +was on the stage. But I wore the jewel day and night in a little +bag suspended by a chain from my neck and they never got it from +me. + +"Two days before I came down to your house--it was the day before +the murder--I was hustled by a group of men as I came out of the +theatre. Fortunately the stage-door keeper came up unexpectedly +and the men made off. But the encounter frightened me, and I +resolved to break my contract with the Palaceum and bury myself +down here in the country. + +"But somehow Mortimer learnt of my intention. The next night--it +was the night of the murder--he came to the theatre and warned me +against trying to elude his vigilance by flight. I have never +forgotten his words. + +"'I can afford to wait,' he said, 'for I shall get what I want: I +always do. But you have chosen to set yourself against me and you +will bitterly repent it!" + +As though the recollection proved too much for her, Nur-el-Din +broke off her narrative and covered her face with her hands. + +"And do you think that Mortimer did this murder?" asked Desmond +gently. + +Wearily the girl raised her head. + +"Either he or one of his accomplices, of whom this girl is one!" +she answered. + +"But why not have put the jewel in a bank or one of the safe +deposits? Surely it was risky to have entrusted it to a girl of +whom you knew nothing?" + +"My friend,", said the dancer, "I was desperate. Mortimer sees +and knows all. This unexpected meeting with the daughter of my +old friend seemed at the moment like a heaven-sent chance to +place the jewel, unknown to him, in safe hands. I felt that as +long as I carried it on me, my life was in constant danger. It +was only to-day, when I heard of the murder, that it dawned on me +how indiscreet I had been. I might have guessed, since Miss +Mackwayte knew Mortimer--" + +"Miss Mackwayte knows Mortimer?" echoed Desmond in stupefaction. + +"But certainly," replied Nur-el-Din. "Was it not I myself--" She +broke off suddenly with terror in her eyes. + +"Ah, no!" she whispered. "It is enough. Already I have said too +much..." + +Desmond was about to speak when the door opened and a +foreign-looking maid, whom Desmond remembered to have seen in the +dancer's dressing-room, came in. She went swiftly to her mistress +and whispered something in her ear. + +The dancer sprang to her feet. + +"A little moment... you will excuse me..." she cried to Desmond +and ran from the room. The maid followed her, leaving Desmond +alone. + +Presently, the sound of Nur-el-Din's voice raised high in anger +struck on his ears. He stole softly to the door and opened it. +Before him lay the staircase deserted. He tiptoed down the stairs +to the first landing and listened. The murmur of voices reached +him indistinctly from the room below. Then he heard Nur-el-Din +crying out again in anger. + +He craned his ear over the well of the staircase, turning his +face to the window which stood on the landing. The window gave on +a small yard with a gate over which a lamp was suspended and +beyond it the fen now swathed in fog. The dancer's maid stood +beneath the lamp in earnest conversation with a man in rough +shooting clothes who held a gun under his arm. As Desmond looked +the man turned his head so that the rays of the lamp fell full +upon his face. To his unspeakable consternation and amazement, +Desmond recognized Strangwise. + + + +CHAPTER XVII. MR. BELLWARD ARRANGES A BRIDGE EVENING + +Oblivious of the voices in the room below, Desmond stood with his +face pressed against the glass of the window. Was Strangwise +staying at "The Dyke Inn"? Nothing was more probable; for the +latter had told him that he was going to spend his leave shooting +in Essex, and Morstead Fen must abound in snipe and duck. + +But he and Strangwise must not meet. Desmond was chary of +submitting his disguise to the other's keen, shrewd eyes. +Strangwise knew Nur-el-Din: indeed, the dancer might have come to +the inn to be with him. If he recognized Desmond and imparted his +suspicions to the dancer, the game world be up; on the other +hand, Desmond could not take him aside and disclose his identity; +for that would be breaking faith with the Chief. There was +nothing for it, he decided, but flight. + +Yet how could he get away unobserved? There was no exit from the +staircase by the door into the tap-room where Nur-el-Din was, and +to go through the tap-room was to risk coming face to face with +Strangwise. + +So Desmond remained where he was by the window and watched. +Presently, the woman turned and began to cross the yard, +Strangwise, carrying his gun, following her. Desmond waited until +he heard a door open somewhere below and then he acted. + +Beside the window ran an old lead water-pipe which drained the +roof above his head. On a level with the sill of the landing +below, this pipe took a sharp turn to the left and ran diagonally +down to a tall covered-in water-butt that stood on the flat roof +of an outhouse in the little yard. + +Desmond raised the window very gently and tested the pipe with +his hand. It seemed rather insecure and shook under his pressure. +With his eye he measured the distance from the sill to the pipe; +it was about four feet. Desmond reckoned that, if the pipe would +hold, by getting out of the window and hanging on to the sill, he +might, by a pendulum-like motion, gain sufficient impulse to +swing his legs across the diagonally-running pipe, then transfer +his hands and so slide down to the outhouse roof. + +He wasted no time in debating the chances of the pipe collapsing +under his weight. All his life it had been his practice to take a +risk, for such is the Irish temperament--if the object to be +attained in any way justified it; and he was determined to avoid +at all costs the chance of a meeting with Strangwise. The latter +had probably read the name of Okewood in that morning's casualty +list, but Desmond felt more than ever that he distrusted the man, +and his continued presence in the neighborhood of Nur-el-Din +gravely preoccupied him. + +He stood a moment by the open window and listened. The murmur of +voices went on in the taproom, but from another part of the house +he heard a deep laugh and knew it to be Strangwise's. Trusting to +Providence that the roof of the outhouse would be out of sight of +the yard door, Desmond swung his right leg over the window-sill +and followed it with the other, turning his back on the yard. The +next moment he was dangling over the side of the house. + +Then from the yard below he heard Strangwise call: + +"Rufus! Rufus!" + +A heavy footstep sounded on the flags. Desmond remained perfectly +still. The strain on his arms was tremendous. If Strangwise +should go as far as the gate, so as to get clear of the yard, he +must infallibly see that figure clinging to the window-sill. + +"Where the devil is that doggy" said Strangwise. Then he +whistled, and called again: + +"Rufus! Rufus!" + +Desmond made a supreme effort to support the strain on his +muscles. The veins stood out at his temples and he felt the blood +singing in his ears. Another minute and he knew he must drop. He +no longer had the power to swing himself up to the window ledge +again. + +A bark rang out in the courtyard, followed by the patter of feet. +Desmond heard Strangwise speak to the dog and reenter the house. +Then silence fell again. With a tremendous effort Desmond swung +his legs athwart the pipe, gripped it with his right hand, then +his left, and very gently commenced to let himself down. The pipe +quivered beneath his weight, but it held fast and in a minute he +was standing on the roof of the outhouse, cautiously peering +through the dank fog that hung about the yard. + +Screening himself from view behind the tall waterbutt, he +reconnoitred the back of the inn. The upper part of the house was +shrouded in darkness, but a broad beam of light from a half-open +door and a tall window on the ground floor cleft the pall of fog. +The window showed a snug little bar with Strangwise standing by +the counter, a glass in his hand. As Desmond watched him, he +heard a muffled scream from somewhere within the house. +Strangwise heard it too, for Desmond saw him put his glass down +on the bar and raise his head sharply. There followed a dull +crash from the interior of the inn and the next moment the +yellow-faced man, whom Desmond judged to be Rass, stepped into +the circle of light inside the window. He said something to +Strangwise with thumb jerked behind him, whereupon the latter +clapped him, as though in approval, on the shoulder, and both +hurried out together. + +Puzzled though he was by the scene he had just witnessed, Desmond +did not dare to tarry longer. The roof of the outhouse was only +some ten feet from the ground, an easy drop. He let himself +noiselessly down and landing on his feet without mishap, darted +out of the yard gate. As he did so, he heard the inn door open +and Strangwise's voice cry out: + +"Who's that?" + +But Desmond heeded not. He dashed out upon the fen. Before he had +gone a dozen paces the fog had swallowed up inn and all. Out of +the white pall behind him he heard confused shouts as he skirted +swiftly round the house and reached the road. + +Once he had gained the freedom of the highway; Desmond breathed +again. The dense fog that enveloped him, the hard road beneath +his feet, gave him a sense of security that he had missed as long +as he was in the atmosphere of that lonely, sinister place. He +struck out at a good pace for home, intent upon one thing, +namely, to send an immediate summons for help to surround the +Dyke Inn and all within it. Nur-el-Din, it was clear, whether a +spy or no (and Desmond believed her story), was the only person +who could throw any light on the mysterious circumstances +surrounding old Mackwayte's murder. Besides, her arrest would +safeguard her against further machinations on the part of +Mortimer, though Desmond suspected that the latter, now that he +had secured the jewel, would leave the dancer in peace. As for +Strangwise, it would be for him to explain as best he could his +continued association with a woman for whose arrest a warrant had +been issued. + +Desmond let himself in with his key. The housekeeper had returned +and was laying the dinner-table. In the library the curtains were +drawn and a fire burned brightly in the grate. The room looked +very snug and cosy by contrast with the raw weather outside. + +Desmond shut and locked the door and then went to the telephone +at the desk. "Ring up 700 Stanning"--he repeated his instructions +to himself "and ask for Mr. Elias. Assistance'll be with you +within fifteen minutes afterwards." + +By the clock on the mantelpiece it was a quarter to seven. If aid +arrived promptly, with a car they could be at the Dyke Inn by a +quarter past seven. + +The telephone gave no sign of life. Desmond impatiently jerked +the receiver hook up and down. This time, at least, he would not +fail, he told himself. Before he went to bed that night +Nur-el-Din, her maid, Rass, and if needs be, Strangwise (who +needed a lesson to teach him discretion), should be in custody. + +Still no reply. + +"Hullo! Hullo!" cried Desmond, depressing the hook repeatedly. +"Hullo, Exchange!" + +But there was no answer. Then it struck Desmond that the line was +dead: his ear detected none of that busy whirr which is heard in +the telephone when one is waiting to get a number. + +He spent five minutes in vain attempts to obtain a reply, then +abandoned the endeavor in disgust. + +"I shall have to take the motor-bike and go over to Stunning," he +said to himself, "how I shall find my way there in this fog, the +Lord only knows! And I don't know whom to apply to when I get +there. The police-station, I suppose!" + +He unlocked the door and rang for Martha. + +"I have to go over to Stunning, Martha," he said, "I will try and +be back for dinner at eight!" + +He had no intention of accompanying the party to the Dyke Inn. He +must preserve his incognito until Mortimer, the main quarry, had +been run down. + +He filled his case from the box of cigarettes on the table and +thrust a box of matches into his pocket to light his head-lamp. +Then, taking a cap from the hat-stand, he opened the front door. +Even as he did so a big open car slowed down throbbing outside +the porch. A man sprang out and advanced into the light streaming +from the front door into the eddying mist. It was Mortimer. + +"Fortune," thought Desmond, "has broken her rule. She has given +me a second chance!" + +"Well met, Bellward!" cried Mortimer, blinking at the other +through his thick glasses. "Tut, tut! What a night! You were +never going out, I swear." + +Already Desmond had decided in his mind the course of action he +would pursue. For the moment he must let the party at the Dyke +Inn slide in favor of the bigger catch. He must slip away later +and have another try at the telephone and if it were still out of +order, he must endeavor to overpower Mortimer and then go for +assistance himself. On a night like this it was useless to think +of employing a half-blind old dolt like Martha to take a message. +As for the odd man, he lived at Wakefield, and went away at dusk +every evening. + +So Desmond muttered some plausible lie about wanting to have a +look at the weather and cordially invited Mortimer in. + +"You will stay for dinner" he said. + +"Gladly," replied the other, sinking with aunt into the settee. +"And I should be glad if we might dine early." + +Desmond raised his eyebrows. + +"... Because," Mortimer resumed, "I have ventured to ask a few +friends round here to... to have an evening at bridge. Doubtless, +you have cards, eh?" + +Desmond pointed to a card-table standing in the corner with +several packs of cards and markers. Then he rang and told the +housekeeper that they would dine as soon as possible. + +"The coming fortnight," said Mortimer, tucking his napkin into +his collar as they sat at the dinner table, "is pregnant with +great events. No less than ten divisions are, I understand, to be +transferred to the other side. I have waited to communicate with +you until I had confirmation of this report. But now that the +matter has been decided, it only remains for us to perfect our +arrangements for communicating these plans to our friends beyond +the North Sea. Therefore, I thought a friendly bridge evening at +the hospitable home of our dear colleague Bellward would be in +place." + +He smiled affably and bent over his soup-plate. + +"I shall be delighted to receive our friends," Desmond replied, +"a glass of sherry?" + +"Thank you," said Mortimer. + +"I shall have to provide a few refreshments," said Desmond. "May +I ask how many guests I may expect?" + +Mortimer reckoned on his fingers. + +"Let's see," he answered, "there's Max, that's one, and Madame +Malplaquet, that's two. No. 13 and Behrend makes four and myself, +five!" + +"And Madame Nur-el-Din?" queried Desmond innocently, but inwardly +quaking at his rashness. + +Mortimer genially shook a finger at him. + +"Sly dog!" he chuckled, "you're one too many for me in that +quarter, I see! I know all about your tete-a-tete with our +charming young friend this afternoon!" + +Desmond felt the blood rush to his face. He thought of +Nur-el-Din's words: "Mortimer sees and knows all." He picked up +his sherry glass and drained it to cover his confusion. + +"... It was hardly gallant of you to bolt so suddenly and leave +the lady!" Mortimer added. + +How much did this uncanny creature know? + +Without waiting for him to reply, Mortimer went on. + +"I suppose she told you a long story of my persecution, eh, +Bellward? You needn't shake your head. I taxed her with it and +she admitted as much." + +"I had no idea that you were staying at the Dyke Inn!" said +Desmond at a venture. + +"My friend," replied Mortimer, lowering his voice, "your fair +charmer is showing a decided inclination to make a nuisance of +herself. I have had to keep an eye on her. It's been a very +serious inconvenience to my plans, I can assure you. But you +haven't answered my question. What sent you away in such a hurry +this afternoon? and in so romantic a fashion? By the window, was +it not?" + +Through sheer apprehension, Desmond was now keyed up to a kind of +desperate audacity. The truth is sometimes a very effective +weapon in the game of bluff, and Desmond determined to employ it. + +"I saw someone I didn't want to meet," he replied. + +"Ah!" said Mortimer, "who was that, I wonder? The Dyke Inn could +hardly be described as a frequented resort, I imagine!" + +The entry of old Martha to change the plates prevented Desmond +from replying. He used the brief respite to review the situation. +He would tell Mortimer the truth. They were man to man now and he +cared nothing even if the other should discover the fraud that +had been practised upon him. Come what might, Mortimer, dead or +alive, should be delivered up to justice that night. + +The housekeeper left the room and Desmond spoke. + +"I saw an officer I knew in the courtyard," he said. + +"Oh, Strangwise, I suppose!" said Mortimer carelessly. "There's +nothing to fear from him, Bellward. He's of the beef and beer and +no brains stamp of British officer. But how do you know +Strangwise?" + +"I met him at the Nineveh Hotel in town one night," replied +Desmond. "I don't care about meeting officers, however, and +that's a fact!" + +Mortimer looked at him keenly for a brief instant. "What +prudence!" he cried. "Bellward, you are the very model of what a +secret agent should be! This pheasant is delicious!" + +He turned the conversation into a different channel but Desmond +could not forget that brief searching look. His mind was in a +turmoil of half-digested facts, of semi-completed deductions. He +wanted to go away somewhere alone and think out this mystery and +disentangle each separate web of this baffling skein of intrigue. + +He must focus his attention on Mortimer and Nur-el-Din. If +Mortimer and Strangwise were both staying at the Dyke Inn, then +they were probably acquainted. Strangwise knew Nur-el-Din, too, +knew her well; for Desmond remembered how familiarly they had +conversed together that night in the dancer's dressing-room at +the Palaceum. Strangwise knew Barbara Mackwayte also. Nur-el-Din +had introduced them, Desmond remembered, on that fateful night +when he had accompanied Strangwise to the Palaceum. Strange, how +he was beginning to encounter the man Strangwise at every turn in +this sinister affair. + +And then, with a shock that struck him like a blow in the face, +Desmond recalled Barbara's parting words to him in the taxi. He +remembered how she had told him of seeing Nur-el-Din's face in +the mirror as the dancer was talking to Strangwise that night at +the Palaceum, and of the look of terror in the girl's eyes. +Nur-el-Din was terrified of Mortimer; for so much she had +admitted to Desmond that very afternoon; she was terrified of +Strangwise, too, it seemed, of this Strangwise who, like +Mortimer, kept appearing at every stage of this bewildering +affair. What confession had been on Nur-el-Din's lips when she +had broken off that afternoon with the cry: + +"Already I have said too much!" + +Thereafter Desmond's eyes were never long absent from Mortimer's +face, scrutinizing each feature in turn, the eyes, set rather +close together, grotesquely shielded by the thick spectacles, the +narrow cheeks, the rather cynical mouth half hidden by the heavy, +drooping moustache, the broad forehead broken by a long lock of +dark hair brushed out flat in a downward direction from an +untidy, unkempt crop. + +They talked no more of Strangwise or of Nur-el-Din. The rest of +dinner was passed in conversation of a general order in which Mr. +Mortimer showed himself to great advantage. He appeared to be a +widely traveled, well-read man, with a fund of dry, often rather +grim humor. And all the time Desmond watched, watched, +unobtrusively but unceasingly, looking out for something he was +confident of detecting through the suave, immobile mask of this +brilliant conversationalist. + +Skillfully, almost imperceptibly, Desmond edged the talk on to +the war. In this domain, too, Mortimer showed himself a man of +broad views, of big, comprehensive ideas. Towards the strategy +and tactics of the two sides, he adopted the attitude of an +impartial onlooker, but in his comments he proved himself to have +a thorough grasp of the military situation. He talked freely and +ably of such things as tanks, the limited objective in the attack +and the decentralization of responsibility in the field. + +Encouraged by his volubility, for he was a man who delighted in +conversation, Desmond gradually gave the talk a personal turn. +But willing as Mortimer showed himself to discuss the war +generally, about his personal share he was as mute as a fish. Try +as he would Desmond could get nothing out of him. Again and +again, he brought the conversation round to personal topics; but +every time his companion contrived to switch it back to general +lines. + +At last Desmond risked a direct question. By this time a pint of +Pommery and Greno was tingling in his veins and he felt he didn't +care if the roof fell in. + +"Ever since Nur-el-Din told me you were of the Crown Prince's +personal service," he said, "I have been devoured with curiosity +to know what you were doing before you came to England. Were you +at Metz with his Imperial Highness? Did you see the assault at +Verdun? Were you present at the capture of the Fort of +Douaumont?" + +Mortimer shook his head, laughing, and held up a deprecating +hand. + +"Professional discretion, my dear fellow, professional +discretion!" he retorted. "You know what it is!" + +Then lowering his voice, he added: + +"Between ourselves the less said about my connection with Master +Willie the better. Our colleagues are already restless at what +they consider my neglect of my professional work. They attribute +it to the wiles of Nur-el-Din. They may if they like and I don't +propose to disillusion them. You understand, Bellward?" + +His voice was commanding and he bent his brows at Desmond, who +hastened to protest that his discretion in the matter would be +absolute. + +When they had had their coffee and Mortimer was contentedly +puffing one of Bellward's excellent double Coronas, Desmond rose +from the table. + +"If you will excuse me a minute," he said, "I will just go across +to the library and see if my housekeeper has put all in order for +our guests!" + +Instantly Mortimer got up from the table. + +"By all means," he said, and emptied his glass of brandy, "so, I +will come with you!" + +Mortimer meant to stick to him, thought Desmond; that was +evident. Then an idea struck him. Why should he not telephone in +Mortimer's presence? To ask for Mr. Elias was in no way +incriminating and if help came promptly, Mortimer could be +secured and the other spies pounced upon in their turn as they +arrived. + +Therefore, as soon as they reached the library, Desmond walked +over to the desk and picked up the telephone receiver from its +hook. + +"Excuse me," he said to Mortimer, "I had forgotten I had to ring +up Stanning!" + +"Oh, dear," said Mortimer from his place on the hearth rug where +he was warming his coat tails in front of the fire, "isn't that +unfortunate? I wish I had known! Tut, tut, how annoying for you!" + +The telephone seemed quite dead. + +"I don't understand!" said Desmond to Mortimer. "What's +annoying?" + +"The telephone, my dear Bellward,"--Mortimer spoke in a pompous +voice--"the telephone is the symbol of the age in which we live, +the age of publicity but also of indiscretion. It is almost as +indiscreet to have a telephone in your house as to keep a diary. +Therefore, in view of our little party here this evening, to +prevent us from being disturbed in any way, I took the liberty +of... of severing the connection... temporarily, mind you, only +temporarily; it shall be restored as soon as we break up. I have +some small acquaintance with electrical engineering." + +Desmond was silent. Disappointment had deprived him for the +moment of the power of speech. It was to be man to man then, +after all. If he was to secure Mortimer and the rest of the gang +that night, he must do it on his own. He could not hope for aid. +The prospect did not affright him. If Mortimer could have seen +the other's eyes at that moment he might have remarked a light +dancing in them that was not solely of Messrs. Pommery and +Greno's manufacture. + +"If I had known you wanted to use the instrument, my dear +fellow," Mortimer continued in his bland voice, "I should +certainly have waited until you had done your business!" + +"Pray don't mention it," replied Desmond, "you do well to be +prudent, Mr. Mortimer!" + +Mortimer shot a sudden glance at him. Desmond met it with a +frank, easy smile. + +"I'm a devil for prudence myself!" he observed brightly. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. THE GATHERING OF THE SPIES + +Action, or the promise of action, always acted on Desmond Okewood +like a nerve tonic. His visit to the inn, followed by the fencing +with Mortimer at dinner, had galvanized his nerves jaded with the +inaction of the preceding days. He averted his eyes from the +future, he put the past resolutely away. He bent his whole +attention on the problem immediately before him--how to carry off +the role of Bellward in front of four strangers, one of whom, at +least, he thought, must know the man he was impersonating; how to +extract as much information as possible about the gang and its +organization before uncovering his hand; finally, how to +overpower the four men and the one woman when the moment had come +to strike. + +Mortimer and he were in the library. By Desmond's direction old +Martha had put out two bridge tables and cards. A tantalus stand +with siphons and glasses, an assortment of different colored +liqueurs in handsome cut-glass carafes and some plates of +sandwiches stood on a side-table. At Mortimer's suggestion +Desmond had told the housekeeper that, once the guests had +arrived, she might go to bed. + +The library was very still. There was no sound except for the +solemn ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece or the occasional +rustle of the evening paper in Mortimer's hand as he stood in +front of the fire. Desmond was sitting on the settee, tranquilly +smoking, studying Mortimer and thinking out the problem before +him. + +He measured Mortimer with his eye. The latter was a bigger man +than Desmond in every way and Desmond suspected that he was even +stronger than he looked. Desmond wondered whether he should try +and overpower him then and there. The other was almost certain to +carry a revolver, he thought, while he was unarmed. Failure, he +knew, would ruin everything. The gang would disperse to the four +winds of heaven while as for Mr. Bellward--well, he would +certainly be "for it," as the soldiers say. + +No, he must hold his hand until the meeting had taken place. This +was the first conference that Mortimer had summoned, and Desmond +intended to see that it should be the last. But first he meant to +find out all there was to know about the working of the gang. + +He resolved to wait and see what the evening would bring forth. +The telephone was "a washout": the motor-cycle was now his only +chance to summon aid for he knew it was hopeless to think of +tackling single-handed odds of four to one (to say nothing of the +lady in the case). It must be his business to make an opportunity +to slip away on the motor-bike to Stanning. Ten minutes to get +there, five minutes to deliver his message at the police station +(if the Chief's people made their headquarters there), and ten +minutes to get back if they had a car. Could he leave the meeting +for 25 minutes without arousing suspicions? He doubted it; but it +must be. There was no other way. And then with a shock that made +him cold with fear he remembered Mortimer's motor-car. + +If, during his absence, anything occurred to arouse their +suspicions, the whole crowd could pile into the car and be away +long before Desmond could be back with help. The fog had lifted +and it was a clear night outside. The car would have to be got +rid of before he left the house, that was all about it. But how? +A means to that end must also be discovered as the evening +progressed. By the way, what had Mortimer done with his car? + +A very faint throbbing somewhere outside answered Desmond's +unspoken question. + +Mortimer flung aside his paper. + +"Isn't that a car?" he asked, "that'll be they. I sent Max to +Wentfield station to meet our friends!" + +There was the sound of voices, of bustle in the hall. Then the +door opened and a man came in. Desmond had a brief moment of +acute suspense. Was he supposed to know him? + +He was a short, ugly fellow with immensely broad shoulders, a +heavy puffy face, a gross, broad nose, and a tooth-brush +moustache. He might have been a butcher to look at. In the top +edge of his coat lapel, he wore a small black pin with a glass +head. + +"Well, Max," said Mortimer. "Have you brought them all?" + +The man was mustering Desmond with a suspicious, unfriendly +stare. + +"My friend, Bellward!" said Mortimer, clapping Desmond on the +shoulder. "You've heard of Bellward, Max!" + +And to Desmond's surprise he made some passes in the air. + +The man's mien underwent a curious change. He became cringing; +almost overawed. + +"Reelly," he grunted, "reelly now! You don't siy! Glad to know +yer, mister, I'm shore!" + +He spoke with a vile snuffing cockney accent, and thrust out his +hand to Desmond. Then he added to Mortimer: + +"There's three on 'em. That's the count, ain't it? I lef' the car +outside on the drive!" + +At this moment two more of the guests entered: One was a tall, +emaciated looking man of about fifty who seemed to be in the last +stages of consumption; the other a slightly built young fellow +with a shock of black hair brushed back and an olive complexion. +He wore pince-nez and looked like a Russian revolutionary. They, +too, wore the badge of the brotherhood--the black pin in the coat +lapel. + +"Goot efening, Mr. Mortimer," said the tall man in a guttural +voice, "this is Behrend"--he indicated the young man by his +side--"you haft not meet him no?" + +Then, leaving Behrend to shake hands with Mortimer, he literally +rushed at Desmond and shook him by the hand exactly as though he +were working a pump handle. + +"My tear Pellward," he cried, "it is a hondred year since I haf +see you, not? And how are the powers!" + +He lowered his voice and gazed mysteriously at him. + +Desmond, at a loss what to make of this extraordinary individual, +answered at random: + +"The powers? Still fighting, I believe!" + +The tall man stared open-mouthed at him for a moment. Then, +clapping his hands together, he burst into a high-pitched cackle +of laughter. + +"A joke," he yelled, "a mos' excellent joke! I must tell this to +Minna. My vriend, I haf not mean the great Powers." + +He looked dramatically about him, then whispered: + +"I mean, the oggult!" + +Desmond, who was now quite out of his depth, wagged his head +solemnly at the other as though to indicate that, his occult +powers were something not to be lightly mentioned. He had no fear +of the tall man, at any rate. He placed him as a very ordinary +German, a common type in the Fatherland, simple-minded, pedantic, +inquisitive, and a prodigious bore withal but dangerous, for of +this stuff German discipline kneads militarists. + +But the door opened again to admit the last of the guests. A +woman entered. Desmond was immediately struck by the contrast she +presented to the others, Mortimer with his goggle eyes and untidy +hair, Max, gross and bestial, Behrend, Oriental and shifty, and +the scarecrow figure of the tall man. + +Despite her age, which must have been nearly sixty, she still +retained traces of beauty. Her features were very regular, and +she had a pair of piercing black eyes of undimmed brightness. Her +gray hair was tastefully arranged, and she wore a becoming black +velvet gown with a black lace scarf thrown across the shoulders. +A white silk rose was fastened to her bodice by a large black pin +with a glass head. + +Directly she appeared, the tall man shouted to her in German. + +"Sag' mal, Minna..." he began. + +Mortimer turned on him savagely. + +"Hold your tongue, No. 13," he cried, "are you mad? What the +devil do you mean by it? You know the rules!" + +By way of reply, "No. 13" broke into a regular frenzy of coughing +which left him gasping for breath. + +"Pardon! I haf' forgot!" he wheezed out between the spasms. + +The woman went over to Mortimer and put out tier gloved hand. + +"I am Mrs. Malplaquet," she said in a pleasant voice. "And you +are Mr. Mortimer, I think!" + +Mortimer bowed low over her hand. + +"Madame, I am charmed to meet one of whom I have heard nothing +but praise," he said. + +"Verry pretty!" replied Mrs. Malplaquet smiling. "They tell me +you have a great way with the ladies, my dear sir!" + +"But," she went on, "I am neglecting our host, my dear Mr. +Bellward. How are you, my friend? How well you are looking... so +young... so fresh! I declare you seem to have got five years +younger!" + +The keen black eyes searched Desmond's face. He felt horribly +uncomfortable. The woman's eyes were like gimlets boring right +into him. He suddenly felt that his disguise was a poor one. He +remembered Crook's warning to be wary of women, and he inwardly +quailed. + +"I am so glad to meet you again!" he murmured. He didn't like +Mrs. Malplaquet's eyes. They assorted strangely with the rest of +her gentle and refined appearance. They were hard and cruel, +those black eyes. Thy put him in mind of a snake. + +"It is so long since I've seen you," she said, "that positively +your voice seems to have changed." + +"That's because I have a cold," said Desmond. + +"Fiddlesticks!" retorted the lady, "the timbre is quite +different! Bellward, I believe you're in love! Don't tell me +you've been running after that hank of hair that Mortimer is so +devoted to!" She glanced in Mortimer's direction, but that +gentleman was engaged in earnest conversation with Behrend and +the tall man. + +"Whom do you meant" asked Desmond. + +"Where are your eyes, man?" rapped out Mrs. Malplaquet. "The +dancer woman, of course, Nur-el-what-do-you-call-it. There's the +devil of a row brewing about the way our friend over there is +neglecting us to run after the minx. They're getting sharp in +this country, Bellward--I've lived here for forty years so I know +what I'm talking about--and we can't afford to play any tricks. +Mortimer will finish by bringing destruction on every one of us. +And I shall tell him so tonight. And so will No. 13! And so will +young Behrend! You ought to hear Behrend about it!" + +Mrs. Malplaquet began to interest Desmond. She was obviously a +woman of refinement, and he was surprised to find her in this odd +company. By dint of careful questioning, he ascertained the fact +that she lived in London, at a house on Campden Hill. She seemed +to know a good many officers, particularly naval men. + +"I've been keeping my eyes open as I promised, Bellward," she +said, "and I believe I've got hold of a likely subject for you--a +submarine commander he is, and very psychic. When will you come +and meet him at my house?" + +Mortimer's voice, rising above the buzz of conversation, checked +his reply. + +"If you will all sit down," he said, "we'll get down to +business." + +Despite all distractions, Desmond had been watching for this +summons. He had marked down for himself a chair close to the +door. For this he now made, after escorting Mrs. Malplaquet to +the settee where she sat down beside Behrend. Max took the +armchair on the left of the fireplace; while No. 13 perched +himself grotesquely on a high music-stool, his long legs curled +round the foot. Mortimer stood in his former position on the +hearth, his back to the fire. + +A very odd-looking band! Desmond commented to himself but he +thought he could detect in each of the spies a certain ruthless +fanaticism which experience taught him to respect as highly +dangerous. And they all had hard eyes! + +When they were seated, Mortimer said: + +"About the 14th of this month the British Admiralty will begin +the work of shipping to France ten divisions of American troops +now training in this country. The most extraordinary precautions +are being taken to complete this huge undertaking with success. +It seems to me that the moment has come for us to demonstrate the +efficiency of our new organization." + +He looked round at his audience but no one said a word. Desmond +felt very distinctly that there was a hostile atmosphere against +Mortimer in that room. + +"I asked you to come here to-night," Mortimer went on, "to +discuss the plans for sending prompt and accurate information +regarding the movements of these transports to the other side. I +warn you that this time our mode of procedure will have to be +radically different from the methods we have pursued on former +occasions. To expend our energies in collecting information at +half a dozen different ports of war will be waste of time. The +direction of the whole of this enterprise lies in the hands of +one man at the Admiralty." + +Behrend, who had struck Desmond as a rather taciturn young man, +shook his head dubiously. + +"That makes things very difficult," he remarked. + +"Wait," replied Mortimer. "I agree, it is very difficult, the +more so as I have reason to believe that the authorities have +discovered the existence of our organization." + +Mrs. Malplaquet and Behrend turned to one another simultaneously. + +"What did I say?" said Behrend. + +"I told you so," said the lady. + +"Therefore," Mortimer resumed, "our former activities on the +coast will practically be paralyzed. We shall have to confine our +operations to London while Max and Mr. Behrend here will be +entrusted with the task of getting the news out to our +submarines." + +No. 13 broke in excitedly. + +"Vork in London, vork in London!" he cried. "It is too dangerous, +my vriend. Vot do I know of London? Portsmouth" (he called it +Portsmouse), "Sout'ampton, the Isle of Vight... good... it is my +province. But, London... it is senseless!" + +Mortimer turned his gig-lamps on the interrupter. + +"You will take your orders from me as before," he said quietly. + +Behrend adjusted his pince-nez. + +"No. 13 is perfectly right," he remarked, "he knows his +territory, and he should be allowed to work there." + +"You, too," Mortimer observed in the same calm tone as before, +"will take your orders from me!" + +With a quick gesture the young man dashed his long black hair out +of his eyes. + +"Maybe," he replied, "but only as long as I feel sure that your +orders are worth following. + +"Do you dare..." began Mortimer, shouting. + +"... At present," the other continued, as though Mortimer had not +spoken. "I don't feel at all sure that they are." + +The atmosphere was getting a trifle heated, thought Desmond. If +he judged Mortimer aright, he was not the man to let himself be +dictated to by anybody. He was wondering how the scene would end +when suddenly something caught his eye that took his mind right +away from the events going forward in the room. + +Opposite him, across the library, was a French window across +which the curtains had been drawn. One of the curtains, however, +had got looped up on a chair so that there was a gap at the +bottom of the window showing the pane. + +In this gap was a face pressed up against the glass. To his +astonishment Desmond recognized the weather-beaten features of +the odd man, Mr. John Hill. The face remained there only for a +brief instant. The next moment it was gone and Desmond's +attention was once more claimed by the progress of the +conference. + +"Do I understand that you refuse to serve under me any longer?" +Mortimer was saying to Behrend, who had risen from the settee and +stood facing him. + +"As long as you continue to behave as you are doing at present," +replied the other, "you may understand that!" + +Mortimer made a quick dive for his pocket. In an instant Max had +jumped at him and caught his arm. + +"Don't be a fool!" he cried, "for Gawd's sake, put it away, +carn't yer? D 'you want the 'ole ruddy plice abart our ears?" + +"I'll have no disobedience of orders," roared Mortimer, +struggling with the other. In his fist he had a big automatic +pistol. It was a prodigious weapon, the largest pistol that +Desmond had ever seen. + +"He threatened him, he threatened him!" screamed No. 13 jumping +about on his stool. + +"Take it away from him, Max, for Heaven's sake!" cried the lady. + +Everybody was talking at once. The noise was so loud that Desmond +wondered whether old Martha would hear the din. He sat in his +chair by the door, a silent witness of the scene. Then suddenly, +at the height of the hubbub, he heard the faint humming of a +motor-car. It lasted for perhaps thirty seconds, then gradually +died away. + +"What did it mean?" he asked himself. The only living being he +knew of outside was John Hill, the odd man, whose face he had +just seen; the only car was Mortimer's. Had the odd man gone off +in Mortimer's car? He was thankful to note that, in the din, none +save him seemed to have heard the car. + +By this time Mortimer had put up his pistol and Mrs. Malplaquet +was speaking. Her remarks were effective and very much to the +point. She upbraided Mortimer with his long and mysterious +absences which she attributed to his infatuation for Nur-el-Din +and complained bitterly of the dancer's imprudence in consorting +openly with notorious folk like Lazarro and Bryan Mowbury. + +"I went to the girl myself," she said, "and begged her to be more +circumspect. But Madame would not listen to advice; Madame was +doubtless sure of her position with our revered leader, and +thought she could reject the friendly counsel of one old enough +to be her mother. Behrend and Max and No. 13 there--all of +us--are absolutely agreed that we are not going on with this sort +of thing any longer. If you are to remain in charge of our +organization, Mr. Mortimer, we want to know where you are to be +found and how you spend your time. In short, we want to be sure +that you are not playing a game that most of us have at different +times played on subordinate agents... I mean, that when the +crisis comes, we fall into the trap and you walk away. You had +better realize once and for all that we are too old hands for +that sort of trick." + +Here Max took up the thread. "Mrs. Malplaquet had put it very +strite, so she 'ad, and wot he wanted to know was what Mortimer +'ad to siy?" + +Mortimer was very suave in his reply; a bad sign, thought +Desmond, for it indicated that he was not sure of himself. He was +rather vague, spoke about a vitally important mission that he had +had to fulfil but which he had now brought to a successful +conclusion, so that he was at length free to devote his whole +attention once more to the great task in hand. + +Behrend brought his fist crashing down on the arm of the settee. + +"Words, words," he cried, "it won't do for me. Isn't there a man +in the room besides me? You, Bellward, or you, Max, or you, +No.13? Haven't you got any guts any of You? Are you going to sit +here and listen to the soft soap of a fellow who has probably +sent better men than himself to their death with tripe of this +kind? It may do for you, but by the Lord, it won't do for me!" + +Mortimer cleared his throat uneasily. + +"Our host is silent," said Mrs. Malplaquet, "what does Mr. +Bellward think about it?" + +Desmond spoke up promptly. + +"I think it would be very interesting to hear something further +about this mission of Mortimer's," he observed: + +Mortimer cast him a glance of bitter malice. + +"Well," he said, after a pause, "you force my hand. I shall tell +you of this mission of mine and I shall show you the evidence, +because it seems essential in the interests of our organization. +But I assure you I shall not forget this want of confidence you +have shown in me; and I shall see that you don't forget it, +either!" + +As he spoke, he glared fiercely at Desmond through his glasses. + +"Let's hear about the precious mission," jeered Behrend, "let's +see the evidence. The threats'll keep!" + +Then Mortimer told them of how the Star of Poland came into +Nur-el-Din's possession, and of the Crown Prince's embarrassment +when the German authorities claimed it for the regalia of the new +Kingdom of Poland. + +"The Crown Prince," he said, "summoned me to him in person and +gave me the order to make my way to England immediately and +recover the gem at all costs and by any means. Did I whine or +snivel about being sent to my death as some of you were doing +just now? No! That is not the way of the Prussian Guard..." + +"The Prussian Guard?" cried No. 13 in an awed voice. "Are you also +of the Prussian Guard, comrade?" + +He had risen from his seat and there was something almost of +majesty about his thin, ungainly figure as he drew himself to his +full height. + +"Ay, comrade, I was," replied Mortimer. + +"Then," cried No. 13, "you are..." + +"No names, comrade," warned Mortimer, "no names, I beg!" + +"No names, no names!" repeated the other and relapsed into his +seat in a reverie. + +"How I got to England," Mortimer continued, "matters nothing; how +I fulfilled my mission is neither here nor there. But I recovered +the gem and the proof..." + +He thrust a hand into the inner pocket of his coat and plucked +out a white paper package sealed up with broad red seals. + +Desmond held his breath. It was the white paper package, exactly +as Barbara had described. + +"Look at it well, Behrend," said Mortimer, holding it up for the +young man to see, "it cost me a man's life to get that. If it had +sent twenty men to their death, I should have had it just the +same!" + +Mrs. Malplaquet clapped her hands, her eyes shining. + +"Bravo, bravo!" she exclaimed, "that's the spirit! That's the way +to talk, Mortimer!" + +"Cut it out," snarled Behrend, "and let's see the goods!" + +All had left their seats and were gathered in a group about +Mortimer as he began to break the gleaming red wag seals. One by +one he burst them, the white paper slipped off and disclosed... a +box of cigarettes. + +Mortimer stood gazing in stupefaction at the gaudy green and gold +lettering of the box. Then, running his thumb-nail swiftly along +the edge of the box, he broke the paper wrapping, the box burst +open and a shower of cigarettes fell to the ground. + +"So that's your Star of Poland, is it?" cried Behrend in a +mocking voice. + +"Wot 'ave yer done wiv' the sparklers, eh?" demanded Max, +catching Mortimer roughly by the arm. + +But Mortimer stood, aimlessly shaking the empty box in front of +him, as though to convince himself that the gem was not there. +Behrend fell on his knees and raked the pile of cigarettes over +and over with his fingers. + +"Nothing there!" he shouted angrily, springing to his feet. "It's +all bluff! He's bluffing to the end! See, he doesn't even attempt +to find his famous jewel! He knows it isn't there!" + +But Mortimer paid no heed. He was staring straight in front of +him, a strangely woe-begone figure with his thatch of untidy hair +and round goggle eyes. Then the cigarette box fell to the floor +with a crash as Mortimer's hands dropped, with, a hopeless +gesture, to his sides. + +"Barbara Mackwayte!" he whispered in a low voice, not seeming to +realize that he was speaking aloud, "so that's what she wanted +with Nur-el-Din!" + +Desmond was standing at Mortimer's elbow and caught the whisper. +As he heard Mortimer speak Barbara's name, he had a sudden +premonition that his own unmasking was imminent, though he +understood as little of the purport of the other's remark as of +the pile of cigarettes lying on the carpet. As Mortimer turned to +look at him, Desmond nerved himself to meet the latter's gaze. +But Mortimer's face wore the look of a desperate man. There was +no recognition in his eyes. + +Not so with Desmond. Perhaps the bitterness of his disappointment +had made Mortimer careless, perhaps the way in which he had +pronounced Barbara's name struck a familiar chord in Desmond's +memory. The unkempt hair brushed down across the forehead, the +thick glasses, the heavy moustache still formed together an +impenetrable mask which Desmond's eyes failed to pierce. But now +he recalled the voice. As Mortimer looked at him, the truth +dawned on Desmond and he knew that the man standing beside him +was Maurice Strangwise, his comrade-in-arms in France. + +At that very moment a loud crash rang through the room, a cold +blast of damp air came rushing in and the lamp on the table +flared up wildly, flickered an instant and went out, leaving the +room in darkness save for the glow of the fire. + +A deep voice cried: + +"May I ask what you are all doing in my house?" + +The secret door of the bookshelves had swung back and there, +framed in the gaping void, Desmond saw the dark figure of a man. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. THE UNINVITED GUEST + +There are moments in life when the need for prompt action is so +urgent that thought, decision and action must be as one operation +of the brain. In the general consternation following on the +dramatic appearance of this uninvited guest, Desmond had a brief +respite in which to think over his position. + +Should he make a dash for it or stay where he was and await +developments? + +Without a second's hesitation; he decided on the latter course. +With the overpowering odds against him it was more than doubtful +whether he could ever reach the library door. Besides, to go was +to abandon absolutely all hope of capturing the gang; for his +flight would warn the conspirators that the game was up. On the +other hand, the new-comer might be an ally, perhaps an emissary +of the Chief's. The strange behavior of the odd man had shown +that something was afoot outside of which those in the library +were unaware. Was the uninvited guest the deus ex machina who was +to help him, Desmond, out of his present perilous fix? + +Meanwhile the stranger had stepped into the room, drawing the +secret door to behind him. Desmond heard his heavy step and the +dull thud of the partition swinging into place. The sound seemed +to break the spell that hung over the room. + +Mortimer was the first to recover his presence of mind. Crying +out to No. 13 to lock the door leading into the hall, he fumbled +for a moment at the table. Desmond caught the noise of a match +being scratched and the next moment the library was again bathed +in the soft radiance of the lamp. + +Picking up the light, Mortimer strode across to the stranger. + +"What do you want here" he demanded fiercely, "and who the +devil..." + +He broke off without completing his sentence, drawing back in +amazement. For the rays of the lamp fell upon the pale face of a +stoutish, bearded man, veering towards middle age standing in +front of Mortimer. And the face was the face of the stoutish, +bearded man, veering towards middle age, who stood in the shadow +a few paces behind Mortimer. Each man was a complete replica of +the other, save that the face of the new arrival was thin and +haggard with that yellowish tinge which comes from long +confinement. + +As Mortimer staggered back, the uninvited guest recoiled in his +turn. He was staring fixedly across the room at his double who +met his gaze firmly, erect, tense, silent. The others looked in +sheer stupefaction from one to the other of the two Mr. +Bellwards. For nearly a minute the only sound in the room was the +deep ticking of the clock, counting away the seconds separating +him from eternity, Desmond thought. + +It was Mrs. Malplaquet who broke the silence. Suddenly her nerves +snapped under the strain, and she screamed aloud. + +"A--ah!" she cried, "look! There are two of them! No, no, it +can't be!" + +And she sank half fainting on the sofa. + +Behrend whipped out a pistol from his hip pocket and thrust it in +Mortimer's face. + +"Is this another of your infernal surprise packets?" he demanded +fiercely. + +All the spies seemed on a sudden to be armed, Desmond noted, all, +that is, save Mrs. Malplaquet who lay cowering on the settee. +Mortimer had pulled out his super-Mauser; No. 13, who was +guarding the door, had a revolver in his hand, and Behrend, as +has been stated, was threatening Mortimer with his Browning. + +Now Max advanced threateningly into the room, a long seaman's +knife in his hand.. + +"Put that blarsted shooting-iron awiy!" he snarled at Mortimer, +"and tell us wot's the little gime, will yer! Come on, egpline!" + +With absolute self-possession Mortimer turned from the stranger +to Desmond. + +"I think it is up to the twins to explain," he said almost +nonchalantly, "suppose we hear what this gentleman, who arrived +so surprisingly through the book-shelves, has to say?" + +Though threatened with danger from two sides, from the gang and +possibly, as far as he knew, from the stranger, Mortimer was +perfectly calm. Desmond never admired Maurice Strangwise more +than in that moment. All eyes now turned questioningly towards +the new arrival. As for Desmond he drew back as far as he dared +into the shadow. He knew he was in the direst peril; but he was +not afraid for himself. He was crushed to the ground by the +sickening feeling that he was going to be beaten, that the gang +were going to slip through his fingers after all... and he was +powerless to prevent it. + +He guessed at once what had happened. Bellward must have escaped +from custody; for there was no disguise about this pale, +flustered creature who had the cowed look of a hunted man in his +eyes. He must have come to the Mill House to get his motorcycle; +for he surely would have known that the villa would be the first +place to which the police would follow him up. + +Desmond saw a little ray of hope. If--it was a very big +if--Bellward's flight were discovered promptly, the police might +be expected to reach the Mill House very soon behind him. +Bellward must have come straight there; for he had not even taken +the very elementary precaution of shaving off his beard. That +made Desmond think that he must have escaped some time that +evening after the barbers' shops were closed. + +With thumping heart, with bated breath, he waited for what was to +come. In a very little while, he told himself, the truth must +come out. His only chance was to try and bluff his way out of +this appalling dilemma and above all, at all costs--this was the +essential fact which, he told himself, he must keep steadfastly +before his eyes--not to lose sight of Mortimer whatever happened. + +Bellward's voice--and its tones showed Desmond what an +accomplished mime Crook had been--broke the silence. + +"I have nothing to explain," he said, turning from the sofa where +he had been exchanging a few words in an undertone with Mrs. +Malplaquet, "this is my house. That is sufficient explanation for +my presence here, I imagine. But I confess I am curious to know +what this person"--he indicated Desmond--"is doing in my clothes, +if I mistake not, giving what I take to be a very successful +impersonation of myself." + +Then Desmond stepped boldly out of the shadow into the circle of +light thrown by the lamp. + +"I don't know what you all think," he said firmly, "but it seems +to me singularly unwise for us to stand here gossiping when there +is a stranger amongst us. I fail to understand the motive of this +gentleman in breaking into my house by my private door, wearing +my clothes, if I am to believe my eyes; but I clearly realize the +danger of admitting strangers to a gathering of this kind." + +"Quite right," agreed Behrend, nodding his head in assent. + +"You have had one singular surprise to-night already," Desmond +resumed, "in the matter of the jewel which our respected leader +was about to show us: if you recollect, our friend was only +prevented from giving us the explanation which he certainly owed +us over his little hoax by the arrival, the most timely arrival, +of his confederate..." + +"Confederate?" shouted Mortimer, "what the devil do you mean by +that?" + +"Yes, confederate," Desmond repeated. "Max, Behrend, Mrs. +Malplaquet, all of you, look at this wretched fellow"--he pointed +a finger of scorn at Bellward--"trembling with fright at the role +that has been thrust upon him, to force his way into our midst, +to give his accomplice the tip to clear out before the police +arrive." + +"Stop!" exclaimed Mortimer, raising his pistol. Behrend caught +his hand. + +"We'll hear you in a minute!" he said. + +"Let him finish!" said Mrs. Malplaquet, and there was a certain +ominous quietness in her tone that startled Desmond. + +As for Bellward, he remained silent, with arms folded, listening +very intently. + +"Doubtless, this double of mine," continued Desmond in a mocking +voice, "is the bearer of the Star of Poland, the wonderful jewel +which has required our beloved leader to devote so much of his +time to a certain charming lady. Bah! are you going to let a man +like this," and he pointed to Mortimer disdainfully with his +hand, "a man who puts you in the fighting line while he amuses +himself in the rear, are you going to let this false friend, this +bogus spy, cheat you like this? My friends, my advice to you, if +you don't want to have another and yet more disagreeable +surprise, is to make sure that this impudent imposter is not here +for the purpose of selling us all!" + +He raised his voice until it rang through the room, at the same +time looking round the group at the faces of the spies to see how +his harangue had worked upon their feelings. Max and Behrend, he +could see, were on his side; No. 13 was obviously, undecided; +Mortimer and Bellward were, of course, against him; Mrs. +Malplaquet sat with her hands in her lap, her eyes cast down, +giving no sign. + +"It's high time..." Mortimer began violently but Mrs. Malplaquet +put up her hand and checked him. + +"Better hear Bellward!" she said softly. + +"I know nothing of what has been taking place in my absence," he +said, "either here or outside. I only know that I escaped from +the escort that was taking me back from Scotland Yard to Brixton +Prison this evening and that the police are hard on my track. I +have delayed too long as, it is. Every one of us in this room, +with the exception of the traitor who is amongst us"--he pointed +a finger in denunciation at Desmond--"is in the most imminent +peril as long as we stay here. The rest of you can please +yourselves. I'm off!" + +He turned and pressed the spring. The book shelves swung open. +Behrend sprang forward. + +"Not so fast," he cried. "You don't leave this room until we +know who you are!" + +And he covered him with his pistol. + +"Fool!" exclaimed Bellward who had stopped on the threshold of +the secret door, "do you want to trap the lot of us! Tell him, +Minna," he said to Mrs. Malplaquet, "and for Heaven's sake, let +us be gone!" + +Mrs. Malplaquet stood up. + +"This is Basil Bellward," she said, "see, he's wearing the ring I +gave him, a gold snake with emerald eyes! And now," she cried, +raising her voice shrilly, "before we go, kill that man!" + +And she pointed at Desmond. + +Bellward had seized her by the arm and was dragging her through +the opening in the shed when a shrill whistle resounded from the +garden. Without any warning Mortimer swung round and fired +point-blank at Desmond. But Desmond had stooped to spring at the +other and the bullet went over his head. With ears singing from +the deafening report of the pistol in the confined space, with +the acrid smell of cordite in his nostrils, Desmond leapt at +Mortimer's throat, hoping to bear him to the ground before he +could shoot again. As he sprang he heard the crash of glass and a +loud report. Someone cried out sharply "Oh!" as though in +surprise and fell prone between him and his quarry; then he +stumbled and at the same time received a crashing blow on the +head. Without a sound he dropped to the ground across a body that +twitched a little and then lay still. + + * * * * * + +Somewhere in the far, far distance Desmond heard a woman +crying--long drawn-out wailing lamentations on a high, quavering +note. He had a dull, hard pain in his head which felt curiously +stiff. Drowsily he listened for a time to the woman's sobbing, so +tired, so curiously faint that he scarcely cared to wonder what +it signified. But at last it grated on him by its insistency and +he opened his eyes to learn the cause of it. + +His bewildered gaze fell upon what seemed to him a gigantic, +ogre-like face, as huge, as grotesque, as a pantomime mask. +Beside it was a light, a brilliant light, that hurt his eyes. + +Then a voice, as faint as a voice on a long distance telephone, +said: + +"Well, how are you feeling?" + +The voice was so remote that Desmond paid no attention to it. But +he was rather surprised to hear a voice reply, a voice that came +from his own lips, curiously enough: + +"Fine!" + +So he opened his eyes again to ascertain the meaning of this +phenomenon. This time the ogre-like face came into focus, and +Desmond saw a man with a tumbler in his hand bending over him. + +"That's right," said the man, looking very intently at him, "feel +a bit better, eh? Got a bit of a crack, what? Just take a +mouthful of brandy... I've got it here!" + +Desmond obediently swallowed the contents of the glass that the +other held to his lips. He was feeling horribly weak, and very +cold. His collar and shirt were unbuttoned, and his neck and +shoulders were sopping wet with water. On his ears still fell the +wailing of the woman. + +"Corporal," said the man bending over him, "just go and tell that +old hag to hold her noise! She'll have to go out of the house if +she can't be quiet!" + +Desmond opened his eyes again. He was lying on the settee in the +library. A tall figure in khaki, who had been stirring the fire +with his boot, turned at the doctor's summons and left the room. +On the table the lamp was still burning but its rays were +neutralized by the glare of a crimson dawn which Desmond could +see flushing the sky through the shattered panes of the French +window. In the centre of the floor lay a long object covered by a +tablecloth, beside it a table overturned with a litter of broken +glass strewn about the carpet. + +The woman's sobbing ceased. The corporal came back into the room. + +"She'll be quiet now, sir," he said, "I told her to get you and +the gentlemen a cup o' tea." + +Then, to Desmond, he said: + +"Nasty ding you got, sir! My word, I thought they'd done for you +when I come in at the winder!" + +The telephone on the desk tingled sharply. The door opened at the +same moment and a shabby little old man with sandy side whiskers +and moleskin trousers came briskly in. + +His appearance had a curious effect on the patient on the settee. +Despite the doctor's restraining hand, he struggled into a +sitting position, staring in bewilderment at the shabby old man +who had gone straight to the telephone and lifted the receiver. +And well might Desmond stare; for here was Mr. John Hill, the odd +man, talking on the telephone. And his voice... + +"Well?" said the man at the telephone, curtly. + +"Yes, speaking. You've got her, eh? Good. What's that? Well, +that's something. No trace of the others? Damn!" + +He slammed down the receiver and turned to face the settee. + +"Francis!" cried Desmond. + +And then he did a thing highly unbecoming in a field officer. He +burst into tears. + + + +CHAPTER XX. THE ODD MAN + +Desmond and Francis Okewood sat in the dining-room of the Mill +House finishing an excellent breakfast of ham and eggs and coffee +which old Martha had prepared for them. + +Francis was still wearing Mr. John Hill's greasy jacket and +moleskins, but the removal of the sandy whiskers and a remarkable +wig, consisting of a bald pate with a fringe of reddish hair, had +gone far to restore him to the semblance of his former self. + +Desmond was feeling a good deal better. His head had escaped the +full force of the smashing blow dealt at him by Strangwise with +the butt of his pistol. He had instinctively put up his arm to +defend his face and the thickly padded sleeve of Bellward's +jacket had broken the force of the blow. Desmond had avoided a +fractured skull at the price of an appalling bruise on the right +forearm and a nasty laceration of the scalp. + +Francis had resolutely declined to enlighten him as to the events +of the night until both had breakfasted. After despatching the +corporal of military police to hurry the housekeeper on with the +breakfast, Francis had taken his brother straight to the +dining-room, refusing to let him ask the questions which thronged +his brain until they had eaten and drunk. Only when all the ham +and eggs had disappeared, did Francis, lighting one of Mr. +Bellward's cigars, consent to satisfy his brother's curiosity. + +"It was only yesterday morning," he said, "that I landed at +Folkstone from the Continent. How I got the Chief's message +recalling me and how I made my escape through the Turkish lines +to Allenby's headquarters is a long story which will keep. The +Chief had a car waiting for me at Folkstone and I reached London +in time to lunch with him. We had a long talk and he gave me +carte blanche to jump into this business now, when and where I +thought I could best help you." + +Desmond smiled bitterly. + +"The Chief couldn't trust me to make good on my own, I suppose," +he said. + +"The Chief had a very good idea of the character of the people +you had to deal with, Des.," retorted Francis, "and he was a +trifle apprehensive that the role you were playing might lead to +complications, supposing the gang were to see through your +impersonation. He's a wonderful man, that, Des., and he was dead +right--as he always is." + +"But how?" asked Desmond. "Did the crowd spot me?" + +"No," answered the other; "but it was your disguise which was +responsible for the escape of Strangwise--" + +"What?" cried Desmond. "He's escaped after all!" + +Francis nodded. + +"Yes," he said, "got clear away and left no trace. Wait a minute +and you shall hear! When I have told my story, you shall tell +yours and between us, we'll piece things together! + +"Well, when I left the Chief yesterday, I came down here. The +description of Mr. John Hill, your odd man, rather tickled my +fancy. I wanted badly to get at you for a quiet chat and it +seemed to me that if I could borrow Mr. Hill's appearance for a +few hours now and then I might gain access to you without rousing +any suspicion. You see, I knew that old Hill left here about dusk +every afternoon, so I guessed the coast would be clear. + +"Clarkson's fitted me out with the duds and the make-up and I got +down to Wentfield by half-past six. The fog was so infernally +thick that it took me more than an hour to get here on foot. It +must have been close on eight o'clock when I pushed open your +front gate. I thought of going boldly into the kitchen and asking +for you, but, fortunately, I decided to have a preliminary prowl +round the place. Through a chink in the curtains of the library I +saw you and a stranger talking together. The stranger was quite +unknown to me; but one thing about him I spotted right off. I saw +that he was disguised; so I decided to hang about a bit and await +developments. + +"I loafed around in the fog for about half an hour. Then I heard +a car coming up the drive. I hid myself in the rhododendron bush +opposite the front door and saw two men and a woman get out. They +hurried into the house, so that I didn't have a chance of seeing +their faces. But I got a good, glimpse of the chauffeur as he +bent down to turn out the headlights. And, yes, I knew him!" + +"Max, they called him," said Desmond. + +"His name was Mirsky when last I saw him," answered Francis, "and +mine was Apfelbaum, if you want to know. He was a German agent in +Russia and as ruthless and unscrupulous a rascal as you'll find +anywhere in the German service. I must say I never thought he'd +have the nerve to show his face in this country, though I believe +he's a Whitechapel Jew born and bred. However, there he was and +the sight of his ugly mug told me that something was doing. But +like a fool I decided to hang on a bit and watch, instead of +going right off in that car and fetching help from Stanning." + +"It was just as well you waited," said Desmond, "for if you'd +gone off at once they must have heard the car and the fat would +have been in the fire straight away!" + +And he told Francis of the loud dispute among the confederates in +the library, the noise of which had effectually covered the sound +of the departing ear. + +Francis laughed. + +"From my observation post outside," he said, "I could only see +you, Des, and that blackguard, Mug, as you two were sitting +opposite the window. I couldn't see more than the feet of the +others. But your face told me the loud voices which reached me +even outside meant that a crisis of some sort was approaching, so +I thought it was time to be up and doing. So I sneaked round to +the front of the house, got the engine of the car going and +started off down the drive. + +"I had the very devil of a job to get to Stanning. Ever since +you've been down here, the Chief has had special men on duty day +and night at the police-station there. I didn't dare stop to +light the head-lamps and as a result the first thing I did was to +charge the front gate and get the back wheel so thoroughly jammed +that it took me the best part of twenty minutes to get the +blooming car clear. When at last I got to the station, I found +that Matthews, the Chief's man, you know, had just arrived by car +from London with a lot of plain-clothes men and some military +police. He was in the very devil of a stew. He told me that +Bellward had escaped, that the Chief was out of town for the +night and ungetatable, and that he (Matthews) had come down on +his own to prevent the gaff being blown on you and also to +recapture Mr. Bellward if he should be mad enough to make for his +old quarters. + +"I told Matthews of the situation up at the Mill House. Neither +of us was able to understand why you had not telephoned for +assistance--we only discovered later that the telephone had been +disconnected--but I went bail that you were up against a very +stiff proposition. I told Matthews that, by surrounding the +house, we might capture the whole gang. + +"Matthews is a cautious cuss and he wanted a good deal of +persuading, so we lost a lot of time. In the end, he wouldn't +take my advice to rush every available man to the scene, but only +consented to take two plainclothes men and two military police. +He was so precious afraid of upsetting your arrangements. The +Chief, it appears, had warned everybody against doing that. So we +all piled into the car and I drove them back to the Mill House. + +"This time I left the car at the front gate and we went up to the +house on foot. We had arranged that Matthews and one of the +military police, both armed, should stay and guard the car, while +the two plainclothes men and the other military policeman, the +corporal here, should accompany me to the house. Matthews +believed my yarn that we were only going to 'investigate.' What I +intended to do in reality was to round up the whole blessed lot. + +"I put one of the plain-clothes men on the front door and the +other round at the back of the house. Their orders were to stop +anybody who came out and at the same time to whistle for +assistance. The corporal and I went to our old observation post +outside the library window. + +"The moment I glanced into the room I knew that matters had +reached a climax. I saw you--looking pretty blue, old man--facing +that woman who seemed to be denouncing you. Max stood beside you +with a pistol, and beside him was our friend, Mortimer, with a +regular whopper of an automatic. Before I had time to move, the +plain-clothes man at the back of the house whistled. He had found +the secret door with Bellward and the woman coming out of it. + +"Then I saw Mortimer fire point-blank at you. I had my gun out in +a second, but I was afraid of shooting, for fear of hitting you +as you went for the other man. + +"But the corporal at my side wasn't worrying much about you. Just +as you jumped he put up his gun and let fly at Mortimer with a +sense of discrimination which does him infinite credit. He missed +Mortimer, but plugged Max plumb through the forehead and my old +friend dropped in his tracks right between you and the other +fellow. On that we hacked our way through the French window. The +corporal found time to have another shot and laid out a tall, +odd-looking man..." + +"No. 13," elucidated Desmond. + +"... When we got inside we found him dead across the threshold of +the door leading into the hall. Behrend we caught hiding in a +brush cupboard by the back stairs. As for the others--" + +"Gone?" queried Desmond with a sudden sinking at his heart. + +Francis nodded. + +"We didn't waste any time getting through that window," he said, +"but the catch was stiff and the broken glass was deuced +unpleasant. Still, we were too late. You were laid out on the +floor; Mortimer, Bellward and the lady had made their lucky +escape. And the secret door showed us how they had gone..." + +"But I thought you had a man posted at the back?" + +"Would you believe it? When the shooting began, the infernal +idiot must rush round to our assistance, so, of course, Mortimer +and Co., nipping out by the secret door, got clear away down the +drive. But that is not the worst. Matthews gave them the car!" + +"No!" said Desmond incredulously. + +"He did, though," answered Francis. "Mind you, Mortimer had had +the presence of mind to throw off his disguise. He presented +himself to Matthews as Strangwise. Matthews knows Strangwise +quite well: he has often seen him with the Chief. + +"'My God, Captain Strangwise,' says Matthews, as the trio +appeared, 'What's happened?' + +"'You're wanted up at the house immediately, Matthews,' says +Strangwise quite excitedly. 'We're to take the car and go for +assistance.' + +"Matthews had a look at Strangwise's companions, and seeing +Bellward, of course, takes him for you. As for the lady, she had +a black lace muffler wound about her face. + +"'Miss Mackwayte's coming with us, Matthews,' Strangwise says, +seeing Matthews look at the lady. That removed the last of any +lurking suspicions that old Matthews might have had. He left the +military policeman at the gate and tore off like mad up the drive +while Strangwise and the others jumped into the car and were away +before you could say 'knife.' The military, policeman actually +cranked up the car for them! + +"When Matthews burst into the library with the story of you and +Strangwise and Miss Mackwayte having gone off for help in our +only car, I knew we had been sold. You were there, knocked out of +time on the floor, in your disguise as Bellward, so I knew that +the man with Strangwise was the real Bellward and I consequently +deduced that Strangwise was Mortimer and consequently the very +man we had to catch. + +"We were done brown. If we had had a little more time to think +things out, we should have found that motor-bike and I would have +gone after the trio myself. But my first idea was to summon aid. +I tried to telephone without success and then we found the wire +cut outside. Then I had the idea of pumping Behrend. I found him +quite chatty and furious against Mortimer, whom he accused of +having sold them. He told us that the party would be sure to make +for the Dyke Inn, as Nur-el-Din was there. + +"By this time Strangwise and his party had got at least an hour +clear start of us. I had set a man to repair the telephone and in +the meantime was thinking of sending another on foot to Stanning +to fetch one of our cars. Then I found the motor-bike and +despatched one of the military policemen on it to Stanning. + +"In about half an hour's time he was back with a car in which +were Gordon and Harrison and some more military police. I put +Matthews in charge of the party and sent them off to the Dyke +Inn, though I felt pretty sure we were too late to catch the +trio. That was really the reason I stayed behind; besides, I +wanted to look after you. I got a turn when I saw you spread out +all over the carpet, old man, I can tell you." + +Desmond, who had listened with the most eager attention, did not +speak for a minute. The sense of failure was strong upon him. How +he had bungled it all! + +"Look here," he said presently in a dazed voice, "you said just +now that Matthews mistook Mrs. Malplaquet for Miss Mackwayte. Why +should Matthews think that Miss Mackwayte was down here? Did she +come down with you?" + +Francis looked at him quickly. + +"That crack on the head makes you forget things," he said. "Don't +you remember Miss Mackwayte coming down here to see you yesterday +afternoon Matthews thought she had stayed on..." + +Desmond shook his head. + +"She's not been here," he replied. "I'm quite positive about that!" + +Francis sprang to his feet. + +"Surely you must be mistaken," he said in tones of concern. "The +Chief sent her down yesterday afternoon on purpose to see you. +She reached Wentfield Station all right; because the porter told +Matthews that she asked him the way to the Mill House." + +An ominous foreboding struck chill at Desmond's heart. He held +his throbbing head for an instant. Someone had mentioned Barbara +that night in the library but who was it? And what had he said? + +Ah! of course, it was Strangwise. "So that's what she wanted with +Nur-el-Din!" he had said. + +Desmond felt it all coming back to him now. Briefly he told +Francis of his absence from the Mill House in response to the +summons from Nur-el-Din, of his interview with the dancer and her +story of the Star of Poland, of his hurried return just in time +to meet Mortimer, and of Mortimer's enigmatical reference to the +dancer in the library that night. + +Fancis looked graver and graver as the story proceeded. Desmond +noted it and reproached himself most bitterly with his initial +failure to inform the Chief of the visits of Nur-el-Din and +Mortimer to the Mill House. When he had finished speaking, he did +not look at Francis, but gazed mournfully out of the window into +the chilly drizzle of a sad winter's day. + +"I don't like the look of it at all, Des," said his brother +shaking his head, "but first we must make sure that there has +been no misunderstanding about Miss Mackwayte. You say your +housekeeper was already here when you came back from the Dyke +Inn. She may have seen her. Let's have old Martha in!" + +Between fright, bewilderment and indignation at the invasion of +the house, old Martha was, if anything, deafer and more stupid +than usual. After much interrogation they had to be satisfied +with her repeated assertion that "she 'adn't seen no young lady" +and allowed her to hobble back to her kitchen. + +The two brothers stared at one another blankly. Francis was the +first to speak. His eyes were shining and his manner was rather +tense. + +"Des," he asked; "what do you make of it? From what Strangwise +let fall in the library here tonight, it seems probable that Miss +Mackwayte, instead of coming here to see you as she was told--or +she may have called during your absence--went to the Dyke Inn and +saw Nur-el-Din. The muffed cry you heard at the inn suggests foul +play to me and that suspicion is deepened in my mind by the fact +that Matthews found Nur-el-Din at the Dyke Inn, as he reported to +me by telephone just now; but he says nothing about Miss +Mackwayte. Des, I fear the worst for that poor girl if she has +fallen into the hands of that gang!" + +Desmond remained silent for a moment. He was trying to piece +things together as best as his aching head would allow. Both +Nur-el-Din and Strangwise were after the jewel. Nur-el-Din +believed that afternoon that Strangwise had it, while Strangwise, +on discovering his loss, had seemed to suggest that Barbara +Mackwayte had recovered it. + +"Either Strangwise or Nur-el-Din, perhaps both of them," said +Desmond, "must know what has become of Miss Mackwayte." + +And he explained his reasoning to Francis. His brother nodded +quickly. + +"Then Nur-el-Din shall tell us," he answered sternly. + +"They've arrested her?" asked Desmond with a sudden pang. + +"Yes," said Francis curtly. But too late to prevent a crime being +committed. When Matthews and his party arrived, they found +Nur-el-Din in the very act of leaving the inn. The landlord, +Rass, was lying dead on the floor of the tap-room with a bullet +through the temple. That looks to me, Des, as though Nur-el-Din +had recovered the jewel!" + +"But Rass is a compatriot of hers," Desmond objected. + +"But he was also an inconvenient witness of her dealings with +Strangwise," retorted Francis. "If either Nur-el-Din or +Strangwise have regained possession of the Star of Poland, Des, I +fear the worst for Barbara Mackwayte. Come in!" + +The corporal stood, saluting, at the door. + +"Mr. Matthews on the telephone, sir!" + +Francis hurried away, leaving Desmond to his thoughts, which were +not of the most agreeable. Had he been wrong in thinking +Nur-el-Din a victim? Was he, after all, nothing but a credulous +fool who had been hoodwinked by a pretty woman's play-acting? And +had he sacrificed Barbara Mackwayte to his obstinacy and his +credulousness? + +Francis burst suddenly into the room. + +"Des," he cried, "they've found Miss Mackwayte's hat on the floor +of the tap-room... it is stained with blood..." + +Desmond felt himself growing pale: + +"And the girl herself," he asked thickly, "what of her?" + +Francis shook his head. + +"Vanished," he replied gravely. "Vanished utterly. +Desmond," he added, "we must go over to the Dyke Inn at once!" + + + +CHAPTER XXI. THE BLACK VELVET TOQUE + +Across Morsted Fen the day was breaking red and sullen. The +brimming dykes, fringed with bare pollards, and the long sheets +of water spread out across the lush meadows, threw back the fiery +radiance of the sky from their gleaming surface. The tall +poplars about the Dyke Inn stood out hard and clear in the ruddy +light; beyond them the fen, stretched away to the flaming horizon +gloomy and flat and desolate, with nothing higher than the +stunted pollards visible against the lurid background. + +Upon the absolute silence of the scene there presently broke the +steady humming of a car. A great light, paled by the dawn, came +bobbing and sweeping, along the road that skirted the fen's edge. +A big open car drew up by the track and branched, off to the inn. +Its four occupants consulted together for an instant and then +alighted. Three of them were in plain clothes; the other was a +soldier. The driver was also in khaki. + +"They're astir, Mr. Matthews," said one, of the plain clothes +men, pointing towards the house, "see, there's a light in the +inn!" + +They followed the direction of his finger and saw a beam of +yellow light gleaming from among the trees. + +"Get your guns out, boys!" said Matthews. "Give them a chance to +put their hands up, and if they don't obey, shoot!" + +Very swiftly but very quietly, the four men picked their way over +the miry track to the little bridge leading to the yard in front +of the inn. The light they had remarked shone from the inn door, +a feeble, flickering light as of an expiring candle. + +Matthews, who was leading, halted and listened. Everything was +quite still. Above their head the inn sign groaned uneasily as it +was stirred by the fresh morning breeze. + +"You, Gordon," whispered Matthews to the man behind him--they had +advanced in Indian file--"take Bates and go round to the back. +Harrison will go in by the front with me." + +Even as he spoke a faint noise came from the interior of the +house. The four men stood stock-still and listened. In the +absolute stillness of the early morning, the sound fell +distinctly on their ears. It was a step--a light step--descending +the stairs. + +Gordon and the soldier detached themselves from the party as +Matthews and the other plain clothes man crossed the bridge +swiftly and went up to the inn door. Hardly had Matthews got his +foot on the stone step of the threshold than, a piercing shriek +resounded from the room quite close at hand. The next minute a +flying figure burst out of the door and fell headlong into the +arms of Matthews who was all but overbalanced by the force of the +impact. + +He closed with the figure and grappled it firmly. His arms +encountered a frail, light body, shaking from head to foot, +enveloped in a cloak of some soft, thick material. + +"It's a woman!" cried Matthews. + +"It's Nur-el-Din!" exclaimed his companion in the same breath, +seizing the woman by the arm. + +The dancer made no attempt to escape. She stood with bowed head, +trembling violently, in a cowering, almost a crouching posture. + +Harrison, who had the woman by the arm, had turned her head so +that he could see her face. She was deathly pale and her black +eyes were wide open, the pupils dilated. Her teeth were +chattering in her head. She seemed incapable of speech or motion. + +"Nur-el-Din?" exclaimed Matthews in accents of triumph. "Bring +her in, Harrison, and let's have a look at her!" + +But the woman recoiled in terror. She arched her body stiff, like +a child in a passion, and strained every muscle to remain where +she was cowering by the inn-door. + +"Come on, my girl," said the man not unkindly, "don't you 'ear +wot the Guv'nor sez! In you go!" + +Then the girl screamed aloud. + +"No, no!" she cried, "not in that house! For the love of God, +don't take me back into that room! Ah! For pity's sake, let me +stay outside! Take me to prison but not, not into that house +again!" + +She half fell on her knees in the mire, pleading, entreating, her +body shaken by sobs. + +Then Harrison, who was an ex-Guardsman and a six-footer at that, +plucked her off her feet and carried her, still struggling, still +imploring with piteous cries, over the threshold into the house: +Matthews followed behind. + +The shutters of the tap-room were still closed. Only a strip of +the dirty floor, strewn with sawdust, was illuminated by a bar of +reddish light from the daybreak outside. On the table a candle, +burnt down to the socket of its brass candlestick, flared and +puttered in a riot of running wag. Half in the bar of daylight +from outside, half in the darkness beyond the open door, against +which the flickering candlelight struggled feebly, lay the body +of a yellow-faced, undersized man with a bullet wound through the +temple. + +Without effort Harrison deposited his light burden on her feet by +the table. Instantly, the girl fled, like some frightened animal +of the woods, to the farthest corner of the room. Here she +dropped sobbing on her knees, rocking herself to and fro in a +sort of paroxysm of hysteria. Harrison moved quickly round the +table after her; but he was checked by a cry from Matthews who +was kneeling by the body. + +"Let her be," said Matthews, "she's scared of this and no wonder! +Come here a minute, Harrison, and see if you know, this chap!" + +Harrison crossed the room and looked down at the still figure. He +whistled softly. + +"My word!" he said, "but he copped it all right, sir! Ay, I know +him well enough! He's Rass, the landlord of this pub, that's who +he is, as harmless a sort of chap as ever was! Who did it, d'you +think, sir?" + +Matthews, who had been going through the dead man's pockets, now +rose to his feet. + +"Nothing worth writing home about there," he said half aloud. +Then to Harrison, he added: "That's what we've got to +discover... hullo, who's this?" + +The door leading from the bar to the tap-room was thrust open. +Gordon put his head in. + +"I left Bates on guard outside, sir," he said in answer to an +interrogatory glance from Matthews, "I've been all over the +ground floor and there's not a soul here..." + +He checked himself suddenly. + +"God bless my soul!" he exclaimed, his eyes on the figure +crouching in the corner, "you don't mean to say you've got her? A +pretty dance she led Dug and myself! Well, sir, it looks to me +like a good night's work!". + +Matthews smiled a self-satisfied smile. + +"I fancy the Chief will be pleased," he said, "though the rest of +'em seem to have given us the slip. Gordon, you might take a look +upstairs--that door in the corner leads to the upper rooms, I +fancy whilst I'm telephoning to Mr. Okewood. He must know about +this without delay. You, Harrison, keep an eye on the girl!" + +He went through the door leading into the bar, and they heard him +speaking on the telephone which hung on the wall behind the +counter. He returned presently with a white tablecloth which he +threw over the prostrate figure on the floor. + +Then he turned to the dancer. + +"Stand up," he said sternly, "I want to speak to you." + +Nur-el-Din cast a frightened glance over her shoulder at the +floor beside the table where Rass lay. On seeing the white pall +that hid him from view, she became somewhat reassured. She rose +unsteadily to her feet and stood facing Matthews. + +"In virtue of the powers conferred upon me by the Defence of the +Realm Acts, I arrest you for espionage... Matthews rolled off in +glib, official gabble the formula of arrest ending with the usual +caution that anything the prisoner might say might be used +against her at her trial. Then he said to Harrison: + +"Better put them on her, Harrison!" + +The plain clothes man took a pace forward and touched the +dancer's slender wrists, there was a click and she was +handcuffed. + +"Now take her in there," said Matthews pointing to the bar. +"There's no exit except by this room. And don't take your eyes +off her. You understand? Mr. Okewood will be along presently with +a female searcher." + +"Sir!" said the plain clothes man with military precision and +touched the dancer on the shoulder. Without a word she turned and +followed him into the bar. + +Gordon entered by the door at the end of the room. + +"I'd like you to have a look upstairs, sir," he said to Matthews, +"there's not a soul in the house, but somebody has been locked up +in one of the rooms. The door is still locked but one of the +panels has been forced out. I think you ought to see it!" + +The two men passed out of the tap-room together, and mounted the +stairs. On the landing Matthews paused a moment to glance out of +the window on to the bleak and inhospitable fen which was almost +obscured from view by a heavy drizzle of rain. + +"Brr!" said Mr. Matthews, "what a horrible place!" + +Looking up the staircase from the landing, they could see that +one of the panels of the door facing the head of the stairs had +been pressed out and lay on the ground. They passed up the stairs +and Matthews, putting one arm and his head through the opening, +found himself gazing into that selfsame ugly sitting room where +Desmond had talked with Nur-el-Din. + +A couple of vigorous heaves burst the fastening of the door. The +sitting-room was in the wildest confusion. The doors of the +sideboard stood wide with its contents scattered +higgledy-piggledy on the carpet. A chest of drawers in the corner +had been ransacked, some of the drawers having been taken bodily +out and emptied on the floor. + +The door leading to the inner room stood open and showed that a +similar search had been conducted there as well. The inner room +proved to be a bare white-washed place, very plainly furnished as +a bedroom. On the floor stood a small attache case, and beside it +a little heap of miscellaneous articles such as a woman would +take away with her for a weekend, a crepe-de-chine nightdress, a +dainty pair of bedroom slippers and some silver-mounted toilet +fittings. From these things Matthews judged that this had been +Nur-el-Din's bedroom. + +The two men spent a long time going through the litter with which +the floor in the bedroom and sitting room was strewed. But their +labors were vain, and they turned their attention to the +remaining rooms, of which there were three. + +The first room they visited, adjoining Nur-el-Din's bedroom, was +scarcely better than an attic. It contained in the way of +furniture little else than a truckle-bed, a washstand, a table +and a chair. Women's clothes were hanging on hooks behind the +door. The place looked like a servant's bedroom. + +They pursued their search. Across the corridor two rooms stood +side by side. One proved to be Rass's. His clothes lay about the +room, and on a table in the corner, where writing materials +stood, were various letters and bills made out in his name. + +The other room had also been occupied; for the bed was made and +turned back for the night and there were clean towels on the +washstand. But there was no clue as to its occupant save for a +double-barreled gun which stood in the corner. It had evidently +been recently used; for fresh earth was adhering to the stock and +the barrel, though otherwise clean, showed traces of +freshly-burnt powder. + +There being nothing further to glean upstairs, the two men went +down to the tap-room again. As Matthews came through the door +leading from the staircase his eye caught a dark object which lay +on the floor under the long table. He fished it out with his +stick. + +It was a small black velvet toque with a band of white and black +silk flowers round it. In one part the white flowers were +besmeared with a dark brown stain. + +Matthews stared at the little hat in his hand with puckered +brows. Then he called to Gordon. + +"Do you know that hat?" he asked, holding it up for the man to +see. + +Gordon shook his head. + +"I might have seen it," he replied, "but I don't take much +account of such things, Mr. Matthews, being a married man..." + +"Tut, tut," fussed Matthews, "I think you have seen it. Come, +think of the office for a minute!" + +"Of the office?" repeated Gordon. Then he exclaimed suddenly: + +"Miss Mackwayte!" + +"Exactly," answered Matthews, "it's her hat, I recall it +perfectly. She wore it very often to the office. Look at the +blood on it!" + +He put the hat down on the table and ran into the bar where +Nur-el-Din sat immobile on her chair, wrapped in a big overcoat +of some soft blanket cloth in dark green, her chin sunk on her +breast. + +Matthews called up the Mill House and asked for Francis Okewood. +When he mentioned the finding of Barbara Mackwayte's hat, the +dancer raised her head and cast a frightened glance at Matthews. +But she said nothing and when Matthews turned from the telephone +to go back to the tap-room she had resumed her former listless +attitude. + +Matthews and Gordon made a thorough search of the kitchen and +back premises without finding anything of note. They had just +finished when the sound of a car outside attracted their +attention. On the road beyond the little bridge outside the inn +Francis and Desmond Okewood were standing, helping a woman to +alight. Francis was still wearing his scarecrow-like apparel, +while Desmond, with his beard and pale face and bandaged head, +looked singularly unlike the trim Brigade Major who had come home +on leave only a week or so before. + +Matthews went out to meet them and, addressing the woman--a +brisk-looking person--as Mrs. Butterworth, informed her that it +was shocking weather. Then he led the way into the inn. + +The first thing that Desmond saw was the little toque with the +brown stain on its flowered band lying on the table. Francis +picked it up, turned it over and laid it down again. + +"Where did you find it?" he asked Matthews. The latter informed +him of the circumstances of the discovery. Then Francis, sending +the searcher in to Nur-el-Din in the bar, pointed to the body on +the floor. + +"Let's have a look at that!" he said. + +Matthews removed the covering and the three men gazed at the set +face of the dead man. There was a clean bullet wound in the right +temple. Matthews showed the papers he had taken off the body and +exchanged a few, words in a low tone with Francis. There is +something about the presence of death which impels respect +whatever the circumstances. + +Five minutes later Mrs. Butterworth came out of the bar. In her +hands she held a miscellaneous assortment of articles, a small +gold chain purse, a pair of gloves, a gold cigarette case, a tiny +handkerchief, and a long blue envelope. She put all the articles +down on the tables save the envelope which she handed to Francis. + +"This was in the lining of her overcoat, sir," she said. + +Francis took the envelope and broke the seal. He drew out half a +dozen sheets of thin paper, folded lengthwise. Leisurely he +unfolded them, but he had hardly glanced at the topmost sheet +than he turned to the next and the next until he had run through +the whole bunch. Desmond, peering over his shoulder, caught a +glimpse of rows of figures, very neatly set out in a round hand +and knew that he was looking at a message in cipher code. + +The door at the end of the tap-room was flung open and a soldier +came in quickly. + +He stopped irresolute on seeing the group. + +"Well, Bates," said Matthews. + +"There's a woman lying dead in the cellar back yonder," said the +man, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. + +"The cellar?" cried Matthews. + +"Yes, sir... I think you must ha' overlooked it." + +Francis, Desmond and Matthews exchanged a brief glance. A name +was on the lips of each one of them but none dared speak it. +Then, leaving Harrison and Mrs. Butterworth with Nur-el-Din, the +three men followed the soldier and hurriedly quitted the room. + + + +CHAPTER XXII. WHAT THE CELLAR REVEALED + +On opening the door at the farther end of the tap-room they saw +before them a trap-door standing wide with a shallow flight of +wooden steps leading to the darkness below. Bates pointed with +his foot to a square of linoleum which lay on one side. + +"That was covering the trap," he said, "I wouldn't ha' noticed +nothing out of the ordinary myself only I slipped, see, and +kicked this bit o' ilecloth away and there was the ring of the +trap staring me in the face, as you might say. Show us a light +here, Gordon!" + +Gordon handed him an electric torch. He flashed it down the +stair. It fell upon something like a heap of black clothes +huddled up at the foot of the ladder. + +"Is it Miss Mackwayte?" whispered Francis to his brother. "I've +never seen her, you know!" + +"I can't tell," Desmond whispered back, "until I see her face." + +He advanced to descend the ladder but Matthews was before him. +Producing an electric torch from his pocket, Matthews slipped +down the stair with Gordon close behind. There was a pause, so +tense that it seemed an eternity to Desmond, as he waited +half-way down the ladder with the musty smell of the cellar in +his nostrils. Then Matthews cried: + +"It's not her!" + +"Let me look!" Gordon broke in. Then Desmond heard him exclaim. + +"It's Nur-el-Din's French maid! It's Marie... she's been stabbed +in the back!" + +Desmond suddenly felt rather sick. This progress from one deed of +violence to another revolted him. The others crowded into the +cellar; but he did not follow them. He remained at the top of the +trap, leaning against the wall, trying to collect his thoughts. + +Barbara Mackwayte was now his sole preoccupation. If anything had +happened to her,--it was through his fault alone; for he began to +feel sure she must have come to the Mill House in his absence. +What then had become of her? The blood-stained toque pointed to +foul play. But if they had murdered her, what had they done with +the body? + +His thoughts flew back to his interview with Nur-el-Din upstairs +on the previous afternoon. He remembered the entrance of the maid +and the dancer's hurried exit. Might not Marie have come to tell +her that Barbara Mackwayte was below asking for her? It was very +shortly after this interruption that, crouching on the roof of +the shed, he had heard that muffled cry from the house and seen +Rass enter the bar and speak with Strangwise. He had seen, too, +the maid, Marie, in earnest conversation with Strangwise by the +back gate on the fen. Had both Marie and Rass been in league with +Strangwise against the dancer? And had Nur-el-Din discovered +their treachery? His mind refused to follow these deductions to +their logical sequence; for, black as things looked against +Nur-el-Din, he could not bring himself to believe her a +murderess. + +But now there were footsteps on the ladder. They were all coming +out of the cellar again. As soon as Francis saw Desmond's face, +he caught his brother by the arm and said: + +"The open air for you, my boy! You look as if you'd seen a ghost! +I should have remembered all you've gone through!" + +He walked him quickly through the tap-room and out through the +inn door into the yard. + +The rain had ceased and the sun was making a brave attempt to +shine through the clouds. The cold air did Desmond good and +after a turn or two in the yard, arm in arm with Francis, he felt +considerably better. + +"Where is Miss Mackwayte?" he asked. + +"Des," said his brother, "I don't know and I don't want to +cross-examine Nur-el-Din in there until I have reasoned out some +theory which will fit Miss Mackwayte in her place in this +horrible affair. The men have gone to search the outhouses and +precincts of the inn to see if they can find any traces of her +body, but I don't think they will find anything. I believe that +Miss Mackwayte is alive." + +"Alive?" said Desmond. + +"The blood on that toque of hers might have been Rass's. There is +a good deal of blood on the floor. You see, I still think Miss +Mackwayte's safety depends on that jewel not being recovered by +either Strangwise or Nur-el-Din. Strangwise, we know, has lost +the jewel and there is no trace of it here: moreover, we know +that, as late as yesterday afternoon, Nur-el-Din did not have it. +Therefore, she cannot have sent it away! I am inclined to +believe, too, that Strangwise, before going over to the Mill +House last night, carried off Miss Mackwayte somewhere with the +aid of Rass and Marie, who were evidently his accomplices, in +order to find out from her where the jewel is concealed..." + +"But Miss Mackwayte cannot know what has become of it," objected +Desmond. + +"Maybe not," retorted his brother, "but both Strangwise and +Nur-el-Din know that the jewel was originally entrusted to her +charge. Nur-el-Din did not, it is true, tell Miss Mackwayte what +the silver box contained but the latter may have found out, at +least the dancer might suppose so; while Strangwise might think +the same. Therefore, both Strangwise and Nur-el-Din had an +interest in detaining Miss Mackwayte, and I think Strangwise +forestalled the dancer. When Nur-el-Din discovered it, both Rass +and her maid paid the penalty of their betrayal." + +They walked once up and down the yard before Desmond replied. + +"Francis," he said, "you remember Nur-el-Din's story--I told it +to you just as I had it from her." + +"Perfectly," answered his brother. + +"Well," Desmond went on deliberately, "I think that story gives +us the right measure of Nur-el-Din's, character. She may be vain, +she may be without morals, she may be weak, she may be an +adventuress, but she's not a murderess. If anything, she's a +victim!" + +Francis laughed shortly. + +"Victim be damned!" he cried. "Man alive," he went on, "how can +you talk such nonsense in face of the evidence, with this +bloody-minded woman's victims hardly cold yet? But, horrible as +these murders are, the private squabbles of this gang of spies +represent neither your interest nor mine in this case. For us the +fact remains that Nur-el-Din, besides being a monster of +iniquity, is the heart and soul and vitals of the whole +conspiracy!" + +Jaded and nervous, Desmond felt a quick sting of resentment at +his brother's tone. Why should Francis thus lay down the law to +him about Nur-el-Din? Francis knew nothing of the girl or her +antecedents while he, Desmond, flattered himself that he had at +least located the place she occupied in this dark conspiracy. And +he cried out vehemently: + +"You're talking like a fool! I grant you that Nur-el-Din has been +mixed up with this spy crowd; but she herself stands absolutely +apart from the organization..." + +"Half a minute!" put in Francis, "aren't you forgetting that blue +envelope we took off her just now?" + +"What about it?" asked Desmond sharply. + +"Merely this; the cipher is in five figure groups, addressed to a +four figure group and signed by a six figure group..." + +"Well?" + +"That happens to be the current secret code of the German Great +General Staff. If you were to tap a German staff message out in +France to-day, ten to one it would be in that code. Curious +coincidence, isn't it?" + +When one is angry, to be baffled in argument does not have a +sedative effect as a rule. If we were all philosophers it might; +but being merely human beings, cold reason acts on the inflamed +temperament as a red rag is said to affect a bull. + +Desmond, sick with the sense of failure and his anxiety about +Barbara, was in no mood to listen to reason. The cold logic of +his brother infuriated him mainly because Desmond knew that +Francis was right. + +"I don't care a damn for the evidence," vociferated Desmond; "It +may look black against Nur-el-Din; I daresay it does; but I have +met and talked to this girl and I tell you again that she is not +a principal in this affair but a victim!" + +"You talk as if you were in love with the woman!" Francis said +mockingly. + +Desmond went rather white. + +"If pity is a form of love," he replied in a low voice, "then I +am, for God knows I never pitied any woman as I pity Nur-el-Din! +Only you, I suppose," he added bitterly, "are too much of the +policeman, Francis, to appreciate anything like that!" Hot +tempers run in families and Francis flared up on the instant. + +"I may be a policeman, as you say," he retorted, "but I've got +enough sense of my duty, I hope, not to allow sentimentality to +interfere with my orders!" + +It was a shrewd thrust and it caught Desmond on the raw. + +"I'm sick of arguing here," he said hotly, "if you're so mighty +clever, you'd better shoot Nur-el-Din first and arrest Strangwise +afterwards. Then you'll find out which of us two is right!" + +He turned on his heel and started for the little bridge leading +out onto the fen. + +Francis stood still a moment watching him, then ran after him. He +caught up with Desmond as the latter reached the bridge. + +"Desmond!" he said, pleadingly. + +"Oh, go to hell!" retorted the other savagely, whereupon Francis +turned his back on him and walked back to the inn. + +A car had stopped by the bridge and a man was getting out of it +as Desmond moved towards the fen. The next moment he found +himself face to face with the Chief. + +The Chief's face was hard and cold and stern. There was a furrow +between his eyes which deepened when he recognized Desmond. + +"Well," he said curtly, "and where is my secretary?" + +"I don't know," Desmond faltered. + +"Why are you here, then?" came back in that hard, uncompromising +voice. + +Desmond was about to reply; but the other checked him. + +"I know all you have to say," he resumed, "but no excuse you can +offer can explain away the disappearance of Miss Mackwayte. Your +orders were formal to remain at home. You saw fit to disobey them +and thereby, maybe, sent Miss Mackwayte to her death. No!" he +added, seeing that Desmond was about to expostulate, "I want to +hear nothing from you. However obscure the circumstances of Miss +Mackwayte's disappearance may be, one fact is perfectly clear, +namely, that she went to the Mill House, as she was ordered and +you were not there. For no man or woman in my service ever dares +to disobey an order I have given." + +"Chief..." Desmond broke in, but again that inexorable voice +interposed. + +"I will hear nothing from you," said the Chief, "it is a rule of +mine never to interfere with my men in their work or to see them +until their mission has been successfully completed. When you +have found Miss Mackwayte I will hear you but not before!" + +Desmond drew himself up. + +"In that case, sir," he said stiffly, "I will bid you good +morning. And I trust you will hear from me very soon again!" + +He walked over to one of the cars waiting outside the inn, spoke +a word to the driver and got in. The driver started the engine +and presently the car was bumping slowly along the muddy track to +the main road. + +The Chief stood looking after him. + +"Well," he murmured to himself. "I soaked it into him pretty +hard; but he took it like a brick. I do believe he'll find her +yet!" + +He shook his head sagely and continued on his way across the +yard. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. MRS. MALPLAQUET GOES DOWN TO THE CELLAR + +In the age of chivalry woman must have been built of sterner +stuff than the girl of to-day. At least, we read in medieval +romance of fair ladies who, after being knocked down by a +masterful suitor and carried off across his saddle bow thirty or +forty miles, are yet able to appear, cold but radiantly +beautiful, at the midnight wedding and the subsequent marriage +feast. + +But this is a romance of the present day, the age of nerves and +high velocity. Barbara Mackwayte, strong and plucky as she was, +after being half throttled and violently thrown into the cellar +of the Dyke Inn, suddenly gave way under the strain and +conveniently evaded facing the difficulties of her position by +fainting clear away. + +The precise moment when she came out of her swoon she never knew. +The cellar was dark; but it was nothing compared to the darkness +enveloping her mind. She lay there on the damp and mouldy straw, +hardly able, scarcely wanting, to move, overwhelmed by the +extraordinary adventure which had befallen her. Was this to be +the end of the pleasant trip into the country on which she had +embarked so readily only a few hours before? She tried to +remember that within twenty miles of her were policemen and taxis +and lights and all the attributes of our present day +civilization; but her thoughts always returned, with increasing +horror, to that undersized yellow-faced man in the room above, to +the face of Nur-el-Din, dark and distorted with passion. + +A light shining down the cellar stairs drew her attention to the +entrance. The woman she had already seen and in whom she now +recognized Marie, the dancer's maid, was descending, a tray in +her hand. She placed the tray on the ground without a word, then +went up the stairs again and fetched the lamp. She put the lamp +down by the tray and, stooping, cut the ropes that fastened +Barbara's hands and feet. + +"So, Mademoiselle," she said, drawing herself erect with a grunt, +"your supper: some tea and meat!" + +She pulled a dirty deal box from a corner of the cellar and put +the tray upon it. Then she rose to her feet and sat down. The +maid watched Barbara narrowly while she ate a piece of bread and +drank the tea. + +"At least," thought Barbara to herself, "they don't mean to +starve me!" + +The tea was hot and strong; and it did her good. It seemed to +clear her faculties, too; for her brain began to busy itself with +the problem of escaping from her extraordinary situation. + +"Mademoiselle was a leetle too clevaire," said the maid with an +evil leer,--"she would rob Madame, would she? She would play the +espionne, hein? Eh bien, ma petite, you stay 'ere ontil you say +what you lave done wiz ze box of Madame!" + +"Why do you say I have stolen the box?" protested Barbara, "when +I tell you I know nothing of it. It was stolen from me by the man +who killed my father. More than that I don't know. You don't +surely think I would conspire to kill" her voice trembled--"my +father, to get possession of this silver box that means nothing +to me!" + +Marie laughed cynically. + +"Ma foi," she cried, "when one is a spy, one will stop at +nothing! But tiens, here is Madame!" + +Nur-el-Din picked her way carefully down the steps, the +yellow-faced man behind her. He had a pistol in his hand. The +dancer said something in French to her maid who picked up the +tray and departed. + +"Now, Mademoiselle," said Nur-el-Din, "you see this pistol. Rass +here will use it if you make any attempt to escape. You +understand me, hein? I come to give you a las' chance to say +where you 'ave my box..." + +Barbara looked at the dancer defiantly. + +"I've told you already I know nothing about it. You, if any one, +should be better able to say what has become of it..." + +"Quoi?" exclaimed Nur-el-Din in genuine surprise, "comment?" + +"Because," said Barbara, "a long black hair--one of your +hairs--was found adhering to the straps with which I was +fastened!" + +"Tiens!" said the dancer, her black eyes wide with surprise, +"tiens!" + +She was silent for a minute, lost in thought. The man, Rass, +suddenly cocked his ear towards the staircase and said something +to Nur-el-Din in the same foreign tongue which Barbara had heard +them employ before. + +The dancer made a gesture, bidding him to be silent. + +"He was at my dressing-table that night;" she murmured in French, +as though to herself, "then it was he who did it!" + +She spoke rapidly to Barbara. + +"This man who tied you up... you didn't see him?" + +Barbara shook her head. + +"I could see nothing; I don't even know that it was a man. He +seized me so suddenly that in the dark I could distinguish +nothing... it might have been a woman... yourself, for instance, +for all I know!" + +Nur-el-Din clasped her hands together. + +"It was he, himself, then," she whispered, "I might have known. +Yet he has not got it here!" + +Heavy footsteps resounded in the room above. Rass cried out +something swiftly to the dancer, thrust the pistol into her +hands, and dashed up the ladder. The next moment there was a loud +report followed by the thud of a heavy body falling. Somewhere in +the rooms above a woman screamed. + +Nur-el-Din's hands flew to her face and the pistol crashed to the +ground. Two men appeared at the head of the cellar stairs. One +was Strangwise, in uniform, the other was Bellward. + +"They're both here!" said Strangwise over his shoulder to +Bellward. + +"Ah, thank God, you've come!" cried Barbara, running to the foot +of the ladder. + +Strangwise brushed past her and caught Nur-el-Din by the arm. + +"Run her upstairs," he said quickly to Bellward who had followed +behind him, "and lock her in her room. I've seen to the rest. +You, Miss Mackwayte," he added to Barbara, "you will come with +us!" + +Barbara was staring in fascination at Bellward. She had never +believed that any disguise could be so baffling, so complete; +Major Okewood, she thought, looked like a different man. + +But Bellward had grasped the dancer by the two arms and forced +her up the stairs in front of him. Nur-el-Din seemed too overcome +with terror to utter a sound. + +"Oh, don't be so rough with her, Major Okewood!" entreated +Barbara, "you'll hurt her!" + +She had her back turned to Strangwise so she missed the very +remarkable change that came over his features at her words. + +"Okewood," he whispered but too low for the girl to distinguish +the words, "Okewood? I might have guessed! I might have guessed!" +Then he touched Barbara lightly on the shoulder. + +"Come," he said, "we must be getting upstairs. We have much to +do!" + +He gently impelled her towards the ladder up which Bellward and +Nur-el-Din had already disappeared. At the top, he took the lead +and conducted Barbara into the taproom. A single candle stood on +the table, throwing a wan light into the room. Rass lay on his +back in the centre of the floor, one hand doubled up under him, +one knee slightly drawn up. + +Barbara started back in horror. + +"Is he... is he..." she stammered, pointing at the limp still +form. + +Strangwise nodded. + +"A spy!" he said gravely, "we were well rid of him. Go over there +in the corner where you won't see it. Stay!" he added, seeing how +pale the girl had become, "you shall have some brandy!" + +He produced a flask and measured her out, a portion in the cup. +Suddenly, the door leading from the bar opened and a woman came +into the room. Her black velvet dress, her gray hair and general +air of distinction made her a bizarre figure in that squalid room +lit by the guttering candle. + +"Time we were off!" she said to Strangwise, "Bellward's just +coming down!" + +"There's the maid..." began Strangwise, looking meaningly at +Barbara. + +The woman in black velvet cast a questioning glance at him. + +Strangwise nodded. + +"I'll do it," said the woman promptly, "if you'll call her down!" + +Strangwise went to the other door of the tap-room and called: + +"Marie!" + +There was a step outside and the maid came in, pale and +trembling. + +"Your mistress wants you; she is downstairs in the cellar," he +said pleasantly. + +Marie hesitated an instant and surveyed the group. + +"Non, non," she said nervously, "je n'veux pas descendre!" + +Strangwise smiled, showing his teeth. + +"No need to be frightened, ma fille," he replied. "Madame here +will go down with you!" and he pointed to the woman in black +velvet. + +This seemed to reassure the maid and she walked across the room +to the door, the woman following her. As the latter passed +Strangwise he whispered a word in her ear. + +"No, no," answered the other, "I prefer my own way," and she +showed him something concealed in her hand. + +The two women quitted the room together, leaving Strangwise and +Barbara alone with the thing on the floor. Strangwise picked up a +military great-coat which was hanging over the back of a chair +and put it on, buttoning it all the way up the front and turning +up the collar about the neck. Then he crammed a cap on his head +and stood listening intently. + +A high, gurgling scream, abruptly checked, came through the open +door at the farther end of the room. + +Barbara sprang up from the chair into which she had sunk. + +"What was that" she asked, whispering. + +Strangwise did not reply. He was still listening, a tall, well +set-up figure in the long khaki great-coat. + +"But those two women are alone in the cellar," exclaimed Barbara, +"they are being murdered! Ah! what was that?" + +A gentle thud resounded from below. + +A man came in through the door leading from the bar: + +He had a fat, smooth-shaven face, heavily jowled. + +"All ready, Bellward?" asked Strangwise carelessly. + +Barbara stared at the man thus addressed. She saw that he was +wearing the same clothes as the man who had come down into the +cellar with Strangwise but the beard was gone. And the man she +saw before her was not Desmond Okewood. + +Without waiting to reason out the metamorphosis, she ran towards +Bellward. + +"They're murdering those two women down in the cellar," she +cried, "oh, what has happened? Won't you go down and see?" + +Bellward shook her off roughly. + +"Neat work!" said Strangwise. + +"She's a wonder with the knife!" agreed the other. + +Barbara stamped her foot. + +"If neither of you men have the courage to go down," she cried, +"then I'll go alone! As for you, Captain Strangwise, a British +officer..." + +She never finished the sentence. Strangwise caught her by the +shoulder and thrust the cold barrel of a pistol in her face. + +"Stay where you are!" he commanded. "And if you scream I shoot!" + +Barbara was silent, dumb with horror and bewilderment, rather +than with fear. A light shone through the open door at the end of +the tap-room and the woman in black velvet appeared, carrying a +lamp in her hand She was breathing rather hard and her carefully +arranged gray hair was a little untidy; but she was quite calm +and self-possessed. + +"We haven't a moment to lose!" she said, putting the lamp down on +the table and blowing it out. + +"Bellward, give me my cloak!" + +Bellward advanced with a fur cloak and wrapped it about her +shoulders. + +"You are the perfect artiste, Minna," he said. + +"Practise makes perfect!" replied Mrs. Malplaquet archly. + +Strangwise had flung open the door leading to the front yard. A +big limousine stood outside. + +"Come on," he said impatiently, "don't stand there gossiping you +two!" + +Then Barbara revolted. + +"I'll not go!" she exclaimed, "you can do what you like but I'll +stay where I am! Murderers..." + +"Oh," said Strangwise wearily, "bring her along, Bellward!" + +Bellward and the woman seized the girl one by each arm and +dragged her to the car. Strangwise had the door open and between +them they thrust her in. Bellward and the woman mounted after her +while Strangwise, after starting the engine, sprang into the +driving-seat outside. With a low hum the big car glided forth +into the cold, starry night. + +From the upper floor of the Dyke Inn came the sound of a woman's +terrified sobs. Below there reigned the silence of death. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. THE TWO DESERTERS + +Desmond drove to Wentfield Station in an angry and defiant mood. +He was incensed against Francis, incensed against the Chief, yet, +if the truth were told, most of all incensed against himself. + +Not that he admitted it for a moment. He told himself that he was +very hardly used. He had undergone considerable danger in the +course of discharging a mission which was none of his seeking, +and he had met with nothing but taunts from his brother and abuse +from the Chief. + +"I wash my hands of the whole thing," Desmond declared, as he +paced the platform at Wentfield waiting for his train. "As +Francis is so precious cocksure about it all, let him carry on in +my place! He's welcome to the Chief's wiggings! The Chief won't +get me to do his dirty work again in a hurry! That's flat!" + +Yet all the while the little gimlet that men call conscience was +patiently drilling its way through the wall of obduracy behind +which Desmond's wounded pride had taken cover. Rail as he would +against his hard treatment at the hands of the Chief, he knew +perfectly well that he could never wash his hands of his mission +until Barbara Mackwayte had been brought back into safety. This +thought kept thrusting itself forward into the foreground of his +mind; and he had to focus his attention steadfastly on his +grievances to push it back again. + +But we puny mortals are all puppets in the hands of Fate. Even as +the train was bearing Desmond, thus rebellious, Londonwards, +Destiny was already pulling the strings which was to force the +"quitter" back into the path he had forsaken. For this purpose +Fate had donned the disguise of a dirty-faced man in a greasy old +suit and a spotted handkerchief in lieu of collar... but of him +presently. + +On arriving at Liverpool Street, Desmond, painfully conscious of +his unkempt appearance, took a taxi to a Turkish bath in the West +End. There his first care was to submit himself to the hands of +the barber who, after a glance at his client's bandaged head, +muddy clothes and shaggy beard, coughed ominously and relapsed +into a most unbarber-like reserve. + +Desmond heard the cough and caught the look of commiseration on +the man's face. + +"I rather think I want a shave!" he said, weakly. "I rather think +you do, sir!" replied the man, busy with his lather. + +"... Had a nasty accident," murmured Desmond, "I fell down and +cut my head..." + +"We're used to that here, sir," answered the barber, "but the +bath'll make you as right as, rain. W'y we 'ad a genel'man in +'ere, only lars' week it was, as 'adn't been 'ome for five days +and nights and the coat mos tore off 'is back along with a bit of +turn-up 'e'd 'at one o' them night clubs. And drunk I... w'y 'e +went to bite the rubber, so they wos tellin' me! But, bless you, +'e 'ad a nice shave and a couple of hours in the bath and a bit +of a nap; we got him his clothes as was tore mended up fine for +'im and 'e went 'ome as sober as a judge and as fresh as a +daisy!" + +Desmond had it in his mind to protest against this material +interpretation of his disreputable state; but the sight in the +mirror of his ignominiously scrubby and battered appearance +silenced him. The barber's explanation was as good as any, seeing +that he himself could give no satisfactory account of the +circumstances which had reduced him to his sorry pass. So Desmond +held his peace though he felt constrained to reject the barber's +offer of a pick-me-up. + +From the shaving saloon, Desmond sent a messenger out for some +clothes, and for the next three hours amused himself by +exhausting the resources of the Turkish bath. Finally, about the +hour of noon, he found himself, considerably refreshed, swathed +in towel, reposing on a couch, a cup of coffee at his elbow and +that morning's Daily Telegraph spread out before him. + +Advertisements, so the experts say, are printed on the front and +back of newspapers in order to catch the eye of the indolent, on +the chance that having exhausted the news, they may glance idly +over the front and back of the paper before laying it aside. So +Desmond, before he even troubled to open his paper, let his gaze +wander down the second column of the front page whence issue +daily those anguishing appeals, mysterious messages, +heart-rending entreaties and barefaced begging advertisements +which give this column its characteristic name. + +There his eye fell on an advertisement couched in the following +terms: + +"If Gunner Martin Barling, 1820th Battery, R.F.C., will +communicate with Messrs. Mills & Cheyne, solicitors 130 Bedford +Row, W. C., he will hear of something to his advantage. +Difficulties with the military can be arranged." + +Desmond read this advertisement over once and then, starting at +the beginning, read it over again. Gunner Barling... the name +conjured up a picture of a jolly, sun-burned man, always very +spick and span, talking the strange lingo of our professional +army gleaned from India, Aden, Malta and the Rock, the type of +British soldier that put the Retreat from Mons into the history +books for all time. + +Advertisements like this; Desmond reflected dreamily, meant +legacies as a rule; he was glad of it, for the sake of Barling +whom he hadn't seen since the far-away days of Aldershot before +the war. + +"Buzzer" Barling was the brother of one Private Henry Barling who +had been Desmond's soldier-servant. He derived the nickname of +"Buzzer" from the fact that he was a signaller. As the +vicissitudes of service had separated the two brothers for many +years, they had profited by the accident of finding themselves at +the same station to see as much of one another as possible, and +Desmond had frequently come across the gunner at his quarters in +barracks. Henry Barling had gone out to France with Desmond but a +sniper in the wood at Villers Cotterets had deprived Desmond of +the best servant and the truest friend he had ever had. Now here +was Henry's brother cropping up again. Desmond hoped that +"Buzzer" Barling would see the advertisement, and half asleep, +formed a mental resolve to cut out the notice and send it to the +gunner who, he felt glad to think, was still alive. The rather +curiously worded reference to difficulties with the military must +mean, Desmond thought, that leave could be obtained for Martin +Barling to come home and collect his legacy. + +At this point the Daily Telegraph fell to the ground and Desmond +went off to sleep. When he awoke, the afternoon hush had fallen +upon the bath. He seemed to be the only occupant of the cubicles. +His clothes which had arrived from the shop during his slumbers, +were very neatly laid out on a couch opposite him. + +He dressed himself leisurely. The barber was quite right. The +bath had made a new man of him. Save for a large bump on the back +of his head he was none the worse for Strangwise's savage blow. +The attendant having packed Bellward's apparel in the suit-case +in which Desmond's clothes had come from the club, Desmond left +the suit-case in the man's charge and strolled out into the soft +air of a perfect afternoon. He had discarded his bandage and in +his well fitting blue suit and brown boots he was not +recognizable as the scrubby wretch who had entered the bath six +hours before. + +Desmond strolled idly along the crowded streets in the sunshine. +He was rather at a loss as to what his next move should be. Now +that his mental freshness was somewhat restored, his thoughts +began to busy themselves again with the disappearance of Barbara +Mackwayte. He was conscious of a guilty feeling towards Barbara. +It was not so much the blame he laid upon himself for not being +at the Mill House to meet her when she came as the sense that he +had been unfaithful to the cause of her murdered father. + +Now that he was away from Nur-el-Din with her pleading eyes and +pretty gestures, Desmond's thoughts turned again to Barbara +Mackwayte. As he walked along Piccadilly, he found himself +contrasting the two women as he had contrasted them that night he +had met them in Nur-el-Din's dressing room at the Palaceum. And, +with a sense of shame; he became aware of how much he had +succumbed to the dancer's purely sensual influence; for away from +her he found he could regain his independence of thought and +action. + +The thought of Barbara in the hands of that woman with the cruel +eyes or a victim to the ruthlessness of Strangwise made Desmond +cold with apprehension. If they believed the girl knew where the +jewel had disappeared to, they would stop at nothing to force a +confession from her; Desmond was convinced of that. But what had +become of the trio? + +In vain he cast about him for a clue. As far as he knew, the only +London address that Strangwise had was the Nineveh; and he was as +little likely to return there as Bellward was to make his way to +his little hotel in Jermyn Street. There remained Mrs. Malplaquet +who, he remembered, had told him of her house at Campden Hill. + +For the moment, Desmond decided, he must put both Strangwise and +Bellward out of his calculations. The only direction in which he +could start his inquiries after Barbara Mackwayte pointed towards +Campden Hill and Mrs. Malplaquet. + +The delightful weather suggested to his mind the idea of walking +out to Campden Hill to pursue his investigations on the spot. So +he made his way across the Park into Kensington Gardens heading +for the pleasant glades of Notting Hill. In the Bayswater Road he +turned into a postoffice and consulted the London Directory. He +very quickly convinced himself that among the hundreds of +thousands of names compiled by Mr. Kelly's indefatigable industry +Mrs. Malplaquet's was not to be found. Neither did the street +directory show her as the tenant of any of the houses on Campden +Hill. + +I don't know that there is a more pleasant residential quarter of +London than the quiet streets and gardens that straggle over this +airy height. The very steepness of the slopes leading up from the +Kensington High Street on the one side and from Holland Park +Avenue on the other effectually preserves the atmosphere of +old-world languor which envelops this retired spot. The hill, +with its approaches so steep as to suggest to the imaginative the +pathway winding up some rock-bound fastness of the Highlands, +successfully defies organ-grinders and motor-buses and other +aspirants to the membership in the great society for the +propagation of street noises. As you near the summit, the quiet +becomes more pronounced until you might fancy yourself a thousand +leagues, instead of as many yards, removed from the busy commerce +of Kensington or the rather strident activity of Notting Hill. + +So various in size and condition are the houses that it is as +though they had broken away from the heterogeneous rabble of +bricks and mortar that makes up the Royal Borough of Kensington, +and run up in a crowd to the summit of the hill to look down +contemptuously upon their less fortunate brethren in the plain. +On Campden Hill there are houses to suit all purses and all +tastes from the vulgar mansion with its private garden to the +little one-story stable that Art (which flourishes in these +parts) and ten shillings worth of paint has converted into a +cottage. + +For half an hour Desmond wandered in a desultory fashion along +the quiet roads of natty houses with brightly painted doors and +shining brass knockers. He had no definite objective; but he +hoped rather vaguely to pick up some clue that might lead him to +Mrs. Malplaquet's. He walked slowly along surveying the houses +and scrutinizing the faces of the passers-by who were few and far +between, yet without coming any nearer the end of his search. + +It was now growing dusk. Enthroned on the summit of the hill the +water-tower stood out hard and clear against the evening sky. +Desmond, who had lost his bearings somewhat in the course of his +wanderings, came to a full stop irresolutely, where two streets +crossed, thinking that he would retrace his footsteps to the +main-road on the chance of picking up a taxi to take him back to +town. He chose one of the streets at random; but it proved to be +a crescent and brought him back practically to the spot he had +started from. Thereupon, he took the other and followed it up, +ignoring various side-turnings which he feared might be pitfalls +like the last: But the second road was as bad as the first. It +was a cul de sac and brought Desmond face to face with a blank +wall. + +He turned and looked about him for somebody of whom to ask the +way. But the street was entirely deserted. He seemed to be on the +very summit of the hill; for all the roads were a-tilt. Though +the evening was falling fast, no light appeared in any of the +houses and the street lamps were yet unlit. Save for the distant +bourdon of the traffic which rose to his ears like the beating of +the surf, the breeze rustling the bushes in the gardens was the +only sound. + +Desmond started to walk back slowly the way he had come. +Presently, his eyes caught the gleam of a light from above a +front door. When he drew level with it, he saw that a gas-jet was +burning in the fanlight over the entrance to a neat little +two-story house which stood by itself in a diminutive garden. As +by this time he was thoroughly sick of wandering aimlessly about, +he went up to the neat little house and rang the bell. + +A maid-servant in a cap and apron who seemed to be drawn to the +scale of the house, such an insignificant little person she was, +opened the door. + +"Oh, sir," she exclaimed when she saw him, "was it about the +rooms?" + +And she pointed up at the fan-light where, for the first time, +Desmond noticed a printed card with the inscription-: + +"Furnished Rooms to Let." + +The servant's unexpected question put an idea into Desmond's +head. He could not return to the club, he reflected, since he was +supposed to be killed in action. Why not take a room in this +house in the heart of the enemy's country and spend some days on +the watch for Mrs. Malplaquet or for any clue that might lead him +to her? + +So Desmond answered, yes, it was about the rooms he had come. + +Promising that she would tell "the missus," the little servant +showed him into a tiny sitting-room, very clean and bright, with +blue cretonne curtains and a blue carpet and an engraving of +"King Cophetua and The Beggar Maid" over the mantelpiece. +Directly you came into the room, everything in it got up and +shouted "Tottenham Court Road." + +Then the door opened and, with a great tinkling and rustling, a +stoutish, brisk-looking woman sailed in. The tinkling proceeded +from the large amount of cheap jewelry with which she was +adorned; the rustling from a black and shiny glace silk dress. +With every movement she made the large drops she wore in her ears +chinked and were answered by a melodious chime from the charm +bangles she had on her wrists. + +She measured Desmond in a short glance and his appearance seemed +to please her for she smiled as she said in rather a mincing +voice: + +"My (she pronounced it 'may') maid said you wished to see the +rooms!" + +Desmond intimated that such was his desire. + +"Pray be seated," said the little woman: "You will understand, +I'm sure, that ay am not in the habit of taking in paying guests, +but may husband being at the front, ay have a bedroom and this +sitting-room free and ay thought..." + +She stopped and looked sharply at Desmond. + +"You are an officer, I think" she asked. + +Desmond bowed. + +"May husband is also an officer," replied the woman, "Captain +Viljohn-Smythe; you may have met him. No? Of course, had you not +been of commissioned rank, ay should not..." + +She trailed off vaguely. + +Desmond inquired her terms and surprised her somewhat by +accepting them on the spot. + +"But you have not seen the bedroom!" protested Mrs. +Viljohn-Smythe. + +"I will take it on trust," Desmond replied, "and here," he added, +pulling out his note-case, "is a week's rent in advance. I'll go +along now and fetch my things. By the way," he went on, "I know +some people here at Campden Hill but very foolishly, I've mislaid +the address. Malplaquet... Mrs. Malplaquet. Do you happen to know +her house?" + +"Ay know most of the naice people living round about here," +replied the lady, "but for the moment, ay cannot recollect... was +it one of the larger houses on the hill, do you know?" + +"I'm afraid I don't know," said Desmond. "You see, I've lost the +address!" + +"Quayte!" returned Mrs. Viljohn-Smythe. "Ay can't say ay know the +name!" she added. + +However, she consented to consult the handmaiden, who answered to +the name of Gladays, as to Mrs. Malplaquet's address, but she was +as ignorant as her mistress. + +Promising to return in the course of the evening with his things +and having received exact instructions as to the shortest way to +Holland Park Avenue, Desmond took his leave. He felt that he had +embarked on a wild goose chase; for, even if the fugitives had +made their way to Mrs. Malplaquet's (which was more than +doubtful) he imagined they would take care to lie very low so +that his chances of coming across any of them were of the most +meager. + +Following the directions he had received, he made his way easily +back to the main road. He halted under a street-lamp to catch the +eye of any passing taxi which might happen to be disengaged. A +dirty faced man in a greasy old suit and a spotted handkerchief +knotted about his throat came slouching along the pavement, +keeping close to the wall. On catching sight of Desmond's face by +the light of the lamp, he stopped irresolutely and then advanced +slowly towards him. + +"Excuse me, sir!" he said falteringly. + +Desmond looked round at the sound of the man's voice and seeing a +typical street loafer, asked the fellow to get him a taxi. + +"It is Captain Okewood," said the loafer, "you don't remember me, +sir?" + +Desmond looked at the dirty, rather haggard face with its +unshaven chin and shook his head. + +"I don't think I do," he answered, "though you seem to know my +name!" + +The vagrant fumbled in his pocket for a minute and extracting a +scrap of paper, unfolded it and held it out to Desmond. + +"That's me, sir!" he said, "and, oh, sir! if you would kindly +help me with a word of good advice, just for old times' sake, I'd +be very grateful!" + +Desmond took the scrap of paper which the man tendered and held +it so as to catch the rays of the lamp. It was a fragment torn +from a newspaper. He had hardly set eyes on the cutting than he +stretched out his hand to the vagrant. + +"Why, Gunner Barling," he cried, "I didn't know you! How on +earth do you come to be in this state?" + +The man looked shamefacedly down on the ground. + +"I'm a deserter, sir!" he said in a low voice. + +"Are you, by George?" replied Desmond, "and now I come to think +of it, so am I!" + + + +CHAPTER XXV. TO MRS. MALPLAQUET'S + +Clasping Barbara's wrist in a bony grip, Mrs. Malplaquet sat at +the girl's side in the back seat of the limousine whilst Bellward +placed himself on the seat opposite. The car was powerfully +engined; and, once the cart track up to the inn was passed and +the main road reached, Strangwise opened her out. + +By the track leading to the inn the high road made a right angle +turn to the right. This turn they took, leaving the Mill House +away in the distance to the left of them, and, after skirting the +fen for some way and threading a maze of side roads, presently +debouched on a straight, broad road. + +Dazed and shaken by her experiences, Barbara lost all count of +time, but after running for some time through the open country in +the gray light of dawn, they reached the edge of those long +tentacles of bricks and mortar which London thrusts out from her +on every side. The outer fringes of the metropolis were still +sleeping as the great car roared by. The snug "High Streets," +the red brick "Parades" and "Broadways," with their lines of +houses with blinds drawn, seemed to have their eyes shut, so +blank, so somnolent was their aspect. + +With their lamps alight, the first trams were gliding out to +begin the new day, as the big car swiftly traversed the eastern +suburbs of London. To Barbara, who had had her home at Seven +Kings, there was something familiar about the streets as they +flickered by; but her powers of observation were dulled, so great +was the sense of helplessness that weighed her down. + +High-booted scavengers with curious snake-like lengths of hose on +little trolleys were sluicing the asphalt as the limousine +snorted past the Mansion House into Poultney and Cheapside. The +light was growing clearer now; the tube stations were open and +from time to time a motor-bus whizzed by. + +Barbara stirred restlessly and Mrs. Malplaquet's grip on her +wrist tightened. + +"Where are you taking me?" the girl said. + +Mrs. Malplaquet spoke a single word. + +"Bellward!" she said in a gentle voice; but it was a voice of +command. + +Bellward leaned forward. + +"Look at me, Miss Mackwayte!" he said. + +There was a curious insistence in his voice that made Barbara +obey. She struggled for a moment against the impulse to do his +bidding; for some agency within her told her to resist the +summons. But an irresistible force seemed to draw her eyes to +his. Bellward did not move. He simply leaned forward a little, +his hands on his knees, and looked at her. Barbara could not see +his eyes, for the light in the car was still dim, but inch by +inch they captured hers. + +She looked at the black outline of his head and instantly was +conscious of a wave of magnetic power that transmitted itself +from his will to hers. She would have cried out, have struggled, +have sought to break away; but that invisible dance held her as +in a vice. A little gasp broke from her lips; but that was all. + +"So!" said Bellward with the little sigh of a man who has just +accomplished some bodily effort, "so! you will keep quiet now and +do as I tell you. You understand?" + +No reply came from the girl. She had thrust her head forward and +was gazing fixedly at the man. Bellward leaned towards the girl +until his stubbly hair actually touched her soft brown curls. He +was gazing intently at her eyes. + +He was apparently well satisfied with his inspection, for he gave +a sigh of satisfaction and turned to Mrs. Malplaquet. + +"She'll give no more trouble now!" he remarked airily. + +"Ah! Bellward," sighed Mrs. Malplaquet, "you're incomparable! +What an undefeatable combination you and I would have made if +we'd met twenty years sooner!" + +And she threw him a coquettish glance. + +"Ah, indeed!" returned Bellward pensively. "But a night like this +makes me feel twenty years older, Minna. He's a daredevil, this +Strangwise. Imagine going back to that infernal inn when the +police might have broken in on us any minute. But he is a +determined chap. He doesn't seem to know what it is to be beaten. +He wanted to make sure that Nur-el-Din had not recovered the +jewel from him, though he declares that it has never left him day +or night since he got possession of it. He fairly made hay of her +room back at the inn there." + +"Well," said Mrs. Malplaquet rather spitefully, "he seems to be +beaten this time. He hasn't found his precious Star of Poland." + +"No," answered the man reflectively, "but I think he will!" + +Mrs. Malplaquet laughed shrilly. + +"And how, may I ask? From what Strangwise told me himself, the +thing has utterly vanished. And he doesn't seem to have any clue +as to who has taken it!" + +"Perhaps not," replied Bellward, who appeared to have a high +opinion of Strangwise, "but, like all Germans, our friend is +thorough. If he does not see the direct road, he proceeds by a +process of elimination until he hits upon it. He did not expect +to find the jewel in Nur-el-Din's room; he told me as much +himself, but he searched because he is thorough in everything. Do +you know why he really went back to the Dyke Inn?" + +"Why?" asked Mrs. Malplaquet. + +"To secure our young friend here," answered Bellward with a +glance at Barbara. + +Mrs. Malplaquet made a little grimace to bid him to be prudent in +what he said before the girl. + +"Bah!" the man laughed, "you understand nothing of what we are +saying, do you?" he said, addressing Barbara. + +The girl moved uneasily. + +"I understand nothing of what you are saying," she replied in a +strained voice. + +"This girl was the last person to have the jewel before +Strangwise," Bellward said, continuing his conversation with +Mrs. Malplaquet, "and she is employed at the Headquarters of the Secret +Service. Strangwise was satisfied that nobody connected him with +the theft of the silver box which Nur-el-Din gave to this girl +until our young lady here appeared at the Dyke Inn yesterday +afternoon. Nur-el-Din played his game for him by detaining the +girl. Strangwise believes--and I must say I agree with him--that +probably two persons know where the Star of Poland is. One is +this girl..." + +"The other being the late Mr. Bellward?" queried Mrs. Malplaquet. + +"Precisely. The late Mr. Bellward or Major Desmond Okewood!" said +Bellward. "Between him and this girl here I think we ought to be +able to recover Strangwise's lost property for him!" + +"But you haven't got Okewood yet!" observed the lady in a mocking +voice. + +The man looked evilly at her, his heavy, fat chin set square. + +"But we shall get him, never fear. With a little bird-lime as +attractive as this--" + +He broke off and jerked his head in the direction of Barbara. + +"... I shall do the rest!" he added. + +"Ah!" + +Mrs. Malplaquet drew a deep sigh of admiration. + +"That's a clever idea. He is so _ruse_, this Strangwise. You are +quite right, Bellward, he never admits himself beaten. And he +never is! But tell me," she added, "what about Nur-el-Din? +They'll nab her, eh?" + +"Unless our British friends are even more inefficient than I +believe them to be, they most certainly will," he replied. + +"And then?" + +Bellward shrugged his shoulders and spread wide his hands. + +"A little morning ceremony at the Tower," he answered, "unless +these idiotic English are too sentimental to execute a woman..." + +The car was running down the long slope to Paddington Station. It +drew up at the entrance to the booking office, and Strangwise, +springing from the driver's seat, flung open the door. + +"Come on!" he cried, "we must look sharp or we'll miss our +train!" + +He dragged a couple of bags off the roof and led the way into the +station. In the booking-hall he inquired of a porter what time +the express left for Bath, then went to the ticket office and +took four first-class tickets to that place. Meanwhile, the car +remained standing empty in the carriageway. + +Strangwise led his little party up some stairs and across a long +bridge, down some stairs and up some stairs again, emerging, +finally, at the Bakerloo Tube Station. There he despatched +Bellward to fetch a taxi. + +Taxis are rare in the early hours of the morning in war-time and +Bellward was gone fully twenty minutes. Strangwise fidgeted +continually, drawing out his watch repeatedly and casting many +anxious glances this way and that. + +His nervous demeanor began to affect Mrs. Malplaquet, who had +linked her arm affectionately in Barbara's. The girl remained +absolutely apathetic. Indeed, she seemed almost as one in a +trance. + +"Aren't we going to Bath?" at length demanded Mrs. Malplaquet of +Strangwise. + +"Don't ask questions!" snapped the latter. + +"But the car?" asked the lady. + +"Hold your tongue!" commanded the officer; and Mrs. Malplaquet +obeyed. + +Then Mr. Bellward returned with the news that he had at last got +a taxi. Strangwise turned to Bellward. + +"Can Minna and the girl go to Campden Hill alone?" he asked. "Or +will the girl try and break away, do you think?" + +Bellward held up his hand to enjoin silence. + +"You will go along with Mrs. Malplaquet," he said to Barbara in +his low purring voice, "you will stay with her until I come. You +understand?" + +"I will go with Mrs. Malplaquet!" the girl replied in the same +dull tone as before. + +"Upon my word," exclaimed Mrs. Malplaquet, "you might have told me +that we were going to my own place..." + +But Strangwise shut her up. + +"Bellward and I will come on by tube... it is safer," he said, +"hurry, hurry! We must all be under cover by eight o'clock... we +have no time to lose!" + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. THE MAN IN THE SUMMER-HOUSE + +The hour of the theatre rush was long since over and its passing +had transformed the taxi-drivers from haughty autocrats to humble +suppliants. One taxi after another crawled slowly past the street +corner where Desmond had stood for over an hour in deep converse +with Gunner Barling, but neither flaunting flag nor appealingly +uplifted finger attracted the slightest attention from the +athletic-looking man who was so earnestly engaged in talk with a +tramp. But at last the conversation was over; the two men +separated and the next taxi passing thereafter picked up a fare. + +At nine o'clock the next morning Desmond appeared for breakfast +in his sitting-room at Santona Road; for such was the name of the +street in which his new rooms were situated. When he had finished +his meal, he summoned Gladys and informed her that he would be +glad to speak to Mrs. Viljohn-Smythe. That lady having duly +answered the summons, Desmond asked whether, in consideration of +terms to be mutually agreed upon, she could accommodate his +soldier servant. He explained that the last-named was of the most +exemplary character and threw out a hint of the value of a batman +for such tasks as the cleaning of the family boots and the +polishing of brass or silver. + +The landlady made no objections and half an hour later a clean +and respectable-looking man arrived whom Desmond with difficulty +recognized as the wretched vagrant of the previous evening. This +was, indeed, the Gunner Barling he used to know, with his +smooth-shaven chin and neat brown moustache waxed at the ends and +characteristic "quiff" decorating his brow. And so Desmond and +his man installed themselves at Santona Road. + +The house was clean and comfortable, and Mrs. Viljohn-Smythe, for +all her "refaynement," as she would have called it, proved +herself a warm-hearted, motherly soul. Desmond had a small but +comfortably furnished bedroom at the top of the house, on the +second floor, with a window which commanded a view of the +diminutive garden and the back of a row of large houses standing +on the lower slopes of the hill. So precipitous was the fall of +the ground, indeed, that Desmond could look right into the garden +of the house backing on Mrs. Viljohn-Smythe's. This garden had a +patch of well-kept green sward in the centre with a plaster nymph +in the middle, while in one corner stood a kind of large +summer-house or pavilion built on a slight eminence, with a +window looking into Mrs. Viljohn-Smythe's' back garden. + +In accordance with a plan of action he had laid down in his mind, +Desmond took all his meals at his rooms. The rest of the day he +devoted to walking about the streets of Campden Hill and setting +on foot discreet inquiries after Mrs. Malplaquet amongst the +local tradespeople. + +For three or four days he carried out this arrangement without +the slightest success. He dogged the footsteps of more than one +gray-haired lady of distinguished appearance without lighting +upon his quarry. He bestowed largesse on the constable on point +duty, on the milkman and the baker's young lady; but none of them +had ever heard of Mrs. Malplaquet or recognized her from +Desmond's description. + +On the morning of the fourth day Desmond returned to lunch, +dispirited and heart-sick. He had half a mind to abandon his +quest altogether and to go and make his peace with the Chief and +ask to be sent back to France. He ate his lunch and then, feeling +that it would be useless to resume his aimless patrol of the +streets, lit a cigar and strolled out into the little +back-garden. + +It was a fine, warm afternoon, and already the crocuses were +thrusting their heads out of the neat flower-beds as if to +ascertain whether the spring had really arrived. There was, +indeed, a pleasant vernal scent in the air. + +"A fine day!" said a voice. + +Desmond looked up. At the open window of the summerhouse of the +garden backing on Mrs. Viljohn-Smythe's, his elbows resting on +the pitch-pine frame, was a middle-aged man. A cigarette was in +his mouth and from his hands dangled a newspaper. He had a +smooth-shaven, heavily-jowled face and a large pair of +tortoise-shell spectacles on his nose. + +Desmond remembered to have seen the man already looking out of a +window opposite his on one of the upper floors of the house. In +reply to a casual inquiry, Mrs. Viljohn-Smythe had informed him +that the house was a nursing home kept by a Dr. Radcombe, a nerve +specialist. + +"It is quite like spring!" replied Desmond, wondering if this +were the doctor. Doctors get about a good deal and Dr. Radcombe +might be able to tell him something about Mrs. Malplaquet. + +"I think we have seen one another in the mornings sometimes," +said the heavily-fowled man, "though I have noticed that you are +an earlier riser than I am. But when one is an invalid--" + +"You are one of Dr. Radcombe's patients, then!" said Desmond. + +"I am," returned the other, "a great man, that, my dear sir. I +doubt if there is his equal for diagnosis in the kingdom." + +"He has lived here for some years, I suppose?" + +"Oh yes!" answered the man, "in fact, he is one of the oldest and +most-respected residents of Kensington, I believe!" + +"I am rather anxious to find some friends of mine who live about +here," Desmond remarked, quick to seize his opportunity, "I +wonder whether your doctor could help me..." + +"I'm sure he could," the man replied, "the doctor knows +everybody..." + +"The name--" began Desmond, but the other checked him. + +"Please don't ask me to burden my memory with names," he +protested. "I am here for a complete rest from over-work, and +loss of memory is one of my symptoms. But look here; why not come +over the wall and step inside the house with me? Dr. Radcombe is +there and will, I am sure, be delighted to give you any +assistance in his power!" + +Desmond hesitated. + +"Really," he said, "it seems rather unconventional. Perhaps the +doctor would object..." + +"Object" said the heavily-fowled man, "tut, tut, not at all. Come +on, I'll give you a hand up!" + +He thrust out a large, white hand. Desmond was about to grasp it +when he saw gleaming on the third finger a gold snake ring with +emerald eyes--the ring that Mrs. Malplaquet had given Bellward. +He was about to draw back but the man was too quick for him. +Owing to the slope of the ground the window of the summer-house +was on a level with Desmond's throat. The man's two hands shot +out simultaneously. One grasped Desmond's wrist in a steel grip +whilst the other fastened itself about the young man's throat, +squeezing the very breath out of his body. It was done so quickly +that he had no time to struggle, no time to shout. As Bellward +seized him, another arm was shot out of the window. Desmond felt +himself gripped by the collar and lifted, by a most amazing +effort of strength, bodily over the wall. + +His brain swimming with the pressure on his throat, he struggled +but feebly to recover his freedom. However, as Desmond was +dropped heavily on to the grass on the other side of the wall, +Bellward's grip relaxed just for a second and in that instant +Desmond made one desperate bid for liberty. He fell in a +crouching position and, as he felt Bellward loosen his hold for a +second with the jerk of his victim's fall, Desmond straightened +himself up suddenly, catching his assailant a violent blow with +his head on the point of the chin. + +Bellward fell back with a crash on to the timber flooring of the +pavilion. Desmond heard his head strike the boards with a thud, +heard a muttered curse. He found himself standing in a narrow +lane, less than three feet wide, which ran between the garden +wall and the summer-house; for the pavilion, erected on a slight +knoll surrounded by turf, was not built against the wall as is +usually the case with these structures. + +In this narrow space Desmond stood irresolute for the merest +fraction of a second. It was not longer; for, directly after +Bellward had crashed backwards, Desmond heard a light step +reverberate within the planks of the summerhouse. His most +obvious course was to scramble back over the wall again into +safety, in all thankfulness at having escaped so violent an +attack. But he reflected that Bellward was here and that surely +meant that the others were not far off. In that instant as he +heard the stealthy footstep cross the floor of the summer-house, +Desmond resolved he would not leave the garden until he had +ascertained whether Barbara Mackwayte was there. + +Desmond decided that he would stay where he was until he no +longer heard that footstep on the planks within; for then the +person inside the summer-house would have reached the grass at +the door. Desmond remembered the arm which had shot out beside +Bellward at the window and swung him so easily off his feet. He +knew only one man capable of achieving that very respectable +muscular performance; for Desmond weighed every ounce of twelve +stone. That man was Maurice Strangwise. + +As soon as the creaking of the timbers within ceased, Desmond +moved to the left following the outer wall of the pavilion. On +the soft green sward his feet made no sound. Presently he came to +a window which was let in the side of the summerhouse opposite +the window from which Bellward had grappled with him. Raising his +eyes to the level of the sill, Desmond took a cautious peep. He +caught a glimpse of the face of Maurice Strangwise, brows knit, +nostrils dilated, the very picture of venomous, watchful rancor. + +Strangwise had halted and was now looking back over the wall into +Mrs. Viljohn-Smythe's back garden. Was it possible, Desmond +wondered, that he could believe that Desmond had scrambled back +over the wall? Strangwise remained motionless, his back now fully +turned to Desmond, peering into the other garden. + +The garden in which the summer-house stood was oblong in shape +and more than twice as broad as it was long. The pavilion was not +more than forty yards from the back entrance of the house. +Desmond weighed in his mind the possibility of being able to dash +across those forty yards, the turf deadening the sound of his +feet, before Strangwise turned round again. The entrance to the +back of the house was through a door in the side of the house, to +which two or three wrought-iron steps gave access. Once he had +gained the steps Desmond calculated that the side of the house +would shelter him from Strangwise's view. He turned these things +over in his mind in the twinkling of an eye; for all his life he +had been used to quick decision and quick action. To cover those +forty yards across the open in one bound was, he decided, too +much to risk; for he must at all costs gain access to the house +and discover, if possible, whether Barbara Mackwayte were +confined within, before he was caught. + +Then his eye fell on the plaster nymph in the middle of the +grass. She was a stoutly-built female, life-size, standing upon a +solid-looking pedestal fully four feet broad. Desmond measured +the distance separating him from the nymph. It was not more than +twenty yards at the outside and the pedestal would conceal him +from the eyes of Strangwise if the latter should turn round +before he had made his second bound and reached the steps at the +side of the house. + +He peeped through the window again. Strangwise stood in his old +attitude gazing over the garden wall. Then Desmond acted. Taking +long strides on the points of his toes, he gained the statue and +crouched down behind it. Even as he started, he heard a loud +grunt from the inside of the summerhouse and from his cover +behind the nymph saw Strangwise turn quickly and enter the +summerhouse. On that Desmond sprang to his feet again, heedless +of whether he was seen from the house, ran lightly across the +grass and reached the steps at the side of the house. + +The door stood ajar. + +He stood still on the top step and listened for a moment. The +house was wrapped in silence. Not a sign of life came from +within. + +But now he heard voices from the garden and they were the voices +of two angry men, raised in altercation. As he listened, they +drew nearer. + +Desmond tarried no longer. He preferred the unknown perils which +that silent house portended to the real danger advancing from the +garden. He softly pushed the door open and slipped into the +house. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. THE RED LACQUER ROOM + +The side-door led into a little white passage with a green baize +door at the end. A staircase, which from its white-washed treads, +Desmond judged to be the back stairs, gave on the passage. +Calculating that the men in the garden would be certain to use +the main staircase, Desmond took the back stairs which, on the +first landing, brought him face to face with a green baize door, +similar in every respect to that on the floor below. + +He pushed this door open and listened. Hearing nothing he passed +on through it. He found himself in a broad corridor on to which +gave the main staircase from below and its continuation to the +upper floors. Three rooms opened on to this corridor, a large +drawing-room, a small study and what was obviously the doctor's +consulting room, from the operating table and the array of +instruments set out in glass cases. The rooms were empty and +Desmond was about to return to the back stairs and proceed to the +next floor when his attention was caught by a series of framed +photographs with which the walls of the corridor were lined. + +These were groups of doctors taken at various medical congresses. +You will find such photographs in many doctors' houses. Below +each group were neatly printed the names of the persons therein +represented. Anxious to see what manner of man was this Doctor +Radcombe in whose house spies were apparently at liberty to +consort with impunity, Desmond looked for his name. + +There it was--Dr. A. J. Radcombe. But, on looking at the figure +above the printed line, what was his astonishment to recognize +the angular features and drooping moustache of "No. 13"! + +There was no possible mistake about it. The photographs were +excellent and Desmond had no difficulty in identifying the +eccentric-looking German in each of them. So this was Mrs. +Malplaquet's house, was it? A nursing-home run by "No. 13," who +in addition to being a spy, would seem to have been a nerve +specialist as well. In this guise, no doubt, he had made trips to +the South of England which had gained for him that intimate +acquaintance with Portsmouth and Southsea of which he had boasted +at the gathering in the library. In this capacity, moreover, he +had probably met Bellward whose "oggult" powers, to which "No. +13" had alluded, seem to point to mesmerism and kindred practices +in which German neurasthenic research has made such immense +progress. + +Pondering over his surprising discovery, Desmond pursued his way +to the floor above. Here, too, was a green baize door which +opened on to a corridor. Desmond walked quickly along it, +glancing in, as he passed, at the open doors of two or three +bedrooms. Just beyond where the staircase crossed the corridor +were two doors, both of which were closed. The one was a white +door and might have been a bathroom; the other was enameled a +brilliant, glossy red. + +The second floor was as silent and deserted as the corridor +below. But just as Desmond passed the head of the main staircase +he heard the sound of voices. He glanced cautiously down the well +of the stairs and saw Strangwise and Bellward talking together. +Bellward was on the stairs while Strangwise stood in the +corridor. + +"It's our last chance," Strangwise was saying. + +"No, no," Bellward replied heatedly, "I tell you it is madness. +We must not delay a minute. For Heaven's sake, leave the girl +alone and let's save ourselves." + +"What?" cried Strangwise, "and abandon Minna!" + +"Minna is well able to look after herself," answered Bellward in +a sulky voice, "it's a question of sauve qui peut now... every +man for himself!" + +"No!" said Strangwise firmly, "we'll wait for Minna, Bellward. +You exaggerate the danger. I tell you I was at the garden wall +within a few seconds of our friend laying you out, and I saw no +sign of him in his garden. It was a physical impossibility for +him to have got over the wall and back into the house in the +time. And in his garden there's nowhere to hide. It's as bare as +the Sahara!" + +"But, good Heavens!" cried Bellward, throwing his hands excitedly +above his head, "the man can't dissolve into thin air. He's gone +back to the house, I tell you, and the police will be here at any +minute. You know he's not in our garden; for you searched every +nook and corner of it yourself. Okewood may be too clever for +you, Strangwise; but he's not a magician!" + +"No," said Strangwise sternly, "he is not." And he added in a low +voice: + +"That's why I am convinced that he is in this house!" + +Desmond felt his heart thump against his ribs. + +Bellward seemed surprised for he cried quickly: + +"What? Here?" + +Strangwise nodded. + +"You stand here gossiping with that man loose in the house?" +exclaimed Bellward vehemently, "why the next thing we know the +fellow will escape us again!" + +"Oh, no, he won't" retorted the other. "Every window on the +ground floor is barred... this is a home for neurasthenics, you +know, and that is sometimes a polite word for a lunatic, my +friend... and the doors, both front and back are locked. The keys +are here!" + +Desmond heard a jingle as Strangwise slapped his pocket. + +"All the same," the latter went on, "it is as well to be prepared +for a sudden change of quarters. That's why I want you to finish +off the girl at once. Come along, we'll start now..." + +"No, no!" declared Bellward. "I'm far too upset. You seem to +think you can turn me on and off like you do the gas!" + +"Well, as you like," said Strangwise, "but the sooner we clear up +this thing the better. I'm going to see if our clever young +friend has taken refuge in the servants' quarters upstairs. He's +not on this floor, that's certain!" + +Desmond drew back in terror. He heard the green baize door on the +floor below swing back as Strangwise went out to the back stairs +and Bellward's heavy step ascended the main staircase. There was +something so horribly sinister in that firm, creaking tread as it +mounted towards him that for the moment he lost his head. He +looked round wildly for a place of concealment; but the corridor +was bare. Facing him was the red enamel door. Boldly he turned +the handle and walked in, softly closing the door behind him. + +It was as though he had stepped into another world. The room in +which he found himself was a study in vivid red emphasized by +black. Red and black; these were the only colors in the room. The +curtains, which were of black silk, were drawn, though it was not +yet dark outside, and from the ceiling was suspended a lamp in +the shape of a great scarlet bowl which cast an eerie red light +on one of the most bizarre apartments that Desmond had ever seen. + +It was a lacquer room in the Chinese style, popularized by the +craze for barbaric decoration introduced by Bakst and the Russian +Ballet into England. The walls were enameled the same brilliant +glossy red as the door and hung at intervals with panels of +magnificent black and gold lacquer work. The table which ran down +the centre of the room was of scarlet and gold lacquer like the +fantastically designed chairs and the rest of the furniture. The +heavy carpet was black. + +Desmond did not take in all these details at once; for his +attention was immediately directed to a high-backed armchair +covered in black satin which stood with its back to the door. He +stared at this chair; for, peeping out above the back, making a +splash of deep golden brown against the black sheen of the +upholstery, was a mass of curls... Barbara Mackwayte's hair. + +As he advanced towards the girl, she moaned in a high, whimpering +voice: + +"No, no, not again! Let me sleep! Please, please, leave me +alone!" + +Desmond sprang to her side. + +"Barbara!" he cried and never noticed that he called her by her +Christian name. + +Barbara Mackwayte sat in the big black armchair, facing the +black-curtained window. Her face was pale and drawn, and there +were black circles under her eyes. There was a listless yet +highly-strung look about her that you see in people who +habitually take drugs. + +She heeded not the sound of his voice. It was as though he had +not spoken. She only continued to moan and mutter, moving her +body about uneasily as a child does when its sleep is disturbed +by nightmares. Then, to his inexpressible horror, Desmond saw +that her feet were bound with straps to the legs of the chair. +Her arms were similarly tethered to the arms of the chair, but +her hands had been left free. + +"Barbara!" said Desmond softly, "you know me! I'm Desmond Okewood! +I've come to take you home!" + +The word "home" seemed to catch the girl's attention; for now she +turned her head and looked at the young man. The expression in +her eyes, wide and staring, was horrible; for it was the look of +a tortured animal. + +Desmond was bending to unbind the straps that fastened Barbara's +arms when he heard a step outside the door. The curtains in front +of the window were just beside him. They were long and reached to +the floor. Without a second's hesitation he slipped behind them +and found himself in the recess of a shallow bow window. + +The bow window was in three parts and the central part was open +wide at the bottom. It gave on a little balcony which was in +reality the roof of a bow window of one of the rooms on the floor +below. Desmond promptly scrambled out of the window and letting +himself drop on to the balcony crouched down blow the sill. + +A door opened in the room he had just left. He heard steps moving +about and cupboards opened and shut. Then, there was the sound of +curtains being drawn back and a voice said just above him: + +"He's not here! I tell you the fellow's not in the house! Now +perhaps you'll believe me!" + +The balcony was fairly deep and it was growing dusk; but Desmond +could scarcely hope to escape detection if Bellward, for he had +recognized his voice, should think of leaning out of the window +and looking down upon the balcony. With his coat collar turned up +to hide the treacherous white of his linen, Desmond pressed +himself as close as possible against the side of the house and +waited for the joyful cry that would proclaim that he had been +discovered. There was no possible means of escape; for the +balcony stood at an angle of the house with no windows or +water-pipes anywhere within reach, to give him a foothold, +looking out on an inhospitable and gloomy area. + +Whether Bellward, who appeared bent only on getting away from the +house without delay, examined the balcony or not, Desmond did not +know; but after the agony of suspense had endured for what seemed +to him an hour, he heard Strangwise say: + +"It's no good, Bellward! I'm not satisfied! And until I am +satisfied that Okewood is not here, I don't leave this house. And +that's that!" + +Bellward swore savagely. + +"We've searched the garden and not found him: we've ransacked the +house from top to bottom without result. The fellow's not here; +but by God, he'll be here presently with a bunch of police, and +then it'll be too late! For the last time, Strangwise, will you +clear out?" + +There was a moment's pause. Then Desmond heard Strangwise's +clear, calm voice. + +"There's a balcony there... below the window, I mean." + +"I've looked," replied Bellward, "and he's not there. You can see +for yourself!" + +The moment of discovery had arrived. To Desmond the strain seemed +unbearable and to alleviate it, he began to count, as one counts +to woo sleep. One! two! three! four! He heard a grating noise as +the window was pushed further up. Five! six! seven! eight! + +"Strange!" + +Strangwise muttered the word just above Desmond's head. Then, to +his inexpressible relief, he heard the other add: + +"He's not there!" + +And Desmond realized that the depth of the balcony had saved him. +Short of getting out of the window, as he had done, the others +could not see him. + +The two men returned to the room and silence fell once more. +Outside on the damp balcony in the growing darkness Desmond was +fighting down the impulse to rush in and stake all in one +desperate attempt to rescue the girl from her persecutors. But he +was learning caution; and he knew he must bide his time. + +Some five minutes elapsed during which Desmond could detect no +definite sound from the red lacquer room except the occasional +low murmur of voices. Then, suddenly, there came a high, +quavering cry from the girl. + +Desmond raised himself quickly erect, his ear turned so as to +catch every sound from the room. The girl wailed again, a +plaintive, tortured cry that seemed to issue forth unwillingly +from her. + +"My God!" said Desmond to himself, "I can't stand this!" + +His head was level with the sill of the window which was +fortunately broad. Getting a good grip on the rough cement with +his hands, he hoisted himself up on to the sill, by the sheer +force of his arms alone, sat poised there for an instant, then +very lightly and without any noise, clambered through the window +and into the room. Even as he did so, the girl cried out again. + +"I can't! I can't!" she wailed. + +Every nerve in Desmond's body was tingling with rage. The blood +was hotly throbbing against his temples and he was literally +quivering all over with fury. But he held himself in check. This +time he must not fail. Both those men were armed, he knew. What +chance could he, unarmed as he was, have against them? He must +wait, wait, that they might not escape their punishment. + +Steadying the black silk curtains with his hands, he looked +through the narrow chink where the two panels met. And this was +what he saw. + +Barbara Mackwayte was still in the chair; but they had unfastened +her arms though her feet were still bound. She had half-risen +from her seat. Her body was thrust forward in a strained, +unnatural attitude; her eyes were wide open and staring; and +there was a little foam on her lips. There was something +hideously deformed, horribly unlife-like about her. Though her +eyes were open, her look was the look of the blind; and, like the +blind, she held her head a little on one side as though eager not +to miss the slightest sound. + +Bellward stood beside her, his face turned in profile to Desmond. +His eyes were dilated and the sweat stood out in great beads on +his forehead and trickled in broad lanes of moisture down his +heavy cheeks. He was half-facing the girl and every time he bent +towards her, she tugged and strained at her bonds as though to +follow him. + +"You say he has been here. Where is he? Where is he? You shall +tell me where he is." + +Bellward was speaking in a strange, vibrating voice. Every +question appeared to be a tremendous nervous effort. Desmond, who +was keenly sensitive to matters psychic, could almost feel the +magnetic power radiating from the man. In the weird red light of +the room, he could see the veins standing out like whipcords on +the back of Bellward's hands. + +"Tell me where he is? I command you!" + +The girl wailed out again in agony and writhed in her bonds. Her +voice rose to a high, gurgling scream. + +"There!" she cried, pointing with eyes staring, lips parted, +straight at the curtains behind which Desmond stood. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. AN OFFER FROM STRANGWISE + +Desmond sprang for the window; but it was too late. Strangwise +who had not missed a syllable of the interrogatory was at the +curtains in a flash. As he plucked the hangings back, Desmond +made a rush for him; but Strangwise, wary as ever, kept his head +and, drawing back, jabbed his great automatic almost in the +other's face. + +And then Desmond knew the game was up. + +Barbara had collapsed in her chair. Her face was of an ivory +pallor and she seemed to have fallen back into the characteristic +hypnotic trance. As for Bellward, he had dropped on to a sofa, a +loose mass, exhausted but missing nothing of what was going +forward, though, for the moment, he seemed too spent to take any +active part in the proceedings. In the meantime Strangwise, his +white, even teeth bared in a quiet smile, was very steadily +looking at his prisoner. + +"Well, Desmond," he said at last, "here's a pleasant surprise! I +thought you were dead!" + +Desmond said nothing. He was not a coward as men go; but he was +feeling horribly afraid just then. The deviltry of the scene he +had just witnessed had fairly unmanned him. The red and black +setting of the room had a suggestion of Oriental cruelty in its +very garishness. Desmond looked from Strangwise, cool and +smiling, to Bellward, gross and beastly, and from the two men to +Barbara, wan and still and defenceless. And he was afraid. + +Then Bellward scrambled clumsily to his feet, plucking a revolver +from his inside pocket as he did so. + +"You sneaking rascal," he snarled, "we'll teach you to play your +dirty tricks on us!" + +He raised the pistol; but Strangwise stepped between the man and +his victim. + +"Kill him!" cried Bellward, "and let's be rid of him once and for +all!" + +"What" said Strangwise. "Kill Desmond? Ah, no, my friend, I don't +think so!" + +And he added drily: + +"At least not quite yet!" + +"But you must be mad," exclaimed Bellward, toying impatiently +with his weapon, "you let him escape through your fingers before! +I know his type. A man like him is only safe when he's dead. And +if you won't..." + +"Now, Bellward," said Strangwise not budging but looking the +other calmly in the eye, "you're getting excited, you know." + +But Bellward muttered thickly: + +"Kill him! That's all I ask. And let's get out of here! I tell +you it isn't safe! Minna can shift for herself!" he added +sulkily. + +"As she has always done!" said a voice at the door. Mrs. +Malplaquet stood there, a very distinguished looking figure in +black with a handsome set of furs. + +"But who's this?" she asked, catching sight of Desmond, as she +flashed her beady black eyes round the group. Of Barbara she took +not the slightest notice. Desmond remarked it and her +indifference shocked him profoundly. + +"Of course, you don't recognize him!" said Strangwise. "This is +Major Desmond Okewood, more recently known as Mr. Basil +Bellward!" + +The woman evinced no surprise. + +"So!" she said, "I thought we'd end by getting him. Well, +Strangwise, what are we waiting for? Is our friend to live for +ever?" + +"That's what I want to know!" bellowed Bellward savagely. + +"I have not finished with our friend here!" observed Strangwise. + +"No, no," cried Mrs. Malplaquet quickly, Strangwise, "you've had +your lesson. You've lost the jewel and you're not likely to get +it back unless you think that this young man has come here with +it on him. Do you want to lose your life, the lives of all of us, +as well? Come, come, the fellow's no earthly good to us! And he's +a menace to us all as long as he's alive!" + +"Minna," said Strangwise, "you must trust me. Besides..." he +leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. "Now," he +resumed aloud, "you shall take Bellward downstairs and leave me +to have a little chat with our friend here." + +To Bellward he added: + +"Minna will tell you what I said. But first," he pointed to +Barbara who remained apparently lifeless in her chair, "bring her +round. And then I think she'd better go to bed." + +"But what about the treatment to-night" asked Mrs. Malplaquet. + +Strangwise smiled mysteriously. + +"I'm not sure that any further treatment will be required," he +said. + +In the meantime, Bellward had leaned over the girl and with a few +passes of his hand had brought her back to consciousness. She sat +up, one hand pressed to her face, and looked about her in a dazed +fashion. On recognizing Desmond she gave a little cry. + +"Take her away!" commanded Strangwise. + +Bellward had unfastened the ropes binding her feet, and he and +Mrs. Malplaquet between them half-dragged, half-lifted the girl +(for she was scarcely able to walk) from the room. + +When the door had closed behind them, Strangwise pointed to a +chair and pulled out his cigarette case. "Sit down, Desmond," he +said, "and let's talk. Will you smoke?" + +He held out his case. A cigarette was the one thing for which +Desmond craved. He took one and lit it. Strangwise sat down on +the other side of a curiously carved ebony table, his big +automatic before him. + +"I guess you're sharp enough to know when you're beaten, +Desmond," he said. "You've put up a good fight and until this +afternoon you were one up on me. I'll grant you that. And I don't +mind admitting that you've busted up my little organization--for +the present at any rate. But I'm on top now and you're in our +power, old man." + +"Well," replied Desmond shortly, "what are you going to do about +it?" + +"I'm going to utilize my advantage to the best I know how," +retorted Strangwise, snapping the words, "that's good strategy, +isn't it, Desmond? That's what Hamley and all the military +writers teach, isn't it? And I'm going to be frank with you. I +suppose you realize that your life hung by a thread in this very +room only a minute ago. Do you know why I intervened to save +you?" + +Desmond smiled. All his habitual serenity was coming back to him. +He found it hard to realize that this old brother officer of his, +blowing rings of cigarette smoke at him across the table, was an +enemy. + +"I don't suppose it was because of the love you bear me," replied +Desmond. + +And he rubbed the bump on his head. + +Strangwise noted the action and smiled. + +"Listen here," he resumed, planking his hands down on the table +and leaning forward, "I'm ready and anxious to quit this spying +business. It was only a side line with me anyway. My main object +in coming to this country was to recover possession of that +diamond star. Once I've got it back, I'm through with England..." + +"But not with the army," Desmond broke in, "thank God, we've got +a swift way with traitors in this country!" + +"Quite so," returned the other, "but you see, my friend, the army +hasn't got me. And I have got you! But let us drop talking +platitudes," he went on. "I'm no great hand at driving a bargain, +Desmond--few army men are, you know--so I won't even attempt to +chaffer with you. I shall tell you straight out what I am ready +to offer. You were given the job of breaking up this +organization, weren't you?" + +Desmond was silent. He was beginning to wonder what Strangwise +was driving at. + +"Oh, you needn't trouble to deny it. I never spotted you, I +admit, even when the real Bellward turned up: that idea of +putting your name in the casualty list as 'killed' was a +masterstroke; for I never looked to find you alive and trying to +put it across me. But to return to what I was saying--your job +was to smash my little system, and if you pull it off, it's a +feather in your cap. Well, you've killed two of my people and +you've arrested the ringleader." + +"Meaning Behrend?" asked Desmond. + +"Behrend be hanged! I mean Nur-el-Din!" + +"Nur-el-Din was not the ringleader," said Desmond, "as well you +know, Strangwise!" + +"Your employers evidently don't share your views, Desmond," he +replied, "all the documents were found on Nur-el-Din!" + +"Bah!" retorted Desmond, "and what of it? Mightn't they have been +planted on her in order to get her arrested to draw the suspicion +away from the real criminal, yourself?" + +Strangwise laughed a low, mellow laugh. + +"You're devilish hard to convince," he remarked. "Perhaps you'll +change your mind about it when I tell you that Nur-el-Din was +sentenced to death by a general court-martial yesterday +afternoon." + +The blow struck Desmond straight between the eyes. The execution +of spies followed hard on their conviction, he knew. Was he too +late? + +"Has... has she... has the sentence already been carried out?" he +asked hoarsely. + +Strangwise shrugged his shoulders. + +"My information didn't go as far as that!" he replied. "But I +expect so. They don't waste much time over these matters, old +man! You see, then," he continued, "you've got the ringleader, +and you shall have the other two members of the organization and +save your own life into the bargain if you will be reasonable and +treat with me." + +Desmond looked straight at him; and Strangwise averted his eyes. + +"Let me get this right," said Desmond slowly. "You let me go +free--of course, I take it that my liberty includes the release +of Miss Mackwayte as well--and in addition, you hand over to me +your two accomplices, Bellward and the Malplaquet woman. That is +your offer, isn't it? Well, what do you want from me in +exchange?" + +"The Star of Poland!" said Strangwise in a low voice. + +"But," Desmond began. He was going to add "I haven't got it," but +checked himself in time. Why should he show his hand? + +Strangwise broke in excitedly. + +"Man," he cried, "it was grandly done. When first I discovered +the gem, I opened the package in which the silver box was wrapped +and took the jewel from its case to make sure that it was there. +Then I sealed it up again, silver box and all, with the firm +intention that no other hand should break the seals but the hand +of His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince when I reported to him +that I had fulfilled my mission. So you will understand that I +was loth to open it to satisfy those blockheads that evening at +the Mill House. + +"I carried the package on me night and day and I could hardly +believe my eyes when I discovered that a box of cigarettes had +been substituted for the silver casket containing the jewel. I +then suspected that Barbara Mackwayte, in collusion with +Nur-el-Din, whom she had visited at the Dyke Inn that evening, +had played this trick on me. But before I escaped from the Mill +House I picked up one of the cigarettes which fell from the box +when I broke the seals. Ah! There you made a slip, Desmond. When +I looked at the cigarette I found it was a 'Dionysus'--your own +particular brand--why, I have smoked dozens of them with you in +France. The sight of the familiar name reminded me of you and +then I remembered your unexpected visit to me at the Nineveh when +I was packing up to go away on leave the evening you were going +back to France. I remembered that I had put the package with the +jewel on my table for a moment when I was changing my tunic. Your +appearance drove it out of my head for the time, and you utilized +the chance to substitute a similar package for mine. It was +clever, Desmond, 'pon my word it was a stroke of genius, a master +coup which in my country would have placed you at the very top of +the tree in the Great General Staff!" + +Desmond listened to this story in amazement. He did not attempt +to speculate on the different course events would have taken had +he but known that the mysterious jewel which had cost old +Mackwayte his life, had been in his, Desmond's, possession from +the very day on which he had assumed the guise and habiliments of +Mr. Bellward. He was racking his brains to think what he had done +with the box of cigarettes he had purchased at the Dionysus shop +on the afternoon of the day he had taken the leave train back to +France. + +He remembered perfectly buying the cigarettes for the journey. +But he didn't have them on the journey; for the captain of the +leave boat had given him some cigars as Desmond had nothing to +smoke. And then with a flash he remembered. He had packed the +cigarettes in his kit--his kit which had gone over to France in +the hold of the leave boat? And to think that there was a 100,000 +pound jewel in charge of the M.L.O. at a French port! + +The idea tickled Desmond's sense of humor and he smiled. + +"Come," cried Strangwise, "you've heard my terms. This jewel, +this Star of Poland, it is nothing to you or your Government. You +restore it to me and I won't even ask you for a safe conduct back +to Germany. I'll just slide out and it will be as if I had never +been to England at all. As for my organization, you, Desmond +Okewood, have blown it sky-high!" + +He stretched out his hand to Desmond as though he expected the +other to produce the gem from his pocket. But Desmond rose to his +feet and struck the hand contemptuously on one side. The smile +had vanished from his face. + +"Are you sure that is all you have to say to me?" he asked. + +Strangwise had stood up as well. + +"Why, yes!" he said, "I think so!" + +"Well, then," said Desmond firmly, "just listen to me for a +moment! Here's my answer. You've lost the jewel for good and all, +and you will never get it back. Your offer to betray your +accomplices to me in exchange for the Star of Poland is an empty +one; for your accomplices will be arrested with you. And lastly I +give you my word that I shall make it my personal duty to see +that you are not shot by clean-handed British soldiers, but +strung up by the neck by the common hangman--as the murderer that +you are!" + +Strangwise's face underwent an extraordinary change. His suavity +vanished, his easy smile disappeared and he looked balefully +across the table as the other fearlessly confronted him. + +"If you are a German, as you seem to be," Desmond went on, "then +I tell you I shall never have guessed it until this interview +between us. But a man who can murder a defenceless old man and +torture a young girl and then propose to sell his pals to a +British officer at the price of that officer's honor can only be +a Hun! And you seem to be a pretty fine specimen of your race!" + +Strangwise mastered his rising passion by an obvious effort; but +his face was evil as he spoke. + +"I put that Malplaquet woman off by appealing to her avarice," he +said, "I've promised her and Bellward a thousand pounds apiece as +their share of my reward for recovering the jewel. I only have to +say the word, Okewood, and your number's up! And you may as well +know that Bellward will try his hand on you before he kills you. +If that girl had known where the Star of Poland was, Bellward +would have had it out of her! Three times a day he's put her into +the hypnotic sleep. I warn you, you won't like the +interrogatory!" + +The door flew open and Bellward came in. He went eagerly to +Strangwise. + +"Well, have you got it!" he demanded. + +"Have you anything further to say, Desmond?" asked Strangwise. +"Perhaps you would care to reconsider your decisions?" + +Desmond shook his head. + +"You've had my answer!" he said doggedly. + +"Then, my friend," said Strangwise to Bellward, "after dinner you +shall try your hand on this obstinate fool. But first we'll take +him upstairs." + +He was close beside Desmond and as he finished speaking he +suddenly caught him by the throat and forced him back into the +chair to which Barbara had been tethered. To struggle was +useless, and Desmond suffered them to bind his arms and feet to +the arms and legs of the chair. Then the two men picked him up, +chair and all, and bore him from the room upstairs to the third +floor. There they carried him into a dark room where they left +him, turning the key in the lock as they went away. + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. DOT AND DASH + +For a long time after the retreating footsteps of Strangwise and +Bellward had died away, Desmond sat listless, preoccupied with +his thoughts. They were somber enough. The sinister atmosphere of +the house, weighing upon him, seemed to deepen his depression. + +About his own position he was not concerned at all. This is not +an example of unselfishness it is simply an instance of the force +of discipline which trains a man to reckon the cause as +everything and himself as naught. And Desmond was haunted by the +awful conviction that he had at length reached the end of his +tether and that nothing could now redeem the ignominious failure +he had made of his mission. + +He had sacrificed Barbara Mackwayte; he had sacrificed +Nur-el-Din; he had not even been clever enough to save his own +skin. And Strangwise, spy and murderer, had escaped and was now +free to reorganize his band after he had put Barbara and Desmond +out of the way. + +The thought was so unbearable that it stung Desmond into action. +Strangwise should not get the better of him, he resolved, and he +had yet this brief interval of being alone in which he might +devise some scheme to rescue Barbara and secure the arrest of +Strangwise and his accomplices. But how? + +He raised his head and looked round the room. The curtains had +not been drawn and enough light came into the room from the +outside to enable him to distinguish the outlines of the +furniture. It was a bedroom, furnished in rather a massive style, +with some kind of thick, soft carpet into, which the feet sank. + +Desmond tested his bonds. He was very skillfully tied up. He +fancied that with a little manipulation he might contrive to +loosen the rope round his right arm, for one of the knots had +caught in the folds of his coat. The thongs round his left arm +and two legs were, however, so tight that he thought he had but +little chance of ridding himself of them, even should he get his +right arm free; for the knots were tied at the back under the +seat of the chair in such a way that he could not reach them. + +He, therefore, resigned himself to conducting operations in the +highly ridiculous posture in which he found himself, that is to +say, with a large arm-chair attached to him, rather like a snail +with its house on its back. After a certain amount of maneuvering +he discovered that, by means of a kind of slow, lumbering crawl, +he was able to move across the ground. It might have proved a +noisy business on a parquet floor; but Desmond moved only a foot +or two at a time and the pile carpet deadened the sound. + +They had deposited him in his chair in the centre of the room +near the big brass bedstead. After ten minutes' painful crawling +he had reached the toilet table which stood in front of the +window with a couple of electric candles on either side of the +mirror. He moved the toilet table to one side, then bumped +steadily across the carpet until he had reached the window. And +then he gave a little gasp of surprise. + +He found himself looking straight at the window of his own +bedroom at Mrs. Viljohn-Smythe's. There was no mistaking it. The +electric light was burning and the curtains had not yet been +drawn. He could see the black and pink eiderdown on his bed and +the black lining of the chintz curtains. Then he remembered the +slope of the hill. He must be in the room from which he had seen +Bellward looking out. + +The sight of the natty bedroom across the way moved Desmond +strangely. It seemed to bring home to him for the first time the +extraordinary position in which he found himself, a prisoner in a +perfectly respectable suburban house in a perfectly respectable +quarter of London, in imminent danger of a violent death. + +He wouldn't give in without a struggle. Safety stared him in the +face, separated only by a hundred yards of grass and shrub and +wall. He instinctively gripped the arms of the chair to raise +himself to get a better view from the window, forgetting he was +bound. The ropes cut his arms cruelly and brought him back to +earth. + +He tested again the thongs fastening his right arm. Yes! they +were undoubtedly looser than the others. He pulled and tugged and +writhed and strained. Once in his struggles he crashed into the +toilet table and all but upset one of the electric candles which +slid to the table's very brink and was saved, as by a miracle, +from falling to the floor. He resumed his efforts, but with less +violence. It was in vain. Though the ropes about his right arm +were fairly loose, the wrist was solidly fastened to the chair, +and do what he would, he could not wrest it free. He clawed +desperately with his fingers and thumb, but all in vain. + +In the midst of his struggles he was arrested by the sound of +whistling. Somebody in the distance outside was whistling, +clearly and musically, a quaint, jingling sort of jig that struck +familiarly on Desmond's ear. Somehow it reminded him of the +front. It brought with it dim memory of the awakening to the +early morning chill of a Nissen hut, the smell of damp earth, the +whirr of aircraft soaring through the morning sky, the squeak of +flutes, the roll of drums... why, it was the Grand Reveille, +that ancient military air which every soldier knows. + +He stopped struggling and peered cautiously out into the dusk. +The time for darkening the windows must be at hand, he thought, +for in most of the houses the blinds were already drawn. Here and +there, however, an oblong of yellow light showed up against the +dark mass of the houses on the upper slopes of the hill. The +curtains of his bedroom at Mrs. Viljohn-Smythe's were not yet +drawn and the light still burned brightly above the bed. + +The whistling continued with occasional interruptions as though +the whistler were about some work or other. And then suddenly +"Buzzer" Barling, holding something in one hand and rubbing +violently with the other, stepped into the patch of light between +the window and the bed in Desmond's bedroom. + +Desmond's heart leaped within him. Here was assistance close at +hand. Mechanically he sought to raise his hand to open the +window, but an agonising twinge reminded him of his thongs. He +swiftly reviewed in his mind the means of attracting the +attention of the soldier opposite. Whatever he was going to do, +he must do quickly; for the fact that people were beginning to +darken their windows showed that it must be close on half-past +six, and about seven o'clock, Barling, after putting out +Desmond's things, was accustomed to go out for the evening. + +Should he shout? Should he try and break the window? Desmond +rejected both these suggestions. While it was doubtful whether +Barling would hear the noise or, if he heard it, connect it with +Desmond, it was certain that Strangwise and Bellward would do +both and be upon Desmond without a moment's delay. + +Then Desmond's eye fell upon the electric candle which had slid +to the very edge of the table. It was mounted in a heavy brass +candle-stick and the switch was in the pedestal, jutting out over +the edge of the table in the position in which the candle now +stood. The candle was clear of the mirror and there was nothing +between it and the window. Desmond's brain took all this in at a +glance. That glance showed him that Providence was being good to +him. + +A couple of jerks of the chair brought him alongside the table. +Its edge was practically level with the arms of the chair so +that, by getting into the right position, he was able to +manipulate the switch with his fingers. And then, thanking God +and the Army Council for the recent signalling course he had +attended, he depressed the switch with a quick, snapping movement +and jerked it up again, sending out the dots and dashes of the +Morse code. + +"B-A-R-L-I-N-G" he spelt out, slowly and laboriously, it is true; +for he was not an expert. + +As he worked the switch, he looked across at the illuminated +window of the room in which Barling stood, with bent head, +earnestly engaged upon his polishing. + +"B-a-r-l-i-n-g-ack-ack-ack-B-a-r-l-i-n-g-ack-ack-ack" + +The light flickered up and down in long and short flashes. Still +"Buzzer" Barling trilled away at the "Grand Reveille" nor raised +his eyes from his work. + +Desmond varied the call: + +"O-K-E-W-O-O-D T-O B-A-R-L-I-N-G" he flashed. + +He repeated the call twice and was spelling it out for the third +time when Desmond saw the "Buzzer" raise his head. + +The whistling broke off short. + +"O-k-e-w-o-o-d t-o B-a-r-l-i-n-g" flickered the light. + +The next moment the bedroom opposite was plunged in darkness. +Immediately afterwards the light began to flash with bewildering +rapidity. But Desmond recognized the call. + +"I am ready to take your message," it said. + +"S-t-r-a-n-g-w-i-s-e h-a-s g-o-t m-e ack-ack-ack," Desmond +flashed back, "f-e-t-c-h h-e-l-p a-t o-n-c-e ack-ack-ack: d-o-n-t +r-e-p-l-y; ack-ack-ack; s-e-n-d o-n-e d-o-t o-n-e d-a-s-h t-o +s-h-o-w y-o-u u-n-d-e-r-s-t-a-n-d ack-ack-ack!" + +For he was afraid lest the light flashing from the house opposite +might attract the attention of the men downstairs. + +He was very slow and he made many mistakes, so that it was with +bated breath that, after sending his message, he watched the +window opposite for the reply. + +It came quickly. A short flash and a long one followed at once. +After that the room remained in darkness. With a sigh of relief +Desmond, as quietly as possible, manoeuvred the dressing-table +back into place and then jerked the chair across the carpet to +the position where Strangwise and Bellward had left him in the +middle of the floor: + +It was here that the two men found him, apparently asleep, when +they came up half-an-hour later. They carried him down to the red +lacquer room again. + +"Well, Desmond!" said Strangwise, when their burden had been +deposited on the floor under the crimson lamp. + +"Well, Maurice?" answered the other. + +Strangwise noticed that Desmond had addressed him by his +Christian name for the first time since he had been in the house +and his voice was more friendly when he spoke again. + +"I see you're going to be sensible, old man," he said. "Believe +me, it's the only thing for you to do. You're going to give up +the Star of Poland, aren't you?" + +"Oh, no, Maurice, I'm not," replied Desmond in a frank, even +voice. "I've told you what I'm going to do. I'm going to hand you +over to the people at Pentonville to hang as a murderer. And I +shouldn't be at all surprised if they didn't run up old Bellward +there alongside of you!" + +Strangwise shook his head at him. + +"You are very ill-advised to reject my offer, Desmond," he said, +"for it simply means that I can do nothing more for you. Our +friend Bellward now assumes the direction of affairs. I don't +think you can realize what you are letting yourself in for. You +appear to have been dabbling in Intelligence work. Perhaps it +would interest you to hear something about this, our latest +German method for extracting accurate information from reluctant +or untruthful witnesses. Bellward, perhaps you would enlighten +him." + +Bellward smiled grimly. + +"It is a blend," he explained glibly, "of that extreme form of +cross-examination which the Americans call 'the third degree' and +hypnotic treatment. Many people, as you are doubtless aware, are +less responsive to hypnotic influence than others. An intensified +course of the third degree and lack of sleep renders such +refractory natures extraordinarily susceptible to mesmeric +treatment. It prepares the ground as it were!" + +Bellward coughed and looked at Desmond over his tortoise-shell +spectacles which he had put on again. + +"The method has had its best results when practised on women," he +resumed. "Our people in Holland have found it very successful in +the case of female spies who come across the Belgian frontier. +But some women--Miss Barbara, for example--seem to have greater +powers of resistance than others. We had to employ a rather +drastic form of the third degree for her, didn't we, Strangwise?" + +He laughed waggishly. + +"And you'll be none too easy either," he added. + +"You beasts," cried Desmond, "but just you wait, your turn will +come!" + +"Yours first, however," chuckled Bellward. "I rather fancy you +will think us beasts by the time we have done with you, my young +friend!" + +Then he turned to Strangwise. + +"Where's Minna?" he asked. + +"With the girl." + +"Is the girl sleeping?" + +Strangwise nodded. + +"She wanted it," he replied, "no sleep for four days... I tell +you it takes some constitution to hold out against that!" + +"Well," said Bellward, rubbing the palms of his hands together, +"as we're not likely to be disturbed, I think we'll make a +start!" + +He advanced a pace to where Desmond sat trussed up, hand and +foot, in his chair. Bellward's eyes were large and luminous, and +as Desmond glanced rather nervously at the face of the man +approaching him, he was struck by the compelling power they +seemed to emit. + +Desmond bent his head to avoid the insistent gaze. But in a +couple of quick strides Bellward was at his side and stooping +down, had thrust his face right into his victim's. Bellward's +face was so close that Desmond felt his warm breath on his cheek +whilst those burning eyes seemed to stab through his closed +eyelids and steadily, stealthily, draw his gaze. + +Resolutely Desmond held his head, averted. All kinds of queer +ideas were racing through his brain, fragments of nursery rhymes, +scenes from his regimental life in India, memories of the front, +which he had deliberately summoned up to keep his attention +distracted from those merciless eyes, like twin search-lights +pitilessly playing on his face. + +Bellward could easily have taken Desmond by the chin and forced +his face up until his eyes came level with the other's. But he +offered no violence of any kind. He remained in his stooping +position, his face thrust forward, so perfectly still that +Desmond began to be tormented by a desire to risk a rapid peep +just to see what the mesmerist was doing. + +He put the temptation aside. He must keep his eyes shut, he told +himself. But the desire increased, intensified by the strong +attraction radiating from Bellward, and finally Desmond +succumbed. He opened his eyes to dart a quick glance at Bellward +and found the other's staring eyes, with pupils distended, fixed +on his. And Desmond felt his resistance ebb. He tried to avert +his gaze; but it was too late. That basilisk glare held him fast. + +With every faculty of his mind he fought against the influence +which was slowly, irresistibly, shackling his brain. He laughed, +he shouted defiance at Bellward and Strangwise, he sang snatches +of songs. But Bellward never moved a muscle. He seemed to be in a +kind of cataleptic trance, so rigid his body, so unswerving his +stare. + +The lights in the room seemed to be growing dim. Bellward's +eyeballs gleamed redly in the dull crimson light flooding the +room. Desmond felt himself longing for some violent shock that +would disturb the hideous stillness of the house. His own voice +was sounding dull and blunted in his ears. What was the use of +struggling further? He might as well give up... + +A loud crash, the sound of a door slamming, reechoed through the +house. The room shook. The noise brought Desmond back to his +senses and at the same time the chain binding him to Bellward +snapped. For Bellward started and raised his head and Strangwise +sprang to the door. Then Desmond heard the door burst open, there +was the deafening report of a pistol, followed by another, and +Bellward crashed forward on his knees with a sobbing grunt. As +Desmond had his back to the door he could see nothing of what was +taking place, but some kind of violent struggle was going on; for +he heard the smash of glass as a piece of furniture was upset. + +Then suddenly the room seemed full of people. The thongs binding +his hands and feet fell to the ground. "Buzzer" Barling stood at +his side. + + + +CHAPTER XXX. HOHENLINDEN TRENCH + +A man broke quickly away from the throng of people pressing into +the room. It was Francis. The Chief and Mr. Marigold were close +at his heels. + +"Des," cried Francis, "ah! thank God! you are all right!" + +Desmond looked in a dazed fashion from one to the other. The +rapid transition from the hush of the room to the scene of +confusion going on around him had left him bewildered. His glance +traveled from the faces of the men gathered round his chair to +the floor. The sight of Bellward, very still, hunched up with his +face immersed in the thick black carpet, seemed to recall +something to his mind. + +"Barbara!" he murmured in a strained voice. + +"She's all right!" replied his brother, "we found her on the bed +in a room on the floor below sleeping the sleep of the just. The +woman's vanished, though. I'm afraid she got away! But who's +this?" + +He pointed to "Buzzer" Barling who stood stiffly at attention +beside Desmond's chair. + +"Ay, who are you, young fellow" repeated Mr. Marigold coming up +close to the soldier. "Ask him!" said Desmond, raising his arm, +"he knows!" + +The group around the door had broken up. Strangwise, his wrists +handcuffed together, his hair dishevelled and his collar torn, +stood there between two plain clothes men. And at him Desmond +pointed. + +Strangwise was staring at the straight, square figure of the +gunner, awkwardly attired in one of Desmond's old suits. +Berling's frank, honest eyes returned the other's gaze +unflinchingly. But Strangwise was obviously taken aback, though +only for the moment. The flush that mounted to his cheek quickly +died down, leaving him as cool and impassive as ever. + +"Do you know this man!" the Chief, asked sternly, addressing +Strangwise. + +"Certainly," retorted Strangwise, "it's Gunner Barling, one of +the Brigade signallers!" + +Mr. Marigold gave a keen glance at the soldier. + +"So you're Barling, eh?" he muttered as though talking to +himself, "ah! this is getting interesting!" + +"Yes," said Desmond, "this is Gunner Barling. Have a good look at +him, Strangwise. It is he who summoned these gentlemen to my +assistance. It is he who's going to tell them who and what you +are!" + +Turning to the Chief he added with a touch of formality: "May +Gunner Barling tell his story, sir?" + +"By all means," replied the Chief. "I am all attention. But first +let this fellow be removed." + +And beckoning to two of his men; he pointed to the body of +Bellward. + +"Is he dead" asked Desmond. + +The Chief shook his head. + +"He drew a bead on one of my men as we came in," he answered, +"and got a bullet through the chest for his pains. We'll have to +cure him of this gunshot wound so as to get him ready to receive +another!" + +He laughed a grim dry laugh at his little joke. + +"Now, Barling," said Desmond, when Bellward had been borne away, +"I want you to tell these gentlemen the story of the raid on the +Hohenlinden trench." + +Barling glanced rather self-consciously about him. But the look +of intense, almost nervous watchfulness on the face of Maurice +Strangwise seemed to reassure him. And when he spoke, he spoke +straight at Strangwise. + +"Well," he said, "Major Okewood here, what I used to know along +of my brother being his servant, says as how you gentlemen'll +make it all right about my stoppin' absent if I tells you what I +know about this orficer. Tell it I will and gladly; for it was +all along of him that I spoiled a clean sheet of eighteen years' +service, gentlemen. + +"When we was down Arras way a few months ago the infantry was +a-goin' to do a raid, see? And the Captain here was sent along of +the infantry party to jine up a lineback to the 'tillery brigade +headquarters. Well, he took me and another chap, name o' +Macdonald--Bombardier he was--along with him as signallers. + +"This was a daylight raid, d'ye see, gentlemen? Our chaps went +over at four o'clock in the afternoon. They was to enter a sort +o' bulge in the German front line wot they called Hohenlinden +Trench, bomb the Gers. out o' that, push on to the support line +and clear out that and then come back. The rocket to fetch 'em +home was to go up forty minutes after they started. + +"Well, me and Mac--that's the Bombardier--went over with th' +officer here just behind the raiding party. O' course Fritz knew +we was comin' for it was broad daylight, and that clear you could +see for miles over the flats. First thing we knew Fritz had put +down a roarin', tearin' barrage, and we hadn't gone not twenty +yards before ole Mac. cops one right on the nut; about took his +head off, it did. So me and the captain we goes on alone and +drops all nice and comfortable in the trench, and I starts +getting my line jined up. + +"It was a longish job but I got the brigade line goin' at last. +Our chaps had cleared out the front line and was off down the +communication trenches to the support. What with machine-guns +rattlin' and bombs a-goin' off down the trench and Fritz's +barrage all over the shop the row was that awful we had to buzz +every single word. + +"There was a bit of a house like, a goodish way in front, X farm, +they called it, and presently the Brigade tells the Captain, who +was buzzin' to them, to register B battery on to the farm. + +"'I can't see the farm nohow from here,' sez the Captain. I could +see it as plain as plain, and I pointed it out to him. But no! he +couldn't see it. + +"'I'll crawl out of the trench a bit, gunner,' sez he to me, 'you +sit tight,' he sez, 'I'll let you know when to follow!" + +"With that he up and out o' the trench leavin' me and the +instruments behind all among the dead Gers., and our lads had +killed a tidy few. It was pretty lonely round about were I was; +for our chaps had all gone on and was bombin' the Gers., like +they was a lot o' rabbits, up and down the support line. + +"I followed the Captain with me eye, gentlemen, and I'm blessed +if he didn't walk straight across the open and over the support +trench. Then he drops into a bit of a shell-hole and I lost sight +of him. Well, I waited and waited and no sign of th' orficer. The +rocket goes up and our lads begin to come back with half a dozen +Huns runnin' in front of them with their hands up. Some of the +chaps as they passed me wanted to know if I was a-goin' to stay +there all night! And the Brigade buzzin' like mad to talk to the +Captain. + +"I sat in that blessed trench till everybody had cleared out. +Then, seeing as how not even the docket had brought th' orficer +back, I sez to myself as how he must ha' stopped one. So I gets +out of the trench and starts crawling across the top towards the +place where I see the Captain disappear. As I got near the +support line the ground went up a little and then dropped, so I +got a bit of a view on to the ground ahead. And then I sees the +Captain here!" + +Buzzer Barling stopped. All had listened to his story with the +deepest interest, especially Strangwise, who never took his eyes +off the gunner's brown face. Some men are born story-tellers and +there was a rugged picturesqueness about Barling's simple +narrative which conjured up in the minds of his hearers the +picture of the lonely signaller cowering in the abandoned trench +among the freshly slain, waiting for the officer who never came +back. + +"It's not a nice thing to have to say about an orficer," the +gunner presently continued, "and so help me God, gentlemen, I +kep' my mouth shut about it until... until..." + +He broke off and looked quickly at Desmond. + +"Keep that until the end, Barling," said Desmond, "finish about +the raid now!" + +"Well, as I was sayin', gentlemen, I was up on a bit of hillock +near Fritz's support line when I sees the Captain here. He was +settin' all comfortable in a shell-hole, his glasses in his hand, +chattin' quite friendly like with two of the Gers. orficers, I +reckoned they was, along o' the silver lace on their collars. One +was wearin' one o' them coal-scuttle helmets, t'other a little +flat cap with a shiny peak. And the Captain here was a-pointin' +at our lines and a-wavin' his hand about like he was a-tellin' +the two Fritzes all about it, and the chap in the coal-scuttle +hat was a-writin' it all down in a book." + +Barling paused. He was rather flushed and his eyes burned +brightly in his weather-beaten face. + +"Eighteen year I done in the Royal Regiment," he went on, and his +voice trembled a little, "and me father a battery sergeant-major +before me, and I never thought to see one of our orficers go over +to the enemy. Fritz was beginnin' to come back to his front line: +I could see their coal-scuttle hats a-bobbin' up and down the +communication trenches, so I crawled back the way I come and made +a bolt for our lines. + +"I meant to go straight to the B.C. post and report wot I seen to +the Major. But I hadn't the heart to, gentlemen, when I was up +against it. It was an awful charge to bring against an orficer, +d'you see? I told myself I didn't know but what the Captain +hadn't been taken prisoner and was makin' the best of it, w'en I +see him, stuffin' the Fritzes up with a lot o' lies. And so I +jes' reported as how th' orficer 'ad crawled out of the trench +and never come back. And then this here murder happened..." + +Mr. Marigold turned to the Chief. + +"If you remember, sir," he said, "I found this man's leave paper +in the front garden of the Mackwayte's house at Laleham Villas, +Seven Kings, the day after the murder. There are one or two +questions I should like to put..." + +"No need to arsk any questions," said Barling. "I'll tell you the +whole story meself, mister. I was on leave at the time, due to go +back to France the next afternoon. I'd been out spending the +evenin' at my niece's wot's married and livin' out Seven Kings +way. Me and her man wot works on the line kept it up a bit late +what with yarnin' about the front an' that and it must a' been +nigh on three o'clock w'en I left him to walk back to the Union +Jack Club where I had a bed. + +"There's a corfee-stall near their road and the night bein' crool +damp I thought as how a nice cup o' corfee'd warm me up afore I +went back to the Waterloo Bridge Road. I had me cup o' corfee and +was jes' a-payin' the chap what has the pitch w'en a fellow +passes by right in the light o' the lamp on the stall. It was th' +orficer here, in plain clothes--shabby-like he was dressed--but I +knew him at once. + +"'Our orficers don't walk about these parts after midnight +dressed like tramps,' I sez to meself, and rememberin' what I +seen at the Hohenlinden Trench I follows him..." + +"Just a minute!" + +The Chief's voice broke in upon the narrative. + +"Didn't you know, Barling, hadn't you heard, about Captain +Strangwise's escape from a German prisoners of war camp?" + +"No, sir!" replied the gunner. + +"There was a good deal about it in the papers." + +"I've not got much eddication, sir," said Barling, "that's w'y I +never took the stripe and I don't take much account of the +newspapers an' that's a fact!" + +"Well, go on!" the Chief bade him. + +"It was pretty dark in the streets and I follered him along +without his seeing me into the main-road and then down a +turnin'..." + +"Laleham Villas," prompted Mr. Marigold. + +"I wasn't payin' much attention to were he was leadin' me," said +Barling, "what I wanted to find out was what he was up to! +Presently he turned in at a gate. I was closer up than I meant to +be, and he swung in so sudden that I had to drop quick and crouch +behind the masonry of the front garden wall. My leave pass must +a' dropped out o' my pocket and through the railin's into the +garden. + +"Well, the front door must a' been on the jar for th' orficer +here just pushes it open and walks in, goin' very soft like. I +crep' in the front gate and got as far as the door w'ich was +a-standin' half open. I could 'ear the stair creakin' under 'im +and I was just wonderin' whether I should go into the house w'en +I hears a bang and wi' that someone comes aflyin' down the +stairs, dodges through the front hall and out at the back. I see +him come scramblin' over the back gate and was a-goin' to stop +him thinkin' it was th' orficer here w'en I sees it is a tubby +little chap, not big like the Captain. And then it come over me +quite sudden-like that burglary and murder had been done in the +house and wot would I say if a p'liceman come along? So I slipped +off and went as hard as I could go back to the old Union Jack +Club. + +"The next mornin' I found I'd lost me leave paper. I was afraid +to go and report it in case it had been picked up, and they'd run +me in for this murder job. That's how I come to desert, +gentlemen, and spoilt a eighteen years' conduct sheet without a +entry over this murderin' spy here!" + +Gunner Barling broke off abruptly as though he had committed +himself to a stronger opinion than discipline would allow. It was +the Chief who broke the silence following the termination of the +gunner's story. + +"Strangwise," he said, "hadn't you better tell us who you are?" + +"He's an officer of the Prussian Guard," Desmond said, "and he +was sent over here by the German secret service organization in +the United States to get a commission in the British Army. When a +good man was wanted to recover the Star of Poland for the Crown +Prince, the secret service people in Berlin sent word to +Strangwise (who was then serving with the gunners in France) to +get himself captured. The German military authorities duly +reported him a prisoner of war and then let him 'escape' as' the +easiest and least suspicious means of getting him back to +London!" + +The Chief smiled genially. + +"That's a dashed clever idea," he observed shrewdly, "'pon my +word, that's bright! That's very bright! I should like to +compliment the man who thought of that!" + +"Then you may address your compliments to me, Chief," said +Strangwise. + +The Chief turned and looked at him. + +"I've met many of your people in my time, Strangwise," he said, +"but I don't know you! Who are you?" + +Strangwise laughed. + +"Ask Nur-el-Din," he said, "that is to say, if you haven't shot +her yet!" + +"And if we have?" asked the Chief. + +Desmond sprang tip. + +"It isn't possible!" he cried. "Why, the woman's a victim, not a +principal! Chief..." + +"What if we have?" asked the Chief again. + +A curious change had come over the prisoner. His jaunty air had +left him and there was an apprehensive look in his eyes. + +"I would have saved her if I could have," Strangwise said, "but +she played me false over the jewel. She imperiled the success of +my mission. You English have no idea of discipline. To us +Prussian officers an order stands above everything else. There is +nothing we would not sacrifice to obey our orders. And my order +was to recover the Star of Poland for His Imperial Highness the +Crown Prince, Lieutenant Colonel in the Regiment to which I have +the honor to belong, the First Regiment of Prussian Foot Guards. +But Nur-el-Din plotted with our friend here and with that little +fool upstairs to upset my plans, and I had no mercy on her. I +planted those documents in her dress--or rather Bellward did--to +draw suspicion away from me. I thought you English would be too +flabby to execute a woman; but I reckoned on you putting the girl +away for some years to come. I would have shot her as I shot Rass +if..." His voice trembled and he was silent. + +"If what?" asked the Chief. + +"If she hadn't been my wife," said Strangwise. + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. THE 100,000 KIT + +It was a clear, crisp morning with a sparkle of frost on jetty +and breakwater. The English Channel stretched flashing like a +living sheet of glass to the filmy line marking the coast of +France, as serene and beautiful in its calm as it is savage and +cruel in its anger. It was high tide; but only a gentle murmur +came from the little waves that idly beat upon the shore in front +of the bungalow. + +A girl lay in a deck chair on the verandah, well wrapped up +against the eager air. But the fresh breeze would not be denied +and, foiled by the nurse's vigilance of its intents against the +patient, it revenged itself by blowing havoc among the soft brown +curls which peeped out from under the girl's hat. + +She turned to the man at her side. + +"Look!" she said, and pointed seawards with her finger. + +A convoy of vessels was standing out to sea framed in the +smoke-blurs of the escorting destroyers. Ugly, weatherbeaten +craft were the steamers with trails of smoke blown out in the +breeze behind them. They rode the sea's highway with confidence, +putting their trust in the unseen power that swept the road clear +for them. + +"Transports, aren't they?" asked the man. + +But he scarcely looked at the transports. He was watching the +gleam of the sun on the girl's brown hair and contrasting the +deep gray of her eyes with the ever-changing hues of the sea. + +"Yes," replied the girl. "It's the third day they've gone across! +By this time next week there'll be ten fresh divisions in France. +How secure they look steaming along! And to think they owe it all +to you!" + +The man laughed and flushed up. + +"From the strictly professional standpoint the less said about me +the better," he said. + +"What nonsense you talk!" cried the girl. "When the Chief was +down to see me yesterday, he spoke of nothing but you. 'They beat +him, but he won out!' he said, 'they shook him off but he went +back and found 'em!' He told me it was a case of grit versus +violence--and grit won. In all the time I've known the Chief, +I've never heard him talk so much about one man before. Do you +know," Barbara went on, looking up at Desmond, "I think you've +made the Chief feel a little bit ashamed of himself. And that I +may tell you is a most extraordinary achievement!" + +"Do you think you're strong enough to hear some news?" asked +Desmond after a pause. + +"Of course," replied the girl. "But I think I can guess it. It's +about Strangwise, isn't it?" + +Desmond nodded. + +"He was shot yesterday morning," he replied. "I'm glad they did +it in France. I was terrified lest they should want me to go to +it." + +"Why?" asked the girl with a suspicion of indignation in her +voice, "he deserved no mercy." + +"No," replied Desmond slowly, "he was a bad fellow--a Prussian +through and through. He murdered your poor father, he shot Rass, +he instigated the killing of the maid, Marie, he was prepared to +sacrifice his own wife even, to this Prussian God of militarism +which takes the very soul out of a man's body and puts it into +the hands of his superior officer. And yet, and yet, when one has +soldiered with a man, Barbara, and roughed it with him and been +shelled and shot at with him, there seems to be a bond of +sympathy between you and him for ever after. And he was a brave +man, Barbara, cruel and unscrupulous, I admit, but there was no +fear in him, and I can't help admiring courage. I seem to think +of him as two men--the man I soldiered with and the heartless +brute who watched while that beast Bellward..." + +He broke off as a spasm of pain crossed the girl's face. "I shall +remember the one and forget the other," he concluded simply. + +"Tell me," said the girl suddenly, "who was Strangwise?" + +"After he was arrested and just before they were going to take +him off," Desmond said, "he asked to be allowed to say a word +privately to the Chief. We were all sent away and he told the +Chief his real name. He thought he was going to be hanged, you +see, and while he never shrank from any crime in the fulfilment +of his mission, he was terrified of a shameful death. He begged +the Chief to see that his real name was not revealed for the +disgrace that his execution would bring upon his family. +Curiously Prussian attitude of mind, isn't it?" + +"And what did the Chief say?" + +"I don't know; but he was mighty short with him, I expect." + +"And what was Strangwise's real name?" + +"When he told us that Nur-el-Din was his wife, I knew at once who +he was. His name is Hans von Schornbeek. He was in the Prussian +Foot Guards, was turned out for some reason or other and went to +America where, after a pretty rough time, he was taken on by the +German secret service organization. He was working for them when +he met Nur-el-Din. They were married out there and, realizing the +possibilities of using her as a decoy in the secret service, he +sent her to Brussels where the Huns were very busy getting ready +for war. He treated her abominably; but the girl was fond of him +in her way and even when she was in fear of her life from this +man she never revealed to me the fact that he was Hans von +Schornbeek and her husband." + +Barbara sat musing for a while, her eyes on the restless sea. + +"How strange it is," she said, "to think that they are all +dispersed now... and the transports are sailing securely to +France. Two were killed at the Mill House, Behrend committed +suicide in prison, Bellward died in hospital, Mrs. Malplaquet has +disappeared, and now Strangwise has gone. There only remains..." + +She cast a quick glance at Desmond but he was gazing seaward at +the smoke of the transports smudging the horizon. + +"What are they going to do with Nur-el-Din?" she asked rather +abruptly. + +"Didn't the Chief tell you?" said Desmond. + +"He only asked me what I had to say in the matter as I had had to +suffer at her hands. But I told him I left the matter entirely to +him. I said I took your point of view that Nur-el-Din was the +victim of her husband..." + +"That was generous of you, Barbara," Desmond said gently. + +She sighed. + +"Daddy knew her as a little girl," she answered, "and he was so +pleased to see her again that night. She never had a chance. I +hope she'll get one now!" + +"They're going to intern her, I believe," said Desmond, "until +the end of the war; they could do nothing else, you know. But she +will be well looked after, and I think she will be safer in our +charge than if she were allowed to remain at liberty. The German +Secret Service has had a bad knock, you know. Somebody has got to +pay for it!" + +"I know," the girl whispered, "and it frightens me." + +"You poor child!" said Desmond, "you've had a rough time. But +it's all over now. And that reminds me, Barney is coming up for +sentence to-day; they charged him with murder originally; but +Marigold kept on getting him remanded until they were able to +alter the charge to one of burglary. He'll probably get two +years' hard labor, Marigold says." + +"Poor Barney!" said Barbara, "I wish they would let him go free. +All these weeks the mystery of poor Daddy's death has so weighed +upon my mind that now it has been cleared up I feel as though one +day I might be happy again. And I want everybody to be happy, +too!" + +"Barbara," said Desmond and took her hand. + +Barbara calmly withdrew it from his grasp and brushed an +imaginary curl out of her eye. + +"Any news of your hundred thousand pound kit?" she asked, by way +of turning the conversation. + +"By Jove," said Desmond, "there was a letter from Cox's at the +club this morning but I was so rushed to catch my train that I +shoved it in my pocket and forgot all about it. I wrote and asked +them weeks ago to get my kit back from France. Here we are!" + +He pulled a letter out of his pocket, slit open the envelope and +took out a printed form. Barbara, propping herself up with one +hand on his shoulder, leaned over him to read the communication. +This is what she read. + +"We are advised," the form ran, "that a Wolseley valise forwarded +to you on the 16th inst. from France has been lost by enemy +action. We are enclosing a compensation form which..." + +But neither troubled to read further. + +"Gone to the bottom, by Jove!" cried Desmond. "But isn't it +strange," he went on, "to think of the Star of Poland lying out +there on the bed of the Channel? Well, I'm not so sure that it +isn't the best place for it. It won't create any further trouble +in this world at least!" + +"Poor Nur-el-Din!" sighed the girl. + +They sat awhile in silence together and watched the gulls +circling unceasingly above the receding tide. + +"You're leaving here to-morrow then?" said Desmond presently. + +Barbara nodded + +"And going back to your work with the Chief?" + +Barbara nodded again. + +"It's not good enough," cried Desmond. "This is no job for a girl +like you, Barbara. The strain is too much; the risks are too +great. Besides, there's something I wanted to say..." + +Barbara stopped him. + +"Don't say it!" she bade him. + +"But you don't know what I was going to say!" he protested. + +Barbara smiled a little happy smile. + +"Barbara..." Desmond began. + +Her hand still rested on his shoulder and he put his hand over +hers. For a brief moment she let him have his way. + +Then she withdrew her hand. + +"Desmond," she said, looking at him with kindly eyes, "we both +have work to do..." + +"We have," replied the man somberly, "and mine's at the front!" + +The girl shook her head. + +"No!" she said. "Henceforward it's where the Chief sends you!" + +Desmond set his jaw obstinately. + +"I may have been a Secret Service agent by accident," he +answered, "but I'm a soldier by trade. My place is in the +fighting-line!" + +"The Secret Service has its fighting-line, too," Barbara replied, +"though the war correspondents don't write about it. It never +gets a mention in despatches, and Victoria Crosses don't come its +way. The newspapers don't publish its casualty list, though you +and I know that it's a long one. A man slips quietly away and +never comes back, and after a certain lapse of time we just mark +him off the books and there's an end of it. But it's a great +service; and you've made your mark in it. The Chief wants men +like you. You'll have to stay!" + +Desmond was about to speak; but the girl stopped him. "What do +you and I matter," she asked, "when the whole future of England +is at stake! If you are to give of your best to this silent game +of ours, you must be free with no responsibilities and no ties, +with nothing that will ever make you hesitate to take a supreme +risk. And I never met a man that dared more freely than you!" + +"Oh, please..." said Desmond and got up. + +He stood gazing seawards for a while. + +Then he glanced at his watch. + +"I must be going back to London," he said. "I have to see the +Chief at four this afternoon. And you know why!" + +The girl nodded. + +"What will you tell him?" she asked. "Will you accept his offer +to remain on in the Secret Service?" + +Desmond looked at her ruefully. + +"You're so eloquent about it," he said slowly, "that I think I +must!" + +Smiling, she gave him her hand. Desmond held it for an instant in +his. + +Then, without another word, he turned and strode off towards the +winding white road that led to the station. + +Barbara watched him until a turn in the road hid him from her +sight. Then she pulled out her handkerchief. + +"Good Heavens, girl!" she said to herself, "I believe you're +crying!" + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Okewood of the Secret Service, by +Valentine Williams + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OKEWOOD OF THE SECRET SERVICE *** + +***** This file should be named 2417.txt or 2417.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/1/2417/ + +Produced by Polly Stratton. HTML version by Al Haines. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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