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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ab1bffe --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60096 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60096) diff --git a/old/60096-0.txt b/old/60096-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f55fca6..0000000 --- a/old/60096-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7677 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Fortune's Practice, by H. C. Bailey - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Mr. Fortune's Practice - -Author: H. C. Bailey - -Release Date: August 13, 2019 [EBook #60096] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. FORTUNE'S PRACTICE *** - - - - -Produced by Stephen Lins - - - - - - MR. FORTUNE’S PRACTICE - - - - - MR. FORTUNE'S - - PRACTICE - - - BY - - H. C. BAILEY - - AUTHOR OF “CALL MR. FORTUNE” - - - - [Publisher's Mark] - - METHUEN & CO. LTD. - - 26 ESSEX STREET W.C. - - LONDON - - - - - _First Published (Crown 8vo) . . . May 17th 1923_ - - _Second Edition (Cheap Form) . . . July 1924_ - - _Third Edition (Cheap Form) . . . June 1927_ - - _Fourth Edition (F'cap 8vo, Cheap Form) . 1934_ - - - - PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN - - - - - CONTENTS - - CASE PAGE - - I THE ASCOT TRAGEDY . . . . . 1 - - II THE PRESIDENT OF SAN JACINTO . . . 33 - - III THE YOUNG DOCTOR . . . . . 64 - - IV THE MAGIC STONE . . . . . 98 - - V THE SNOWBALL BURGLARY . . . . 126 - - VI THE LEADING LADY . . . . . 153 - - VII THE UNKNOWN MURDERER . . . . 185 - - - - - CASE I - - THE ASCOT TRAGEDY - -THAT is what it would have been called in the evening papers if they -had known all about it. They did not. They made the most of the -mystery, you remember; it was not good for them or you to know that -the sequel was a sequel. But there is no reason why the flats should -not be joined now. - -So let us begin at Ascot on the morning of that Cup Day. One of our -fine summers, the course rather yellow, the lawns rather brown, a -haze of heat over the distant woodland, and sunshine flaming about -the flounces and silk hats. There were already many of both in the -Royal Enclosure (it was a year of flounces), and among them, dapper, -debonair, everybody’s friend, the youngest middle-aged man in Europe. -He, of course, is the Hon. Sidney Lomas, the Chief of the Criminal -Investigation Department, though mistaken by some outsiders for a -comic actor of fame. Tripping back from a joke with the stewards, he -discovered, sprawling solitary on the end of one of the seats, Mr. -Fortune, the adviser of him and all other official and important -people when surgery, medicine or kindred sciences can elucidate what -is or is not crime. No one looks more prosperous than Reginald -Fortune. He is plump and pinkly healthy, he and his tailor treat each -other with respect, his countenance has the amiability of a nice boy. - -But on this occasion Lomas found fault with him. “Why, Fortune, -you’re very pensive. Have you lost the lady of your present -affections? Or backed a wrong ’un?” - -“Go away. No fellow has a right to be as cool as you look. Go quite -away. I feel like the three fellows in the Bible who sang in the -furnace. How can you jest, Lomas? I have no affections. I cannot -love, to bet I am ashamed. I always win. Half-crowns. Why is the -world thus, Lomas?” - -“My dear fellow, you’re not yourself. You look quite professional.” - -Reggie Fortune groaned. “I am. This place worries me. I am -anatomical, ethnological, anthropological.” - -“Good Gad,” said Lomas. - -“Yes. A distressing place, look at it”; he waved a stick. - -The people in the Royal Enclosure were as pleasant to behold as -usual. Comely girls and women who had been comely passed in frocks of -which many were pretty and few garish; their men were of a blameless, -inconspicuous uniformity. - -“What is he?” said Reggie Fortune. “I ask you. Look at his feet.” - -What Lomas saw was a man dressed like all the rest of them and as -well set up, but of a darker complexion. He did not see anything -remarkable. “The big fellow?” he said. “He is a little weak at the -knee. But what’s the matter with him?” - -“Who is he?” said Reggie Fortune. - -Lomas shrugged. “Not English, of course. Rather a half-caste colour, -isn’t he? From one of the smaller legations, I suppose, Balkan or -South American.” He waved a hand to some elegant aliens who were at -that moment kissing ladies’ hands with florid grace. “They all come -here, you know.” - -“I don’t know,” said Reggie Fortune peevishly. “Half-caste? Half what -caste? Look at his feet.” Now the man’s feet, well displayed beneath -white spats, were large and flat but distinguished by their heels, -which stuck out behind extravagantly. “That is the negro heel.” - -“My dear Fortune! The fellow is no more a negro than I am,” Lomas -protested: and indeed the man’s hair was straight and sleek and he -had a good enough nose, and he was far from black. - -“The negro or Hamitic heel,” Reggie Fortune drowsily persisted. “I -suspect the Hamitic or negro leg. And otherwise up above. And it’s -all very distressing, Lomas.” - -“An Egyptian or perhaps an Arab: probably a Foreign Office pet,” -Lomas consoled him. “That would get him into the Royal Enclosure.” - -Lomas was then removed by a duchess and Reggie Fortune tilted his hat -still farther over his eyes and pondered whether it would be wise to -drink before lunch and was dreamily aware of other people on his -seat, an old man darkly tanned and soldierly in the custody of a -little woman brilliantly dressed and terribly vivacious. She -chattered without a pause, she made eyes, she made affectionate -movements and little caresses. The old man though helpless seemed to -be thinking of something else. And Reggie Fortune sketched lower and -still lower estimates of human nature. - -They went away at last when everybody went away to gather in a crowd -at the gates and along the railings for the coming of the King. You -will please to observe that the time must have been about one o’clock. - -Reggie Fortune, one of the few, remained on his seat. He heard the -cheering down the course and had sufficient presence of mind to stand -up and take off his hat as the distant band began to play. Over the -heads of the crowd he saw the red coats of the postilions and a gleam -of the grey of the team as the King’s carriage swept round into the -enclosure. The rest of the procession passed and the crowd melted -away. But one man remained by the railings alone. He was tall and -thin and he leaned limply against the railings, one arm hanging over -them. After a little while he turned on his heel and fell in a heap. - -Two of the green-coated wardens of the gate ran up to him. “Oh, -Lord,” Reggie Fortune groaned, “why did I be a doctor?” But before he -could get through the flurry of people the man was being carried away. - -The gift of Lomas for arriving where he wants to be displayed itself. -Lomas slid through the crowd and took his arm, “Stout fellow! Come -along. It’s Sir Arthur Dean. Touch of sun, what?” - -“Arthur Dean? That’s the Persia man, pundit on the Middle East?” - -“That’s the fellow. Getting old, you know. One of the best.” - -Into the room where the old man lay came the shouting over the first -race. By the door Lomas and an inspector of police talked in low -tones, glancing now and then at Reggie, who was busy. - -“Merry Man! Merry Man! Merry Man!” the crowd roared outside. - -Reggie straightened his bent back and stood looking down at his -patient. Lomas came forward. “Anything we can get you, Fortune? Would -you like some assistance?” - -“You can’t assist him,” said Reggie. “He’s dead.” - -“Merry Man!” the crowd triumphed. “Merry Man!” - -“Good Gad!” said Lomas. “Poor fellow. One of the best. Well, well, -what is it? Heart failure?” - -“The heart generally fails when you die,” Reggie mumbled: he still -stared down at the body and the wonted benignity of his face was lost -in expressionless reserve. “Do you know if he has any people down -here?” - -“It’s possible. There is a married son. I’ll have him looked for.” -Lomas sent his inspector off. - -“I saw the old man with a woman just before he died,” Reggie -murmured, and Lomas put up his eyeglass. - -“Did you though? Very sudden, wasn’t it? And he was all alone when he -died.” - -“When he fell,” Reggie mumbled the correction. “Yes, highly sudden.” - -“What was the cause of death, Fortune?” - -“I wonder,” Reggie muttered. He went down on his knees by the body, -he looked long and closely into the eyes, he opened the clothes . . . -and to the eyes he came back again. Then there was a tap at the door -and Lomas having conferred there came back and said, “The son and his -wife. I’ll tell them. I suppose they can see the body?” - -“They’d better see the body,” said Reggie, and as Lomas went out he -began to cover and arrange it. He was laying the right arm by the -side when he checked and held it up to the light. On the back of the -hand was a tiny drop of blood and a red smear. He looked close and -found such a hole as a pin might make. - -From the room outside came a woman’s cry, then a deep man’s voice in -some agitation, and Lomas opened the door. “This is Mr. Fortune, the -surgeon who was with your father at once. Major Dean and Mrs. Dean, -Fortune.” - -Reggie bowed and studied them. The man was a soldierly fellow, with -his father’s keen, wary face. But it was the woman Reggie watched, -the woman who was saying, “I was with him only half an hour ago,” and -twisting her hands nervously. - -“Most of that half-hour he has been dead. Where did you leave him, -madam?” Reggie said. - -Husband and wife stared at him. “Why, in the Royal Enclosure, of -course. In the crowd when the King came. I--I lost him. Somebody -spoke to me. Yes, it was Sybil. And I never saw him again.” - -Reggie stepped aside from the body. She shuddered and hid her face in -her hands. “His eyes--his eyes,” she murmured. - -Major Dean blew his nose. “This rather knocks one over,” he said. -“What’s the cause of death, sir?” - -“Can you help me?” said Reggie. - -“I? What do you mean?” - -“Nothing wrong with his heart, was there?” - -“Never heard of it. He didn’t use doctors. Never was ill.” - -Reggie stroked his chin. “I suppose he hadn’t been to an oculist -lately?” - -“Not he. His eyes were as good as mine. Wonderful good. He used to -brag of it. He was rising seventy and no glasses. Good Lord, what’s -that got to do with it? I want to know why he died.” - -“So do I. And I can’t tell you,” said Reggie. - -“What? I say--what? You mean a post-mortem. That’s horrible.” - -“My dear Major, it is most distressing,” Lomas purred. “I assure you -anything in our power--sympathize with your feelings, quite, quite. -But the Coroner would insist, you know; we have no choice.” - -“As you were saying,” Reggie chimed in, “we want to know why he died.” - -Major Dean drew a long breath. “That’s all right, that’s all right,” -he said. “The old dad!” and he came to his father’s side and knelt -down, and his wife stood by him, her hand on his shoulder. He looked -a moment into the dead face, and closed the eyes and looked long. - -From this scene Reggie and Lomas drew back. In the silence they heard -the man and woman breathing unsteadily. Lomas sighed his sympathy. -Mrs. Dean whispered, “His mouth! Oh, Claude, his mouth!” and with a -sudden darting movement wiped away some froth from the pale lips. -Then she too knelt and she kissed the brow. Her husband lifted the -dead right hand to hold it for a while. And then he reached across to -the key chain, took off the keys, slipped them into his pocket and -helped his wife to her feet. - -Reggie turned a still expressionless face on Lomas. Lomas still -exhibited grave official sorrow. - -“Well--er--thanks very much for all you’ve done,” Major Dean -addressed them both. “You’ve been very kind. We feel that. And if you -will let me know as soon as you know anything--rather a relief.” - -“Quite, quite.” Lomas held out his hand; Major Dean took it. “Yes, -I’m so sorry, but you see we must take charge of everything for the -present.” He let the Major’s hand go and still held out his own. - -Dean flushed. “What, his keys?” - -“Thank you,” said Lomas, and at last received them. - -“I was thinking about his papers, you know.” - -“I can promise you they’ll be safe.” - -“Oh, well, that settles it!” Dean laughed. “You know where to find -me,” and he took his wife, who was plainly eager to speak to him, -away. - -Lomas dandled the keys in his hand. “I wonder what’s in their minds? -And what’s in yours, Fortune?” - -“Man was murdered,” said Reggie. - -Lomas groaned, “I was afraid you had that for me. But surely it’s not -possible?” - -“It ought not to be,” Reggie admitted. “At a quarter to one he was -quite alive, rather bored perhaps, but as fit as me. At a quarter -past he was dead. What happened in between?” - -“Why, he was in sight the whole time----” - -“All among the most respectable people in England. Yet he dies -suddenly of asphyxia and heart failure. Why?” - -“Well, some obscure heart trouble----” Lomas protested. - -“He was in the pink. He never used doctors. You heard them say so. He -hadn’t even been to an oculist.” - -“A fellow doesn’t always know,” Lomas urged. “There are all sorts of -heart weakness.” - -“Not this sort.” Reggie shook his head. “And the eyes. Did you see -how those two were afraid of his eyes? Your eyes won’t look like that -when you die of heart failure. They might if an oculist had put -belladonna in ’em to examine you. But there was no oculist. Dilated -pupils, foam at the mouth, cold flesh. He was poisoned. It might have -been aconitine. But aconitine don’t kill so quick or quite so quiet.” - -“What is aconitine?” - -“Oh, wolf-bane. Blue-rocket. You can get it from other plants. Only -this is too quick. It slew him like prussic acid and much more -peacefully. Some alkaloid poison of the aconite family, possibly -unclassified. Probably it was put into him by that fresh puncture in -his hand while he was packed in the crowd, just a scratch, just a jab -with a hollow needle. An easy murder if you could trust your stuff. -And when we do the post-mortem we’ll find that everything points to -death by a poison we can’t trace.” - -“Thanks, so much,” said Lomas. “It is for this we employ experts.” - -“Well, the police also must earn their bread. Who is he?” - -“He was the great authority on the Middle East. Old Indian civilian -long retired. Lately political adviser to the Government of Media. -You know all that.” - -“Yes. Who wanted him dead?” said Reggie. - -“Oh, my dear fellow!” Lomas spread out his hands. “The world is wide.” - -“Yes. The world also is very evil. The time also is waxing late. Same -like the hymn says. What about those papers son and co. were so keen -on?” - -Lomas laughed. “If you could believe I have a little intelligence, it -would so soothe me. Our people have been warned to take charge of his -flat.” - -“Active fellow. Let’s go and see what they found.” - -It was not much more than an hour before a policeman was letting them -into Sir Arthur Dean’s flat in Westminster. An inspector of police -led the way to the study. “Anything of interest, Morton?” Lomas said. - -“Well, sir, nothing you could call out of the way. When we came, the -servants had heard of the death and they were upset. Sir Arthur’s -man, he opened the door to me fairly crying. Been with him thirty -years, fine old-fashioned fellow, would be talking about his master.” - -Lomas and Reggie looked at each other, but the inspector swept on. - -“Then in this room, sir, there was Sir Arthur’s executor, Colonel -Osbert, getting out papers. I had to tell him that wouldn’t do. -Rather stiff he was. He is a military man. Well, sir, I put it to -him, orders are orders, and he took it very well. But he let me see -pretty plain he didn’t like it. He was quite the gentleman, but he -put it to me we had no business in Sir Arthur’s affairs unless we -thought there was foul play. Well, of course, I couldn’t answer that. -He talked a good deal, fishing, you might say. All he got out of me -was that I couldn’t allow anything to be touched. So he said he would -take it up with the Commissioner and went off. That’s all, sir.” - -“Who is he?” said Reggie. - -“His card, sir. Colonel Osbert, late Indian Army.” - -“Do you know if he was who he said he was?” Lomas asked. - -The inspector was startled. “Well, sir, the servants knew him. Sir -Arthur’s man, he let him in, says he’s Sir Arthur’s oldest friend. I -had no reason to detain him.” - -“That’s all right, Morton,” said Lomas. “Well, what time did you get -here?” - -“Your message came two o’clock, sir. I should say we were here by a -quarter past.” - -Lomas nodded and dismissed him. “Quick work,” he said with a cock of -his eye at Reggie. - -“We can time it all by the King. He drove up the course at ten past -one. Till the procession came Sir Arthur was alive. We didn’t pick -him up till five minutes after, at the least. No one knew he was dead -till you had examined him. No one knew then but me and my men. And -yet Colonel Osbert in London knows of the death in time to get round -here and get to work on the dead man’s papers before two-fifteen. He -knew the man was dead as soon as we did who were looking at the body. -Damme, he has very early information.” - -“Yes. One to you, Lomas. And a nasty one for Colonel Osbert. Our -active and intelligent police force. If you hadn’t been up and doing -and sent your bright boys round, Colonel Osbert might have got away -with what he wanted. And he wouldn’t have had to explain how he knew -too much.” - -“When was the poison given? Say between five to one and ten past. At -that time the murderer was in the Royal Enclosure. If he had his car -waiting handy, could he get here before two-fifteen?” - -“Well--if his car was a flier, and there were no flies on his -chauffeur and he had luck all the way, I suppose it’s possible. But I -don’t believe in it. I should say Osbert didn’t do the job.” - -Lomas sprang up and called the inspector. He wanted to know what -Colonel Osbert was wearing. Colonel Osbert was in a lounge suit of -grey flannel. Lomas sat down again and lit a cigarette. “I’m afraid -that will do for an alibi, Fortune,” he sighed. “Your hypothetical -murderer was in the Royal Enclosure. Therefore----” - -“He was in topper and tails, same like us. The uniform of -respectability. Of course, he could have done a change in his car. -But I don’t think it. No. Osbert won’t do. But what was he after?” - -Lomas stood up and looked round the room. It had the ordinary -furniture of an old-fashioned study and in addition several modern -steel chests of drawers for filing documents. “Well, he set some -value on his papers,” Lomas said. - -“Lots of honest toil before you, Lomas, old thing.” Reggie smiled, -and while Lomas fell to work with the keys he wandered about picking -up a bowl here, a brass tray there. “He kept to his own line,” he -remarked. “Everything is Asiatic.” - -“You may well say so,” Lomas groaned, frowning over a mass of papers. - -But Reggie’s attention was diverted. Somebody had rung the bell and -there was talk in the hall. He made out a woman’s voice. “I fancy -this is our young friend the daughter-in-law,” he murmured. - -Lomas looked up at him. “I had a notion you didn’t take to her, -Fortune. Do you want to see her?” - -“God forbid,” said Reggie. “She’s thin, Lomas, she’s too thin.” - -In a moment or two a discreet tap introduced Inspector Morton. “Mrs. -Dean, deceased’s daughter-in-law, sir,” he reported. “Asked to see -the man-servant. I saw no objection, me being present. They were both -much distressed, sir. She asked him if Colonel Osbert had been here. -Seemed upset when she heard he was here before us. Asked if he had -taken anything away. The servant told her we weren’t letting anything -be touched. That didn’t seem to satisfy her. She said something nasty -about the police being always too late. Meant for me, I suppose.” - -“I rather fancy it was meant for me,” said Reggie. “It’s a bad -business.” - -“I don’t think the Colonel got away with anything, sir. He was -sitting down to the diary on the table there when we came in.” - -“All right.” Lomas waved him away. “Damme, it is a bad business. What -am I to do with this, Fortune?” He held up papers in a strange -script, papers of all sorts and sizes, some torn and discoloured, -some fresh. - -Reggie went to look. “Arabic,” he said. “And this is Persian.” He -studied them for a while. “A sort of dossier, a lot of evidence about -some case or person. Lomas old thing, you’ll have to call in the -Foreign Office.” - -“Lord, we can translate them ourselves. It’s the mass of it!” - -“Yes, lot of light reading. I think I should have a talk to the -Foreign Office. Well, that’s your show. Me for the body.” - -Lomas lay back in his chair. “What’s in your head?” - -“I won’t let anything into my head. There is no evidence. But I’m -wondering if we’ll ever get any. It’s a beautiful crime--as a crime. -A wicked world, Lomas old thing.” - -On the day after, Reggie Fortune came into Lomas’s room at Scotland -Yard and shook his head and lit one of Lomas’s largest cigars and -fell into a chair. “Unsatisfactory, highly unsatisfactory,” he -announced. “I took Harvey down with me. You couldn’t have a better -opinion except mine, and he agrees with me.” - -“And what do you say?” - -“I say, nothing doing. He had no medical history. There was nothing -the matter with the man, yet he died of heart failure and -suffocation. That means poisoning by aconitine or a similar alkaloid. -But there is no poison in the price list which would in a quarter of -an hour kill quietly and without fuss a man in perfect health. I have -no doubt a poison was injected into him by that puncture on the hand, -but I don’t know what it was. We’ll have some analysis done, of -course, but I expect nothing of that. There’ll be no trace.” - -“Unique case.” - -“I wouldn’t say that. You remember I thought General Blaker was -poisoned. He was mixed up with Asiatics too. There were queer -circumstances about the death of that Greek millionaire in Rome two -years ago. The world’s old and men have been poisoning each other for -five thousand years and science only began to look into it yesterday. -There’s a lot of drugs in the world that you can’t buy at the -chemist’s.” - -“Good Gad,” Lomas protested, “we’re in Scotland Yard, not the Arabian -Nights. What you mean is you can’t do anything?” - -“Even so. Can you? Who wanted him dead?” - -“Nobody but a lunatic. He had no money to leave. He was on the best -terms with his son. He was a popular old boy, never had an enemy. He -had no secrets--most respectable--lived all his life in public.” - -“And yet his son snatched at his keys before he was cold. And his -dear old friend Osbert knew of his death before he was dead and made -a bee-line for his papers. By the way, what was in his papers?” - -Lomas shrugged. “Our fellows are working at ’em.” - -“And who is Osbert?” - -“Well, you know, he’s coming to see me. He put in his protest to the -Commissioner, and they were going to turn him down, of course. But I -thought I’d like to listen to Colonel Osbert.” - -“Me too,” said Reggie. - -“By all means, my dear fellow. But he seems quite genuine. He is the -executor. He is an old friend, about the oldest living. Not a spot on -his record. Long Indian service.” - -“Only son and daughter don’t seem to trust him. Only he also is a bit -Asiatic.” - -“Oh, my dear Fortune----” Lomas was protesting when Colonel Osbert -came. - -You will find a hundred men like him on any day in the service clubs. -He was small and brown and neat, even dapper, but a trifle stiff in -the joints. His manner of speech was a drawl concluding with a bark. - -Reggie lay back in his chair and admired the bland fluency with which -Lomas said nothing in reply to the parade-ground demands of Colonel -Osbert. Colonel Osbert wanted to know (if we may reduce many -sentences to one) what Lomas meant by refusing him possession of Sir -Arthur Dean’s papers. And Lomas continued to reply that he meant -nothing in particular. - -“Sudden death at Ascot--in the Royal Enclosure too,” he explained. -“That’s very startling and conspicuous. The poor fellow hadn’t been -ill, as far as we can learn. Naturally we have to seek for any -explanation.” - -So at last Osbert came out with: “What, sir, you don’t mean to say, -sir--suspect foul play?” - -“Oh, my dear Colonel, you wouldn’t suggest that?” - -“I, sir? Never entered my head. Poor dear Arthur! A shock, sir. A -blow! Getting old, of course, like the rest of us.” - -“Ah, had he been failing?” said Reggie sympathetically. - -“Well, well, well. We none of us grow younger, sir.” Colonel Osbert -shook his head. “But upon my soul, Mr. Lomas, I don’t understand the -action of your department.” - -“I’m so sorry you should say that,” Lomas sighed. “Now I wonder if -you have particular reason for wanting Sir Arthur’s papers at once?” - -“My good sir, I am his executor. It’s my duty to take charge of his -papers.” - -“Quite, quite. Well, they’re all safe, you know. His death must have -been a great shock to you, Colonel.” - -“Shock, sir? A blow, a blow. Poor dear Arthur!” - -“Yes, too bad,” Lomas mourned: and voice and face were all kindly -innocence as he babbled on: “I suppose you heard about it from his -son?” - -Colonel Osbert paused to clear his throat. Colonel Osbert stopped -that one. “Major Dean? No, sir. No. Point of fact, I don’t know who -the fellow was. Some fellow called me up on the ’phone and told me -poor dear Arthur had fallen down dead on the course. Upon my soul, I -was knocked over, absolutely knocked over. When I came to myself I -rushed round to secure his papers.” - -“Why, did you think somebody would be after them?” - -“My dear sir!” Colonel Osbert protested. “Really, now really. It was -my duty. Arthur was always very strict with his papers. I thought of -his wishes.” - -“Quite, quite,” Lomas purred, and artless as ever he went on: “Mrs. -Dean was round at the flat too.” - -“God bless my soul!” said Colonel Osbert. - -“I wonder if you could tell me: is there anyone who would have an -interest in getting hold of his papers?” - -Colonel Osbert again cleared his throat. “I can tell you this, sir. I -don’t understand the position of Mrs. Dean and her husband. And I -shall be glad, I don’t mind owning, I shall be very glad to have poor -dear Arthur’s papers in my hands.” - -“Ah, thank you so much,” said Lomas, and with bland adroitness got -Colonel Osbert outside the door. - -“He’s not such a fool as he looks,” Reggie murmured. “But there’s -better brains in it than his, Lomas old thing. A bad business, quite -a bad business.” - -And then a clerk came in. Lomas read the letter he brought and said: -“Good Gad! You’re an offensive person, Fortune. Why did you tell me -to go to the Foreign Office? Here is the Foreign Office. Now we shall -be in the affair for life. The Foreign Office wants me to see His -Excellency Mustapha Firouz.” - -“Accompanied by Sindbad the Sailor and Chu Chin Chow?” said Reggie. -“Who is he?” - -“Oh, he’s quite real. He’s the Median Minister. He--Why what is it -now?” The question was to the clerk, who had come back with a card. - -“Says he’s anxious to see you immediately, sir. It’s very urgent, and -he won’t keep you long.” - -“Major Dean,” Lomas read, and lifted an eyebrow. - -“Oh rather. Let ’em all come,” said Reggie. - -It was Major Dean, and Major Dean ill at ease. He had a difficulty in -beginning. He discovered Reggie. “Hallo! I say, can you tell me -anything?” he blurted out. - -“I can’t,” said Reggie sharply. “I don’t know why your father died,” -and Major Dean winced. - -“I thought you had something to tell us, Major,” Lomas said. - -“Do you believe he was murdered? I’ve a right to ask that.” - -“But it’s a very grave suggestion,” Lomas purred. “Do you know of -anyone who had a motive for killing your father?” - -“It’s this filthy mystery,” the Major cried. “If he was murdered, I -suppose he was poisoned. But how?” - -“Or why?” said Reggie. - -The Major fidgeted. “I dare say he knew too much,” he said. “You know -he was the adviser to the Median Government. He had some pretty -serious stuff through his hands. I don’t know what. He was always -great on official secrecy. But I know he thought it was pretty -damning for some one.” - -“Ah, thanks very much,” Lomas said. - -But the Major seemed unable to go. - -“I mean to say, make sure you have all his papers and stick to ’em.” - -Lomas and Reggie studied him. “I wonder why you say that?” Lomas -asked. “The papers would naturally pass to Colonel Osbert.” - -“I know. Osbert was the guv’nor’s best pal, worse luck. I wouldn’t -trust him round the corner. That’s what I mean. Now I’ve done it, I -suppose”; he gave a grim chuckle. “It is done, anyway”; and he was in -a hurry to go. - -Reggie stood up and stretched himself. “This is pretty thick,” said -he, “and we’ve got His Excellency the Pasha of Nine Tales on the -doorstep.” - -Into the room was brought a man who made them feel short, a towering -man draped in folds of white. Above that flowing raiment rose a -majestic head, a head finely proportioned, framed in hair and beard -of black strewn with grey. The face was aquiline and bold, but of a -singular calm, and the dark eyes were veiled in thought. He bowed to -each man twice, sat down and composed his robe about him, and it was -long before he spoke. “I thank you for your great courtesy”: each -word came alone as if it was hard to him. “I have this to say. He who -is gone he was the friend of my people. To him we turned always and -he did not fail. In him we had our trust. Now, sir, I must tell you -we have our enemies, who are also, as it seems to us, your enemies. -Those whom you call the Turks, they would do evil to us which would -be evil to you. Of this we had writings in their hands and the hands -of those they use. These I gave to him who is gone that he should -tell us what we should do. For your ways are not our ways nor your -law our law. Now he is gone, and I am troubled lest those papers fall -again into the hands of the Turks.” - -“Who is it that Your Excellency fears? Can you tell me of any man?” -Lomas said. - -“I know of none here. For the Turks are not here in the open and this -is a great land of many people. Yet in all lands all things can be -bought at a price. Even life and death. This only I say. If our -papers go to your King and the Ministers of your King it is well and -very well. If they are rendered to me that also may be well. But if -they go I know not where, I say this is not just.” - -“I can promise Your Excellency they will go before the Foreign -Office.” - -The Median stood up and bowed. “In England I never seek justice in -vain,” he said. - -And when he was gone, “Good Gad, how little he knows,” said Lomas. -“Well, Fortune?” but Reggie only lit a cigar and curled himself up on -the sofa. “What I like about you is that you never say I told you so. -But you did. It is a Foreign Office touch,” and still Reggie silently -smoked. “Why, the thing’s clear enough, isn’t it?” - -“Clear?” said Reggie. “Oh Peter! Clear?” - -“Well, Sir Arthur had in his hands papers damaging to these -blood-and-thunder Young Turks. It occurred to them that if he could -die suddenly they might arrange to get the papers into their hands. -So Sir Arthur is murdered, and either Osbert the executor or Major -Dean the son is bribed to hand over the papers.” - -“In the words of the late Tennyson,” said Reggie, - - - “And if it is so, so it is, you know; - - And if it be so, so be it. - - -But it’s not interesting, Lomas old thing.” - -“It would be interesting to hear you find a flaw in it,” said Lomas. - -Reggie shook his head. “Nary flaw.” - -“For my part,” said Lomas with some heat, “I prefer to understand why -a crime was committed. I find it useful. But I am only a policeman.” - -“And so say all of us.” Reggie sat up. “Then why talk like a -politician? Who did it and how are we going to do him in? That’s our -little job.” - -“Whoever it was, we’ve bilked him,” said Lomas. “He has got nothing -for his pains. The papers will go before the Foreign Office and then -back to the Median Legation. A futile crime. I find a good deal of -satisfaction in that.” - -“You’re easy pleased then.” Reggie’s amiability was passing away. “A -futile crime: thanks to the active and intelligent police force. But -damn it, the man was murdered.” - -“My dear Fortune, can I help it? It’s not the first and it won’t be -the last murder in which there is no evidence. You’re pleased to be -bitter about it. But you can’t even tell me how the man was murdered. -A poison unknown to the twentieth-century expert. No doubt that -annoys you. But you needn’t turn and rend me. There is also one more -murderer unknown to the twentieth-century policeman. But I can’t make -evidence any more than you. We suspect either Osbert or Major Dean -had a hand in it. But we don’t know which and we don’t know that -either was the murderer. If we could prove that they were mixed up -with the Young Turks, if we knew the man they dealt with we should -have no case against them. Why, if we could find some Young Turk -hireling was in the Royal Enclosure we should have no proof he was -the murderer. We couldn’t have,” Lomas shrugged. “Humanly speaking, -it’s a case in which there can be no conviction.” - -“My only aunt, don’t I know that?” Reggie cried. “And do you remember -what the old Caliph said, ‘In England I never seek justice in vain’? -Well, that stings, Lomas--humanly speaking.” - -“Great heavens, what am I to do? What do you want to do?” - -Reggie Fortune looked at him. The benign face of Reggie Fortune was -set in hard lines. “There’s something about the voice of a brother’s -blood crying from the ground,” he said slowly. - -“My dear fellow! Oh, my dear fellow, if you are going to preach,” -Lomas protested. - -“I’m not. I’m going to tea,” said Reggie Fortune. “Elise has got the -trick of some new cakes. They’re somewhat genial.” - -They did not meet again till the inquest. - -It was horribly hot in court. The newspaper reporters of themselves -would have filled, if given adequate space, a larger room. They sat -in each other’s pockets and thus yielded places to the general -public, represented by a motley collection of those whom the -coroner’s officer permitted himself to call Nosey Parkers: frocks -which might have come out of a revue chorus beside frocks which would -well become a charwoman. And the Hon. Sidney Lomas murmured in the -ear of his henchman Superintendent Bell, “I see several people who -ought to be hanged, Bell, but no one who will give us the chance.” - -Mr. Reginald Fortune, that eminent surgeon, pathologist and what not, -called to the witness-box, was languid and visibly bored with the -whole affair. He surveyed the court in one weary, dreamy glance and -gazed at the coroner as if seeking, but without hope, some reason for -his unpleasant existence. Yes, he had seen Sir Arthur immediately -after death. He had formed the opinion that Sir Arthur died of -asphyxia and heart failure. Yes, heart failure and asphyxia. He was, -however, surprised. - -From the reporters’ table there was a general look of hungry -interest. But one young gentleman who had grown fat in the service of -crime breathed heavily in his neighbour’s ear: “Nothing doing: I know -old Fortune. This is a wash-out.” - -Mr. Fortune had lost interest in his own evidence. He was looking -sleepily round the court. The coroner had to recall his wandering -mind. “You were surprised, Mr. Fortune?” - -“Oh, ah. Well, I couldn’t explain the suddenness of the attack, the -symptoms and so forth. So with the assistance of Dr. Harvey I made a -further examination. We went into the matter with care and used every -known test. There is no evidence to be found that any other factor -was present than the natural causes of death.” - -“But that does not explain the sudden failure of the heart.” - -“I don’t explain it,” said Reggie. “I can’t.” - -“Medicine,” said the coroner sagely, “still has its mysteries. We -must remember, gentlemen, that Sir Arthur had already completed our -allotted span, the Psalmist’s threescore years and ten. I am much -obliged to you, Mr. Fortune.” - -And after that, as the fat young gentleman complained, there was -nothing in it. The jury found that Sir Arthur’s death was from -natural causes and that they sympathized with the family. So much for -the Ascot mystery. There remains the sequel. - -When the court broke up and sought, panting, the open air, “He is -neat, sir, isn’t he?” said Lomas’s henchman, Superintendent Bell. -“Very adroit, is Mr. Fortune. That couldn’t have been much better -done.” And Lomas smiled. It was in each man’s simple heart that the -Criminal Investigation Department was well rid of a bad business. -They sought Reggie to give him lunch. - -But Reggie was already outside; Reggie was strolling, as one for whom -time has no meaning, towards the station. He was caught up by the -plump young reporter, who would like you to call him a crime -specialist. “Well, Mr. Fortune,” he said in his ingratiating way, -“good morning. How are you, sir? I say, you have put it across us in -the Dean case.” - -The crime specialist then had opportunities for psychological study -as Mr. Fortune’s expression performed a series of quick changes. But -it settled down into bland and amiable surprise. “My dear fellow,” -said Mr. Fortune, “how are you? But what’s the trouble? There’s -nothing in the Dean case, never was.” - -“No, that’s just it. And we were all out for a first-class crime -story. After all the talk there’s been, natural causes is pretty -paltry.” - -Reggie laughed. “Sorry, sorry. We can’t make crimes for you. But why -did you talk? There was nothing to talk about.” - -“I say, you know, that’s a bit thick,” the crime specialist protested. - -“My dear chap,” said Reggie modestly, “if the doctor on the spot -hadn’t happened to be me, you would never have thought of the case. -Nothing else in it.” - -“Oh, well, come now, Mr. Fortune! I mean to say--what about the -C.I.D. holding up all the old man’s papers and turning down his -executor?” - -Reggie was not surprised, he was bewildered. “Say it again slowly and -distinctly,” he entreated, and when that was done he was as one who -tries not to laugh. “And very nice too. My dear fellow, what more do -you want? There’s a story for you.” - -“Well, it’s never been officially denied,” said the young man. - -“Fancy that!” Reggie chuckled. - -“But between ourselves, Mr. Fortune----” - -“It’s a great story,” Reggie chuckled. “But really--Well, I ask you!” -and he slid away. - -In the hotel lounge he found Bell and Lomas and cocktails. “Pleasure -before business, as ever,” he reproached them, and ordered one for -himself. - -“And what have you been doing, then?” Lomas asked. - -“I have been consoling the Fourth Estate. That great institution the -Press, Mr. Lomas, sir. Through one of Gilligan’s young lions. Out of -the mouths of babes and sucklings----” - -“I wish you wouldn’t talk to reporters,” Lomas complained. - -“You’re so haughty. By the way, what was Ludlow Blenkinhorn doing -here?” He referred to a solicitor of more ability than standing. -“Osbert was here and his solicitor, the young Deans and their -solicitor. Who was old Blenkinhorn representing?” - -Bell and Lomas looked at each other. “Didn’t see the fellow,” said -Lomas. - -“Mr. Fortune’s quite right, sir. Blenkinhorn was standing with the -public. And that’s odd, too.” - -“Highly odd. Lomas, my dear old thing, I wish you’d watch -Blenkinhorn’s office and Osbert’s flat for any chaps who look a bit -exotic, a bit foreign--and follow him up if you find one.” - -Lomas groaned. “Surely we’ve done with the case.” - -“Ye-es. But there’s some fellow who hasn’t. And he has a pretty taste -in poisons. And he’s still wanting papers.” - -“We’ve nothing to act on, you know,” Lomas protested. - -“Oh, not a thing, not a thing. But he might have.” Lomas nodded and -Superintendent Bell went to the telephone. - -When Mr. Fortune read “The Daily Post” in the morning he smiled upon -his devilled kidneys. Its report of the inquest was begun with a -little pompous descriptive work. “The mystery of the Ascot Tragedy -was solved yesterday. In the cold sanity of the coroner’s court the -excitement of the last few days received its quietus. Two minutes of -scientific evidence from Mr. Fortune--” and so on until young -omniscience worked up to its private little scoop. “The melodramatic -rumours of sensational developments in the case have thus only -availed to expose the fatuity of their inventors.” (This was meant -for some rival papers.) “It may now be stated bluntly that nothing in -the case ever gave rise to speculation among well-informed people, -and that the stories of impounding documents and so forth have no -foundation in fact.” - -But about lunch time Mr. Fortune received a curt summons from the -Hon. Sidney Lomas and instantly obeyed it. “Well, you know, I thought -I should be hearing from you,” he smiled. “I felt, as it were, you -couldn’t live without me long.” - -“Did you, by Jove!” said Lomas bitterly. “I’ve been wishing all the -morning you had been dead some time. Look at that!” He tossed across -the table a marked copy of “The Daily Post.” - -“Yes, I was enjoying that at breakfast. A noble institution, the -British Press, Lomas. A great power. If you know how to use it.” - -“I wish to God you wouldn’t spoof reporters. It’s a low taste. And -it’s a damned nuisance. I can’t contradict the rag and----” - -“No, you can’t contradict it. I banked on that,” Reggie chuckled. - -“Did you indeed? And pray what the devil are you at? I have had -Osbert here raving mad----” - -“Yes, I thought it would stir up Osbert. What’s his line?” - -“Wants the papers, of course. And as you very well know, confound -you, they’re all at the Foreign Office, the cream of them, and likely -to be. He says we’ve no right to keep them after this. Nonsense, of -course, but devilish inconvenient to answer. And at last the old man -was quite pathetic, says it isn’t fair to him to give out we haven’t -touched the papers. No more it is. He was begging me to contradict it -officially. I could hardly get rid of him.” - -“Busy times for Lomas.” - -“Damme, I have been at it all the morning. Old Ludlow Blenkinhorn -turned up, too.” - -“I have clicked, haven’t I?” Reggie chuckled. - -“Confound you. He says he has a client with claims on the estate and -is informed by the executor that all papers have been taken by us. -Now he has read your damned article and he wants to know if the -executor is lying.” - -“That is a conundrum, isn’t it? And who is Mr. Ludlow Blenkinhorn’s -client?” - -“He didn’t say, of course.” - -“What a surprise. And your fellows watching his office, do they say?” - -Lomas took up a scrap of paper. “They have sent us something. A man -of foreign or mulatto appearance called on him first thing this -morning. Was followed to a Bayswater lodging-house. Is known there as -Sherif. Mr. A. Sherif. Thought to be an Egyptian.” - -“The negro or Hamitic heel!” Reggie murmured. “Do you remember, Lomas -old thing?” - -“Good Gad!” Lomas dropped his eyeglass. “But what the devil can we -do?” - -“Watch and pray,” said Reggie. “Your fellows watch Sherif and -Blenkinhorn and Osbert and you pray. Do you pray much, Lomas?” - -They went in fact to lunch. They were not long back when a detective -speaking over the telephone reported that a man of mulatto appearance -had called on Colonel Osbert. Reggie sprang up. “Come on, Lomas. -We’ll have them in the act and bluff the whole thing out of them.” - -“What act?” - -“Collusion. This Egyptian-Syrian-negroid-Young Turk and the -respectable executor. Come on, man.” - -In five minutes they were mounting to Colonel Osbert’s flat. His -servant could not say whether Colonel Osbert was at home. Lomas -produced his card. “Colonel Osbert will see me,” he announced, and -fixed the man with a glassy stare. - -“Well, sir, I beg pardon, sir. There’s a gentleman with him.” - -“At once,” said Lomas and walked into the hall. - -The man still hesitated. From one of the rooms could be heard voices -in some excitement. Lomas and Reggie made for that door. But as they -approached there was a cry, a horrible shrill cry, and the sound of a -scuffle. Reggie sprang forward. Some one rushed out of the room and -Reggie, the smaller man, went down before him. Lomas clutched at him -and was kicked in the stomach. The fellow was off. Reggie picked -himself out of the hatstand and ran after him. Lomas, in a heap, -gasping and hiccoughing, fumbled in his pocket. “B-b-blow,” he -stammered to the stupefied servant, and held out a whistle. “Like -hell. Blow!” - -A long peal sounded through the block of flats. - -Down below a solid man strolled out of the porter’s lodge just as a -gentleman of dark complexion and large feet was hurrying through the -door. The solid man put out a leg. Another solid man outside received -the gentleman on his bosom. They had then some strenuous moments. By -the time Reggie reached them three hats were on the ground, but a -pair of handcuffs clasped the coffee-coloured wrists. - -“His pockets,” Reggie panted, “his waistcoat pockets.” - -The captive said something which no one understood, and struggled. -One of the detectives held out a small white-metal case. Reggie took -from it a hypodermic syringe. “I didn’t think you were so -up-to-date,” said Reggie. “What did you put in it? Well, well, I -suppose you won’t tell me. Take him away.” - -He went back to find Lomas and the servant looking at Colonel Osbert. -Colonel Osbert lay on the floor. There was froth at his lips and on -his wrist a spot of blood. Reggie knelt down beside him. . . . - -“Too late?” Lomas said hoarsely. - -Reggie rose. “Well, you can put it that way,” he said. “It’s the end.” - -In Lomas’s room Reggie spread himself on a sofa and watched Lomas -drink whisky and soda. “A ghastly business,” Lomas said: he was still -pale and unsteady. “That creature is a wild beast.” - -“He’ll go where he belongs,” said Reggie, who was eating bread and -butter. “All according to plan.” - -“Plan? My God, the man runs amuck!” - -“Oh, no, no, no. He wanted those papers for his employers. He -contracted with Osbert to hand them over when Dean was dead. He -murdered Dean and Osbert couldn’t deliver the goods. So I told him -through the papers that Osbert had them. He thought Osbert was -bilking him and went to have it out with him. Osbert didn’t satisfy -him, he was sure he had been done and he made Osbert pay for it. All -according to plan.” - -Lomas set down his glass. “Fortune,” he said nervously, “Fortune--do -you mean--when you put that in the paper--you meant the thing to end -like this?” - -“Well, what are we here for?” said Reggie. “But you know you’re -forgetting the real interest of the case.” - -“Am I?” said Lomas weakly. - -“Yes. What is his poison?” - -“Oh, good Gad,” said Lomas. - - - - - CASE II - - THE PRESIDENT OF SAN JACINTO - -MR. REGINALD FORTUNE lay in a long chair. On his right hand a -precipice fell to still black water. On his left the mountains rose -into a tiara of snow. Far away in front sunlight found the green -flood of a glacier. But Mr. Fortune saw none of these things. He was -eating strawberries and cream. - -The Hon. Sidney Lomas, Chief of the Criminal Investigation -Department, disguised as a bloodthirsty fisherman, arrived stiffly -but happy, and behind him a large Norwegian bore the corpses of two -salmon into the farm-house. “The lord high detective,” Reggie -murmured. “An allegorical picture, by the late Mr. Watts.” - -“Great days,” Lomas said, and let himself down gingerly into a chair. -“Hallo, has there been a post?” He reached for one of the papers at -Reggie’s feet. “My country, what of thee?” - -“They’re at it again, Lomas. They’ve murdered a real live lord.” - -“Thank heaven I’m not there. Who is it?” - -“One Carwell. In the wilds of the Midlands.” - -“Young Carwell? He’s a blameless youth to slay. What happened?” - -“They found him in his library with his head smashed. Queer case.” - -Lomas read the report, which had nothing more to tell. “Burglary, I -suppose,” he pronounced. - -“Well, I have an alibi,” said Reggie. - -Neither the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department nor his -scientific adviser saw any reason to end a good holiday for the sake -of avenging Lord Carwell. The policemen who dealt with the affair did -not call for help. Mr. Fortune and Mr. Lomas continued to catch the -salmon and eat the strawberries of Norway and let the world go by and -became happily out of date. It was not till they were on the North -Sea that they met the Carwell case again. - -The Newcastle packet was rolling in a slow, heavy rhythm. Most of the -passengers had succumbed. Lomas and Reggie fitted themselves and two -chairs into a corner of the upper deck with all the London newspapers -that were waiting for them at Bergen. Lomas, a methodical man, began -at the beginning. Reggie worked back from the end. And in a moment, -“My only aunt!” he said softly. “Lomas, old thing, they’re doing -themselves proud. Who do you think they’ve taken for that Carwell -murder? The cousin, the heir, one Mark Carwell. This is highly -intriguing.” - -“Good Gad!” - -“As you say,” Reggie agreed. “Yes. Public Prosecutor on it. Old -Brunker leading for the Crown. Riding pretty hard, too. The man Mark -is for it, I fear, Lomas. They do these things quite neatly without -us. It’s all very disheartening.” - -“Mark Carwell? A harum-scarum young ruffian he always was.” - -“Yes. Have you noticed these little things mean much? I haven’t.” - -“What’s the case?” - -“The second housemaid found Lord Carwell sitting in the library with -his head smashed. He was dead. The doctor came up in half an hour, -found him cold, and swears he had been dead five or six hours. Cause -of death--brain injury from the blow given by some heavy, blunt -instrument. No one in the house had heard a sound. No sign of -burglary, no weapon. There was a small house-party, the man Mark, the -girl Carwell was engaged to, Lady Violet Barclay and her papa and -mamma, and Sir Brian Carwell--that’s the contractor, some sort of -distant cousin. Mark was left with Lord Carwell when the rest of them -went to bed. Lady Violet and papa and mamma say they heard a noisy -quarrel. Violet says Carwell had told her before that Mark was -writing to him for money to get married on, and Carwell didn’t -approve of the girl.” - -“I don’t fancy Carwell would approve of the kind of girl Mark would -want to marry.” - -“Yes, that’s what the fair Violet implies. She seems to be a good -hater. She did her little best to hang Mark.” - -“Why, if he killed her man, can you wonder?” - -“Oh, I don’t wonder. But I wouldn’t like to get in her way myself. -Not really a nice girl. She swore Mark had been threatening Carwell, -and Carwell was afraid of him. The prosecution put in a letter of -Mark’s which talked wild about doing something vague and desperate if -Carwell didn’t stump up.” - -“Did Mark go into the box?” - -“Yes. That was his error. I’m afraid he isn’t respectable, Lomas. He -showed no seemly grief. He made it quite clear that he had no use for -Hugo, Lord Carwell. He rather suggested that Hugo had lived to spite -him, and got killed to spite him. He admitted all Lady Violet’s -evidence and underlined it. He said Hugo had been more against him -than ever since she came into the family. He owned to the quarrel of -Hugo’s last night. Only he swore that he left the man alive.” - -“Well, he did his best to hang himself.” - -“As you say. A bold, bad fellow. That’s all, except that cousin Mark -had a big stick, a loaded stick with a knob head, and he took it down -to Carwell Hall.” - -“What’s the verdict?” - -“To be continued in our next. The judge was going to sum up in the -morning. In the paper we haven’t got.” - -Lomas lay back and watched the grey sea rise into sight as the boat -rolled to starboard. “What do you make of it, Fortune?” - -“There’s the rudiments of a case,” said Reggie. “The Carwell estate -is entailed. Mark is the heir. He didn’t love the man. The man was -going to marry and that would wash out Mark. Mark was the last man -with him, unless there is some hard lying. They had a row about money -and girls, which are always infuriating, and Mark had a weapon handy -which might have killed him. And nobody else had any motive, there’s -no evidence of anybody else in the business. Yes, the rudiments of a -case.” - -“I don’t see the rudiments of a defence.” - -“The defence is that Mark says that he didn’t.” - -“Quite, quite,” Lomas nodded. “It’s not the strongest case in the -world, but I have had convictions on worse. The jury will go by what -they made of Mark in the box.” - -“And hang him for his face.” Reggie turned over a paper and held out -the portrait of a bull-necked, square-headed young man. - -“I wouldn’t say they’d be wrong,” Lomas said. “Who’s the judge? -Maine? He’ll keep ’em straight.” - -“I wonder. What is straight, Lomas?” - -“My dear fellow, it all turns on the way this lad gave his evidence, -and that you can’t tell from a report.” - -“He don’t conciliate me,” Reggie murmured. “Yet I like evidence, -Lomas.” - -“Why, this is adequate, if it’s true. And Mark didn’t challenge it.” - -“I know. Adequate is the word. Just enough and nothing more. That’s -unusual, Lomas. Well, well. What about tea?” - -They picked their way over some prostrate bodies to the saloon and -again gave up the Carwell case. - -But when the boat had made her slow way through the clatter of the -Tyne, Reggie was quick to intercept the first customs officer on -board. “I say, what was the result of that murder trial?” - -The man laughed. “Thought you wanted the 3.30 winner, you were so -keen, sir. Oh, Mark Carwell’s guilty, of course. His mother’s -white-haired boy, he is. Not ’alf.” - -“The voice of the people,” said Lomas, in Reggie’s ear. - -On the way to London they read the judge’s summing up, an oration -lucid and fair but relentless. - -“He had no doubt,” Reggie said. - -“And a good judge too,” Lomas tossed the paper aside. “Thank heaven -they got it out of the way without bothering me.” - -“You are an almost perfect official,” said Reggie with reverence. - -In the morning when Reggie came down to his breakfast in London he -was told that some one had rung up to know if he was back in England -yet. He was only half-way through his omelet when the name of Miss -Joan Amber was brought to him. - -Every one who likes to see a beautiful actress act, and many who -don’t care whether she can act or not, know what Miss Amber looks -like, that large young woman with the golden eyes whom Reggie hurried -to welcome. He held her hand rather a long while. “The world is very -good to-day,” he said, and inspected her. “You don’t need a holiday, -Miss Amber.” - -“You’ve had too much, Mr. Fortune.” - -“Have you been kind enough to want me?” - -“I really meant that you looked----” she made a large gesture. - -“No, no--not fat,” Reggie protested. “Only genial. I expand in your -presence.” - -“Well--round,” said Miss Amber. “And my presence must be very bad for -you.” - -“No, not bad for me--only crushing.” - -“Well, I did sometimes notice you were away. And I want you now. For -a friend of mine. Will you help her?” - -“When did I ever say No to you?” - -“Bless you,” said Miss Amber. “It’s the Carwell case.” - -“Oh, my prophetic soul,” Reggie groaned. “But what in wonder have you -to do with the Carwell case?” - -“I know Nan Nest. She’s the girl Mark Carwell is going to marry.” - -“Do you mind if you sit down?” said Reggie, and wandered away to the -window. “You’re disturbing to the intellect, Miss Amber. Let us be -calm. You shouldn’t talk about people marrying people and look like -that.” Miss Amber smiled at his back. She has confessed to moments in -which she would like to be Reggie Fortune’s mother. “Yes. Well now, -does Miss Amber happen to know the man Mark?” - -“I’ve met him. He’s not a bad fellow. A first-class -fighting-subaltern. That sort of thing.” - -Reggie nodded. “That’s his public form too.” - -“Oh, Mr. Fortune, he’s absolutely straight. Not a very wise youth, of -course. You know, I could imagine him killing his cousin, but what I -can’t imagine is that he would ever say he didn’t if he did.” - -“Yes. There weren’t any women on the jury?” - -“Don’t sneer.” - -“I never do when you’re listening. That was a scientific statement. -Now, what’s Miss Nest like?” - -“Like a jolly schoolboy. Or she was, poor child. Oh, they would have -been splendidly happy, if that tiresome man had set Mark up somewhere -in the country instead of getting himself murdered.” - -Reggie smiled sadly. “Don’t say that to anyone but me. Or let her say -it. Why did the tiresome man object to her? I suppose it’s true that -he did?” - -“Oh heavens, yes. Because she’s on the stage. She plays little parts, -you know, flappers and such. She’s quite good as herself. She can’t -act.” - -“What was the late Carwell? What sort of fellow? That didn’t come out -at the trial.” - -“A priceless prig, Mark says. I suppose he was the last survivor of -our ancient aristocracy. Poor Mark!” - -“I wonder,” Reggie murmured. - -“What?” - -“Well”--he spread out his hands--“everything. You haven’t exactly -cleared it up, have you?” - -“Mark told Nan he didn’t do it,” she said quietly, and Reggie looked -into her eyes. “Oh, can’t you see? That’s to trust to. That’s sure.” -Reggie turned away. “You will help her?” the low voice came again. - -And at last, “My dear, I daren’t say so,” Reggie said. “You mustn’t -tell her to hope anything. I’ll go over all the case. But the man is -condemned.” - -“Why, but there’s a court of appeal.” - -“Only for something new. And I don’t see it.” - -“Mark didn’t kill him!” she cried. - -Reggie spread out his hands. “That’s faith.” - -“Mr. Fortune! When I said I had come about the Carwell case, you -said, ‘Oh, my prophetic soul!’ You don’t believe the evidence, then. -You never did. You always thought there was something they didn’t -find out.” - -“I don’t know. I don’t know,” Reggie said slowly. “That’s the last -word now. And it may be the last word in the end.” - -“You!” she said, and held out her hand. - -When she was gone, Reggie stood looking at the place where she had -sat. “God help us,” he said, rare words on his lips. And the place he -went to was Scotland Yard. - -Lomas was occupied with other sublime officials. So Superintendent -Bell reported. He had also been telephoning for Mr. Fortune. Mr. -Fortune was admitted and found himself before a large red truculent -man who glared. “Hallo, Finch. Is this a council of war?” said Mr. -Fortune; for at that date Mr. Montague Finchampstead was the Public -Prosecutor. - -“Lomas tells me”--Finchampstead has a bullying manner--“you’ve formed -an opinion on the evidence in the Carwell case.” - -“Then he knows more than I do. The evidence was all right--what there -was of it.” - -“The chain is complete,” Finchampstead announced. - -“Yes. Yes. If you don’t pull it hard.” - -“Well, no one did pull it.” - -“That’s what I’m pointing out, Finch,” said Reggie sweetly. “Why are -you so cross?” - -“The trouble is, Fortune, the Carwell butler’s bolted,” Lomas said. - -Reggie walked across the room and took one of Lomas’s cigars and lit -it, and made himself comfortable in his chair. “That’s a new fact,” -he said softly. - -“Nonsense,” Finchampstead cried. “It’s irrelevant. It doesn’t affect -the issue. The verdict stands.” - -“I noticed you didn’t call the butler at the trial,” Reggie murmured. - -“Why the devil should we? He knew nothing.” - -“Yet he bolts.” - -Lomas smiled. “The unfortunate thing is, Fortune, he bolted before -the trial was over. At the end of the second day the local police -were told that he had vanished. The news was passed on to -Finchampstead. But the defence was not informed. And it didn’t come -out at the trial.” - -“Well, well. I thought you were riding rather hard, Finch. You were.” - -“Rubbish. The case was perfectly clear. The disappearance of the -butler doesn’t affect it--if he has disappeared. The fellow may very -well have gone off on some affair of his own, and turn up again in a -day or two. And if he doesn’t, it’s nothing to the purpose. The -butler was known to have a kindness for Mark Carwell. If we never -hear of him again I shall conclude that he had a hand in the murder, -and when he saw the case was going against Mark thought he had better -vanish.” - -“Theory number two,” Reggie murmured. - -“What do you mean?” - -“Your first was that the butler knew nothing. Your second is that he -knows too much. Better choose which leg you’ll stand on in the Court -of Appeal.” - -Finchampstead glared. - -“In the meantime, Finch, we’ll try to find the butler for you,” said -Lomas cheerfully. - -“And I think I’ll have a look at the evidence,” Reggie murmured. - -“There is no flaw in the evidence,” Finchampstead boomed. - -“Well, not till you look at it.” - -Finchampstead with some explosions of disgust removed himself. - -“Zeal, all zeal,” said Reggie sadly. “Well-meaning man. Only one idea -at a time. And sometimes a wrong un.” - -“He’s a lawyer by nature,” Lomas apologized. “You always rub him up -the wrong way. He don’t like the scientific mind. What?” Bell had -come in to give him a visiting card. He read out, “Sir Brian -Carwell.” He looked at Reggie. “Now which side is he on?” - -“One moment. Who exactly is he? Some sort of remote cousin?” - -“Yes. He comes of a younger branch. People say the brains of the -Carwell’s went to them. His father was the engineer, old Ralph -Carwell. This man’s an engineering contractor. He made his pile over -South American railways.” - -“You wouldn’t say he was passionately interested in the late Lord -Carwell or Cousin Mark.” - -There came in a lean man with an air of decision and authority, but -older than his resilient vigour suggested, for his hair was much -sprinkled with grey, and in his brown face, about the eyes and mouth, -the wrinkles were many. He was exact with the formalities of -introduction and greeting, but much at his ease, and then, “I had -better explain who I am, Mr. Lomas.” - -“Oh, we’ve heard of Sir Brian Carwell.” - -“Thanks. But I dare say you don’t know my private affairs. I’m some -sort of fifteenth cousin of these two unfortunate young fellows. And -just now I happen to be the acting head of the family. I’m not the -next heir, of course. That’s old Canon Carwell. But I was on the spot -when this thing happened. After his arrest Mark asked me to take -charge for him, and the Canon wished me to act. That’s my position. -Well, I carried on to keep things as they were at the Hall and on the -estate. Several of the servants want to quit, of course, but they -haven’t gone yet. The butler was a special case. He told me he had -given Hugo notice some time before. I could find no record, but it -was possible enough, and as he only wanted to retire and settle down -in the neighbourhood, I made no difficulty. So he set himself up in -lodgings in the village. He was looking about for a house, he told -me. I suppose he had done pretty well. He had been in service at the -Hall thirty or forty years, poor devil. What a life! He knew Hugo and -Mark much better than I do, had known ’em all their young lives. He -knew all the family affairs inside and out. One night the people -where he was lodging went round to the police to say he’d gone out -and not come back. He hasn’t come back yet.” - -“And what do you conclude, Sir Brian?” - -“I’ll be damned if I know what I conclude. That’s your business, -isn’t it?” - -“Not without some facts,” said Lomas. “When did he leave the Hall?” - -“After Mark was arrested. May 13. And he disappeared on the evening -of the second day of the trial.” - -“That would be when it looked certain that Mark would be found -guilty. Why did he wait till then?” - -Sir Brian laughed. “If I knew that, I suppose I shouldn’t be here. -I’m asking you to find him.” - -“Quite, quite,” Lomas agreed. “The local police knew of his -disappearance at once?” - -“I said so. I wish I had known as soon. The police didn’t bother to -mention it at the trial. It might have made some difference to the -verdict, Mr. Lomas.” - -“That’s matter of opinion, of course,” said Lomas. “I wasn’t in -England myself. I needn’t tell you that it’s open to the defence to -appeal against the conviction.” - -“Is it?” Sir Brian’s shadowed eyes grew smaller. “You don’t know -Mark, Mr. Lomas. If I were to tell you Mark refuses to make an appeal -on this ground because it would be putting the murder on the butler, -what would you say?” - -“Good Gad!” was what Lomas did say. He lay back and put up his -eyeglass and looked from Sir Brian to Reggie and back again. “You -mean Mark admits he is guilty?” - -“Guilty be damned,” said Sir Brian. “No, sir, I mean Mark liked the -wretched fellow and won’t hear of anything against him. Mark’s a -fool. But that’s not a reason for hanging him. I say you got your -conviction by suppressing evidence. It’s up to you to review the -case.” - -“Still, Lord Carwell was killed,” said Lomas gently, “and somebody -killed him. Who was it?” - -“Not Mark. He hasn’t got it in him, I suppose he never hit a fellow -who couldn’t hit back in his life.” - -“But surely,” Lomas purred, “if there was a quarrel, Lord Carwell -might----” - -“Hugo was a weed,” Sir Brian pronounced. “Mark never touched him, my -friend.” - -“Yes, yes, very natural you should think so,” Lomas shifted his -papers. “Of course you won’t expect me to say anything, Sir Brian. -And what exactly is it you want me to do?” - -Sir Brian laughed. “My dear sir, it’s not for me to tell you your -duty. I put it to you that a man has disappeared, and that his -disappearance makes hay of the case on which the Crown convicted a -cousin of mine of murder. What you do about it is your affair.” - -“You may rely upon it, Sir Brian,” said Lomas in his most official -manner, “the affair will be thoroughly investigated.” - -“I expected no less, Mr. Lomas.” And Sir Brian ceremoniously but -briskly took his leave. - -After which, “Good Gad!” said Lomas again, and stared at Reggie -Fortune. - -“Nice restful companion, isn’t he? Yes. The sort of fellow that has -made Old England great.” - -“Oh, I don’t mind him. He could be dealt with. But he’s right, -confound him. The case is a most unholy mess.” - -“Well, well,” said Reggie placidly. “You must rub it out, dear, and -do it again.” - -“If everybody had tried to muddle it they couldn’t have done worse.” - -Reggie stared at him. “Yes. Yes, you have your moments, Lomas,” he -said. - -“Suppose the butler did the murder. Why in the world should he wait -to run away till Mark was certain to be found guilty?” - -“And suppose he didn’t, why did he run away at all? You can make up -quite a lot of riddles in this business. Why should anyone but Mark -do it? Why is Mark so mighty tender of the butler’s reputation? Why -is anything?” - -“Yes, it’s all crazy--except Sir Brian. He’s reasonable enough, -confound him.” - -“Yes. Yes, these rational men are a nuisance to the police. Well, -well, begin again at the beginning.” - -“I wish I knew where it did begin.” - -“My dear fellow! Are we down-hearted? I’ll have a look at the medical -evidence. You go over Carwell Hall and the butler’s digs with a small -tooth comb.” - -But the first thing which Mr. Fortune did was to send a note to Miss -Amber. - -MY DEAR CHILD,-- - -Mark can appeal. The ground for it is the disappearance of the -Carwell butler--and a good ground. - -But he must appeal. Tell Miss Nest. - -R. F. - -Two days afterwards he went again to Scotland Yard summoned to a -conference of the powers. The public prosecutor’s large and florid -face had no welcome for him. “Any more new facts, Finch?” he said -cheerfully. - -“Mark Carwell has entered an appeal,” Mr. Finchampstead boomed. “On -the ground of the butler’s disappearance.” - -“Fancy that!” Reggie murmured, and lit a cigar. “Sir Brian doesn’t -seem to have been very well informed, Lomas.” - -“The boy’s come to his senses, I suppose. But we haven’t found the -butler. He left no papers behind him. All he did leave was his -clothes and about a hundred pounds in small notes.” - -“So he didn’t take his ready money. That’s interesting.” - -“Well, not all of it. He left another hundred or so in the savings -bank, and some small investments in building societies and so -forth--a matter of five hundred. Either he didn’t mean to vanish, or -he was in the deuce of a hurry to go.” - -“Yes. Yes, there’s another little point. Five or six hundred isn’t -much to retire on. Why was he in such a hurry to retire?” - -“He may have had more than we can trace, of course. He may have gone -off with some Carwell property. But there is no evidence of anything -being stolen.” - -“The plain fact is,” Finchampstead boomed, “you have found out -nothing but that he’s gone. We knew that before.” - -“And it’s a pity you kept it dark,” said Lomas acidly. “You wouldn’t -have had an appeal to fight.” - -“The case against Mark Carwell is intrinsically as strong as ever,” -Finchampstead pronounced. “There is no reason whatever to suspect the -butler, he had no motive for murder, he gained nothing by it, his -disappearance is most naturally accounted for by an accident.” - -“Yes, you’ll have to say all that in the Court of Appeal. I don’t -think it will cut much ice.” - -“I am free to admit that his disappearance is an awkward complication -in the case,” Finchampstead’s oratory rolled on. “But surely, Lomas, -you have formed some theory in explanation?” - -Lomas shook his head. - -“We’ve had too much theory, Finch,” said Reggie cheerfully. “Let’s -try some facts. I want the body exhumed.” - -The eyes of Mr. Finchampstead goggled. His large jaw fell. - -“Good Gad, you don’t doubt he’s dead?” Lomas cried. - -“Oh, he’ll be dead all right. I want to know how he died.” - -“Are you serious?” Finchampstead mourned. “Really, Fortune, this is -not a matter for frivolity. The poor fellow was found dead with one -side of his head beaten in. There can be no dispute how he died. I -presume you have taken the trouble to read the medical evidence.” - -“I have. That’s what worries me. I’ve seen the doctors you called. -Dear old things.” - -“Very sound men. And of the highest standing,” Finchampstead rebuked -him. - -“As you say. They know a fractured skull when they see it. They would -see everything they looked for. But they didn’t look for what they -didn’t see.” - -“May I ask what you mean?” - -“Any other cause of death.” - -“The cause was perfectly plain. There was nothing else to look for.” - -“Yes. Yes,” Reggie lay back and blew smoke. “That’s the sort of -reasoning that got you this verdict. Look here, Finch. That smashed -head would have killed him all right, but it shouldn’t have killed -him so quick. He ought to have lingered unconscious a long while. And -he had been dead hours when they found him. We have to begin again -from the beginning. I want an order for exhumation.” - -“Better ask for a subpoena for his soul.” - -“That’s rather good, Finch,” Reggie smiled. “You’re beginning to take -an interest in the case.” - -“If you could take the evidence of the murdered,” said Lomas, “a good -many convictions for murder would look rather queer.” - -Mr. Finchampstead was horrified. “I conceive,” he announced with -dignity, “that a trial in an English court is a practically perfect -means of discovering the truth.” - -Reverently then they watched him go. And when he was gone, “He’s a -wonderful man,” said Reggie. “He really believes that.” - -The next morning saw Mr. Fortune, escorted by Superintendent Bell, -arrive at Carwell Hall. It stands in what Mr. Fortune called a -sluggish country, a country of large rolling fields and slow rivers. -The air was heavy and blurred all colour and form. Mr. Fortune -arrived at Carwell Hall feeling as if he had eaten too much, a -sensation rare in him, which he resented. He was hardly propitiated -by the house, though others have rejoiced in it. It was built under -the Tudors out of the spoils and, they say, with the stones of an -abbey. Though some eighteenth-century ruffian played tricks with it, -its mellow walls still speak of an older, more venturous world. It is -a place of studied charm, gracious and smiling, but in its -elaboration of form and ornament offering a thousand things to look -at, denies itself as a whole, evasive and strange. - -Reggie got out of the car and stood back to survey it. “Something of -everything, isn’t it, Bell? Like a Shakespeare play. Just the place -to have a murder in one room with a children’s party in the next, and -a nice girl making love on the stairs, and father going mad in the -attics.” - -“I rather like Shakespeare myself, sir,” said Superintendent Bell, - -“You’re so tolerant,” said Reggie, and went in. - -A new butler said that Sir Brian was expecting them. Sir Brian was -brusquely civil. He was very glad to find that the case was being -reopened. The whole place was at their orders. Anything he could -do---- - -“I thought I might just look round,” Reggie said. “We are rather -after the fair, though.” He did not think it necessary to tell Sir -Brian that Lord Carwell’s body would be dug up that night. - -They were taken across a hall with a noble roof of hammer beams to -the place of the murder. The library was panelled in oak, which at a -man’s height from the ground flowered into carving. The ceiling was -moulded into a hundred coats of arms, each blazoned with its right -device, and the glow and colour of them, scarlet and bright blue and -gold, filled the room. Black presses with vast locks stood here and -there. A stool was on either side the great open hearth. By the -massive table a stern fifteenth-century chair was set. - -Bell gazed about him and breathed heavily. “Splendid room, sir,” he -said. “Quite palatial.” - -“But it’s not what I’d want after dinner myself,” Reggie murmured. - -“I’ve no use for the place,” said Sir Brian. “But it suited Hugo. He -would never have a thing changed. He was really a survival. Poor old -Hugo.” - -“He was sitting here?” Reggie touched the chair. - -“So they tell me. I didn’t see him till some time after the girl -found him. You’d better hear what she has to say.” - -A frightened and agitated housemaid testified that his lordship had -been sitting in that chair bent over the table and his head rested on -it, and the left side of his head was all smashed, and on the table -was a pool of his blood. She would never forget it, never. She became -aware of Reggie’s deepening frown. “That’s the truth, sir,” she -cried, “so help me God, it is.” - -“I know, I know,” said Reggie. “No blood anywhere else? No other -marks in the room?” - -There hadn’t been anything. She had cleaned the room herself. And it -had been awful. She hadn’t slept a night since. And so on till she -was got rid of. - -“Well?” said Sir Brian. “What’s the expert make of her?” - -Reggie was looking at the table and fingering it. He looked up -suddenly. “Oh, she’s telling the truth,” he said. “And that’s that.” - -The lunch bell was ringing. Sir Brian hoped they would stay at the -Hall. They did stay to lunch and talked South America, of which Sir -Brian’s knowledge was extensive and peculiar. After lunch they smoked -on the terrace and contemplated through the haze the Carwell acres. -“Yes, it’s all Carwell land as far as you see--if you could see -anything,” Sir Brian laughed. “And nothing to see at that. Flat -arable. I couldn’t live in the place. I never feel awake here. But -the family’s been on the ground four hundred years. They didn’t own -the estate. The estate owned them. Well, I suppose one life’s as good -as another if you like it. This isn’t mine. Watching Englishmen grow -wheat! My God! That just suited Hugo. Poor old Hugo!” - -“Had the butler anything against him, sir?” Bell ventured. - -“I can’t find it. The butler was just a butler. I never saw a man -more so. And Hugo, well, he didn’t know servants existed unless they -didn’t answer the bell. But he was a queer fellow. No notion of -anybody having rights against him. He wouldn’t let you get near him. -I’ve seen that make quiet men mad.” - -“Meaning anyone in particular, sir?” Bell said. - -“Oh Lord, no. Speaking generally.” He looked at Bell with a shrewd -smile. “Haven’t you found that in your job?” And Bell laughed. “Yes, -I’m afraid I don’t help you much. Are you going to help Mark? Where -is the butler?” - -“Yes. Yes, we are rather wasting time, aren’t we?” Reggie stretched -himself. “It’s too soothing, Sir Brian. Can we walk across the park? -I hate exercise, but man must live.” - -“I don’t think anyone would have to murder me if I stayed here long,” -Sir Brian started up. “I’ll show you the way. We can send your car -round to the village.” - -Over immemorial turf they went their warm way. A herd of deer looked -at them critically, and concluded they were of no importance. “Pretty -creatures,” said Superintendent Bell. - -“I’d as soon keep white mice,” said Sir Brian, and discoursed of the -wilder deer of other lands till he discovered that Reggie was left -behind. - -Reggie was wandering off towards a little building away in a hollow -among trees. It was low, it was of unhewn stone bonded with lines of -red tile or brick, only a little above the moss-grown roof rose a -thin square tower. The tiny rounded windows showed walls of great -thickness and over its one door was a mighty round arch, much wrought. - -“Does the old place take your fancy?” Sir Brian said. - -“How did that get here?” said Reggie. - -“Well, you’ve got me on my blind side,” Sir Brian confessed. “We call -it the old church. I dare say it’s as old as the Hall.” - -“The Hall’s a baby to it,” said Reggie angrily. “The porch is Norman. -There’s Saxon work in that tower. And that tile is Roman.” - -Sir Brian laughed. “What about the Greeks and the Hebrews? Give them -a look in.” Reggie was not pleased with him. “Sorry, afraid these -things don’t mean much to me. I don’t know how it began.” - -“It may have been a shrine or a chapel over some sacred place.” - -“Haven’t a notion. They say it used to be the village church. One of -my revered ancestors stopped the right of way--didn’t like the people -disturbing his poultry, I suppose--and built ’em a new church outside -the park.” - -“Priceless,” Reggie murmured. - -“What, the place or my ancestors?” - -“Well, both, don’t you think?” - -For the rest of the way Sir Brian told strange stories of the past of -the family of Carwell. - -“He’s a good talker, sir,” said Superintendent Bell, when they had -left him at the park gate and were in their car. “Very pleasant -company. But you’ve something on your mind.” - -“The chair,” Reggie mumbled. “Why was the man in his chair?” - -“Lord Carwell, sir?” Bell struggled to adjust his mind. “Well, he -was. That girl was telling the truth.” - -“I know, I know. That’s the difficulty. You smash the side of a man’s -head in. He won’t sit down to think about it.” - -“Perhaps he was sitting when he was hit.” - -“Then he’d be knocked over just the same.” - -“I suppose the murderer might have picked him up.” - -“He might. But why? Why?” - -Superintendent Bell sighed heavily. “I judge we’ve some way to go, -sir. And we don’t seem to get any nearer the butler.” - -“Your job,” said Reggie, and again the Superintendent sighed. - -That night through a drizzling rain, lanterns moved in the village -churchyard. The vault in which the Carwells of a hundred and fifty -years lie crumbling was opened, and out of it a coffin was borne -away. One man lingered in the vault holding a lantern high. He moved -from one coffin to another, and came up again to the clean air and -the rain. “All present and correct,” he said. “No deception, Bell.” - -Superintendent Bell coughed. Sometimes he thinks Mr. Fortune lacking -in reverence. - -“Division of labour,” Reggie sank into the cushions of the car and -lit a pipe, “the division of labour is the great principle of -civilization. Perhaps you didn’t know that? In the morning I will -look at the corpse and you will look for the butler.” - -“Well, sir, I don’t care for my job, but I wouldn’t have yours for a -hundred pounds.” - -“Yet it has a certain interest,” Reggie murmured, “for that poor -devil with the death sentence on him.” - -To their hotel in Southam Reggie Fortune came back on the next day -rather before lunch time. - -“Finished at the mortuary, sir?” said Bell. “I thought you looked -happy.” - -“Not happy. Only pleased with myself. A snare, Bell, a snare. Have -you found the butler?” - -Bell shook his head. “It’s like a fairy tale, sir. He went out on -that evening, walked down the village street, and that’s the last of -him they know. He might have gone to the station, he might have gone -on the Southam motor-bus. They can’t swear he didn’t, but nobody saw -him. They’ve searched the whole country-side and dragged the river. -If you’ll tell me what to do next, I’ll be glad.” - -“Sir Brian’s been asking for me, they say,” said Reggie. “I think -we’ll go and call on Sir Brian.” - -They took sandwiches and their motor to Carwell Hall. The new butler -told them Sir Brian had driven into Southam and was not yet back. -“Oh, we’ve crossed him, I suppose,” Reggie said. “We might stroll in -the park till he’s back. Ah, can we get into the old church?” - -The butler really couldn’t say, and remarked that he was new to the -place. - -“Oh, it’s no matter.” Reggie took Bell’s arm and strolled away. - -They wandered down to the little old church, “Makes you feel -melancholy, sir, don’t it?” Bell said. “Desolate, as you might say. -As if people had got tired of believing in God.” - -Reggie looked at him a moment and went into the porch and tried the -worm-eaten oak door. “We might have a look at the place,” he said, -and took out of his pocket a flat case like a housewife. - -“Good Lord, sir, I wouldn’t do that,” Bell recoiled. “I mean to -say--it’s a church after all.” - -But Reggie was already picking the old lock. The door yielded and he -went in. A dank and musty smell met them. The church was all but -empty. Dim light fell on a shattered rood screen and stalls, and a -bare stone altar. A tomb bore two cadaverous effigies. Reggie moved -hither and thither prying into every corner, and came at last to a -broken flight of stairs. “Oh, there’s a crypt, is there,” he -muttered, and went down. “Hallo! Come on, Bell.” - -Superintendent Bell, following reluctantly, found him struggling with -pieces of timber, relics of stall and bench, which held a door -closed. “Give me a hand, man.” - -“I don’t like it, sir, and that’s the truth.” - -“Nor do I,” Reggie panted, “not a bit,” and dragged the last piece -away and pulled the door open. He took out a torch and flashed the -light on. They looked into a place supported on low round arches. The -beam of the torch moved from coffin to mouldering coffin. - -“Good God,” Bell gasped, and gripped Reggie’s arm. - -Reggie drew him in. They came to the body of a man which had no -coffin. It lay upon its face. Reggie bent over it, touching gently -the back of the neck. “I thought so,” he muttered, and turned the -body over. Bell gave a stifled cry. - -“Quite so, quite----” he sprang up and made a dash for the door. It -was slammed in his face. He flung himself against it, and it yielded -a little but held. A dull creaking and groaning told that the timbers -were being set again in place. Together they charged the door and -were beaten back “And that’s that, Bell,” said Reggie. He flashed his -light round the crypt, and it fell again on the corpse. “You and me -and the butler.” - -Bell’s hand felt for him. “Mr. Fortune--Mr. Fortune--was he dead when -he came here?” - -“Oh Lord, yes. Sir Brian’s quite a humane man. But business is -business.” - -“Sir Brian?” Bell gasped. - -“My dear chap,” said Reggie irritably, “don’t make conversation.” He -turned his torch on the grey oak of the door. . . . - -It was late in that grim afternoon before they had cut and kicked a -hole in it, and Reggie’s hand came through and felt for the timbers -which held it closed. Twilight was falling when, dirty and reeking, -they broke out of the church and made for the Hall. - -Sir Brian--the new butler could not conceal his surprise at seeing -them--Sir Brian had gone out in the big car. But the butler feared -there must be some mistake. He understood that Sir Brian had seen the -gentlemen and was to take them with him. Sir Brian had sent the -gentlemen’s car back to Southam. Sir Brian---- - -“Where’s your telephone?” said Reggie. - -The butler was afraid the telephone was out of order. He had been -trying to get---- - -Reggie went to the receiver. There was no answer. Still listening, he -looked at the connexions. A couple of inches of wire were cut out. -Half an hour later two breathless men arrived at the village post -office and shut themselves into the telephone call-box. - -On the next day Lomas called at Mr. Fortune’s house in Wimpole Street -and was told that Mr. Fortune was in his bath. A parlourmaid with -downcast eyes announced to him a few minutes later that if he would -go up Mr. Fortune would be very glad to see him. - -“Pardon me,” said the pink cherubic face from the water. “I am not -clean. I think I shall never be clean again.” - -“You look like a prawn,” said Lomas. - -“That’s your unscientific mind. Have you got him?” - -Lomas shook his head. “He has been seen in ten places at once. They -have arrested a blameless bookmaker at Hull and an Irish -cattle-dealer at Birkenhead. As usual. But we ought to have him in -time.” - -“My fault entirely. He is an able fellow. I have underrated these -business men, Lomas. My error. Occasionally one has a head. He has.” - -“These madmen often have.” - -Reggie wallowed in the water. “Mad? He’s as sane as I am. He’s been -badly educated, that’s all. That’s the worst of business men. They’re -so ignorant. Just look at it. He killed Hugo by a knife thrust in the -vertebrae at the base of the skull. It’s a South American fashion, -probably indigenous. When I found that wound in the body I was sure -of the murderer. I had a notion before from the way he spoke about -Hugo and the estate. Probably Hugo was bent over the table and the -blow was struck without his knowledge. He would be dead in a moment. -But Sir Brian saw that wouldn’t do. Too uncommon a murder in England. -So he smashed in the skull to make it look like an ordinary crime of -violence. Thus ignorance is bliss. He never thought the death wasn’t -the right kind of death for that. Also it didn’t occur to him that a -man who is hit on the head hard is knocked down. He don’t lay his -head on the table to be hammered same like Hugo. I don’t fancy Brian -meant Mark to be hanged. Possibly he was going to manufacture -evidence of burglary when he was interrupted by the butler. Anyhow -the butler knew too much and had to be bought off. But I suppose the -butler wouldn’t stand Mark being hanged. When he found the trial was -going dead against Mark he threatened. So he had to be killed too. -Say by appointment in the park. Same injury in his body--a stab -through the cervical vertebrae. And the corpse was neatly disposed of -in the crypt.” - -“What in the world put you on to the crypt?” - -“Well, Sir Brian was so anxious not to be interested in the place. -And the place was so mighty convenient. And the butler had to be -somewhere. Pure reasoning, Lomas, old thing. This is a very rational -case all through.” - -“Rational! Will you tell me why Sir Brian came to stir us up about -the butler and insisted Mark was innocent?” - -“I told you he was an able man. He saw it would have looked very -fishy if he didn’t. Acting head of the family--he had to act. And -also I fancy he liked Mark. If he could get the boy off, he would -rather do it than not. And who could suspect the worthy fellow who -was so straight and decent? All very rational.” - -“Very,” said Lomas. “Especially the first murder. Why do you suppose -he wanted to kill Hugo?” - -“Well, you’d better look at his papers. He talked about Hugo as if he -had a grudge against the way Hugo ran the estate. I wonder if he -wanted to develop it--try for minerals perhaps--it’s on the edge of -the South Midland coal-field--and Hugo wouldn’t have it.” - -“Good Gad!” Lomas said. “You’re an ingenious fellow, Fortune. He had -proposed to Hugo to try for coal, and Hugo turned it down.” - -Reggie emerged from the bath. “There you have it. He knew if Hugo was -out of the way he could do what he wanted. If Mark or the old parson -had the place, he could manage them. Very rational crime.” - -“Rational! Murder your cousin to make a coal mine!” - -“Business men and business methods. Run away and catch him, Lomas, -and hang him to encourage the others.” - -But in fact Lomas did not catch him. Some years afterwards Mrs. -Fortune found her husband on the veranda of an hotel in Italy staring -at a Spanish paper. “Don’t dream, child,” she said. “Run and dress.” - -“I’m seeing ghosts, Joan,” said Mr. Fortune. - -She looked over his shoulder. “Who is San Jacinto?” - -“The last new South American republic. Here’s His Excellency the -President. _Né_ Brian Carwell. Observe the smile.” - - - - - CASE III - - THE YOUNG DOCTOR - -MR. REGINALD FORTUNE came into Superintendent Bell’s room at Scotland -Yard. “That was chocolate cream,” he said placidly. “You’d better -arrest the aunt.” - -The superintendent took up his telephone receiver and spoke into it -fervently. You remember the unpleasant affair of the aunt and her -niece’s child. - -“‘Oh, fat white woman that nobody loves,’” Mr. Fortune murmured. -“Well, well. She’s not wholesome, you know. Some little error in the -ductless glands.” - -“She’s for it,” said Superintendent Bell with grim satisfaction. -“That’s a wicked woman, Mr. Fortune, and as clever as sin.” - -“Yes, quite unhealthy. A dull case, Bell.” He yawned and wandered -about the room and came to a stand by the desk. “What are these -curios?” He pointed to a skeleton key and a pad of cotton-wool. - -“The evidence in that young doctor’s case, the Bloomsbury diamond -burglary. Not worth keeping, I suppose. That was a bad business -though. I was sorry for the lad. But it was a straight case. Did you -read it, sir? Young fellow making a start, hard fight for it, on his -beam ends, gets to know a man with a lot of valuable stuff in his -rooms--and steals it. An impudent robbery too--but that’s the usual -way when a decent fellow goes wrong, he loses his head. Lead us not -into temptation. That’s the moral of Dr. Wilton’s case. He’s only -thirty, he’s a clever fellow, he ought to have done well, he’s ruined -himself--and if he’d had a hundred pounds in the bank he’d have run -straight enough.” - -“A lot of crime is a natural product.” Mr. Fortune repeated a -favourite maxim of his. “I didn’t read it, Bell. How did it go?” He -sat down and lit a cigar. - -“The trial was in this morning’s papers, sir. Only a small affair. -Dr. Horace Wilton came out of the army with a gratuity and a little -money of his own. He set up as a specialist. You know the usual -thing. His plate up with three or four others on a Harley Street -house where he had a little consulting-room to himself. He lived in a -Bloomsbury flat. Well, the patients didn’t come. He wasn’t known, he -had no friends, and his money began to run out.” - -“Poor devil,” Reggie nodded. - -“A Dutch diamond merchant called Witt came to live in the flats. -Wilton got to know him, prescribed for a cold or something. Witt took -to the doctor, made friends, heard about his troubles, offered to get -him a berth in the Dutch colonies, gave him two or three rough -diamonds--a delicate way of giving him money, I suppose. Then one -morning the valet--service flats they are--coming into Witt’s rooms -found him heavily asleep. He’d been chloroformed. There was that pad -on his pillow.” - -Reggie took up the box in which the cotton-wool and the skeleton key -lay. - -“Don’t shake it,” said the superintendent. “Do you see those scraps -of tobacco? That’s important. The bureau in which Witt kept the -diamonds he had with him had been forced open and the diamonds were -gone. Witt sent for the police. Now you see that tobacco on the -cotton-wool. The inspector spotted that. The cotton-wool must have -been handled by a man who smoked that tobacco. Most likely carried it -in the same pocket. Unusual stuff, isn’t it? Well, the inspector -remarked on that to Witt. Witt was horrified. You see it’s South -African tobacco. And he knew Wilton used the stuff. There was some -spilt in the room, too.” - -“Have you got that?” said Reggie. - -“No. I don’t think it was produced. But our man saw it, and he’s -reliable. Then a Dutch journalist dropped in. He was just over in -England. He’d called on Witt late the night before and couldn’t make -him hear. That surprised him because as he came up he’d seen some one -coming out of Witt’s rooms, some one who went into Wilton’s. That was -enough to act on. Wilton was arrested and his flat was searched. -Tucked away in the window seat they found the diamonds and that -skeleton key. He stood his trial yesterday, he made no defence but to -swear that he knew nothing about it. The evidence was clear. Witt--he -must be a soft-hearted old fellow--Witt tried to let him down as -gently as he could and asked the judge to go easy with him. Old -Borrowdale gave him five years. A stiff sentence, but the case itself -would break the man’s career, poor chap. A bad business, sir, isn’t -it? Impudent, ungrateful piece of thieving--but he might have been -honest enough if he could have made a living at his job.” - -Mr. Fortune did not answer. He was looking at the key. He set it -down, took up a magnifying glass, carried the box to the light and -frowned over the cotton-wool. - -“What’s the matter with it, sir?” - -“The key,” Mr. Fortune mumbled, still studying the cotton-wool. “Why -was the key made in Germany? Why does Dr. Horace Wilton of Harley -Street and Bloomsbury use a skeleton key that was made in Solingen?” - -“Well, sir, you can’t tell how a man comes by that sort of stuff. It -goes about from hand to hand, don’t it?” - -“Yes. Whose hand?” said Reggie. “And why does your local expert swear -this is South African tobacco? There is a likeness. But this is that -awful stuff they sell in Germany and call Rauch-tabak.” - -Bell was startled. “That’s awkward, sir. German too, eh?” - -“Well, you can buy Solingen goods outside Germany. And German -tobacco, too. Say in Holland.” - -“I don’t know what you’re thinking, sir?” - -“Oh, I think the tobacco was a little error. I think the tobacco -ought not to have been there. But it was rather unlucky for Dr. -Wilton your bright expert took it for his brand.” - -The superintendent looked uncomfortable. “Yes, sir, that’s the sort -of thing we don’t want to happen. But after all the case didn’t turn -on the tobacco. There was the man who swore he saw Wilton leaving -Witt’s flat and the finding of the diamonds in Wilton’s room. Without -the tobacco the evidence was clear.” - -“I know. I said the tobacco was superfluous. That’s why it interests -me. Superfluous, not to say awkward. We know Wilton don’t use -Rauch-tabak. Yet there is Rauch-tabak on the chloroformed pad. Which -suggests that some one else was on the job. Some fellow with a taste -for German flavours. The sort of fellow who’d use a German key.” - -“There’s not a sign of Wilton’s having an accomplice,” said Bell -heavily. “But of course it’s possible.” - -Mr. Fortune looked at him with affection. “Dear Bell,” he said, “you -must find the world very wonderful. No, I wouldn’t look for an -accomplice. But I think you might look for the diamond merchant and -the journalist. I should like to ask them who smokes Rauch-tabak.” - -“There must be an investigation,” Bell sighed. “I see that, sir. But -I can’t see that it will do the poor fellow any good. And it’s bad -for the department.” - -Reggie smiled upon him. “Historic picture of an official struggling -with his humanity,” he said. “Poor old Bell!” - -At the end of that week Mr. Fortune was summoned to Scotland Yard. He -found the chief of the Criminal Investigation Department in -conference with Eddis, a man of law from the Home Office. - -“Hallo! Life is real, life is earnest, isn’t it, Lomas?” he smiled. - -The Hon. Sidney Lomas put up an eyeglass and scowled at him. “You -know, you’re not a man of science, Fortune. You’re an agitator. You -ought to be bound over to keep the peace.” - -“I should call him a departmental nuisance,” said Eddis gloomily. - -“In returnin’ thanks (one of your larger cigars would do me no harm, -Lomas) I would only ask, where does it hurt you?” - -“The Wilton case was a very satisfactory case till you meddled,” said -Eddis. “Also it was a _chose jugée_.” - -“And now it’s unjudged? How good for you!” Reggie chuckled. “How -stimulating!” - -“Now,” said Lomas severely, “it’s insane. It’s a nightmare.” - -“Yes. Yes, I dare say that’s what Dr. Wilton thinks,” said Reggie -gravely. “Well, how far have you got?” - -“You were right about the tobacco, confound you. And the key. Both of -German birth. And will you kindly tell me what that means?” - -“My honourable friend’s question,” said Reggie, “should be addressed -to Mynheer Witt or Mynheer Gerard. You know, this is like Alice in -Wonderland. Sentence first, trial afterwards. Why didn’t you look -into the case before you tried it? Then you could have asked Witt and -Gerard these little questions when you had them in the box. And very -interesting too.” - -“We can’t ask them now, at any rate. They’ve vanished. Witt left his -flat on the day of the trial. Gerard left his hotel the same night. -Both said they were going back to Amsterdam. And here’s the Dutch -police information. ‘Your telegram of the 27th not understood. No men -as described known in Amsterdam. Cannot trace arrivals.’” - -“Well, well,” said Reggie. “Our active and intelligent police force. -The case has interest, hasn’t it, Lomas, old thing?” - -“What is it you want to suggest, Fortune?” Eddis looked at him keenly. - -“I want to point out the evanescence of the evidence--the -extraordinary evanescence of the evidence.” - -“That’s agreed,” Eddis nodded. “The whole thing is unsatisfactory. -The tobacco, so far as it is evidence, turns out to be in favour of -the prisoner. The only important witnesses for the prosecution -disappear after the trial leaving suspicion of their status. But -there remains the fact that the diamonds were found in the prisoner’s -room.” - -“Oh yes, some one put ’em there,” Reggie smiled. - -“Let’s have it clear, Fortune,” said the man of law. “Your suggestion -is that the whole case against Wilton was manufactured by these men -who have disappeared?” - -“That is the provisional hypothesis. Because nothing else covers the -facts. There were German materials used, and Wilton has nothing to do -with Germany. The diamond merchant came to the flats where Wilton was -already living and sought Wilton’s acquaintance. The diamond -merchant’s friend popped up just in the nick of time to give -indispensable evidence. And the moment Wilton is safe in penal -servitude the pair of them vanish, and the only thing we can find out -about them is that they aren’t what they pretended to be. Well, the -one hypothesis which fits all these facts is that these two fellows -wanted to put Dr. Horace Wilton away. Any objection to that, Eddis?” - -“There’s only one objection--why? Your theory explains everything -that happened, but leaves us without any reason why anything happened -at all. That is, it’s an explanation which makes the case more -obscure than ever. We can understand why Wilton might have stolen -diamonds. Nobody can understand why anyone should want to put him in -prison.” - -“Oh my dear fellow! You’re so legal. What you don’t know isn’t -knowledge. You don’t know why Wilton had to be put out of the way. No -more do I. But----” - -“No more did Wilton,” said Eddis sharply. “He didn’t suspect these -fellows. His defence didn’t suggest that he had any enemies. He only -denied all knowledge of the theft, and his counsel argued that the -real thief had used his rooms to hide the diamonds in because he was -surprised and scared.” - -“Yes. That was pretty feeble, wasn’t it? These lawyers, Eddis, these -lawyers! A stodgy tribe.” - -“We do like evidence.” - -“Then why not use it? The man Witt was very interesting in the box. -He said that in the kindness of his heart he had offered this -ungrateful young doctor a job in the Dutch colonies. Quite a nice -long way from England, Eddis. Wilton wouldn’t take it. So Wilton had -to be provided for otherwise.” - -Eddis looked at him thoughtfully. “I agree there’s something in that. -But why? We know all about Wilton. He’s run quite straight till -now--hospital career, military service, this private practice all -straightforward and creditable. How should he have enemies who stick -at nothing to get him out of the way? A man in a gang of criminals or -revolutionaries is sometimes involved in a sham crime by the others -to punish him, or for fear he should betray them. But that can’t be -Wilton’s case. His life’s all open and ordinary. I suppose a man -might have private enemies who would use such a trick, though I don’t -know another case.” - -“Oh Lord, yes,” said Lomas, “there was the Buckler affair. I always -thought that was the motive in the Brendon murder.” - -Eddis frowned. “Well--as you say. But Wilton has no suspicion of a -trumped-up case. He doesn’t know he has enemies.” - -“No,” said Reggie. “I rather think Wilton don’t know what it is he -knows. Suppose he blundered on some piece of awkward evidence about -Mr. Witt or some of Mr. Witt’s friends. He don’t know it’s -dangerous--but they do.” - -“Men have been murdered in a case like that and never knew why they -were killed,” said Lomas. - -“I dare say,” Eddis cried. “It’s all quite possible. But it’s all in -the air. I have nothing that I can act upon.” - -“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” said Reggie. “You’re so modest.” - -“Perhaps I am,” Eddis shrugged. “But I can’t recommend Wilton’s -sentence for revision on a provisional hypothesis.” - -“Revision be damned,” Reggie cried. “I want him free.” - -Eddis stared at him. “But this is fantastic,” he protested. - -“Free and cleared. My God, think of the poor beggar in a convict gang -because these rascals found him inconvenient. To reduce his sentence -is only another wrong. He wants you to give him his life back.” - -“It is a hard case,” Eddis sighed. “But what can I do? I can’t clear -the man’s character. If we let him out now, he’s a broken man.” - -“My dear fellow, I’m saying so,” said Reggie mildly. “There’s also -another point. What is it Mr. Witt’s up to that’s so important? I -could bear to know that.” - -“That’s not my job,” said Eddis with relief. “But you’re still in the -air, Fortune. What do you want to do? I must take some action.” - -“And that’s very painful to any good official. I sympathize with you. -Lomas sympathizes with you more, don’t you, Lomas, old thing? And I’m -not sure that you can do any good.” Mr. Fortune relapsed into cigar -smoke and meditation. - -“You’re very helpful,” said Eddis. - -“The fact is, all the evidence against the man has gone phut,” said -Lomas. “It’s deuced awkward, but we have to face it. Better let him -out, Eddis.” - -Eddis gasped. “My dear Lomas! I really can’t follow you. The only -evidence which is proved false is the tobacco, which wasn’t crucial. -The rest is open to suspicion, but we can’t say it’s false, and it -satisfied the judge and jury. It’s unprecedented to reduce the -sentence to nothing in such a case.” - -“I’m not thinking of your troubles,” said Lomas. “I want to know what -Mr. Witt has up his sleeve.” - -Reggie came out of his smoke. “Let Wilton out--have him watched--and -see what Witt and Co. get up to. Well, that’s one way. But it’s a -gamble.” - -“It’s also out of the question,” Eddis announced. - -Reggie turned on him. “What exactly are you for, Eddis?” he said. -“What is the object of your blessed existence?” - -Eddis remarked coldly that it was not necessary to lose one’s temper. - -“No. No, I’m not cross with you, but you puzzle my simple mind. I -thought your job was to see justice done. Well, get on with it.” - -“If you’ll be so very good as to say what you suggest,” said Eddis, -flushing. - -“You’ll say it’s unprecedented. Well, well. This is my little notion. -Tell the defence about the tobacco and say that that offers a ground -for carrying the case to the Court of Appeal. Then let it get into -the papers that there’s a doubt about the conviction, probability of -the Wilton case being tried again, and so on. Something rather -pompous and mysterious to set the papers going strong about Wilton.” -He smiled at Lomas. “I think we could wangle that?” - -“I have known it done,” said Lomas. - -“Good heavens, I couldn’t have any dealings with the press,” Eddis -cried. - -“Bless your sweet innocence. We’ll manage it. It don’t matter what -the papers say so long as they say a lot. That’ll wake up Witt and -Co., and we’ll see what happens.” - -Eddis looked horrified and bewildered. “I think it is clear the -defence should be advised of the flaw discovered in the evidence in -order that the conviction may be reviewed by the Court of Appeal,” he -said solemnly. “But of course I--I couldn’t sanction anything more.” - -“That’s all right, my dear fellow,” Lomas smiled “Nobody sanctions -these things. Nobody does them. They only happen.” And Eddis was got -rid of. - -“My country, oh my country!” Reggie groaned. “That’s the kind of man -that governs England.” - -A day or two later saw Mr. Fortune shivering on an April morning -outside Princetown prison. He announced to the governor that he -wanted to get to know Dr. Wilton. - -“I don’t think you’ll make much of him,” the governor shook his head. -“The man seems stupefied. Of course a fellow who has been in a good -position often is so when he comes here. Wilton’s taking it very -hard. When we told him there was a flaw in the evidence and he could -appeal against his sentence, he showed no interest. He was sullen and -sour as he has been all the time. All he would say was ‘What’s the -good? You’ve done for me.’” - -“Poor devil,” Reggie sighed. - -“It may be.” The governor looked dubious. “No one can judge a man’s -character on his first days in prison. But I’ve known men who gave me -a good deal more reason to believe them innocent.” - -Dr. Wilton was brought in, a shred of a man in his prison clothes. A -haggard face glowered at Reggie. “My name’s Fortune, Dr. Wilton,” -Reggie held out his hand. It was ignored. “I come from Scotland Yard. -I found the mistake which had been made about the tobacco. It made me -very interested in your case. I feel sure we don’t know the truth of -it. If you can help me to that it’s going to help you.” He waited. - -“The police can’t help me,” said Wilton. “I’m not going to say -anything.” - -“My dear chap, I know that was a bad blunder. But there’s more than -that wants looking into. If you’ll give us a chance we might be able -to clear up the whole case and set you on your feet again. That’s -what I’m here for.” - -And Wilton laughed. “No thanks,” he said unpleasantly. - -“Just think of it. I can’t do you any harm. I’m looking for the -truth. I’m on your side. What I want to know is, have you got any -enemies? Anyone who might like to damage you? Anybody who wanted to -put you out of the way?” - -“Only the police,” said Wilton. - -“Oh, my dear chap!” Reggie brushed that away. “Did anything strange -ever happen to you before this charge?” - -“What?” Wilton flushed. “Oh, I see. I’m an old criminal, am I? Better -look for my previous convictions. Or you can invent ’em. Quite easy.” - -“My dear chap, what good can this do you?” said Reggie sadly. “The -police didn’t invent this charge. Your friend Mr. Witt made it. Do -you know anything about Mr. Witt? Did it ever occur to you he wanted -you off the scene--in the Dutch colonies--or in prison?” - -“I’ve nothing against Witt,” said Wilton. - -“Oh, my dear fellow! How did the diamonds get in your room?” - -“Yes, how did they?” said Wilton savagely. “Ask your police -inspector. The man who said that was my tobacco. You’re a policeman. -You know how these jobs are done.” - -“I wish I did,” Reggie sighed. “If I did I dare say you wouldn’t be -here.” - -But he could get no more out of Dr. Wilton. He went away sorrowful. -He had not recovered his spirits when he sought Lomas next morning. -Lomas was brisk. “You’re the man I want. What’s the convict’s theory -of it?” - -Reggie shook his head. “Lomas, old thing, do I ever seem a little -vain of my personal charm? The sort of fellow who thinks fellows -can’t resist him?” - -“Nothing offensive, Fortune. A little childlike, perhaps. You do -admire yourself, don’t you?” - -“Quoth the raven ‘Nevermore.’ When you find me feeling fascinating -again, kindly murmur the name Wilton. I didn’t fascinate him. Not one -little damn. He was impossible.” - -“You surprise me,” said Lomas gravely. “Nothing out of him at all?” - -“Too much, too much,” Reggie sighed. “Sullen, insolent, stupid--that -was our young doctor, poor devil. It was the wicked police that did -him in, a put-up job by the force, the inspector hid the diamonds in -his room to spite him. Such was Dr. Horace Wilton, the common, silly -criminal to the life. It means nothing, of course. The poor beggar’s -dazed. Like a child kicking the naughty chair that he fell over.” - -“I’m not so sure,” said Lomas. “The inspector has shot himself, -Fortune. We had him up here, you know, to inquire into the case. He -was nervous and confused. He went back home and committed suicide.” -Reggie Fortune huddled himself together in his chair. “Nothing -against the man before. There’s only this question of the tobacco -against him now. But it looks ugly, doesn’t it?” - -“We know he said the tobacco was what it isn’t. If that made him kill -himself he was too conscientious for a policeman, poor beggar. Why -does it look ugly, Lomas? I think it’s pitiful. My God, if we all -shot ourselves when we made mistakes, there would be vacancies in the -force. Poor Wilton said the inspector put the diamonds in his room. -But that’s crazy.” - -“It’s all crazy. You are a little confused yourself, Fortune. You say -it’s preposterous for the man to shoot himself merely because he made -a mistake, and equally preposterous to suppose he had any other -reason.” - -“Poor beggar, poor beggar,” Reggie murmured. “No, Lomas, I’m not -confused. I’m only angry. Wilton’s not guilty and your inspector’s -not guilty. And one’s in prison and one’s dead, and we call ourselves -policemen. Shutting the stable door after the horse’s stolen, that’s -a policeman’s job. But great heavens, we don’t even shut the door.” - -Lomas shook his head. “Not only angry, I fear, but rattled. My dear -Fortune, what can we do?” - -“Witt hasn’t shown his hand?” - -“Not unless he had a hand in the inspector’s suicide.” - -“I suppose it was suicide?” - -“Well, you’d better look at the body. The evidence is good enough.” - -“Nothing in the papers?” - -Lomas stared at him. “Columns of course. All quite futile. You didn’t -expect evidence in the papers, did you?” - -“You never know, you know. You don’t put a proper value on the Press, -Lomas.” - -It has been remarked of Mr. Fortune that when he is interested he -will do everything himself. This is considered by professional -critics a weakness. Yet in this case of the young doctor, where he -was continually occupied with details, he seems to have kept a clear -head for strategy. - -He went to see the inspector’s body in the mortuary. He came out in -gloomy thought. - -“Satisfied, sir?” said Superintendent Bell, who escorted him. - -Reggie stopped and stared at him. “Oh, Peter, what a word!” he -muttered. “Satisfied! No, Bell, not satisfied. Only infuriated. He -killed himself all right, poor beggar. One more victim for Witt and -Company.” - -“What’s the next move, sir?” - -“Goodbye,” said Mr. Fortune. “I’m going home to read the papers.” - -With all the London papers which had appeared since the news that -there was a doubt about the justice of Wilton’s conviction had been -given them, he shut himself into his study. Most of them had taken -the hint that there was a mystery in the case and made a lot of it. -The more rational were content to tell the story in detail, pointing -out the incongruity of such a man as Wilton and the crime. The more -fatuous put out wild inventions as to the theories held by the -police. But there was general sympathy with Dr. Wilton, a general -readiness to expect that he would be cleared. He had a good -press--except for the “Daily Watchman.” - -The “Daily Watchman” began in the same strain as the rest of the -sillier papers, taking Wilton’s innocence for granted, and devising -crazy explanations of the burglary. But on the third day it burst -into a different tune. Under a full-page headline “The Wilton -Scandal,” its readers were warned against the manufactured agitation -to release the man Wilton. It was a trick of politicians and civil -servants and intellectuals to prevent the punishment of a rascally -criminal. It was another case of one law for the rich and another for -the poor. It was a corrupt job to save a scoundrel who had friends in -high places. It was, in fine, all sorts of iniquity, and the British -people must rise in their might and keep the wicked Wilton in gaol if -they did not want burglars calling every night. - -Mr. Fortune went to sup at that one of his clubs used by certain -journalists. There he sought and at last found Simon Winterbottom, -the queerest mixture of scholarship, slang, and backstairs gossip to -be found in London. “Winter,” said he, having stayed the man with -flagons, “who runs the ‘Daily Watchman’?” - -“My God!” Winterbottom was much affected. “Are you well, Reginald? -Are you quite well? It’s the wonkiest print on the market. All -newspapers are run by madmen, but the ‘Watchman’ merely dithers.” - -“You said ‘on the market,’” Reggie repeated. “Corrupt?” - -“Well, naturally. Too balmy to live honest. Why this moral fervour, -Reginald? I know you’re officially a guardian of virtue, but you -mustn’t let it weigh on your mind.” - -“I want to know why the ‘Watchman’ changed sides on the Wilton case.” - -Winterbottom grinned. “That was a giddy stunt, wasn’t it? The -complete Gadarene. I don’t know, Reginald. Why ask for reasons? Let -twenty pass and stone the twenty-first, loving not, hating not, just -choosing so.” - -“I wonder,” Reggie murmured. “It’s the change of mind. The sudden -change of mind. This is rather a bad business, Winter.” - -“Oh, simian,” Winterbottom agreed. His comical face was working. “You -are taking it hard, Reginald.” - -“I’m thinking of that poor devil Wilton. Who got at the Watchman, old -thing? I could bear to know.” - -On the next day but one Mr. Fortune received a letter. - - -DEAR R.,-- - -The greaser Kemp who owns the “Watchman” came in one bright day, -cancelled all instructions on the Wilton case and dictated the new -line. No known cause for the rash act. It leaks from his wretched -intimates that Kemp has a new pal, one Kuyper, a ruffian said by some -to be a Hun, certainly a City mushroom. This seems highly irrelevant. -You must not expect Kemp to be rational even in his vices. Sorry. - - S. W. - - -Mr. Fortune went into the city and consumed turtle soup and oyster -patties with Tommy Owen, the young son of an ancient firm of -stockbrokers. When they were back again in the dungeon which is -Tommy’s office, “Thomas, do you know anything of one Kuyper?” he said. - -“Wrong number, old bean,” Tommy Owen shook his round head. “Not in my -department. International finance is Mr. Julius Kuyper’s line.” - -Reggie smiled. It is the foible of Tommy Owen to profess ignorance. -“Big business?” he said. - -“Not so much big business as queer business. Mr. Julius Kuyper blew -into London some months ago. Yes, January. He is said to be -negotiating deals in Russian mining properties.” - -“Sounds like selling gold bricks.” - -“Well, not in my department,” said Tommy Owen again. “There’s some -money somewhere. Mr. Kuyper does the thing in style. He’s thick with -some fellows who don’t go where money isn’t. In point of fact, old -dear, I’ve rather wondered about Mr. Kuyper. Do you know anything?” - -“Nothing that fits, Tommy. What does he want in London?” - -“Search me,” said Tommy Owen. “I say, Fortune, when Russia went pop -some blokes must have laid their hands on a lot of good stuff. I -suppose you fellows at Scotland Yard know where it’s gone?” - -“I wonder if your friend Kuyper’s been dealing in jewels.” - -Tommy Owen looked wary. “Don’t that fit, old bean? There’s a blighter -that’s been busy with brother Kuyper blossomed out with a rare old -black pearl in his tiepin. They used to tell me the good black pearls -went to Russia.” - -“What is Kuyper? A Hun?” - -“I wouldn’t bet on it. He might be anything. Lean beggar, oldish, -trim little beard, very well groomed, talks English well, says he’s a -Dutchman. You could see him yourself. He has offices in that ghastly -new block in Mawdleyn Lane.” - -“Thanks very much, Thomas,” said Mr. Fortune. - -“Oh, not a bit. Sorry I don’t know anything about the blighter,” said -Tommy Owen, and Mr. Fortune laughed. - -As a taxi took him home to Wimpole Street he considered his evidence. -The mysterious Kuyper said he was Dutch. The vanished Witt also said -he was Dutch. Kuyper said he was selling Russian jewels. Witt also -dealt in jewels. Mr. Fortune went home and telephoned to Lomas that -Julius Kuyper of Mawdleyn Lane should be watched, and by men of -experience. - -Even over the telephone the voice of Lomas expressed surprise. -“Kuyper?” it repeated. “What is the reference, Fortune? The Wilton -case. Quite so. You did say Julius Kuyper? But he’s political. He’s a -Bolshevik.” - -Reggie also felt some surprise but he did not show it. - -“Some of your men who’ve moved in good criminal society,” he said -firmly. “Rush it, old thing.” - -After breakfast on the next day but one he was going to the telephone -to talk to Lomas when the thing rang at him. “Is that Fortune?” said -Lomas’s voice. “Speaking? The great Mr. Fortune! I looks towards you, -Reginald. I likewise bows. Come right on.” - -Mr. Fortune found Lomas with Superintendent Bell. They lay back in -their chairs and looked at him. Lomas started up, came to him and -walked round him, eyeglass up. - -“What is this?” said Mr. Fortune. “Dumb crambo?” - -“Admiration,” Lomas sighed. “Reverence. Awe. How do you do these -things, Fortune? You look only human, not to say childlike. Yet you -have us all beat. You arrive while we’re still looking for the way.” - -“I wouldn’t have said it was a case for Mr. Fortune, either,” said -Bell. - -“No flowers, by request. Don’t be an owl, Lomas. Who is Kuyper?” - -Lomas sat down again. “I hoped you were going to tell us that,” he -said. “What in the world made you go for Kuyper?” - -“He calls himself Dutch and so did Witt. He deals in jewels and so -did Witt. And I fancy he set the ‘Daily Watchman’ howling that Wilton -must stay in prison.” - -“And if you will kindly make sense of that for me I shall be -obliged,” said Lomas. - -“It doesn’t make sense. I know that. Hang it all, you must do -something for yourselves. Justify your existence, Lomas. Who is -Kuyper?” - -“The political branch have had their eye on him for some time. He’s -been selling off Russian jewels. They believe he’s a Bolshevik.” - -“That don’t help us,” Reggie murmured. - -“No. The connexion of Wilton with Bolshevism isn’t what you’d call -obvious. I did think you were hunting the wild, wild goose, Reginald. -All my apologies. None of our men recognized Kuyper. But one of them -did recognize Mr. Witt. Mr. Witt is now something in Kuyper’s office. -Marvellous, Reginald. How do you do it?” - -“My head,” said Reggie Fortune. “Oh, my head! Kuyper’s a Bolshevik -agent and Kuyper employs a man to put Wilton out of the way. It’s a -bad dream.” - -“Yes, it’s not plausible. Not one of your more lucid cases, Fortune.” - -“I had thought,” said Bell diffidently, “if Dr. Wilton happened to -get to know of some Bolshevik plot, Mr. Fortune, they would be -wanting to put him out.” - -“They would--in a novel,” Reggie shook his head. “But hang it all, -Wilton don’t know that he ever knew anything.” - -“P’r’aps he’s a bit of a Bolshevik himself, sir,” said Bell. - -Lomas laughed. “Bell has a turn for melodrama.” - -“Yes. Yes, there is a lot of melodrama in the world. But somehow I -don’t fancy Kuyper, Witt and Co. play it. I think I’ll go and have a -little talk with the firm.” - -“You?” Lomas stared at him. - -“Not alone, I reckon, sir.” Bell stood up. - -“Well, you come and chaperon me. Yes, I want to look at ’em, Lomas. -Wilton’s a medical man, you know. I want to see the patients, too.” - -“You can try it,” Lomas said dubiously. “You realize we have nothing -definite against Witt, and nothing at all against Kuyper. And I’m not -sure that Kuyper hasn’t smelt a rat. He’s been staying at the -Olympian. He was there on Tuesday night, but last night our men lost -him.” - -“Come on, Bell,” said Mr. Fortune. - -Outside the big new block in Mawdleyn Lane Superintendent Bell -stopped a moment and looked round. A man crossed the road and made a -sign as he vanished into a doorway - -“He’s in, sir,” Bell said, and they went up to the offices of Mr. -Julius Kuyper. - -A pert young woman received them. They wanted to see Mr. Kuyper? By -appointment? Oh, Mr. Kuyper never saw anyone except by appointment. - -“He’ll see me,” said Bell, and gave her a card. She looked him over -impudently and vanished. Another young woman peered round the glass -screen at them. - -“Sorry.” The first young woman came briskly back. “Mr. Kuyper’s not -in. Better write and ask for an appointment.” - -“That won’t do. Who is in?” said Bell heavily. - -“Don’t you bully me!” she cried. - -“You don’t want to get into trouble, do you?” Bell frowned down at -her. “You go in there and say Superintendent Bell is waiting to see -Mr. Witt.” - -“We haven’t got any Mr. Witt.” - -“You do as you’re told.” - -She went. She was gone a long time. A murmur of voices was audible. -She came out again, looking flustered. “Well, what about it?” said -Bell. - -“I don’t know anything about it,” she said. A door slammed, a bell -rang. She made a nervous exclamation and turned to answer it. Bell -went first and Reggie on his heels. - -In the inner room an oldish man stood smoothing his hair. He was -flushed and at the sight of Bell he cried out: “But you intrude, sir.” - -“Ah, here’s our old friend, Mr. Witt,” Bell smiled. “I should----” - -“There is some mistake. You are wrong, sir. What is your name? Mr. -Superintendent--my name is Siegel.” - -“I dare say it is. Then why did you call yourself Witt?” - -“I do not know what you mean.” - -“I don’t forget faces. I should know you anywhere. You’re the Mr. -Witt who prosecuted Dr. Horace Wilton. Come, come, the game’s up now.” - -“What do you mean by that, sir?” - -“Time to tell the truth,” said Reggie sweetly, “time you began to -think of yourself, isn’t it? We know all about the evidence in the -Wilton burglary. Why did you do it, Mr. Witt? It wasn’t safe, you -know.” - -“What do you want?” - -“Well, where’s your friend Mr. Kuyper? We had better have him in.” - -“Mr. Kuyper has gone out, sir.” - -Reggie laughed. “Oh, I don’t think so. You’re not doing yourself -justice. I don’t suppose you wanted to trap Dr. Wilton. You’d better -consider your position. What is Mr. Kuyper’s little game with you?” - -Mr. Witt looked nervously round the room. “You--you mustn’t--I mean -we can’t talk here,” he said. “The girls will be listening.” - -“Oh, send the girls out to tea,” said Bell. - -“No. I can’t do that. I had rather come with you, Mr. Superintendent. -I would rather indeed.” - -“Come on then.” - -Mr. Witt, who was shaking with nervous fear, caught up his hat and -coat. The farther door of the room was flung open. Two pistol shots -were fired. As Reggie sprang at the door it was slammed in his face -and locked. Mr. Witt went down in a heap. Bell dashed through the -outer office into the corridor. Reggie knelt by Mr. Witt. - -“Kuyper,” Mr. Witt gasped. “Kuyper.” - -“I know. I know. We’ll get him yet. Where’s he gone?” - -“His yacht,” Mr. Witt gasped. “Yacht at Gravesend. He had it ready.” -He groaned and writhed. He was hit in the shoulder and stomach. - -Reggie did what he could for the man, and went to the telephone. He -had finished demanding an ambulance when Bell came back breathless, -with policemen in uniform at his heels. - -“The swine,” Bell gasped. “He’s off, sir. Must have gone down the -other staircase into Bull Court. We had a man there but he wouldn’t -know there was anything up, he’d only follow. Pray God he don’t lose -him. They lost him last night.” - -“Send these girls away,” said Mr. Fortune. “Let the constables keep -the door. I want to use the telephone.” And when the ambulance had -come and taken Mr. Witt, happily unconscious at last, to hospital, he -was still talking into the telephone. “Is that clear?” he concluded. -“All right. Goodbye.” He hung up the receiver. “Come on, Bell. It’s -Gravesend now. This is our busy day.” - -“Gravesend?” The superintendent stared. - -But it was into a teashop that Reggie plunged when they reached the -street. He came out with large paper bags just as a big car turned -painfully into Mawdleyn Lane. “Good man,” he smiled upon the -chauffeur. “Gravesend police station. And let her out when you can.” -With his mouth full he expounded to Superintendent Bell his theory of -the evasion of Mr. Kuyper. - -As the car drew up in Gravesend a man in plain clothes came out of -the police station. “Scotland Yard, sir?” Bell pulled a card out. -“Inspector’s down on the beach now. I was to take you to him.” - -By the pier the inspector was waiting. He hurried up to their car. -“Got him?” said Bell. - -“He’s off. You didn’t give us much time. But he’s been here. A man -answering to your description hired a motor yacht--cutter with -auxiliary engine--six weeks ago. It was rather noticed, being an -unusual time of year to start yachting. He’s been down odd times and -slept aboard. He seems to have slept aboard last night. I can’t find -anyone who’s seen him here to-day. But there’s a longshoreman swears -he saw a Tilbury boat go alongside the _Cyrilla_--that’s his yacht--a -while since, and the _Cyrilla’s_ away.” - -“Have you got a fast boat ready for us?” - -“At the pier head, sir. Motor launch.” - -“Good work,” Reggie smiled. And they hurried on board. - -“What’s the job, sir?” The captain of the launch touched his cap. - -“Dig out after the _Cyrilla_. You know her, don’t you?” - -“I do so. But I reckon she ain’t in sight. What’s the course?” - -“Down stream. She’ll be making for the Dutch coast. Are you good for -a long run?” - -“Surely. And I reckon it will be a long run. She’s fast, is -_Cyrilla_. Wind her up, Jim,” and the launch began to throb through -the water. - -Mr. Fortune retired under the hood and lit his pipe, and Bell -followed him. “He’s smart, isn’t he, sir, our Mr. Kuyper? His yacht -at Gravesend and he comes down by Tilbury. That’s neat work.” - -“Don’t rub it in, Bell. I know I ought to have thought of Tilbury.” - -Bell stared at him. “Good Lord, Mr. Fortune, I’m not blaming you, -sir.” - -“I am,” said Reggie. “It’s an untidy case, Bell. Well, well. I wonder -if I’ve missed anything more?” - -“I don’t know what you’ve missed, sir. I know I wouldn’t like to be -on the run if you were after me.” - -Reggie looked at the large, man with a gleam of amusement. “It would -be rather joyful, Bell,” he chuckled, and was solemn again. “No. I am -not happy. _Je n’ai pas de courage_. I want Mr. Kuyper.” - -It was a grey day. The Essex flats lay dim and sombre. The heights on -the southern shore were blurred. Yet they could see far out to the -Nore. An east wind was whipping the flood tide into tiny waves, -through which the launch clove, making, after the manner of her kind, -a great show of speed, leaving the tramps that chunked outward bound -as though they lay at anchor. - -“Do you see her yet?” Reggie asked the captain. - -“Maybe that’s her,” he pointed to a dim line on the horizon beyond -the lightship, a sailless mast, if it was anything. “Maybe not.” He -spat over the side. - -“Are you gaining on her?” - -“I reckon we’re coming up, sir.” - -“What’s that thing doing?” Reggie pointed to a long low black craft -near the Nore. - -“Destroyer, sir. Engines stopped.” - -“Run down to her, will you? How does one address the Navy, Bell? I -feel shy. Ask him if he’s the duty destroyer of the Nore Command, -will you?” - -“Good Lord, sir,” said Bell. - -The captain of the launch hailed. “Duty destroyer, sir?” - -“Aye, aye. Scotland Yard launch? Come alongside.” - -“Thank God for the Navy, as the soldier said,” Mr. Fortune murmured. -“Perhaps it will be warmer on board her.” - -“I say, sir, did you order a destroyer out?” - -“Oh, I asked Lomas to turn out the Navy. I thought we might want ’em.” - -Superintendent Bell gazed at him. “And you say you forget things,” he -said. “Witt’s shot and all in a minute you have all this in your -head.” - -They climbed a most unpleasant ladder. A young lieutenant received -them. “You gentlemen got a job of work for us?” - -“A motor yacht, cutter rig, name _Cyrilla_, left Gravesend an hour or -two ago, probably making for the Dutch coast. There’s a man on board -that’s badly wanted.” - -“Can do,” the lieutenant smiled and ran up to the bridge. “Starboard -five. Half ahead both.” He spoke into a voice pipe. “You’d better -come up here,” he called to them. “We’ll whack her up as we go.” - -The destroyer began to quiver gently to the purr of the turbines. -Reggie cowered under the wind screen. The speed grew and grew and the -destroyer sat down on her stern and on either side white waves rushed -from the high sharp bow. “Who is your friend on the yacht?” the -lieutenant smiled. - -“His last is attempted murder. But that was only this morning.” - -“You fellows don’t lose much time,” said the lieutenant with more -respect. “You seem to want him bad.” - -“I could bear to see him,” said Reggie. “He interests me as a medical -man.” - -“Medical?” the lieutenant stared at him. - -“Quite a lot of crime is medical,” said Reggie. - -The lieutenant gave it up and again asked for more speed and began to -use his binoculars. “There’s a cutter rig,” he pointed at something -invisible. “Not under sail. Laying a course for Flushing. That’s good -enough, what?” - -The destroyer came up fast. A white hull was revealed to the naked -eye. The lieutenant spoke to his signalman and flags fluttered above -the bridge. “Not answered. D’ye think your friend’ll put up a scrap?” - -“I dare say he will, if his crew will stand for it.” - -“Praise God,” said the lieutenant. “Will they have any arms?” - -“Pistols, likely,” said Bell. - -“Well! She is _Cyrilla_.” He picked up a megaphone and roared through -it. “The cutter! _Cyrilla!_ Stop your engine!” - -There was some movement on the yacht’s deck. She did stop her engine -or slow. A shot was heard. She started her engine again and again -stopped. A man ran aft and held up his hand. The destroyer drew abeam -and the lieutenant said what occurred to him of yachts which did not -obey Navy signals. There was no answer. A little knot of men on the -_Cyrilla_ gazed at the destroyer. - -“You fellows going aboard her? Got guns? I’ll give you an armed -boat’s crew.” - -Behind the destroyer’s sub-lieutenant Bell and Reggie came to the -yacht’s deck. “Where’s the captain? Don’t you know enough to read -signals?” Thus the sub-lieutenant began. - -“Where’s Mr. Kuyper?” said Bell. - -“We didn’t understand your signals, sir.” The captain licked his -lips. “Don’t know anything about a Mr. Kuyper. We’ve got a Mr. -Hotten, a Dutch gentleman. He’s my owner, as you might say.” - -“Where is he?” - -“Down the engine-room. It was him fired at the engineer to make him -start her up again when I ’ad stopped. I laid him out with a spanner.” - -“Bring him up,” Bell said. - -A slim spruce body was laid on the deck, precisely the Julius Kuyper -of Tommy Owen’s description. Reggie knelt down beside him. - -“He ain’t dead, is he?” said the yacht’s captain anxiously. - -But the stertorous breath of Mr. Kuyper could be heard. “My only -aunt,” Reggie muttered. - -“What’s the matter, sir?” - -“Man hasn’t got a heart. This is very unusual. Good Lord! Heart well -over on the right side. Heterotaxy very marked. Quite unusual. Ah! -That’s more to the point. He’s had an operation on the thyroid gland. -Yes. Just so.” He smiled happily. - -“What was that word you said, sir?” - -“Heterotaxy? Oh, it only means he’s got his things all over on the -wrong side.” - -“Then I know him!” Bell cried. “I thought I knew the look of him, as -old as he is now. It’s Lawton, sir, Lawton of the big bank frauds. He -went off with fifty thousand or more. Before your time, but you must -have heard of it. Did a clear getaway.” - -“And that’s that,” said Reggie. “Now we know.” - - * * * * * - -Some days afterwards the Hon. Sidney Lomas called on Mr. Fortune, who -was at the moment making a modest supper of devilled sole. “Did you -clear it up?” he said. - -“Try that champagne. It’s young but has distinction. Oh yes. Dr. -Wilton quite agrees with me. A faulty thyroid gland is the root of -the trouble.” - -“I don’t want to hear about Mr. Kuyper Lawton’s diseases. I----” - -“My dear fellow! But that is the whole case. Mr. Kuyper-Lawton is -undoubtedly a man of great ability. But there was always a cachexis -of the thyroid gland. This caused a certain mental instability. -Unsound judgment. Violence of temper. It’s quite common.” - -“Is it though?” said Lomas. “And why was he violent to poor Wilton?” - -“Well, Lawton got clean away after his bank frauds, as you know----” - -“I know all about Lawton. He lived on the plunder in Holland as -Adrian Hotten and flourished till the war. Then he lost most of his -money backing Germany to win. In the end of 1917 he went off to -Russia. This year he turned up in London as Julius Kuyper, talking -about Russian finance and selling Russian jewels.” - -“Quite so. Well, in February he was in a motor accident in Cavendish -Square. A lorry hit his car and he was thrown out and stunned. The -unfortunate Wilton was passing and gave him first-aid, and discovered -that his heart was on the wrong side. He came to under Wilton’s -hands. I suppose Wilton showed a little too much interest. Anyhow, -Mr. Kuyper saw that the malformation which would identify him with -Lawton of the bank frauds was known to the young doctor. Well, he -kept his head then. He was very grateful. He asked for Wilton’s card. -And Wilton never heard any more of him. But Wilton was interested in -this striking case of heterotaxy. He noted the number of the car, -found the garage from which it was hired and went round to ask who -the man was. They wouldn’t tell him, but the chauffeur, I suppose, -told Mr. Kuyper the doctor was asking after him. He sent Witt to take -a flat over Wilton’s and find out what Wilton was up to. I take it -Mr. Kuyper was doing mighty good business in London and didn’t want -to run away. He needn’t have bothered--but that’s the man all over, -brilliantly ingenious and no judgment. That thyroid of his! Wilton -had come to know the local detective-inspector, that poor chap who -committed suicide. I’m mighty sorry for that fellow, Lomas. He was so -keen against Wilton because he was afraid of not doing his duty when -he liked the man--and then he found he’d blundered into giving false -evidence against his friend. I don’t wonder he chose to die.” - -“Conscience makes fools of us all,” said Lomas. - -“Yes. Yes. Poor beggar. And no wonder Wilton was bitter against him. -Well, Kuyper decided that Wilton with his curiosity and his friend in -the police wasn’t safe at large. First they tried to ship him out of -the country and he wouldn’t go. So they put up the burglary. I -suppose Witt or Witt’s friend the sham Dutch journalist is a Hun. -That accounts for the Rauch-tabak and the German keys.” - -“Lawton-Kuyper has done a lot of business with Germany himself.” - -“Yes. He ought to have been on the great General Staff. The right -type of mind. One of our native Prussians. An able man--a very able -man. If his thyroid had been healthy!” - - - - - CASE IV - - THE MAGIC STONE - -A NIGHTINGALE began to sing in the limes. Mr. Fortune smiled through -his cigar smoke at the moon and slid lower into his chair. In the -silver light his garden was a wonderland. He could see fairies -dancing on the lawn. The fine odour of the cigar was glorified by the -mingled fragrance of the night, the spicy scent of the lime flowers -borne on a wind which came from the river over meadowsweet and hay. -The music of the nightingale was heard through the soft murmur of the -weir stream. - -The head of the Criminal Investigation Department was arguing that -the case of the Town Clerk of Barchester offered an example of the -abuse of the simple poisons in married life. - -Mr. Reginald Fortune, though his chief adviser, said no word. - -The head of the Criminal Investigation Department came at last to an -end. “That’s the case, then.” He stood up and knocked over his coffee -cup: a tinkling clatter, a profound silence and then only the murmur -of the water. The nightingale was gone. “Well, Fortune?” - -Mr. Fortune sighed and raised himself. “Dear me, Lomas,” he said -sadly, “why don’t you find something to do?” - -The Hon. Sidney Lomas suffered from a sense of wrong and said so. It -was a difficult and complex case and had given him much anxiety and -he wanted Fortune’s advice and---- - -“She did him in all right,” said Reggie Fortune succinctly, “and -you’ll never find a jury to hang her. Why don’t you bring me -something interesting?” - -Lomas then complained of him, pointing out that a policeman’s life -was not a happy one, that he did not arrange or even choose the -crimes of his country. “Interesting? Good Gad, do you suppose I am -interested in this female Bluebeard? I know my job’s not interesting. -Work’s work.” - -“And eggs is eggs. You have no soul, Lomas.” Reggie Fortune stood up. -“Come and have a drink.” He led the way from the dim veranda into his -study and switched on the light. “Now that,” he pointed to a pale -purple fluid, “that is a romantic liqueur: it feels just like a ghost -story: I brought it back from the Pyrenees.” - -“Whisky,” said Lomas morosely. - -“My dear chap, are we down-hearted?” - -“You should go to Scotland Yard, Fortune.” Lomas clung to his -grievance. “Perhaps you would find it interesting. What do you think -they brought me this afternoon? Some poor devil had an epileptic fit -in the British Museum.” - -“Well, well”--Reggie Fortune sipped his purple liqueur--“the British -Museum has made me feel queer. But not epileptic. On the contrary. -Sprightly fellow. This is a nice story. Go on Lomas.” - -“That’s all,” Lomas snapped. “Interesting, isn’t it?” - -“Then why Scotland Yard? You’re not an hospital for nervous diseases. -Or are you, Lomas?” - -“I wonder,” said Lomas bitterly. “Why Scotland Yard? Just so. Why? -Because they’ve lost an infernal pebble in the fray. And will I find -it for them please? Most interesting case.” - -Reggie Fortune took another cigar and composed himself for comfort. -“Begin at the beginning,” he advised, “and relate all facts without -passion or recrimination.” - -“There are no facts, confound you. It was in the Ethnological Gallery -of the British Museum--where nobody ever goes. Some fellow did go and -had a fit. He broke one of the glass cases in his convulsions. They -picked him up and he came round. He was very apologetic, left them a -fiver to pay for the glass and an address in New York. He was an -American doing Europe and just off to France with his family. When -they looked over the case afterwards they found one of the stones in -it was gone. The epilept couldn’t have taken it, poor devil. Anybody -who was in the gallery might have pocketed it in the confusion. Most -likely a child. The thing is only a pebble with some paint on it. A -pundit from the Museum came to me with his hair on end and wanted me -to sift London for it. I asked him what it was worth and he couldn’t -tell me. Only an anthropologist would want the thing, he said. It -seems an acquired taste. I haven’t acquired it. I told him this was -my busy day.” - -Reggie Fortune smiled benignly. “But this is art,” he said. “This is -alluring, Lomas. Have you cabled to New York?” - -“Have I----?” Lomas stopped his whisky on the way to his mouth. “No, -Fortune, I have not cabled New York. Nor have I sent for the -military. The British Museum is still without a garrison.” - -“Well, you know, this gentleman with the fit may be a collector.” - -“Oh, Lord, no. It was a real fit. No deception. They had a doctor to -him.” - -Reggie Fortune was much affected. “There speaks the great heart of -the people. The doctor always knows! I love your simple faith, Lomas. -It cheers me. But I’m a doctor myself. My dear chap, has no one ever -murmured into the innocence of Scotland Yard that a fit can be faked?” - -“I dare say I am credulous,” said Lomas. “But I draw the line -somewhere. If you ask me to believe that a fellow shammed epilepsy, -cut himself and spent a fiver to pick up a pebble, I draw it there.” - -“That’s the worst of credulity. It’s always sceptical in the wrong -place. What was this pebble like?” - -Lomas reached for a writing-pad and drew the likeness of a fat cigar, -upon which parallel to each other were two zigzag lines. “A greenish -bit of stone, with those marks in red. That’s the Museum man’s -description. If it had been old, which it isn’t, it would have been a -_galet coloré_. And if it had come from Australia, which it didn’t, -it would have been a chu-chu something----” - -“Churinga.” - -“That’s the word. The pundit from the Museum says it came from -Borneo. They don’t know what the marks mean, but the thing is a sort -of mascot in Borneo: a high-class insurance policy. The fellow who -holds it can’t die. So the simple Bornese don’t part with their -pebbles easily. There isn’t another known in Europe. That’s where it -hurts the Museum pundit. He says it’s priceless. I told him marbles -were selling thirty a penny. Nice round marbles, all colours.” - -“Yes. You have no soul, Lomas.” - -“I dare say. I’m busy.” - -“With toxic spouses!” said Reggie reproachfully. “Green, was it? -Green quartz, I suppose, or perhaps jade with the pattern in oxide of -iron.” - -“And I expect some child has swopped it for a green apple.” - -“Lomas dear,” Mr. Fortune expostulated, “this is romance. Ten -thousand years ago the cave men in France painted these patterns on -stones. And still in Borneo there’s men making them for magic. Big -magic. A charm against death. And some bright lad comes down to -Bloomsbury and throws a fit to steal one. My hat, he’s the heir of -all the ages! I could bear to meet this epilept.” - -“I couldn’t,” said Lomas. “I have to meet quite enough of the -weak-minded officially.” - -But Reggie Fortune was deaf to satire. “A magic stone,” he murmured -happily. - -“Oh, take the case by all means,” said Lomas. “I’m glad I’ve brought -you something that really interests you. Let me know when you find -the pebble,” and announcing that he had a day’s work to do on the -morrow, he went with an air of injury to bed. - -It was an enemy (a K.C. after a long and vain cross-examination) who -said that Mr. Fortune has a larger mass of useless knowledge than any -man in England. Mr. Fortune has been heard to explain his eminence in -the application of science to crime by explaining that he knows -nothing thoroughly but a little of everything, thus preserving an -open mind. This may account for his instant conviction that there was -something for him in the matter of the magic stone. Or will you -prefer to believe with Superintendent Bell that he has some singular -faculty for feeling other men’s minds at work, a sort of sixth sense? -This is mystical, and no one is less of a mystic than Reggie Fortune. - -To the extreme discomfort of Lomas he filled the time which their car -took in reaching London with a lecture on the case. He found that -three explanations were possible. The stone might have been stolen by -some one who believed in its magical power, or by some one who -coveted it for a collection, or by some one who meant to sell it to a -collector. - -“Why stop?” Lomas yawned. “It might have been snapped up by a -kleptomaniac or an ostrich or a lunatic. Or perhaps some chap wanted -to crack a nut. Or a winkle. Does one crack winkles?” - -Reggie went on seriously. He thought it unlikely that the thing was -stolen as a charm. - -“Oh, don’t lose heart,” said Lomas. “Why not put it down to a brave -from Borneo? The original owner comes over in his war paint to claim -his long lost magic stone. Malay runs amuck in Museum. That would go -well in the papers. Very plausible too. Compare the mysterious -Indians who are always hunting down their temple jewels in novels.” - -“Lomas, you have a futile mind. Of course some fellow might want it -for an amulet. It’s not only savages who believe in charms. How many -men carried a mascot through the war? But your epileptic friend with -the New York address don’t suggest this simple faith. I suspect a -collector.” - -“Well, I’ll believe anything of collectors,” Lomas admitted. “They -collect heads in Borneo, don’t they? I know a fellow who collects -shoes. Scalps or stamps or press-cuttings, it’s all very sad.” - -“I want you to cable to New York and verify this epilept. Which I do -not think. I’m going to look about for him here.” - -“My dear Fortune!” Lomas sat up and put up an eyeglass to examine -him. “Are you well? This is zeal. But what exactly are you looking -for?” - -“That’s what I want to find out,” said Reggie, and having left Lomas -at Scotland Yard made a round of calls. - -It is believed that there is no class or trade, from bargees to -bishops, in which Reggie Fortune has not friends. The first he sought -was a dealer in exotic curiosities. From him, not without diplomatic -suppression of the truth, Mr. Fortune made sure that magic stones -from Borneo were nothing accounted of in the trade, seldom seen and -never sought. It was obvious that the subject did not interest his -dealer, who could not tell where Mr. Fortune would find such a thing. -Old Demetrius Jacob was as likely a man as any. - -“Queer name,” said Mr. Fortune. - -“Queer fish,” he was informed. “Syrian, you know, with a bit of -Greek. A lot of odd small stuff goes his way.” - -Mr. Fortune filed Demetrius Jacob for reference and visited another -friend, a wholesale draper, whose real interest in life was his -collection of objects of savage art. A still more diplomatic economy -of the truth brought out the fact that the draper did not possess a -magic stone of Borneo, and would do and pay a good deal to obtain -one. He was excited by the mere thought. And Reggie Fortune watching -him as he expanded on the theme of magic stones, said to himself: -“Yes, old thing, a collector is the nigger in this wood pile.” The -draper returning to the cold reality mourned that his collection -lacked this treasure, and cheered up again at the thought that nobody -else had it. - -“Nobody?” said Reggie Fortune. “Really?” - -The draper was annoyed. “Well, I know old Tetherdown hasn’t. And he -has the best collection in England. Of course with his money he can -do anything.” - -Reggie Fortune neatly diverting the conversation to harmless -subjects, consulted his encyclopædic memory about old Tetherdown. - -Lord Tetherdown was a little gentleman of middle age, reputed by -connoisseurs to be the shabbiest in London. He inherited great wealth -and used it by living like a hermit and amassing an anthropological -collection. That afternoon saw Reggie Fortune knocking at a little -house in a back street of Mayfair. The door was opened by an old -woman in an overall. Lord Tetherdown was not at home. Reggie Fortune -exhibited great surprise. “Really? But I counted on seeing him. Can -you tell me when he’ll be back?” - -“No, I can’t; he’s away.” - -It appeared to Reggie that she was ill at ease. “Away?” he repeated. -“Oh, that’s absurd. When did he go?” - -“He was off last night.” - -“Really? But didn’t he say when he’d be back?” - -“No, he didn’t, young man.” - -“It’s amazing.” - -“I don’t know what call you have to be amazed, neither,” she cried. - -“But I counted on seeing him to-day,” Reggie explained. “I had better -come in and write a note.” - -The old woman did not seem to think so, but she let him in and took -him to a little room. Reggie Fortune caught his breath. For the place -was ineffably musty. It was also very full. There was hardly space -for both him and the woman. Cabinets lined the walls; and in the -corners, in between the cabinets, on top, on the mantel and the -window sill were multitudes of queer things. A large and diabolical -mask of red feathers towered above him, and he turned from it to see -a row of glittering little skulls made of rock crystal and lapis -lazuli and carved with hideous realism. On the door hung a cloak made -of many coloured bird skins and a necklace of human teeth with the -green image of a demon as pendant. A golden dragon with crystal eyes -gaped on the sideboard over the whisky decanter. - -Reggie showed no surprise. He slid into a chair by the table and -looked at the old woman. “I don’t know what you want that you can’t -say,” she grumbled, unlocked a desk and put before him one sheet of -paper, one envelope, pen and ink. - -“Well, it’s about a curio,” Reggie smiled upon her. - -“The good Lord knows we’ve enough of them,” she cried. “That’s what -took him away now.” - -Reggie showed no interest and naturally, while he went on writing -that Mr. Fortune was anxious to consult Lord Tetherdown on a matter -of anthropology, she went on talking. He learnt that it was a -gentleman coming about a curio who took Lord Tetherdown away the -night before, and she made it plain that she thought little of -gentlemen who came about curios. - -“Didn’t he say when he would be back?” Reggie asked as he stood up to -go. - -“Not a word, I tell you.” - -“Well, that’s strange.” - -“Strange, is it? It’s plain you don’t know the master, young man. -He’d go to the end of kingdom come for his pretties.” - -“I hope he hasn’t gone as far as that,” said Reggie. He saw as he -turned the corner of the street that she was still looking after him. -“She knows more than she says,” he told himself, “or she’s more -rattled than she’ll let on.” He went to Scotland Yard. - -Lomas was pleased to see him. “And how do you like marbles, Fortune?” -he said genially. “An intellectual game, I’m told. The glass ones are -the trumps now, Bell says. I’m afraid you’re old-fashioned. Stone -isn’t used by the best people.” - -“Breakin’ upon this merry persiflage,” said Reggie, “have you heard -from New York?” - -“New York is silent. Probably stunned by your searching question. But -the American Embassy speaks. Where’s that report, Bell?” - -Superintendent Bell, with an apologetic smile, for he always liked -Mr. Fortune, read out: “James L. Beeton is a well-known and opulent -citizen now travelling in Europe for his health. Present address not -known.” - -“For his health, mark you,” Lomas added. - -“Yes. There is some good intelligence work in this business. But not -at Scotland Yard.” - -“He is very harsh with us, Bell. I fear he has had a bad day. The -marbles ran badly for him. My dear Fortune, I always told you there -was nothing in it.” - -“You did,” said Reggie grimly. “I’ll forgive you, but I won’t promise -to forget. Do you know Lord Tetherdown?” - -“The little rag bag who collects rags and bones? He has been a joke -this ten years.” - -“Lord Tetherdown is a very wealthy man,” said Superintendent Bell -with respect. - -“Yes. He’s gone. Now Lomas, stemming your cheery wit, apply your mind -to this. Yesterday morning a rare specimen was stolen from the -British Museum. Yesterday evening Lord Tetherdown, who collects such -things, who hasn’t got that particular thing and would pay through -the nose to get it, was called on by a man about a curio. Lord -Tetherdown went out and vanished.” - -“My dear fellow!” Lomas put up his eyeglass. “I admire your -imagination. But what is it you want me to believe? That Tetherdown -arranged for this accursed stone to be stolen?” - -“I doubt that,” said Reggie thoughtfully. - -“So do I. He’s a meek shy little man. Well then, did the thief try to -sell it to Tetherdown? Why should that make Tetherdown run away?” - -“It might decoy him away.” - -Lomas stared at him, apparently trying to believe that he was real. -“My dear fellow!” he protested. “Oh, my dear fellow! This is -fantastic. Why should anyone suddenly decoy little Tetherdown? He -never made an enemy. He would have nothing on him to steal. It’s an -old joke that he don’t carry the worth of a shilling. He has lived in -that hovel with his two old fogeys of servants for years and -sometimes he goes off mysteriously and the fellows in his club only -notice he has been away when he blows in again.” - -“You’re a born policeman, Lomas,” Reggie sighed. “You’re so -commonplace.” - -“Quite, quite,” said Lomas heartily. “Now tell me. You’ve been to -Tetherdown’s place. Did his servants say they were surprised he had -gone off?” - -“The old dame said he often went off on a sudden,” Reggie admitted, -and Lomas laughed. “Well, what about it? You won’t do anything?” - -“My dear Fortune, I’m only a policeman, as you say. I can’t act -without some reason.” - -“Oh, my aunt!” said Reggie. “Reasons! Good night. Sleep sound.” - -In comfortable moments since he has been heard to confess that Lomas -was perfectly right, that there was nothing which the police could -have done, but he is apt to diverge into an argument that policemen -are creatures whose function in the world is to shut the stable door -after the horse is stolen. A pet theory of his. - -He went to the most solemn of his clubs and having soothed his -feelings with muffins, turned up Lord Tetherdown in the peerage. The -house of Tetherdown took little space. John William Bishop Coppett -was the seventh baron, but his ancestors were not distinguished and -the family was dwindling. John William Lord Tetherdown had no male -kin alive but his heir, who was his half-brother, the Hon. George -Bishop Coppett. The Hon. George seemed from his clubs to be a -sportsman. Mr. Fortune meditated. - -On his way home he called upon the Hon. George, whose taste in -dwellings and servants was different from his half-brother’s. Mr. -Coppett had a flat in a vast, new and gorgeous block. His door was -opened by a young man who used a good tailor and was very wide awake. -But Mr. Coppett, like Lord Tetherdown, was not at home. His man, -looking more knowing than ever, did not think it would be of any use -to call again. Oh, no, sir, Mr. Coppett was not out of town: he would -certainly be back that night: but (something like a wink flickered on -the young man’s face) too late to see anyone. If the gentleman would -ring up in the morning--not too early--Reggie Fortune said that it -didn’t much matter. - -He went off to dine with her whom he describes as his friskier -sister: the one who married a bishop. It made him sleep sound. - -Thus the case of the magic stone was left to ferment for some fifteen -hours. For which Mr. Fortune has been heard to blame himself and the -conjugal bliss of bishops. - -Over a devilled sole at breakfast--nature demanded piquant food--his -mind again became active. He rang for his car. Sam, his admirable -chauffeur, was told that he preferred to drive himself, which is -always in him a sign of mental excitement. “Country work, sir?” Sam -asked anxiously, for he holds that only on Salisbury Plain should Mr. -Fortune be allowed to drive. Mr. Fortune shook his head, and Sam -swallowed and they came down upon Oxford Street like the wolf on the -fold. The big car was inserted, a camel into the eye of a needle, -into the alleyway where Lord Tetherdown’s house lurks. - -Again the old woman in the overall was brought to the door. She -recognized Reggie Fortune and liked him less than ever. “There’s no -answer,” she cried. “The master’s not back.” - -“Really?” - -“You heard what I said.” - -“He’s not let you know when he’s coming back?” - -“No, he hasn’t, nor I’ve no call to tell you if he had. You and your -curios!” The door slammed. - -Reggie went back to his car. When it stopped again in a shabby street -by Covent Garden, Sam allowed himself to cough, his one protest from -first to last: a devoted fellow. Reggie Fortune surveyed the shop of -Demetrius Jacob, which displayed in its dirty window shelves sparsely -covered with bad imitations of old pewter. Reggie frowned at it, -looked at the name again and went in. The place was like a lumber -room. He saw nothing but damaged furniture which had never been good -and little of that until he found out that the dusty thing on which -he was standing was an exquisite Chinese carpet. Nobody was in the -shop, nobody came, though the opening door had rung a bell. He made -it ring again and still had to wait. Then there swept through the -place a woman, a big woman and handsome in her dark oriental way. She -did not see Reggie, she was too hurried or too angry, if her flush -and her frown were anger. She banged the door and was gone. - -Reggie rapped on a rickety desk. After a moment an old man shuffled -into the shop, made something like a salaam and said: “You want, -Yes?” Not so old after all, Reggie decided on a second glance. He -shuffled because his slippers were falling off, he was bent because -he cringed, his yellow face was keen and healthy and his eyes bright -under black brows, but certainly a queer figure in that tight frock -coat which came nearly to his heels, and his stiff green skull cap. - -“Mr. Jacob?” Reggie said. - -“I am Demetrius Jacob,” he pronounced it in the Greek way. - -“Well, I am interested in savage religions and cults you know, and -I’m told you are the man for me.” Mr. Jacob again made salaam. “What -I’m after just now is charms and amulets.” He paused and suddenly -rapped out: “Have you got anything from Borneo?” - -Demetrius Jacob showed no surprise or any other emotion. “Borneo? Oh, -yes, I t’ink,” he smiled. “Beautiful t’ings.” He shuffled to a -cupboard and brought out a tray which contained two skulls and a -necklace of human teeth. - -Reggie Fortune was supercilious. He demanded amulets, stone amulets -and in particular a stone amulet like a cigar with zigzag painting. - -Demetrius Jacob shook his head. “I not ’ave ’im,” he said sadly. “Not -from Borneo. I ’ave beautiful _galets colorés_ from France, yes, and -Russia. But not the east. I never see ’im from the east but in the -Museum.” - -Reggie Fortune went away thinking that it took a clever fellow to be -as guileless as that. - -The car plunged through Piccadilly again to the flat of the Hon. -George Coppett. Mr. Coppett’s man received him with a smile which was -almost a leer. “I’ll see, sir,” he took Reggie’s card. “I’m afraid -Mr. Coppett’s partic’larly busy.” As Reggie was ushered in he heard a -bell ring and a woman’s voice high and angry, “Oh, yes, I will go. -But I do not believe you, not one word.” A door was flung open and -across the hall swept the big woman of Demetrius Jacob’s shop. Reggie -looked into the crown of his hat. She stopped short and stared hard -at him. Either she did not recognize him or did not care who he was. -She hurried on and the door banged behind her. - -The Hon. George Coppett was a little man who walked like a bird. -“Damn it, damn it,” he piped, jumping about, “what the devil are you -at, Brown?” He stared at Mr. Fortune, and Brown gave him Mr. -Fortune’s card. “Hallo, don’t know you, do I? I’m in the devil of a -hurry.” - -“I think you had better see me, Mr. Coppett,” said Reggie. Mr. -Coppett swore again and bade him come in. - -Mr. Coppett gave himself some whisky. “I say, women are the devil,” -he said as he wiped his mouth. “Have one?” he nodded to the decanter. -“No? Well, what’s your trouble, Mr.--Mr. Fortune?” - -“I am anxious to have some news of Lord Tetherdown.” - -“Well, why don’t you ask him?” Mr. Coppett laughed. - -“He’s not to be found.” - -“What, gone off again, has he? Lord, he’s always at it. My dear chap, -he’s simply potty about his curios. I don’t know the first thing -about them, but it beats me how a fellow can fall for that old junk. -One of the best and all that don’t you know, but it’s a mania with -him. He’s always running off after some queer bit of tripe.” - -“When do you expect him back?” - -“Search me,” Mr. Coppett laughed. “My dear chap, he don’t tell me his -little game. Old Martha might know.” - -“She doesn’t.” - -Mr. Coppett laughed again. “He always was a close old thing. He just -pushes off, don’t you know, on any old scent. And after a bit he -blows in again.” - -“Then--you don’t know--when you’ll see him again?” Reggie said slowly. - -“Give you my word I don’t,” Mr. Coppett cried. “Sorry, sorry.” - -“So am I,” said Reggie. “Good morning, Mr. Coppett.” - -Mr. Coppett did not try to keep him. But he was hardly beyond the -outer door of the flat when he heard Mr. Coppett say, “Hallo, hallo!” -He turned. The door was still shut. Mr. Coppett was using the -telephone. He heard “Millfield, double three” something and could not -hear anything more. Millfield, as you know, is a quiet middle-class -suburb. Mr. Fortune went down stairs pensively. - -Pensive he was still when he entered Scotland Yard and sought Lomas’s -room. “Well, how goes the quest for the holy stone?” Lomas put up his -eyeglass. “My dear Fortune, you’re the knight of the rueful -countenance.” - -“You’re confused, Lomas. Don’t do it,” Reggie complained. “You’re not -subtle at Scotland Yard, but hang it, you might be clear.” - -“What can we do for you?” - -“One of your largest cigars,” Reggie mumbled and took it. “Yes. What -can you do? I wonder.” He looked at Lomas with a baleful eye. “Who -lives at Millfield? Speaking more precisely who lives at Millfield -double three something?” Lomas suggested that it was a large order. -“It is,” Reggie agreed gloomily, “it’s a nasty large order.” And he -described his morning’s work. “There you are. The further you go the -queerer.” - -“Quite, quite,” Lomas nodded. “But what’s your theory, Fortune?” - -“The workin’ hypothesis is that there’s dirty work doin’ when a magic -stone gets stolen and the man who wants the magic stone vanishes on -the same day: which is confirmed when a female connected with a chap -who knows all about magic stones is found colloguin’ with the -vanished man’s heir: and further supported when that heir being -rattled runs to telephone to the chaste shades of Millfield--the last -place for a sporting blood like him to keep his pals. I ask you, who -lives at Millfield double three something?” - -Lomas shifted his papers. “George Coppett stands to gain by -Tetherdown’s death, of course,” he said. “And the only man so far as -we know. But he’s not badly off, he’s well known, there’s never been -anything against him. Why should he suddenly plan to do away with his -brother? All your story might be explained in a dozen ways. There’s -not an ounce of evidence, Fortune.” - -“You like your evidence after the murder. I know that. My God, Lomas, -I’m afraid.” - -“My dear fellow!” Lomas was startled. “This isn’t like you.” - -“Oh, many thanks. I don’t like men dying, that’s all. Professional -prejudice. I’m a doctor, you see. What the devil are we talking for? -Who lives at Millfield double three something?” - -“We might get at it,” Lomas said doubtfully and rang for -Superintendent Bell. “But it’s a needle in a bundle of hay. And if -Tetherdown was to be murdered, it’s done by now.” - -“Yes, that’s comforting,” said Mr. Fortune. - -Superintendent Bell brought a list of the subscribers to the -Millfield exchange and they looked over the names of those in the -thirty-fourth hundred. Most were shopkeepers and ruled out. “George -Coppett don’t buy his fish in Millfield,” said Reggie Fortune. Over -the doctors he hesitated. - -“You think it’s some fellow in your own trade?” Lomas smiled. “Well, -there’s nothing like leather.” - -“Brownrigg,” Reggie Fortune muttered. “I know him. 3358 Dr. Jerdan, -The Ferns, Chatham Park Road. Where’s a medical directory? 3358 Dr. -Jerdan is not in the medical directory. Ring up the divisional -inspector and ask him what he knows about Dr. Jerdan.” - -There was nothing, Superintendent Bell announced, known against Dr. -Jerdan. He had been at the Ferns some time. He didn’t practise. He -was said to take in private patients. - -“Come on,” said Reggie Fortune, and took the Superintendent’s arm. - -“My dear Fortune,” Lomas protested. “This is a bow at a venture. We -can’t act, you know. Bell can’t appear.” - -“Bell’s coming to be a policeman and appear when it’s all over. I’m -going in to Dr. Jerdan who isn’t on the register. And I don’t like -it, Lomas. Bell shall stay outside. And if I don’t come out -again--well, then you’ll have evidence, Lomas.” - -Neither Reggie Fortune nor his chauffeur knew the way about in -Millfield. They sat together and Mr. Fortune with a map of London -exhorted Sam at the wheel and behind them Superintendent Bell held -tight and thought of his sins. - -The car came by many streets of little drab houses to a road in which -the houses were large and detached, houses which had been rural -villas when Victoria was queen. “Now go easy,” Reggie Fortune said. -“Chatham Park Road, Bell. Quiet and respectable as the silent tomb. -My God, look at that! Stop, Sam.” - -What startled him was a hospital nurse on a doorstep. - -“Who is she, sir?” Bell asked. - -“She’s Demetrius Jacob’s friend and George Coppett’s friend--and now -she’s Dr. Jerdan’s friend and in nurse’s rig. Keep the car back here. -Don’t frighten them.” - -He jumped out and hurried on to the Ferns. “I don’t like it, young -fellow, and that’s a fact,” said Bell, and Sam nodded. - -The woman had been let in. Mr. Fortune stood a moment surveying the -house which was as closely curtained as all the rest and like them -stood back with a curving drive to the door. He rang the bell, had no -answer, rang again, knocked and knocked more loudly. It sounded -thunderous in the heavy quiet of the Chatham Park Road. - -At last the door was opened by a man, a lanky powerful fellow who -scowled at Mr. Fortune and said, “We ain’t deaf.” - -“I have been kept waiting,” said Reggie. “Dr. Jerdan, please.” - -“Not at home.” - -“Oh, I think so. Dr. Jerdan will see me.” - -“Don’t see anyone but by appointment.” - -“Dr. Jerdan will see me. Go and tell him so.” The door was shut in -his face. After a moment or two he began knocking again. It was made -plain to all the Chatham Park Road that something was happening at -the Ferns and here and there a curtain fluttered. - -Superintendent Bell got out of the car. “You stay here, son,” he -said. “Don’t stop the engine.” - -But before he reached the house, the door was opened and Reggie -Fortune saw a sleek man who smiled with all his teeth. “So sorry you -have been waiting,” he purred. “I am Dr. Jerdan’s secretary. What can -I do for you?” - -“Dr. Jerdan will see me.” - -“Oh, no, I’m afraid not. Dr. Jerdan’s not at home.” - -“Why say so?” said Reggie wearily. “Dr. Jerdan, please.” - -“You had better tell me your business, sir.” - -“Haven’t you guessed? Lord Tetherdown.” - -“Lord who?” said the sleek man without a check. “I don’t know -anything about Lord Tetherdown.” - -“But then you’re only Dr. Jerdan’s secretary,” Reggie murmured. - -Something of respect was to be seen in the pale eyes that studied -him, and, after a long stare, “I’ll see what I can do. Come in, sir. -What’s your name?” He thrust his head forward like an animal -snapping, but still he smiled. - -“Fortune. Reginald Fortune.” - -“This way.” The sleek man led him down a bare hall and showed him -into a room at the back. “Do sit down, Mr. Fortune. But I’m afraid -you won’t see Dr. Jerdan.” He slid out. Reggie heard the key turn in -the lock. He glanced at the window. That was barred. - -“Quite so,” said Reggie. “Now how long will Bell wait?” - -He took his stand so that he would be behind the door if it were -opened, and listened. There was a scurry of feet and some other -sound. The feet fell silent, the other sound became a steady tapping. -“Good God, are they nailing him down?” he muttered, took up a chair -and dashed it at the lock again and again. As he broke out he heard -the beat of a motor engine. - -Superintendent Bell drawing near saw a car with two men up come out -of the coach-house of the Ferns. He ran into the road and stood in -its way. It drove straight at him, gathering speed. He made a jump -for the footboard, and being a heavy man missed. The car shot by. - -The respectability of Chatham Park Road then heard such a stream of -swearing as never had flowed that way. For Sam has a mother’s love of -his best car. But he was heroic. He swung its long body out across -the road, swearing, but nevertheless. The fugitives from the Ferns -took a chance which was no chance. Their car mounted the pavement, -hit a gate-post and crashed. - -Superintendent Bell arrived to find Sam backing his own car to the -kerb while he looked complacently at its shining sides. “Not a -scratch, praise God,” he said. - -Superintendent Bell pulled up. “You’re a wonder, you are,” he said, -and gazed at the ruins. The smashed car was on its side in a jumble -of twisted iron and bricks. The driver was underneath. They could not -move him. There were reasons why that did not matter to him. “He’s -got his,” said Sam. “Where’s the other? There were two of them.” - -The other lay half hidden in a laurel hedge. He had been flung out, -he had broken the railings with his head, he had broken the stone -below, but his head was a gruesome shape. - -In the hall of the Ferns Reggie Fortune stood still to listen. That -muffled tapping was the only sound in the house. It came from below. -He went down dark stairs into the kitchen. No one was there. The -sound came from behind a doorway in the corner. He flung it open and -looked down into the blackness of a cellar. He struck a light and saw -a bundle lying on the ground, a bundle from which stuck out two feet -that tapped at the cellar steps. He brought it up to the kitchen. It -was a woman with her head and body in a sack. When he had cut her -loose he saw the dark face of the woman of the shop and the flat. She -sprang at him and grasped his arms. - -“Who are you?” she cried. “Where is Lord Tetherdown?” - -“My name is Fortune, madame. And yours?” - -“I am Melitta Jacob. What is that to you? Where have you put Lord -Tetherdown?” - -“I am looking for him.” - -“You! Is he not here? Oh, you shall pay for it, you and those others.” - -But Reggie was already running upstairs. One room and another he -tried in vain and at last at the top of the house found a locked -door. The key was in the lock. Inside on a pallet bed, but clothed, -lay a little man with some days’ beard. The woman thrust Reggie away -and flung herself down by the bedside and gathered the man to her -bosom moaning over him. “My lord, my lord.” - -“Oh, my aunt!” said Reggie Fortune. “Now, Miss Jacob, please,” he put -his hand on her shoulder. - -“He is mine,” she said fiercely. - -“Well, just now he’s mine. I’m a doctor.” - -“Oh, is he not dead?” she cried. - -“Not exactly,” said Reggie Fortune. “Not yet.” He took the body from -quivering arms. - -“What is it, then?” - -“He is drugged, and I should say starved. If you----” a heavy -footstep drew near. She sprang up ready for battle, and in the -doorway fell upon Superintendent Bell. - -“Easy, easy,” he received her on his large chest and made sure of her -wrists. “Mr. Fortune--just got in by the window--what about this?” - -“That’s all right,” Reggie mumbled from the bed. “Send me Sam.” - -“Coming, sir.” Sam ran in. “Those fellows didn’t do a getaway. -They’re outed. Car smash. Both killed. Some smash.” - -“Brandy, meat juice, ammonia,” murmured Mr. Fortune, who was writing, -“and that. Hurry.” - -“Beg pardon, ma’am,” Bell detached himself from Melitta Jacob. He -took off his hat and tiptoed to the bed. “Have they done for him, -sir,” he muttered. - -Mr. Fortune was again busy over the senseless body. One of its hands -was clenched. He opened the fingers gently, and drew out a greenish -lump painted with a zigzag pattern in red. “The magic stone,” he -said. “A charm against death. Well, well.” - - * * * * * - -On his lawn which slopes to the weir stream Reggie Fortune lay in a -deck chair, and a syringa, waxen white, shed its fragrance about him. -He opened his eyes to see the jaunty form of the Hon. Sidney Lomas -tripping towards him. “Stout fellow,” he murmured. “That’s cider cup. -There was ice in it once,” and he shut his eyes again. - -“I infer that the patient is out of your hands.” - -“They’re going for their honeymoon to Nigeria.” - -“Good Gad,” said Lomas. - -“Collecting, you see. The objects of art of the noble savage. She’s -rather a dear.” - -“I should have thought he’d done enough collecting. Does he -understand yet what happened?” - -“Oh, he’s quite lucid. Seems to think it’s all very natural.” - -“Does he though?” - -“Only he’s rather annoyed with brother George. He thinks brother -George had no right to object to his marrying. That’s what started -it, you see. Brother George came round to borrow his usual hundred or -so and found him with the magnificent Melitta. It occurred to brother -George that if Tetherdown was going to marry, something had to be -done about it. And then I suppose brother George consulted the late -Jerdan.” Mr. Fortune opened his eyes, and raised himself. “By the -way, who was Jerdan? I saw you hushed up the inquest as a motor -smash.” - -“Bell thinks he was the doctor who bolted out of the Antony case.” - -“Oh, ah. Yes, there was some brains in that. I rather thought the -late Jerdan had experience. I wonder what happened to his private -patients at the Ferns. Creepy house. I say, was it Jerdan or his man -who threw the fit at the Museum?” - -“Jerdan himself, by the description.” - -“Yes. Useful thing, medical training. Well, Jerdan saw he could get -at Tetherdown through his hobby. He came with tales of -anthropological treasures for sale. The old boy didn’t bite at first. -Jerdan couldn’t hit on anything he wanted. But he found out at last -what he did want. Hence the fit in the Museum. That night Jerdan -turned up with the Borneo stone and told Tetherdown a friend of his -had some more of the kind. Tetherdown fell for that. He went off to -the Ferns with Jerdan. The last thing he remembers is sitting down in -the back room to look at the stone. They chloroformed him, I think, -there was lots of stuff in the place. Then they kept him under -morphia and starved him. I suppose the notion was to dump his dead -body somewhere so that the fact of his death could be established and -George inherit. There could be no clear evidence of murder. -Tetherdown is eccentric. It would look as if he had gone off his head -and wandered about till he died of exhaustion. That was the late -Jerdan’s idea. Melitta always thought George was a bad egg. He didn’t -like her, you see, and he showed it. When Tetherdown vanished she -went off to George one time. He laughed at her, which was his error. -She put on that nurse’s rig for a disguise and watched his rooms. -When I rattled him and he rang up Jerdan, Jerdan came to the flat and -she followed him back to the Ferns and asked for Tetherdown. Jolly -awkward for Jerdan with me knocking at the door. He was crude with -her, but I don’t know that I blame him. An able fellow. Pity, pity. -Yes. What happened to brother George?” - -“Bolted. We haven’t a trace of him. Which is just as well, for -there’s no evidence. Jerdan left no papers. George could have laughed -at us if he had the nerve.” - -Reggie Fortune chuckled. “I never liked George. I rang him up that -night: ‘Mr. George Coppett? The Ferns speaking. It’s all out’ and I -rang off. I thought George would quit. George will be worrying quite -a lot. So that’s that.” - -“Yes, you have your uses, Fortune,” said Lomas. “I’ve noticed it -before.” - -Reggie Fortune fumbled in his pocket and drew out the magic stone. -“Tetherdown said he would like me to have it. Cut him to the heart to -give it up, poor old boy. Told me it saved his life.” He smiled. “I -don’t care for its methods, myself. Better put it back in a glass -case, Lomas.” - -“What did Melitta give you?” - -“Melitta is rather a dear,” said Mr. Fortune. - - - - - CASE V - - THE SNOWBALL BURGLARY - -A TELEGRAM was brought to Mr. Fortune. It announced that the woman -whom his ingenuity convicted of the Winstanton murder had confessed -it in prison just after the Home Secretary decided not to hang her. -Mr. Fortune sighed satisfaction and took his hostess in to dinner. - -He was staying in a Devonshire country house for mental repairs. This -is not much like him, for save on visits of duty country houses -seldom receive him. The conversation of the county, he complains, is -too great a strain upon his intellect. Also, he has no interest in -killing creatures, except professionally. But the output of crime had -been large that winter and the task of keeping Scotland Yard -straight, laborious; and he sought relief with Colonel Beach at -Cranston Regis. For Tom Beach, once in the first flight of hunting -men, having married a young wife, put central heat and electric light -into a remote Tudor manor house, and retired there to grow iris and -poultry. Neither poultry nor young wives allured Reggie Fortune, but -gardens he loves, and his own iris were not satisfying him. - -So he sat by Alice Beach at her table, and while her talk flowed on -like the brook in the poem, while he wondered why men marry, since -their bachelor dinners are better eating, surveyed with mild eyes her -and her guests. Tom Beach had probably been unable to help marrying -her, she was so pink and white and round, her eyes so shy and -innocent. She was one of those women who make it instantly clear to -men that they exist to be married, and Tom Beach has always done his -duty. “But she’s not such a fool as she looks,” Reggie had pronounced. - -With pity if not sympathy he glanced down the table at Tom Beach, -that large, red, honest man who sat doing his best between dignity -and impudence, dignity in the awful person of Mrs. Faulks and the -mighty pretty impudence of his wife’s sister, Sally Winslow. Mrs. -Faulks has been described as one who could never be caught bending, -or a model of the art of the corset. She is spare, she is straight; -and few have seen her exhibit interest in anything but other people’s -incomes, which she always distrusts. A correct woman, but for a habit -of wearing too many jewels. - -What she was doing in Tom Beach’s genial house was plain enough. Her -son had brought her to inspect Sally Winslow, as a man brings a vet -to the horse he fancies. But it was not plain why Alexander Faulks -fancied Sally Winslow. Imagine a bulldog after a butterfly. But -bulldogs have a sense of humour. Sally Winslow is a wisp of a -creature who has no respect for anyone, even herself. Under her -bright bobbed hair, indeed, is the daintiest colour; but when some -fellow said she had the face of a fairy, a woman suggested the face -of a fairy’s maid. She listened to Alexander’s heavy talk and watched -him in a fearful fascination, but sometimes she shot a glance across -the table where a little man with a curly head and a roguish eye was -eating his dinner demurely. His worst enemies never said that Captain -Bunny Cosdon’s manners were bad. - -Now you know them all. When they made up a four for bridge, upon -which Mrs. Faulks always insists, it was inevitable that Reggie -Fortune should stand out, for his simple mind declines to grasp the -principles of cards. Alexander Faulks in his masterful way directed -Sally to the table; and scared, but submissive, she sat down and -giggled nervously. Reggie found himself left to his hostess and -Captain Cosdon. They seemed determined to entertain him and he sighed -and listened. - -So he says. He is emphatic that he did not go to sleep. But the study -of the events of that evening which afterwards became necessary, -makes it clear that a long time passed before Alice Beach was saying -the first thing that he remembers. “Did you ever know a perfect -crime, Mr. Fortune?” - -Mr. Fortune then sat up, as he records, and took notice. - -Captain Cosdon burst out laughing, and departed, humming a stave of -“Meet me to-night in Dreamland.” - -Mr. Fortune gazed at his hostess. He had not supposed that she could -say anything so sensible. “Most crimes are perfect,” he said. - -“But how horrible! I should hate to be murdered and know there wasn’t -a clue who did it.” - -“Oh, there’ll be a clue all right,” Reggie assured her. - -“Are you sure? And will you promise to catch my murderer, Mr. -Fortune?” - -“Well, you know,” he considered her round amiable face, “if you were -murdered it would be a case of art for art’s sake. That’s very rare. -I was speakin’ scientifically. A perfect crime is a complete series -of cause and effect. Where you have that, there’s always a clue, -there is always evidence, and when you get to work on it the unknown -quantities come out. Yes. Most crimes are perfect. But you must allow -for chance. Sometimes the criminal is an idiot. That’s a nuisance. -Sometimes he has a streak of luck and the crime is damaged before we -find it, something has been washed out, a bit of it has been lost. -It’s the imperfect crimes that give trouble.” - -“But how fascinating!” - -“Oh, Lord, no,” said Mr. Fortune. - -The bridge-players were getting up. Sally Winslow was announcing that -she had lost all but honour. Mrs. Faulks wore a ruthless smile. Sally -went off to bed. - -“Oh, Mrs. Faulks,” her sister cried, “do come! Mr. Fortune is -lecturing on crime.” - -“Really. How very interesting,” said Mrs. Faulks, and transfixed -Reggie with an icy stare. - -“The perfect criminal in one lesson,” Alice Beach laughed. “I feel a -frightful character already. All you want is luck, you know. Or else -Mr. Fortune catches you every time.” - -“I say, you know, Alice,” her husband protested. - -A scream rang out. Alice stopped laughing. The little company looked -at each other. “Where was that?” Tom Beach muttered. - -“Not in the house, Colonel,” Faulks said. “Certainly not in the -house.” - -Tom Beach was making for the window when all the lights went out. - -Alice gave a cry. The shrill voice of Mrs. Faulks arose to say, -“Really!” Colonel Beach could be heard swearing. “Don’t let us get -excited,” said Faulks. Reggie Fortune struck a match. - -“Excited be damned,” said Tom Beach, and rang the bell. - -Reggie Fortune, holding his match aloft, made for the door and opened -it. The hall was dark, too. - -“Oh, Lord, it’s the main fuse blown out!” Tom Beach groaned. - -“Or something has happened in your little power station,” said Reggie -Fortune cheerfully, and his host snorted. For the electricity at -Cranston Regis comes from turbines on the stream which used to fill -the Tudor fish-ponds, and Colonel Beach loves his machinery like a -mother. - -He shouted to the butler to bring candles, and out of the dark the -voice of the butler was heard apologizing. He roared to the -chauffeur, who was his engineer, to put in a new fuse. “It’s not the -fuse, Colonel,” came a startled voice, “there’s no juice.” - -Colonel Beach swore the more. “Run down to the powerhouse, confound -you. Where the devil are those candles?” - -The butler was very sorry, sir, the butler was coming, sir. - -“Really!” said Mrs. Faulks in the dark, for Reggie had grown tired of -striking matches. “Most inconvenient.” So in the dark they waited. . . - -And again they heard a scream. It was certainly in the house this -time, it came from upstairs, it was in the voice of Sally Winslow. -Reggie Fortune felt some one bump against him, and knew by the weight -it was Faulks. Reggie struck another match, and saw him vanish into -the darkness above as he called, “Miss Winslow, Miss Winslow!” - -There was the sound of a scuffle and a thud. Colonel Beach stormed -upstairs. A placid voice spoke out of the dark at Reggie’s ear, “I -say, what’s up with the jolly old house?” The butler arrived -quivering with a candle in each hand and a bodyguard of -candle-bearing satellites, and showed him the smiling face of Captain -Cosdon. - -From above Colonel Beach roared for lights. “The C.O. sounds peeved,” -said Captain Cosdon. “Someone’s for it, what?” - -They took the butler’s candles and ran up, discovering with the light -Mr. Faulks holding his face together. “Hallo, hallo! Dirty work at -the crossroads, what? Why---- Sally! Good God!” - -On the floor of the passage Sally Winslow lay like a child asleep, -one frail bare arm flung up above her head. - -“Look at that. Fortune,” Tom Beach cried. “Damned scoundrels!” - -“Hold the candle,” said Reggie Fortune; but as he knelt beside her -the electric light came on again. - -“Great Jimmy!” Captain Cosdon exclaimed. “Who did that?” - -“Don’t play the fool, Bunny,” Tom Beach growled. “What have they done -to her, Fortune?” - -Reggie’s plump, capable hands were moving upon the girl delicately. -“Knocked her out,” he said, and stared down at her, and rubbed his -chin. - -“Who? What? How?” Cosdon cried. “Hallo, Faulks, what’s your trouble? -Who hit you?” - -“How on earth should I know,” Faulks mumbled, still feeling his face -as he peered at the girl. “When Miss Winslow screamed, I ran up. It -was dark, of course. Some men caught hold of me. I struck out and -they set on me. I was knocked down. I wish you would look at my eye, -Fortune.” - -Reggie was looking at Sally, whose face had begun to twitch. - -“Your eye will be a merry colour to-morrow,” Cosdon assured him. “But -who hit Sally?” - -“It was the fellows who set upon me, I suppose, of course; they were -attacking her when I rescued her.” - -“Stout fellow,” said Cosdon. “How many were there?” - -“Quite a number. Quite. How can I possibly tell? It was dark. Quite a -number.” - -Sally tried to sneeze and failed, opened her eyes and murmured, “The -light, the light.” She saw the men about her and began to laugh -hysterically. - -“Good God, the scoundrels may be in the house still,” cried Tom -Beach. “Come on, Cosdon.” - -“I should say so,” said Captain Cosdon, but he lingered over Sally. -“All right now?” he asked anxiously. - -“Oh, Bunny,” she choked in her laughter. “Yes, yes, I’m all right. -Oh, Mr. Fortune, what is it? Oh, poor Mr. Faulks, what has happened?” - -“Just so,” said Reggie. He picked her up and walked off with her to -her bedroom. - -“Oh, you are strong,” she said, not coquetting, but in honest -surprise, like a child. - -Reggie laughed. “There’s nothing of you,” and he laid her down on her -bed. “Well, what about it?” - -“I feel all muzzy.” - -“That’ll pass off,” said Reggie cheerfully. “Do you know what hit -you?” - -“No. Isn’t it horrid? It was all dark, you know. There’s no end of a -bruise,” she felt behind her ear and made a face. - -“I know, I know,” Reggie murmured sympathetically. “And how did it -all begin?” - -“Why, I came up to bed, Mr. Fortune--heavens, there may be a man in -here now!” she raised herself. - -“Yes, we’d better clear that up,” said Reggie, and looked under the -bed and opened the wardrobe and thrust into her dresses and turned -back to her. “No luck, Miss Winslow.” - -“Oh, thank goodness,” she sank down again. “You see, I came up and -put the light on, of course, and there was a man at the window there. -Then I screamed.” - -“The first scream,” Reggie murmured. - -“And then the lights went out. I ran away and tumbled over that chair -and then out into the passage. I kept bumping into things and it was -horrid. And then--oh, somebody caught hold of me and I screamed----” - -“The second scream,” Reggie murmured. - -“I was sort of flung about. There were men there fighting in the -dark. Horrid. Hitting all round me, you know. And then--oh, well, I -suppose I stopped one, didn’t I?” - -There was a tap at the door. “May I come in, doctor?” said Alice -Beach. - -“Oh, Alice, have they caught anyone?” - -“Not a creature. Isn’t it awful? Oh, Sally, you poor darling,” her -sister embraced her. “What a shame! Is it bad?” - -“I’m all muddled. And jolly sore.” - -“My dear! It is too bad it should be you. Oh, Mr. Fortune, what did -happen?” - -“Some fellow knocked her out. She’ll be all right in the morning. But -keep her quiet and get her off to sleep.” He went to the window. It -was open and the curtains blowing in the wind. He looked out. A -ladder stood against the wall. “And that’s that. Yes. Put her to bed, -Mrs. Beach.” - -Outside in the passage he found Captain Cosdon waiting. “I say, -Fortune, is she much hurt?” - -“She’s taken a good hard knock. She’s not made for it. But she’ll be -all right.” - -“Sally! Oh damn,” said Cosdon. - -“Did you catch anybody?” - -“Napoo. All clear. The Colonel’s going round to see if they got away -with anything. And Faulks wants you to look at his poor eye.” - -“Nothing of yours gone?” - -Cosdon laughed. “No. But I’m not exactly the burglar’s friend, don’t -you know? My family jewels wouldn’t please the haughty crook. I say, -it’s a queer stunt. Ever been in one like it?” - -“I don’t think it went according to plan,” said Reggie Fortune. - -He came down and found Faulks with an eye dwindling behind a bruise -of many colours, arguing with an agitated butler that the house must -contain arnica. Before he could give the attention which Mr. Faulks -imperiously demanded, the parade voice of the Colonel rang through -the house. “Fortune, come up here!” - -Tom Beach stood in the study where he writes the biographies of his -poultry and his iris. There also are kept the cups, medals and other -silver with which shows reward their beauty. “Look at that!” he -cried, with a tragic gesture. The black pedestals of the cups, the -velvet cases of the medals stood empty. - -“Great Jimmy!” said Captain Cosdon in awe. - -“Well, that’s very thorough,” said Reggie. “And the next thing, -please.” - -Colonel Beach said it was a damned outrage. He also supposed that the -fellows had stripped the whole place. And he bounced out. - -Reggie went to his own room. He had nothing which could be stolen but -his brushes, and they were not gone. He looked out of the window. In -the cold March moonlight he saw two men moving hither and thither, -and recognized one for his chauffeur and factotum Sam, and shouted. - -“Nothing doing, sir,” Sam called back. “Clean getaway.” - -Reggie went downstairs to the smoking-room. He was stretched in a -chair consuming soda-water and a large cigar when there broke upon -him in a wave of chattering Tom Beach and Alice and Captain Cosdon. - -“Oh, Mr. Fortune, is this a perfect crime?” Alice laughed. - -Reggie shook his head. “I’m afraid it had an accident in its youth. -The crime that took the wrong turning.” - -“How do you mean, Fortune?” Tom Beach frowned. “It’s deuced awkward.” - -“Awkward is the word,” Reggie agreed. “What’s gone, Colonel?” - -“Well, there’s my pots, you know. And Alice has lost a set of cameos -she had in her dressing-room.” - -“Pigs!” said Alice with conviction. - -“And Mrs. Faulks says they’ve taken that big ruby brooch she was -wearing before dinner. You know it.” - -“It’s one of the things I could bear not to know,” Reggie murmured. -“Nothing else?” - -“She says she doesn’t know, she’s too upset to be sure. I say, -Fortune, this is a jolly business for me.” - -“My dear chap!” - -“She’s gone to bed fuming. Faulks is in a sweet state too.” - -“What’s he lost?” - -“Only his eye,” Cosdon chuckled. - -“That’s the lot, then? Nice little bag, but rather on the small side. -Yes, it didn’t go according to plan.” - -“Oh, Mr. Fortune, what are you going to do?” - -“Do?” said Reggie reproachfully. “I? Where’s the nearest policeman?” - -“Why, here,” Alice pointed at him. - -“Cranston Abbas,” said Tom Beach, “and he’s only a yokel. Village -constable, don’t you know.” - -“Yes, you are rather remote, Colonel. What is there about you that -brings the wily cracksman down here?” - -“Mrs. Faulks!” Alice cried. “That woman must travel with a jeweller’s -shop. There’s a chance for you, Mr. Fortune. Get her rubies back and -you’ll win her heart.” - -“Jewelled in fifteen holes. I’d be afraid of burglars. Mrs. Beach, -you’re frivolous, and the Colonel’s going to burst into tears. Will -anyone tell me what did happen? We were all in the drawing-room--no. -Where were you, Cosdon?” - -“Writing letters here, old thing.” - -“Quite so. And the servants?” - -“All in the servants’ hall at supper!” Colonel Beach said. “They are -all right.” - -“Quite. Miss Winslow went upstairs and saw a man at her window. -There’s a ladder at it. She screamed and the lights went out. Why?” - -“The rascals got at the powerhouse. Baker found the main switch off.” - -“Then they knew their way about here. Have you sacked any servant -lately? Had any strange workman in the place? No? Yet the -intelligence work was very sound. Well, in the darkness Miss Winslow -tumbled out into the passage and was grabbed and screamed, and the -brave Faulks ran upstairs and took a black eye, and Miss Winslow took -the count, and when we arrived there wasn’t a burglar in sight. Yes, -there was some luck about.” - -“Not for Sally,” said her sister. - -“No,” said Reggie thoughtfully. “No, but there was a lot of luck -going.” He surveyed them through his cigar smoke with a bland smile. - -“What do you think I ought to do, Fortune?” said Tom Beach. - -“Go to bed,” said Reggie. “What’s the time? Time runs on, doesn’t it? -Yes, go to bed.” - -“Oh, but, Mr. Fortune, you are disappointing,” Alice Beach cried. - -“I am. I notice it every day. It’s my only vice.” - -“I do think you might be interested!” - -“A poor crime, but her own,” Captain Cosdon chuckled. “It’s no good, -Mrs. Beach. It don’t appeal to the master mind.” - -“You know, Fortune, it’s devilish awkward,” the Colonel protested. - -“I’m sorry. But what can we do? You might call up your village -policeman. He’s four miles off, and I dare say he needs exercise. You -might telephone to Thorton and say you have been burgled, and will -they please watch some road or other for some one or other with a bag -of silver and a set of cameos and a ruby brooch. It doesn’t sound -helpful, does it?” - -“It sounds damned silly.” - -“But I thought you’d find clues, Mr. Fortune,” Alice Beach cried, -“all sorts of clues, finger-prints and foot-prints and----” - -“And tell us the crime was done by a retired sergeant-cook with pink -hair and a cast in the eye,” Cosdon grinned. - -“You see, I’ve no imagination,” said Reggie, sadly. - -“Confound you, Cosdon, it isn’t a joke,” Colonel Beach cried. - -“No, I don’t think it’s a joke,” Reggie agreed. - -“One of your perfect crimes, Mr. Fortune?” - -“Well, I was sayin’--you have to allow for chance. There was a lot of -luck about.” - -“What are you thinking of?” - -“The time, Mrs. Beach. Yes, the flight of time. We’d better go to -bed.” - -But he did not go to bed. He stirred the fire in his bedroom and -composed himself by it. The affair annoyed him. He did not want to be -bothered by work and his mind insisted on working. Something like -this. “Philosophically time is an illusion. ‘Time travels in divers -paces with divers persons.’ Highly divers, yes. Time is the trouble, -Colonel. Why was there such a long time between the first scream and -the second scream? Sally tumbled down. Sally was fumbling in the -dark: but it don’t take many minutes to get from her room to the -stairs. She took as long as it took the chauffeur to run to the -powerhouse. He started some while after the first scream, he had -found what was wrong and put the light on again within a minute of -the second. Too much time for Sally--and too little. How did Sally’s -burglars get off so quick? Faulks ran up at the second scream. The -rest of us were there next minute. They were there to hit Faulks. -When we came, we saw no one, heard no one and found no one.” He shook -his head at the firelight. “And yet Sally’s rather a dear. I wonder. -No, it didn’t go according to plan. But I don’t like it, my child. It -don’t look pretty.” - -He sat up. Somebody was moving in the corridor. He went to his table -for an electric torch, slid silently across the room, flung open the -door and flashed on the light. He caught a glimpse of legs vanishing -round a corner, legs which were crawling, a man’s legs. A door was -closed stealthily. - -Reggie swept the light along the floor. It fell at last on some spots -of candle grease dropped where the fallen Sally was examined. -Thereabouts the legs had been. He moved the light to and fro. Close -by stood an old oak settle. He swept the light about it, saw -something beneath it flash and picked up Mrs. Faulks’s big ruby -brooch. - -The early morning, which he does not love, found him in the garden. -There under Sally’s window the ladder still stood. “That came from -the potting sheds, sir,” his factotum Sam told him. “Matter of a -hundred yards.” Together they went over the path and away to the -little powerhouse by the stream. The ground was still hard from the -night frost. - -“Not a trace,” Reggie murmured. “Well, well. Seen anybody about this -morning, Sam?” - -“This morning, sir?” Sam stared. “Not a soul.” - -“Have a look,” said Reggie and went in shivering. - -He was met by the butler who said nervously that Colonel Beach had -been asking for him and would like to see him in the study. There he -found not only Colonel Beach but Mrs. Beach and Sally and Captain -Cosdon, a distressful company. It was plain that Mrs. Beach had been -crying. Sally was on the brink. Cosdon looked like a naughty boy -uncertain of his doom. But the Colonel was tragic, the Colonel was -taking things very hard. - -Reggie Fortune beamed upon them. “Morning, morning. Up already, Miss -Winslow? How’s the head?” - -Sally tried to say something and gulped. Tom Beach broke out: “Sorry -to trouble you, Fortune. It’s an infernal shame dragging you into -this business.” He glared at his wife, and she wilted. - -“My dear Colonel, it’s my job,” Reggie protested cheerfully, and -edged towards the fire which the Colonel screened. - -“I’m awfully sorry, Colonel. I’m the one to blame,” Cosdon said. -“It’s all my fault, don’t you know.” - -“I don’t know whose fault it isn’t. I know it’s a most ghastly mess.” - -“It’s just like a snowball,” Alice laughed hysterically. “Our -snowball burglary.” - -“Snowball?” the Colonel roared at her. - -“Oh, Tom, you know. When you want subscriptions and have a snowball -where every one has to get some one else to subscribe. I thought of -it and I brought in Sally and Sally brought in Bunny and then Mr. -Faulks came in--poor Mr. Faulks--and then Mrs. Faulks got into it and -her rubies.” - -“And now we’re all in it, up to the neck.” - -“Yes. Yes, that’s very lucid,” said Reggie. “But a little confusing -to an outsider. My brain’s rather torpid, you know. I only want to -get on the fire.” He obtained the central position and sighed -happily. “Well now, the workin’ hypothesis is that there were no -burglars. Somebody thought it would be interesting to put up a -perfect crime. For the benefit of the guileless expert.” - -They were stricken by a new spasm of dismay. They stared at him. -“Yes, you always knew it was a fake,” Cosdon cried. “I guessed that -last night when you kept talking about the time.” - -“Well, I thought a little anxiety would be good for you. Even the -expert has his feelings.” - -“It was horrid of us, Mr. Fortune,” Sally cried. “But it wasn’t only -meant for you.” - -“Oh, don’t discourage me.” - -“It was all my fault, Mr. Fortune.” Alice put in her claim and looked -at him ruefully and then began to laugh. “But you did seem so -bored----” - -“Oh, no, no, no. Only my placid nature. Well now, to begin at the -beginning. Somebody thought it would be a merry jest to have me on. -That was you, Mrs. Beach. For your kindly interest, I thank you.” - -Mrs. Beach again showed signs of weeping. - -“Please don’t be horrid, Mr. Fortune,” said Sally, fervently. - -“I’m trying to be fascinating. But you see I’m so respectable. You -unnerve me.” - -“I thought of a burglary,” said Mrs. Beach, choking sobs. “And I -asked Sally to do it.” - -“And she did--all for my sake. Well, one never knows,” Reggie sighed, -and looked sentimental. - -“It wasn’t you,” said Sally. “I wanted to shock Mr. Faulks.” - -“Dear, dear. I shouldn’t wonder if you have.” - -“Oh!” Sally shuddered. “That man is on my nerves. He simply follows -me about. He scares me. When I found he’d got Tom to ask him here -I----” - -“Yes, of course, it’s my fault,” Tom Beach cried. “I knew it would -come round to that.” - -“You didn’t know, dear, how could you?” Sally soothed him. “He -doesn’t make love to you. Well, he was here and his mamma and--oh, -Mr. Fortune, you’ve seen them. They want shocking. So I talked to -Bunny and----” - -“And I came in with both feet,” said Captain Cosdon. “My scheme -really, Fortune, all my scheme.” - -“All?” Reggie asked with some emphasis. - -“Good Lord, not what’s happened.” - -“I thought we should come to that some day. What did happen?” - -And they all began to talk at once. From which tumult emerged the -clear little voice of Sally. “Bunny slipped out early and put a -garden ladder up at my window and then went off to the powerhouse. -When I went to bed, I collected Tom’s pots from the study--that was -because he is so vain of them--and Alice’s cameos--that’s because -they’re so dowdy--and locked them in my trunk. Then I screamed at the -window. That was the signal for Bunny and he switched the lights out -and came back. All that was what we planned.” She looked pathetically -at Reggie. “It was a good crime, wasn’t it, Mr. Fortune?” - -“You have a turn for the profession, Miss Winslow. You will try to be -too clever. It’s the mark of the criminal mind.” - -“I say, hang it all, Fortune----” Cosdon flushed. - -“I know I spoilt it,” said Sally meekly. “I just stood there, you -know, hearing Tom roar downstairs and you all fussing----” - -“And you underrate the policeman. Do I fuss?” Reggie was annoyed. - -“You’re fussing over my morals now. Well, I stood there and it came -over me the burglars just had to have something of Mrs. Faulks’s.” -She gurgled. “That would make it quite perfect. So I ran into her -room and struck a match and there was her awful old ruby brooch. I -took that and went out into the passage and screamed again. That was -the plan. Then I bumped into somebody----” - -“That was me,” said Captain Cosdon. “She was such a jolly long time -with the second scream I went up to see if anything was wrong----” - -“Yes. The criminal will do too much,” Reggie sighed. - -“Then Faulks came. He tumbled into us and hit out, silly ass. I heard -Sally go down and I let him have it. Confound him.” - -Sally smiled at him affectionately. - -“Oh yes, it’s devilish funny, isn’t it?” cried Tom Beach. “Good God, -Cosdon, you’re not fit to be at large. A nice thing you’ve let me in -for.” - -“Well, you’ve all been very ingenious,” said Reggie. “Thanks for a -very jolly evening. May I have some breakfast?” There was a silence -which could be felt. - -“Mr. Fortune,” said Sally, “that awful brooch is gone.” - -“Yes, that’s where we slipped up,” said Cosdon. “Sally must have -dropped it when that fool knocked her out. I went out last night to -hunt for it and it wasn’t there.” - -“Really?” - -Reggie’s tone was sardonic and Cosdon flushed at it. “What do you -mean?” - -“Well, somebody found it, I suppose. That’s the working hypothesis.” - -He reduced them to the dismal condition in which he found them. -“There you are!” Colonel Beach cried. “Some one of the servants saw -the beastly thing and thought there was a chance to steal it. It’s a -ghastly business. I’ll have to go through them for it and catch some -poor devil who would have gone straight enough if you hadn’t played -the fool. It’s not fair, confound it.” - -There was a tap at the door. Mrs. Faulks was asking if the Colonel -would speak to her. The Colonel groaned and went out. - -“Do you mind if I have some breakfast, Mrs. Beach?” said Reggie -plaintively. - -They seemed to think him heartless but offered no impediment. A -dejected company slunk downstairs. It occurred to Reggie, always a -just man, that Sam also might be hungry and he ran out to take him -off guard. - -When he came back to the breakfast-room, he found that Faulks had -joined the party. It was clear that no one had dared to tell him the -truth. They were gazing in fascinated horror at the many colours -which swelled about his right eye, and his scowl was terrible. - -“Hallo, Faulks! Stout fellow,” said Reggie, brightly. “How’s the -head?” - -Mr. Faulks turned the scowl on him. Mr. Faulks found his head very -painful. He had had practically no sleep. He feared some serious -injury to the nerves. He must see a doctor. And his tone implied that -as a doctor and a man Reggie was contemptible. - -Reggie served himself generously with bacon and mushrooms and began -to eat. No one else was eating but Mr. Faulks. He, in a domineering -manner, smote boiled eggs. The others played with food like -passengers in a rolling ship. - -The door was opened. The austere shape of Mrs. Faulks stalked in and -behind her Tom Beach slunk to his place. Mrs. Faulks’s compressed -face wore a look of triumph. - -Sally half rose from her chair. “Oh, Mrs. Faulks,” she cried, “have -you found your rubies?” - -“Really!” said Mrs. Faulks with a freezing smile. “No, Miss Winslow, -I have not found my rubies.” - -“What are you going to do about it?” - -Mrs. Faulks stared at her. “I imagine there is only one thing to be -done. I have desired Colonel Beach to send for the police. I should -have thought that was obvious.” - -“Oh, Tom, you mustn’t!” Sally cried. - -“Really! My dear, you don’t realize what you’re saying.” - -“Yes, I do. You don’t understand, Mrs. Faulks; you see it was like -this----” and out it all came with the Colonel trying to stop it in -confused exclamations, and Mrs. Faulks and her heavy son sinking -deeper and deeper into stupefaction. - -“The whole affair was a practical joke?” said Faulks thickly. - -“That’s the idea, old thing,” Cosdon assured him. - -“Yes, yes, don’t you see it?” Sally giggled. - -“I never heard anything so disgraceful,” Faulks pronounced. - -“I say, go easy,” Cosdon cried. - -Mrs. Faulks had become pale. “Am I expected to believe this?” she -looked from Tom to Alice. - -“Oh, Mrs. Faulks, I am so sorry,” Alice Beach said. “It was too bad. -And it’s really all my fault.” - -“I--I--you say you stole my rubies?” Mrs. Faulks turned upon Sally. - -“Come, come, the child took them for a joke,” Colonel Beach protested. - -“I took them, yes--and then I lost them. I’m most awfully sorry about -that.” - -“Are you indeed. Am I to believe this tale, Colonel Beach? Then pray -who stole my diamond necklace?” - -She produced an awful silence. She seemed proud of it, and in a -fascination of horror the conspirators stared at her. - -“Diamond necklace!” Sally cried. “I never saw it.” - -“My necklace is gone. I don’t profess to understand the ideas of -joking in this house. But my necklace is gone.” - -“Oh, my lord,” said Cosdon. “That’s torn it.” - -“The snowball!” Alice gasped. “It is a snowball. Everything gets in -something else.” - -“Really!” said Mrs. Faulks (her one expletive). “I do not understand -you.” - -Reggie arose and cut himself a large portion of cold beef. - -“If this was a practical joke,” said the solemn voice of Faulks, “who -struck me?” - -“That was me, old thing,” Cosdon smiled upon him. - -“But strictly speakin’,” said Reggie as he came back and took more -toast, “that’s irrelevant.” - -“Colonel Beach!” Mrs. Faulks commanded the wretched man’s attention, -“what do you propose to do?” - -“We shall have to have the police,” he groaned. - -“Oh, yes, it’s a case for the police,” said Reggie cheerfully. “Have -you a telegraph form, Colonel?” - -“It’s all right, Fortune, thanks. I’ll telephone.” - -“Yes, encourage local talent. But I would like to send a wire to -Scotland Yard.” - -“Scotland Yard!” Mrs. Faulks was impressed. Mrs. Faulks smiled on him. - -“Well, you know, there are points about your case, Mrs. Faulks. I -think they would be interested.” - -Like one handing his own death warrant, Colonel Beach put down some -telegraph forms. Reggie pulled out his pencil, laid it down again and -took some marmalade. “Valuable necklace, of course, Mrs. Faulks?” he -said blandly. “Quite so. The one you wore the night before last? I -remember. I remember.” He described it. Mrs. Faulks approved and -elaborated his description. “That’s very clear. Are your jewels -insured? Yes, well that is a certain consolation.” He adjusted his -pencil and wrote. “I think this will meet the case.” He gave the -telegram to Mrs. Faulks. - -Mrs. Faulks read it, Mrs. Faulks seemed unable to understand. She -continued to gaze at it, and the wondering company saw her grow red -to the frozen coils of her hair. - -Reggie was making notes on another telegraph form. He read out slowly -a precise description of the lost necklace. “That’s it, then,” he -said. “By the way, who are you insured with?” - -Mrs. Faulks glared at him. “I suppose this is another joke.” - -“No,” Reggie shook his head. “This has gone beyond a joke.” - -“Where is my brooch, then? Who has my brooch?” - -“I have,” said Reggie. He pulled it out of his pocket and laid it on -her plate. “I found the brooch in the passage. I didn’t find the -necklace, Mrs. Faulks. So I should like to send that telegram.” - -“You will do nothing of the kind. I won’t have anything done. The -whole affair is disgraceful, perfectly disgraceful. I forbid you to -interfere. Do you understand, I forbid it? Colonel Beach! It is -impossible for me to stay in your house after the way in which you -have allowed me to be treated. Please order the car.” - -She stalked out of the room. - -“Fortune!” said Faulks thunderously. “Will you kindly explain -yourself?” - -“I don’t think I need explaining. But you might ask your mother. She -kept the telegram.” And to his mother Mr. Faulks fled. - -“Good God, Fortune, what have you done?” Tom Beach groaned. - -“Not a nice woman,” said Reggie sadly. “Not really a nice woman.” He -stood up and sought the fire and lit a cigar and sighed relief. - -“Mr. Fortune, what was in that telegram?” Sally cried. - -Reggie sat down on the cushioned fender. “I don’t think you’re really -a good little girl, you know,” he shook his head at her and surveyed -the company. “Broadly speakin’ you ought all to be ashamed of -yourselves. Except the Colonel.” - -“Please, Mr. Fortune, I’ll never do it again,” said Alice -plaintively. “Tom----” she sat on the arm of her husband’s chair and -caressed him. - -“All right, all right,” he submitted. “But I say, Fortune, what am I -to do about Mrs. Faulks?” - -“She’s done all there is to do. No, not a nice woman.” - -Sally held out her small hands. “Please! What did you say in that -telegram?” - -“‘Lomas, Scotland Yard. Jewel robbery Colonel Beach’s house curious -features tell post office stop delivery registered packet posted -Cranston this morning nine examine contents Reginald Fortune Cranston -Regis.’” - -“I don’t understand.” - -“She did. Sorry to meddle with anyone in your house. Colonel, but she -would have it. You won’t have any trouble.” - -“But what’s the woman done?” the Colonel cried. - -“Well, you know, she’s been led into temptation. When she thought -burglars had taken her brooch it seemed to her that she might as well -recover from the insurance people for something else too. That’s the -worst of playing at crime, Mrs. Beach. You never know who won’t take -it seriously. What made me cast an eye at Mrs. Faulks was her saying -last night that she wasn’t sure whether she had lost anything else. I -can’t imagine Mrs. Faulks not sure about anything. She’s sure she’s -an injured woman now. And I’ll swear she always has an inventory of -all her jeweller’s shop in her head.” - -“She has,” said Alice Beach pathetically. “You should hear her talk -of her jewels.” - -“Heaven forbid. But you see, Miss Winslow, it’s the old story, you -criminals always try to be too clever. She thought it wouldn’t be -enough to say she’d lost her diamonds. She wanted them well out of -the way so that the police could search and not find them. So she -scurried off to the post office and sent them away in a registered -packet. Thus, as you criminals will, underratin’ the intelligence of -the simple policeman. My man Sam was looking out to see if anyone did -anything unusual this morning and he observed Mrs. Faulks’s manœuvres -at the post office----” - -“And you had her cold!” Cosdon cried. - -“Yes. Yes, a sad story.” - -“She didn’t really mean any harm,” said Sally. “Did she, Mr. Fortune?” - -Reggie looked at her sadly. “You’re not a moral little girl, you -know,” he said. - - - - - CASE VI - - THE LEADING LADY - -MR. REGINALD FORTUNE sent his punt along at the rate of knots. From -the cushions the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department -protested. “Why this wanton display of skill? Why so strenuous?” - -“It’s good for the figure, Lomas.” - -“Have you a figure?” said Lomas bitterly. It is to be confessed that -a certain solidity distinguishes Reggie Fortune. Years of service as -the scientific adviser of Scotland Yard have not marred the pink and -white of his cherubic face, but they have brought weight to a body -never svelte. - -Mr. Fortune let the punt drift. “That’s vulgar abuse. What’s the -matter, old thing?” - -“I dislike your horrible competence. Is there anything you can’t do?” - -“I don’t think so,” said Mr. Fortune modestly. “Jack of all trades -and master of none. That is why I am a specialist.” - -The Hon. Sidney Lomas sat up. “Secondly, I resent your hurry to get -rid of me. Thirdly, as I am going up to London to work and you are -going back in this punt to do nothing, I should like to annoy you. -Fourthly and lastly I know that I shan’t, and that embitters me. Does -anything ever annoy you, Fortune?” - -“Only work. Only the perverse criminal.” - -Lomas groaned. “All criminals are perverse.” - -“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Most crime is a natural product.” - -“Of course fools are natural,” said Lomas irritably. “The most -natural of all animals. And if there were no fools--I shouldn’t spend -the summer at Scotland Yard.” - -“Well, many criminals are weak in the head.” - -“That’s why a policeman’s life is not a happy one.” - -“But most of ’em are a natural product. Opportunity makes the thief -or what not--and there but for the grace of God go I. Circumstances -lead a fellow into temptation.” - -“Yes. I’ve wanted to do murder myself. But even with you I have -hitherto refrained. There’s always a kink in the criminal’s mind -before he goes wrong. Good Gad!” He dropped his voice. “Did you see -her?” - -Mr. Fortune reproved him. “You’re so susceptible, Lomas. Control -yourself. Think of my reputation. I am known in these parts.” - -“Who is she? Lady Macbeth?” - -“My dear fellow! Oh, my dear fellow! I thought you were a student of -the drama. She’s not tragic. She’s comedy and domestic pathos. Tea -and tears. It was Rose Darcourt.” - -“Good Gad!” said Lomas once more. “She looked like Lady Macbeth after -the murder.” - -Reggie glanced over his shoulder. From the shade of the veranda of -the boat-house a white face stared at him. It seemed to become aware -of him and fled. “Indigestion perhaps,” he said. “It does feel like -remorse. Or have you been trifling with her affections, Lomas?” - -“I wouldn’t dare. Do you know her? She looks a nice young woman for a -quiet tea-party. Passion and poison for two.” - -“It’s the physique, you know,” said Mr. Fortune sadly. “When they’re -long and sinuous and dark they will be intense. That’s the etiquette -of the profession. But it’s spoiling her comedy. She takes everything -in spasms now and she used to be quite restful.” - -“Some silly fool probably told her she was a great actress,” Lomas -suggested. - -Mr. Fortune did not answer. He was steering the punt to the bank. As -it slid by the rushes he stooped and picked out of the water a large -silk bag. This he put down at Lomas’s feet, and saying, “Who’s the -owner of this pretty thing?” once more drove the punt on at the rate -of knots. - -Lomas produced from the bag a powder-puff, three gold hair-pins and -two handkerchiefs. “The police have evidence of great importance,” he -announced, “and immediate developments are expected. S. Sheridan is -the culprit, Fortune.” - -“Sylvia Sheridan?” Reggie laughed. “You know we’re out of a paragraph -in a picture paper. ‘On the river this week-end all the stars of the -stage were shining. Miss Rose Darcourt was looking like Juliet on the -balcony of her charming boat-house and I saw Miss Sylvia Sheridan’s -bag floating sweetly down stream. Bags are worn bigger than ever this -year. Miss Sheridan has always been famous for her bags. But this was -really dinky!’” - -At the bridge he put Lomas into his car and strolled up to leave Miss -Sheridan’s bag at the police-station. - -The sergeant was respectfully affable (Mr. Fortune is much petted by -subordinates) and it took some time to reach the bag. When Ascot and -the early peas and the sergeant’s daughter’s young man had been -critically estimated, Mr. Fortune said that he was only calling on -the lost property department to leave a lady’s bag. “I just picked it -out of the river,” Reggie explained. “No value to anybody but the -owner. Seems to belong to Miss Sylvia Sheridan. She’s a house down -here, hasn’t she? You might let her know.” - -The sergeant stared at Mr. Fortune and breathed hard. “What makes you -say that, sir?” - -“Say what?” - -“Beg pardon, sir. You’d better see the inspector.” And the sergeant -tumbled out of the room. - -The inspector was flurried. “Mr. Fortune? Very glad to see you, sir. -Sort of providential your coming in like this. Won’t you sit down, -sir? This is a queer start. Where might you have found her bag, Mr. -Fortune?” - -“About a mile above the bridge,” Reggie opened his eyes. “Against the -reed bank below Miss Darcourt’s boat-house.” - -Inspector Oxtoby whistled. “That’s above Miss Sheridan’s cottage.” He -looked knowing. “Things don’t float upstream, Mr. Fortune.” - -“It’s not usual. Why does that worry you?” - -“Miss Sheridan’s missing, Mr. Fortune. I’ve just had her housekeeper -in giving information. Miss Sheridan went out last night and hasn’t -been seen since. Now you’ve picked up her bag in the river above her -house. It’s a queer start, isn’t it?” - -“But only a start,” said Reggie gently. “We’re not even sure the bag -is hers. The handkerchiefs in it are marked S. Sheridan. But some -women have a way of gleaning other women’s handkerchiefs. Her -housekeeper ought to know her bag. Did her housekeeper know why she -went out?” - -“No, sir. That’s one of the things that rattled her. Miss Sheridan -went out after dinner alone, walking. They thought she was in the -garden and went to bed. In the morning she wasn’t in the house. She -wasn’t in the garden either.” - -“And that’s that,” said Reggie. “Better let them know at Scotland -Yard. They like work.” And he rose to go. It was plain that he had -disappointed Inspector Oxtoby, who asked rather plaintively if there -was anything Mr. Fortune could suggest. “I should ask her friends, -you know,” said Mr. Fortune, wandering dreamily to the door. “I -should have a look at her house. There may be something in it,” and -he left the inspector gaping. - -Reggie Fortune is one of the few people in England who like going to -the theatre. The others, as you must have noticed, like this kind of -play or that. Mr. Fortune has an impartial and curious mind and tries -everything. He had therefore formed opinions of Sylvia Sheridan and -Rose Darcourt which are not commonly held. For he was unable to take -either of them seriously. This hampered him, and he calls the case -one of his failures. - -On the next morning he came back from bathing at the lasher to hear -that the telephone had called him. He took his car to Scotland Yard -and was received by Superintendent Bell. That massive man was even -heavier than usual. “You’ll not be pleased with me, Mr. Fortune----” -he began. - -“If you look at me like that I shall cry. Two hours ago I was in nice -deep bubbly water. And you bring me up to this oven of a town and -make me think you’re a headmaster with the gout and I’ve been a rude -little boy.” - -“Mr. Lomas said not to trouble you,” the Superintendent mourned. “But -I put it to him you’d not wish to be out of it, Mr. Fortune.” - -“Damn it, Bell, don’t appeal to my better nature. That’s infuriating.” - -“It’s this Sheridan case, sir. Miss Sheridan’s vanished.” - -“Well, I haven’t run away with her. She smiles too much. I couldn’t -bear it.” - -“She’s gone, sir,” Bell said heavily. “She was to have signed her -contract as leading lady in Mr. Mark Woodcote’s new play. That was -yesterday. She didn’t come. They had no word from her. And yesterday -her servants gave information she had disappeared----” - -“I know. I was there. So she hasn’t turned up yet?” - -“No, sir. And Mr. Lomas and you, you found her bag in the river. That -was her bag.” - -“Well, well.” said Reggie. “And what’s the Criminal Investigation -Department going to do about it?” - -“Where’s she gone, Mr. Fortune? She didn’t take her car. She’s not -been seen at Stanton station. She’s not at her flat in town. She’s -not with any of her friends.” - -“The world is wide,” Reggie murmured. - -“And the river’s pretty deep, Mr. Fortune.” - -At this point Lomas came in. He beamed upon them both, he patted -Bell’s large shoulder, he came to Reggie Fortune. “My dear fellow! -Here already! ‘Duty, stern daughter of the voice of God,’ what? How -noble--and how good for you!” - -Reggie looked from his jauntiness to the gloom of Bell. “Tragedy and -comedy, aren’t you?” he said. “And very well done, too. But it’s a -little confusing to the scientific mind.” - -“Well, what do you make of it?” Lomas dropped into a chair and lit a -cigarette. “Bell’s out for blood. An Actress’s Tragedy. Mystery of -the Thames. Murder or Suicide? That sort of thing. But it seems to me -it has all the engaging air of an advertisement.” - -“Only it isn’t advertised, sir,” said Bell. “Twenty-four hours and -more since she was reported missing, and not a word in the papers -yet. That don’t look like a stunt. It looks more like somebody was -keeping things quiet.” - -“Yes. Yes, you take that trick, Bell,” Reggie nodded. “Who is this -remarkable manager that don’t tell all the newspapers when his -leading lady’s missing?” - -“Mr. Montgomery Eagle, sir.” - -“But he runs straight,” said Reggie. - -“Oh Lord, yes,” Lomas laughed. “Quite a good fellow. Bell is so -melodramatic in the hot weather. I don’t think Eagle is pulling my -leg. I suspect it’s the lady who is out for a little free -advertisement. To be reported missing--that is a sure card. On the -placards, in the headlines, unlimited space in all the papers. Wait -and see, Bell. The delay means nothing. She couldn’t tell her Press -agent to send in news of her disappearance. It wouldn’t be artistic.” - -Superintendent Bell looked at him compassionately. “And I’m sure I -hope you’re right, sir,” he said. “But it don’t look that way to me. -If she wanted to disappear for a joke why did she go and do it like -this? These young ladies on the stage, they value their comforts. She -goes off walking at night with nothing but what she stood up in. If -you ask me to believe she meant to do the vanishing act when she went -out of her house, I can’t see how it’s likely.” - -“Strictly speakin’,” said Reggie, “nothing’s likely. Why did she go -out, Bell? To keep an appointment with her murderer?” - -“I don’t see my way, sir. I own it. But there’s her garden goes down -to the river--suppose she just tumbled into the water--she might be -there now.” - -“The bag,” said Reggie dreamily. “The bag, Bell. It didn’t float -upstream, and yet we found it above her garden. She couldn’t have -been walking along the bank. The towpath is the other side. The bag -came into the river from a boat--or from the grounds of another -house.” - -Lomas laughed. “My dear Fortune, I like your earnest simplicity. It’s -a new side to your character and full of charm. I quite agree the bag -is interesting. I think it’s conclusive. A neat and pretty touch. The -little lady threw it into the river to give her disappearance -glamour.” - -“Rather well thrown,” said Reggie. “Say a quarter of a mile. Hefty -damsel.” - -“Oh, my dear fellow, she may have taken a boat, she may have crossed -and walked up the towpath.” - -“Just to get her bag into the river above her house? Why would she -want to put it in above her house? She couldn’t be sure that it would -stay there. It might have sunk. It might have drifted a mile farther.” - -Lomas shrugged. “Well, as you say. But we don’t know that the bag was -lost that night at all. She may have dropped it out of a boat any -time and anywhere.” - -“Yes, but plenty of boats go up and down that reach. And we found it -bright and early the morning after she vanished. Why didn’t anybody -else find it before? I rather fancy it wasn’t there, Lomas.” - -“What’s your theory, Mr. Fortune?” said Bell eagerly. - -“My dear fellow! Oh, my dear fellow! I don’t know the lady.” - -“They say she’s a sportive maiden,” Lomas smiled. “I’ll wager you’ll -have a run for your money, Bell.” - -Reggie Fortune considered him severely. “I don’t think it’s a race to -bet on, Lomas, old thing.” - -It was about this time that Mr. Montgomery Eagle’s name was brought -in. “Will you see him, Mr. Lomas?” Bell said anxiously. - -“Oh Lord, no. I have something else to do. Make him talk, that’s all -you want.” - -The Superintendent turned a bovine but pathetic gaze on Reggie. “I -think so,” said Mr. Fortune. “There are points, Bell.” - -Superintendent Bell arranged himself at the table, a large solemn -creature, born to inspire confidence. Mr. Fortune dragged an easy -chair to the window and sat on the small of his back and thus -disposed might have been taken for an undergraduate weary of the -world. - -Mr. Montgomery Eagle brought another man with him. They both -exhibited signs of uneasiness. Mr. Eagle, whose physical charms, -manner and dress suggest a butler off duty, wrung his hands and asked -if the Superintendent had any news. The Superintendent asked Mr. -Eagle to sit down. “Er, thank you. Er--you’re very good. May I--this -is Mr. Woodcote--the--er--author of the play Miss Sheridan was -to--the--play I--er--hope to--very anxious to know if you----” - -“Naturally,” said the Superintendent. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. -Woodcote.” The dramatist smiled nervously. He was still young enough -to show an awkward simplicity of manner, but his pleasant dark face -had signs of energy and some ability. “We’re rather interested in -your case. Now what have you got to tell us?” - -“I?” said Woodcote. “Well, I hoped you were going to tell us -something.” - -“We’ve heard nothing at all,” said Eagle. “Absolutely nothing. -Er--it’s--er--very distressing--er--serious matter for us--er--whole -production held up--er--this poor lady--most distressing.” - -“Quite, quite,” Reggie murmured from his chair, and the two stared at -him. - -“The fact is,” said Superintendent Bell heavily, “we can find no one -who has seen Miss Sheridan since she left her house. We’re where we -were yesterday, gentlemen. Are you?” - -“Absolutely,” said Eagle. - -“First question--did she leave her house?” Reggie murmured. “Second -question--why did she leave her house?” He sat up with a jerk. “I -wonder. Do you know anything about that?” - -Eagle gaped at him. “Did she leave her house?” Woodcote cried. -“That’s not doubtful, is it? She’s not there.” - -“Well, I like to begin at the beginning,” said Reggie gently. - -“The local men have been over the house, Mr. Fortune,” Bell stared at -him. - -“I suppose they wouldn’t overlook her,” Woodcote laughed. - -“Second question--why did she leave it? You see, we don’t know the -lady and I suppose you do. Had she any friends who were--intimate?” - -“What are you suggesting?” Woodcote cried. - -“I don’t know. Do you? Is there anyone she liked--or anyone she -didn’t like?” - -“I must say,”--Eagle was emphatic in jerks--“never heard a word -said--er--against Miss Sheridan--er--very highest reputation.” - -“If you have any suspicions let’s have it out, sir,” Woodcote cried. - -“My dear fellow! Oh, my dear fellow!” Reggie protested. “It’s the -case is suspicious, not me. The primary hypothesis is that something -made Miss Sheridan vanish. I’m askin’ you what it was.” - -The manager looked at the dramatist. The dramatist looked at Mr. -Fortune. “What is it you suspect, then?” he said. - -“What does take a lady out alone after dinner?” said Reggie. “I -wonder.” - -“We don’t know that she went out of the garden, sir,” Bell admonished -him. - -Reggie lit a cigar. “Think there was a murderer waiting in the -garden?” he said as he puffed. “Think she was feeling suicidal? Well, -it’s always possible.” - -“Good God!” said Eagle. - -“You’re rather brutal, sir,” Woodcote grew pale. - -“You don’t like those ideas? Well, what’s yours?” They were silent. -“Has it ever occurred to you somebody might have annoyed Miss -Sheridan?” Mr. Montgomery Eagle became of a crimson colour. “Yes, -think it over,” said Reggie cheerfully. “If there was somebody she -wanted to take it out of----” he smiled and blew smoke rings. - -“I don’t know what you mean,” Woodcote stared at him. - -“Really? It’s quite simple. Had anything happened lately to make Miss -Sheridan annoyed with anybody?” - -“I’m bound to say, sir,” Eagle broke out, “there was a--a question -about her part. She was to play lead in Mr. Woodcote’s new comedy. -Well--er--I can’t deny--er--Miss Darcourt’s been with me before. Miss -Darcourt--she was--well, I had--er--representations from her the part -ought to be hers. I--er--I’m afraid Miss Sheridan did come to hear of -this.” - -“Rose Darcourt couldn’t play it,” said the author fiercely. “She -couldn’t touch it.” - -“No, no. I don’t suggest she could--er--not at all--but it was an -unpleasant situation. Miss Sheridan was annoyed----” - -“Miss Sheridan was annoyed with Miss Darcourt and Miss Darcourt was -annoyed with Miss Sheridan. And Miss Sheridan goes out alone at night -by the river and in the river we find her bag. That’s the case, then. -Well, well.” - -“Do you mean that Rose Darcourt murdered her?” Woodcote frowned at -him. - -“My dear fellow, you are in such a hurry. I mean that I could bear to -know a little more about Miss Darcourt’s emotions. Do you think you -could find out if she still wants to play this great part?” - -“She may want,” said Woodcote bitterly. “She can go on wanting.” - -“In point of fact,” said Eagle. “I--er--I had a letter this morning. -She tells me--er--she wouldn’t consider acting in--er--in Mr. -Woodcote’s play. She--er--says I misunderstood her. She never thought -of it--er--doesn’t care for Mr. Woodcote’s work.” - -Mr. Woodcote flushed. “That does worry me,” said he. - -“And that’s that.” Reggie stood up. - -Whereon Superintendent Bell with careful official assurances got rid -of them. They seemed surprised. - -“That’s done it, sir,” said Bell. Reggie did not answer. He was -cooing to a pigeon on the window-sill. “You’ve got it out of them. -We’ll be looking after this Rose Darcourt.” - -“They don’t like her, do they?” Reggie murmured. “Well, well. They do -enjoy their little emotions.” He laughed suddenly. “Let’s tell Lomas.” - -That sprightly man was reading an evening paper. He flung it at -Bell’s head. “There you are. Six-inch headlines. ‘Famous Actress -Vanishes.’ And now I do hope we shan’t be long. I wonder how she’ll -manage her resurrection. Was she kidnapped by a Bolshevik submarine? -U-boat in Boulter’s Lock. That would be a good stunt. And rescued by -an aeroplane. She might come down on the course at Ascot.” - -“He can’t take her seriously, Bell,” said Reggie. “It’s the other one -who has his heart. Who ever loved that loved not at first sight? She -captured him at a glance.” - -Bell was shocked and bewildered. “What the deuce do you mean?” said -Lomas. - -“Lady Macbeth by the river. You know how she fascinated you.” - -“Rose Darcourt?” Lomas cried. “Good Gad!” - -“The morning after Sylvia Sheridan vanished, Rose Darcourt was -looking unwell by the river and Sylvia Sheridan’s bag was found in -the river just below Rose Darcourt’s house. Now the manager and the -playwright tell us Rose has been trying to get the part which was -earmarked for Sylvia, and Sylvia was cross about it. Since Sylvia -vanished Rose has pitched in a letter to say she wouldn’t look at the -part or the play. Consider your verdict.” - -“There it is, sir, and an ugly business,” said Bell with a certain -satisfaction. “These stage folk, they’re not wholesome.” - -“My dear old Bell,” Reggie chuckled. - -“Good Gad!” said Lomas, and burst out laughing. “But it’s -preposterous. It’s a novelette. The two leading ladies quarrel--and -they meet by moonlight alone on the banks of the murmuring -stream--and pull caps--and what happened next? Did Rose pitch Sylvia -into the dark and deadly water or Sylvia commit suicide in her -anguish? Damme, Bell, you’d better make a film of it.” - -“I don’t know what you make of it, sir,” said Bell with stolid -indignation. “But I’ve advised the local people to drag the river. -And I suggest it’s time we had a man or two looking after this Miss -Darcourt.” - -“Good Gad!” said Lomas again. “And what do you suggest, Fortune? Do -you want to arrest her and put her on the rack? Or will it be enough -to examine her body for Sylvia’s finger-prints? If we are to make -fools of ourselves, let’s do it handsomely.” - -“It seems to me we look fools enough as it is,” Bell growled. - -“This is a very painful scene,” Reggie said gently. “Your little -hands were never made to scratch each other’s eyes.” - -“What do you want to do?” Lomas turned on him. - -“Well, it’s not much in my way. I like a corpse and you haven’t a -corpse for me. And I don’t feel that I know these good people. They -seem muddled to me. It’s all muddled. I fancy they don’t know where -they are. And there’s something we haven’t got, Lomas old thing. I -should look about.” - -“I’m going to look about,” said Lomas with decision. “But I’m going -to look for Sylvia Sheridan’s friends--not her wicked rivals. I -resent being used as an actress’s advertisement.” - -Reggie shook his head. “You will be so respectable, Lomas my child. -It hampers you.” - -“Well, go and drag the river,” said Lomas with a shrug, “and see who -finds her first.” - -Mr. Fortune, who has a gentle nature, does not like people to be -cross to him. This was his defence when Lomas subsequently complained -of his independent action. He went to lunch and afterwards returned -to his house by the river. - -Swaying in a hammock under the syringa he considered the Sheridan -case without prejudice, and drowsily came to the conclusion that he -believed in nothing and nobody. He was not satisfied with the bag, he -was not satisfied with the pallid woe of Rose Darcourt, he was not -satisfied with the manager and the playwright, he was by no means -satisfied with the flippancy of Lomas and the grim zeal of Bell. It -appeared to him that all were unreasonable. He worked upon his -memories of Rose Darcourt and Sylvia Sheridan and found no help -therein. The two ladies, though competent upon the stage and at times -agreeable, were to him commonplace. And whatever the case was, it was -not that. He could not relate them to the floating bag, and the story -of jealousy and the disappearance. “This thing’s all out of joint,” -he sighed, “and I don’t think the airy Lomas or the gloomy Bell is -the man to put it right. Why will people have theories? And at their -time of life too! It’s not decent.” He rang (in his immoral garden -you can ring from the pergola and ring from the hammocks and the -lawn) for his chauffeur and factotum, Sam. - -Mr. Samuel Smith was born a small and perky Cockney. He is, according -to Reggie, a middle-class chauffeur but otherwise a lad of parts, -having a peculiarly neat hand with photography and wine. But a -capacity for being all things to all men was what first recommended -him. “Sam,” said Mr. Fortune, “do you go much into society?” - -“Meaning the locals, sir?” - -“That was the idea.” - -“Well, sir, they’re not brainy. Too much o’ the _nouveau riche_.” - -“It’s a hard world, Sam. I want to know about Miss Darcourt’s -servants. I wouldn’t mind knowing about Miss Sheridan’s servants. -They ought to be talking things over. Somebody may be saying -something interesting--or doing something.” - -“I’ve got it, sir. Can do.” - -Mr. Fortune sighed happily and went to sleep. - -For the next few days he was occupied with a number of new roses -which chose to come into flower together. It was reported among his -servants that Mr. Fortune sat by these bushes and held their hands. -And meanwhile the papers gave much space to Miss Sylvia Sheridan, -describing in vivid detail how the river was being dragged for her, -and how her corpse had been discovered at Bradford and how she had -been arrested while bathing (mixed) at Ilfracombe and seen on a -flapper’s bracket in Hampstead. - -Mr. Fortune, engaged upon a minute comparison of the shades of tawny -red in five different but exquisite roses, was disturbed by -Superintendent Bell. He looked up at that square and gloomy visage -and shook his head. “You disturb me. I have my own troubles, Bell. -Darlings, aren’t they?” He made a caressing gesture over his roses. -“But I can’t make up my mind which is the one I really love. Go away, -Bell. Your complexion annoys them.” - -“We haven’t found her, sir,” said Bell heavily. “She’s not in the -river.” Reggie dropped into a long chair and, watching him with -dreamy eyes, filled a pipe. Bell glowered. “I thought you were going -to say, ‘I told you so.’” - -Reggie smiled. “I don’t remember that I told you anything.” - -“That was about the size of it, sir,” Bell reproached him. - -“Well, I thought it was possible the body was in the river. But not -probable.” - -“Nothing’s probable that I can see. Roses are a bit simpler, aren’t -they, sir?” - -“Simpler!” Reggie cried. “You’re no gardener. You should take it up, -Bell. It develops the finer feelings. Now, don’t be cross again. I -can’t bear it. I haven’t forgotten your horrible case. Nothing’s -probable, as you say. But one or two things are certain all the same. -Sylvia Sheridan’s servants have nothing up their sleeves. They’re as -lost as you are. They are being quite natural. But Rose Darcourt has -a chauffeur who interests me. He is a convivial animal and his pub is -the ‘Dog and Duck.’ But he hasn’t been at the ‘Dog and Duck’ since -Sylvia vanished. The ‘Dog and Duck’ is surprised at him. Also he has -been hanging about Sylvia’s house. He has suddenly begun an affair -with her parlourmaid. He seems to have a deuce of a lot of time on -his hands. Rose Darcourt don’t show. She’s reported ill. And the -reputation of the chauffeur is that he’s always been very free and -easy with his mistress.” - -Bell grunted and meditated and Reggie pushed a cigar-case across to -help his meditations. “Well, sir, it sounds queer as you put it. But -it might be explained easy. And that’s what Mr. Lomas says about the -whole case. Maybe he’s right.” The thought plunged the Superintendent -into deeper gloom. - -“What a horrible idea,” said Reggie. “My dear fellow, don’t be so -despondent. I’ve been waiting for you to take me to the parlourmaid. -I want a chaperon.” - -Inspector Oxtoby in plain clothes, Superintendent Bell in clothes -still plainer and Mr. Fortune in flannels conducted an examination of -that frightened damsel, who was by turns impudent and plaintive, till -soothed by Mr. Fortune’s benignity. It then emerged that she was not -walking out with Mr. Loveday the chauffeur: nothing of the kind: only -Mr. Loveday had been attentive. - -“And very natural, too,” Reggie murmured. “But why has he only just -begun?” - -The parlourmaid was startled. They had had a many fellows round the -house since mistress went off. She smiled. It was implied that others -beside the chauffeur had remarked her charms. - -“And Mr. Loveday never came before? Does he ask after your mistress?” - -“Well, of course he always wants to know if she’s been heard of. It’s -only civil, sir.” She stopped and stared at Reggie. “I suppose he -does talk a deal about the mistress,” she said slowly. - -“When he ought to be talking about you,” Reggie murmured. - -The parlourmaid looked frightened. “But it’s as if he was always -expecting some news of her,” she protested. - -“Oh, is it!” said Inspector Oxtoby, and Reggie frowned at him. - -“Yes, it is!” she cried. “And I don’t care what you say. And a good -mistress she was”--she began to weep again, and was incoherent. - -“I’m sure she was,” Reggie said, “and you’re fond of her. That’s why -we’re here, you know. You want to help her, don’t you? When was Mr. -Loveday going to meet you again?” - -Through sobs it was stated that Mr. Loveday had said he would be by -the little gate at his usual time that night. - -“Well, I don’t want you to see him, Gladys,” said Reggie gently. -“You’re to stay indoors like a good girl. Don’t say anything to -anybody and you’ll be all right.” - -On that they left her, and Reggie, taking Bell’s arm as they crossed -the garden, murmured, “I like Gladys. She’s a pleasant shape. This -job’s opening out, Bell, isn’t it?” - -“It beats me,” said Bell. “What’s the fellow after?” - -“He knows something,” said Oxtoby. - -“And he’s not quite sure what he knows,” said Reggie. “Well, well. An -early dinner is indicated. It’s a hard world. Come and dine with me.” - -That night as it grew dark the chauffeur stood by the little gate of -Sylvia Sheridan’s garden, an object of interest to three men behind a -laurel hedge. He waited some time in vain. He lit a cigarette and -exhibited for a moment a large flat face. He waited longer, opened -the gate and approached the back of the house. - -“Better take him now,” said Reggie. “Loitering with intent. I’ll go -down to the station.” - -Inspector Oxtoby, with Bell in support, closed upon the man in the -kitchen garden. - -In the little office at Stanton police-station Albert Edward Loveday -was charged with loitering about Miss Sheridan’s house with intent to -commit a felony. He was loudly indignant, protesting that he had only -gone to see his girl. He was told that he could say all that to the -magistrates, and was removed still noisy. - -Mr. Fortune came out of the shadow. “I don’t take to Albert Edward,” -he said. “I fear he’s a bit of a bully.” - -Bell nodded. “That’s his measure, sir. A chap generally shows what -he’s made of when you get him in the charge room. I never could -understand that. You’d think any fellow with a head on him would take -care to hide what sort he is here. But they don’t seem as if they -could help themselves.” - -“Most of the fellows you get in the charge room haven’t heads. I -doubt if Albert Edward has. He looks as if he hadn’t thought things -out.” - -Inspector Oxtoby came back in a hurry. “My oath, Mr. Fortune, you’ve -put us on the right man,” he said. “Look what the beggar had on him.” -It was a small gold cigarette-case. It bore the monogram S.S., and -inside was engraved “Sylvia from Bingo.” - -“That’s done him in,” said Bell. “Any explanation?” - -“He wouldn’t say a word. Barring that he cursed freely. No, Mr. -Albert Edward Loveday wants to see his solicitor. He knows something.” - -“Yes. Yes, I wonder what it is?” Reggie murmured. - -“He had some pawn-tickets for jewellery too. Pretty heavy stuff. -We’ll have to follow that up. And a hundred and fifty quid--some -clean notes, some deuced dirty.” - -Bell laughed grimly. “He’s done himself proud, hasn’t he?” - -“Some clean, some dirty,” Reggie repeated. “He got the dirty ones -from the pawnbroker. Where did he get the clean ones? Still several -unknown quantities in the equation.” - -“How’s that, sir?” said Inspector Oxtoby. - -“Well, there’s the body, for instance,” said Reggie mildly. “We lack -the body. You know, I think we might ask Miss Darcourt to say a few -words. Send a man up in a car to tell her she’s wanted at the -police-station, because her chauffeur has been arrested. I should -think she’ll come.” - -“That’s the stuff!” Inspector Oxtoby chuckled and set about it. - -“You always had a notion she knew something, sir,” said Bell -reverently. - -“I wonder,” Reggie murmured. - -She did come. The little room seemed suddenly crowded, so large was -the gold pattern on her black cloak, so complex her sinuous -movements, as she glided in and sat down. She smiled at them, and -certainly she had been handsome. From a white face dark eyes -glittered, very big eyes, all pupil. “Oh, my aunt,” said Reggie to -himself, “drugged.” - -“Miss Rose Darcourt?” Inspector Oxtoby’s pen scratched. “Thank you, -madam. Your chauffeur Albert Edward Loveday (that’s right?) has been -arrested loitering about Miss Sheridan’s house. He was found in -possession of Miss Sheridan’s gold cigarette-case. Can you explain -that?” - -“I? Why should I explain it? I know nothing about it.” - -“The man is in your service, madam.” - -“Yes, and he is a very good chauffeur. What then? Why should you -arrest him?” She talked very fast. “I don’t understand it at all. I -don’t understand what you want me to say.” - -“Only the truth,” said Reggie gently out of the shadow. - -“What do you mean by the truth? I know nothing about what he had. I -can’t imagine, I can’t conceive”--her voice went up high--“how he -could have Miss Sheridan’s cigarette-case. If he really had.” - -“Oh, he had it all right,” said Inspector Oxtoby. - -“Why, then perhaps she gave it him.” She laughed so suddenly that the -men looked at each other. “Have you asked him? What did he say? I -know nothing about Miss Sheridan.” - -“You can tell us nothing?” said Reggie. - -“What should I tell you?” she cried. - -There was silence but for the scratching of the Inspector’s pen. -“Very good, madam,” he said. “You have no explanation. I had better -tell you the case will go into court. Thank you for coming. Would you -like to have the car back?” - -“What has Loveday said?” She leaned forward. - -“He’s asked for his solicitor, madam. That’s all.” - -“What is this charge, then?” - -The Inspector smiled. “That’s as may be, madam.” - -“Can I see him?” - -“Not alone, I’m afraid, ma’am,” said Bell. - -“What?” she cried. “What do you mean?” - -“The car’ll take you back, ma’am.” - -She stared at him a long minute. “The car?” she started up. “I don’t -need your car. I’ll not have it. I can go, can I?” she laughed. - -Bell opened the door. “Phew!” he puffed as he closed it. “She looked -murder, didn’t she?” - -“Nice young woman for a quiet tea-party,” Reggie murmured. “I wonder. -I wonder. I think I’ll use that car.” - -As it drew out upon the bridge he saw the tall shape of Miss Darcourt -ahead. She was going slowly. She stopped. She glanced behind her at -the lights of the car. She climbed the parapet and was gone. - -“Oh, damn!” said Mr. Fortune. “Stop the bus.” He sprang out, looked -down for a moment at the foam and the eddies and dived after her. - -Some minutes afterwards he arrived at the bank with Miss Darcourt in -tow and waddled out, dragging her after him without delicacy and -swearing in gasps. She was in no case to protest. She did not hear. -Mr. Fortune rolled her over and knelt beside her. - -“What’ll I do, sir? Can’t I do something?” cried the chauffeur. - -“Police-station,” Reggie panted. “Bring down the Inspector or the -Superintendent. Quick! Damn quick!” And he wrought with Miss -Darcourt’s body. . . . - -He looked up at the large shape of Superintendent Bell. “Suicide, -sir?” - -“Attempted suicide. She’ll do, I think. Wrap her in every dam’ thing -you’ve got and take her to hospital quick.” - -“I know this game, sir,” Bell said, and stooped and gathered the -woman up: “you run along home.” - -“Run!” said Reggie. “My only aunt.” - -In the morning when he rang for his letters, “Superintendent Bell -called, sir,” said the maid. “About eight it was. He said I wasn’t to -waken you. He only wanted to tell you she was going on all right. And -there’s a message by telephone from Mr. Lomas. He says you should be -at Paddington by twelve, car will meet you, very urgent. And to tell -you he has the body.” - -“Oh, my Lord!” said Reggie. He sprang out of bed. Superintendent Bell -was rung up and told to commit himself to nothing over Albert Edward -Loveday and his mistress. - -“Remanded for inquiries--that’ll do for him, sir,” said Bell’s voice. -“And she can wait. Hope you’re all right, Mr. Fortune.” - -“I’m suffering from shock, Bell. Mr. Lomas is shocking me. He’s begun -to sit up and take notice.” - -Inadequately fed and melancholy, Mr. Fortune was borne into -Paddington by a quarter-past twelve. He there beheld Lomas sitting in -Lomas’s car and regarding him with a satirical eye. Mr. Fortune -entered the car in dignity and silence. - -“My dear fellow, I hate to disappoint you,” Lomas smiled. “You’ve -done wonderfully well. Arrested a chauffeur, driven a lady to -suicide--admirable. It is really your masterpiece. Art for art’s sake -in the grand style. You must find it horribly disappointing to act -with a dull fellow like me.” - -“I do,” said Mr. Fortune. - -Lomas chuckled. “I know, I know. I can’t help seeing it. And really I -hate to spoil your work. But the plain fact is I’ve got the body.” - -“Well, well,” said Mr. Fortune. - -“And unfortunately--I really do sympathize with you--it isn’t dead.” - -“When did I say it was?” said Mr. Fortune. “I said you hadn’t a -corpse for me--and you haven’t got one now. I said it was all -muddled--and so it is, a dam’ muddle.” - -“Don’t you want to know why the fair Sylvia left home?” - -“Yes. Do you know, Lomas?” - -“She’s gone off with a man, my dear fellow,” Lomas laughed. - -“Well, well,” said Reggie mildly. “And that’s why the Darcourt’s -chauffeur had her cigarette-case in his pocket! And that’s why the -Darcourt jumped into the river when we asked her to explain! You make -it all so clear, Lomas.” - -“Theft, I suppose, and fright.” Lomas shrugged. “But we’ll ask -Sylvia.” - -“Where is she?” - -“I had information of some one like her from a little place in the -wilds of Suffolk. I sent a fellow down and he has no doubt it’s the -lady. She’s been living there since she vanished, with a man.” - -“What man?” - -“Not identified. Smith by name,” said Lomas curtly. “You’d better ask -her yourself, Fortune.” - -“Yes. There’s quite a lot of things I’d like to ask her,” said -Reggie, and conversation languished. Even the elaborate lunch which -Reggie insisted on eating in Colchester did not revive it, for Lomas -was fretful at the delay. So at last, with Reggie somnolent and Lomas -feverish, the car drew up at the ancient inn of the village of Baldon. - -A young fellow who was drinking ginger-beer in the porch looked up -and came to meet them. “She’s done a bunk, sir,” he said in a low -voice. “She and her Mr. Smith went off half an hour ago. Some luggage -in the car. Took the London road.” - -“My poor Lomas!” Reggie chuckled. - -“Damme, we must have passed them on the road,” Lomas cried. “Any idea -why she went, Blakiston?” - -“No, sir. The man went into Ipswich in their car this morning. Soon -after he came back, they bolted together. I couldn’t do anything, you -know, sir.” - -“You’re sure Mrs. Smith is Miss Sheridan?” - -“I’d swear to her, sir.” - -“It’s damned awkward,” Lomas frowned. “Sorry, Fortune. We’d better be -off back.” - -“I want my tea,” said Reggie firmly, and got out: and vainly Lomas -followed to protest that after the Colchester lunch he could want no -more to eat for twenty-four hours. He was already negotiating for -cream. “If it hadn’t been for your confounded lunch we should have -caught her,” Lomas grumbled. “Now she’s off into the blue again.” - -Reggie fell into the window seat and took up the local paper. “And -where is he that knows?” he murmured. “From the great deep to the -great deep she goes. But why? Assumin’ for the sake of argument that -she is our leading lady, why does she make this hurried exit?” - -“How the devil should I know?” - -Reggie smiled at him over the top of the papers. “This is a very -interestin’ journal,” he remarked. “Do you know what it is, Lomas? -It’s the Ipswich evening paper with the 2.30 winner. Were you backing -anything? No? Well, well. Not a race for a careful man. I read also -that Miss Darcourt’s chauffeur was brought up before the Stanton -magistrates this morning and Miss Darcourt jumped into the river last -night. It makes quite a lot of headlines. The Press is a great power, -Lomas.” - -Lomas damned the Press. - -“You’re so old-fashioned,” Reggie said sadly. “My child, don’t you -see? Mr. Smith went to Ipswich, Mr. Smith read the early evening -paper and hustled back to tell Mrs. Smith, and Mrs. Smith felt that -duty called her. Assuming that Mrs. Smith is our Sylvia, where would -it call her? Back to Stanton, to clear up the mess.” - -“I suppose so,” said Lomas drearily. “She can go to the devil for me.” - -“My dear chap, you do want your tea,” said Reggie. Then Lomas swore. - -It was late that night when a dusty car driven by Mr. Fortune -approached the lights of Stanton. Mr. Fortune turned away from the -bridge down a leafy byway and drew up with a jerk. Another car was -standing by Miss Sheridan’s gate. The man in it turned to stare. -Reggie was already at his side. “Mr. Smith, I presume?” he said. - -“Who the devil are you?” said a voice that seemed to him familiar. - -The night was then rent by a scream, which resolved itself into a cry -of “Thieves! Help, help! Police!” It came from the house. - -Reggie made for the door and banged upon it. It was opened by an -oldish woman in disarray. “We’ve got burglars,” she cried. “Come in, -sir, come in.” - -“Rather,” said Mr. Fortune. “Where are they?” - -“On the stair, sir. I hit him. I know I hit one. It give me such a -turn.” - -Reggie ran upstairs. The light was on in the hall, but on the -landing, in the shadow, he stumbled over something soft. He ran his -hand along the wall for a switch and found it. What he saw was Sylvia -Sheridan lying with blood upon her face. - -“It’s all right. You’ve only knocked out your mistress,” he called -over the stairs. - -“Oh, my God!” the housekeeper gasped. “The poker on her poor head! -Oh, sir, she’s not dead, is she?” - -“Not a bit. Come along, where’s her room?” Reggie picked her up. - -The man from the car was at his elbow. “Thank you, I’ll do that,” he -said. - -“Why, it’s Mr. Woodcote. Fancy that!” Reggie smiled. “But why should -the dramatist carry the leading lady?” - -“I’m her husband,” said Woodcote fiercely. “Any objection, Mr. -Fortune?” - -“Oh, no, Mr. Smith. I beg pardon, Mr. Woodcote. But you’ll want me, -you know. If it’s only to sew her up.” - -He bore the lady off to her bedroom. - - * * * * * - -The case ended as it began, with a morning voyage in a punt. Lomas -brought that craft in to the landing-stage and embarked Reggie, who -laid himself down on the cushions elaborately and sighed. “My dear -fellow, I know you were always a lady’s man,” Lomas remonstrated. -“But you’re overdoing it. You’re enfeebled. You wilt.” - -Reggie moaned gently. “I know it. I feel like a curate, Lomas. They -coo over me. It’s weakening to the intellect. Rose holds my hand and -tells me she’s sorry she was so naughty, and Sylvia looks tenderly -from her unbandaged eye and says she’ll never do it again.” - -“Have you got anything rational out of them?” - -“I have it all. It’s quite simple. Sylvia heard that Rose was trying -to do her out of the part. She was pained. She went round in a hurry -to talk to Rose. In the garden she saw Albert Edward, the chauffeur, -who told her that Rose was on the boat-house balcony, her favourite -place on a fine evening. Sylvia went there straight. Hence none of -the servants but Albert Edward knew that Sylvia had called that -night. Sylvia and Rose had words. Sylvia says she offered Rose quite -a good minor part. Rose says Sylvia insulted her. I fear that Rose -tried to slap her face. Anyway, Sylvia tumbled down the boat-house -steps and there was a splash. Rose heard it and thought Sylvia had -gone in and was delighted. Albert Edward heard it as he had heard the -row, and thought something could be done about it. But he saw Sylvia -rush off rather draggled round the skirts, and knew she wasn’t -drowned. Rose didn’t take the trouble to see Sylvia scramble out. She -was too happy. Sylvia was annoyed, but she has an ingenious mind. It -occurred to her that if she did a disappearance Rose would get the -wind up badly and it would be a howling advertisement for Miss Sylvia -Sheridan and Woodcote’s new play. Yes, Lomas dear, you were quite -right. Only Bell was too. Sylvia scurried off to London and let -herself into her flat and telephoned to Woodcote and told him all -about it. He was badly gone on Sylvia before. He gave way to his -emotions and those two geese arranged their elopement that night. She -went off at break of day and he got a special licence. Meanwhile -Albert Edward was getting busy. He collected the cigarette-case from -the boat-house first thing in the morning, he found out Sylvia hadn’t -gone home and he started blackmailing Rose. That was why we saw her -looking desperate. She got more and more funky, she paid that bright -lad all the money she could spare (the clean notes) and most of her -jewellery (the pawn-tickets). The only thing that worried Albert -Edward was when Sylvia would turn up again. Hence that interest in -the parlourmaid which gave him away. Poor Rose tried to drown her -sorrows in morphia, and when she found Albert Edward was in the -cells, she wanted to go under quiet and quick.” - -“I have a mild, manly longing to smack Sylvia,” said Lomas. - -“Well, well. The housekeeper did that. With a poker,” Reggie -murmured. “Life is quite just to the wicked. But wearing to the -virtuous. I am much worn, Lomas. I want my lunch.” - - - - - CASE VII - - THE UNKNOWN MURDERER - -ONCE upon a time a number of men in a club discussed how Mr. Reginald -Fortune came to be the expert adviser of the Home Office upon crime. -The doctors admitted that though he is a competent surgeon, -pathologist and what not, he never showed international form. There -was a Fellow of the Royal Society who urged that Fortune knew more -about natural science than most schoolboys, politicians and civil -servants. An artist said he had been told Fortune understood -business, and his banker believed Fortune was a judge of old -furniture. But they all agreed that he is a jolly good fellow. Which -means, being interpreted, he can be all things to all men. - -Mr. Fortune himself is convinced that he was meant by Providence to -be a general practitioner: to attend to my lumbago and your -daughter’s measles. He has been heard to complain of the chance that -has made him, knowing something of everything, nothing completely, -into a specialist. His only qualification, he will tell you, is that -he doesn’t get muddled. - -There you have it, then. He is singularly sensitive to people. “Very -odd how he knows men,” said Superintendent Bell reverently. “As if he -had an extra sense to tell him of people’s souls, like smells or -colours.” And he has a clear head. He is never confused about what is -important and what isn’t, and he has never been known to hesitate in -doing what is necessary. - -Consider his dealing with the affair of the unknown murderer. - -There was not much interesting crime that Christmas. The singular -case of Sir Humphrey Bigod, who was found dead in a chalkpit on the -eve of his marriage, therefore obtained a lot of space in the papers, -which kept it up, even after the coroner’s jury had declared for -death by misadventure, with irrelevant inventions and bloodthirsty -hints of murder and tales of clues. This did not disturb the peace of -the scientific adviser to the Criminal Investigation Department, who -knew that the lad was killed by a fall and that there was no means of -knowing any more. Mr. Fortune was much occupied in being happy, for -after long endeavour he had engaged Joan Amber to marry him. The lady -has said the endeavour was hers, but I am not now telling that story. -Just after Christmas she took him to the children’s party at the Home -of Help. - -It is an old-fashioned orphanage, a huge barrack of a building, but -homely and kind. Time out of mind people of all sorts, with old -titles and new, with money and with brains, have been the friends of -its children. When Miss Amber brought Reggie Fortune under the flags -and the strings of paper roses into its hall, which was as noisy as -the parrot house, he gasped slightly. “Be brave, child,” she said. -“This is quiet to what it will be after tea. And cool. You will be -much hotter. You don’t know how hot you’ll be.” - -“Woman, you have deceived me,” said Mr. Fortune bitterly. “I thought -philanthropists were respectable.” - -“Yes, dear. Don’t be frightened. You’re only a philanthropist for the -afternoon.” - -“I ask you. Is that Crab Warnham?” - -“Of course it’s Captain Warnham.” Miss Amber smiled beautifully at a -gaunt man with a face like an old jockey. He flushed as he leered -back. “Do you know his wife? She’s rather precious.” - -“Poor woman. He doesn’t look comfortable here, does he? The last time -I saw Crab Warnham was in a place that’s several kinds of hell in -Berlin. He was quite at home there.” - -“Forget it,” said Miss Amber gently. “You will when you meet his -wife. And their boy’s a darling.” - -“His boy?” Reggie was startled. - -“Oh, no. She was a widow. He worships her and the child.” - -Reggie said nothing. It appeared to him that Captain Warnham, for a -man who worshipped his wife, had a hungry eye on women. And the next -moment Captain Warnham was called to attention. A small woman, still -pretty though earnest, talked to him like a mother or a commanding -officer. He was embarrassed, and when she had done with him he fled. - -The small woman, who was austerely but daintily clad in black with -some white at the neck, continued to flit among the company, finding -everyone a job of work. “She says to one, Go, and he goeth, and to -another, Come, and he cometh. And who is she, Joan?” - -“Lady Chantry,” said Miss Amber. “She’s providence here, you know.” - -And Lady Chantry was upon them. Reggie found himself looking down -into a pair of uncommonly bright eyes and wondering what it felt like -to be as strenuous as the little woman who was congratulating him on -Joan, thanking him for being there and arranging his afternoon for -him all in one breath. He had never heard anyone talk so fast. In a -condition of stupor he saw Joan reft from him to tell the story of -Cinderella to magic lantern pictures in one dormitory, while he was -led to another to help in a scratch concert. And as the door closed -on him he heard the swift clear voice of Lady Chantry exhorting staff -and visitors to play round games. - -He suffered. People who had no voices sang showy songs, people who -had too much voice sang ragtime to those solemn, respectful children. -In pity for the children and himself he set up as a conjurer, and the -dormitory was growing merry when a shriek cut into his patter. -“That’s only my bones creaking,” he went on quickly, for the children -were frightened; “they always do that when I put the knife in at the -ear and take it out of my hind leg. So. But it doesn’t hurt. As the -motor-car said when it ran over the policeman’s feet. All done by -kindness. Come here, Jenny Wren. You mustn’t use your nose as a -money-box.” A small person submitted to have pennies taken out of her -face. - -The door opened and a pallid nurse said faintly: “The doctor. Are you -the doctor?” - -“Of course,” said Reggie. “One moment, people. Mr. Punch has fallen -over the baby. It always hurts him. In the hump. Are we down-hearted? -No. Pack up your troubles in the old kit bag----” He went out to a -joyful roar of that lyric. “What’s the trouble?” The nurse was -shaking. - -“In there, sir--she’s up there.” - -Reggie went up the stairs in quick time. The door of a little -sitting-room stood open. Inside it people were staring at a woman who -sat at her desk. Her dress was dark and wet. Her head lolled forward. -A deep gash ran across her throat. - -“Yes. There’s too many of us here,” he said, and waved the spectators -away. One lingered, an old woman, large and imposing, and announced -that she was the matron. Reggie shut the door and came back to the -body in the chair. He held the limp hands a moment, he lifted the -head and looked close into the flaccid face. “When was she found? -When I heard that scream? Yes.” He examined the floor. “Quite so.” He -turned to the matron. “Well, well. Who is she?” - -“It’s our resident medical officer, Dr. Emily Hall. But Dr. Fortune, -can’t you do anything?” - -“She’s gone,” said Reggie. - -“But this is terrible, doctor. What does it mean?” - -“Well, I don’t know what it means. Her throat was cut by a highly -efficient knife, probably from behind. She lingered a little while -quite helpless, and died. Not so very long ago. Who screamed?” - -“The nurse who found her. One of our own girls, Dr. Fortune, Edith -Baker. She was always a favourite of poor Dr. Hall’s. She has been -kept on here at Dr. Hall’s wish to train as a nurse. She was devoted -to Dr. Hall. One of these girlish passions.” - -“And she came into the room and found--this--and screamed?” - -“So she tells me,” said the matron. - -“Well, well,” Reggie sighed. “Poor kiddies! And now you must send for -the police.” - -“I have given instructions, Dr. Fortune,” said the matron with -dignity. - -“And I think you ought to keep Edith Baker from talking about it.” -Reggie opened the door. - -“Edith will not talk,” said the matron coldly. “She is a very -reserved creature.” - -“Poor thing. But I’m afraid some of our visitors will. And they had -better not, you know.” At last he got rid of the lady and turned the -key in the lock and stood looking at it. “Yes, quite natural, but -very convenient,” said he, and turned away from it and contemplated a -big easy chair. The loose cushion on the seat showed that somebody -had been sitting in it, a fact not in itself remarkable. But there -was a tiny smear of blood on the arm still wet. He picked up the -cushion. On the under side was a larger smear of blood. Mr. Fortune’s -brow contracted. “The unknown murderer cuts her throat--comes over -here--makes a mess on the chair--turns the cushion over--and sits -down--to watch the woman die. This is rather diabolical.” He began to -wander round the room. It offered him no other signs but some drops -of blood on the hearthrug and the hearth. He knelt down and peered -into the fire, and with the tongs drew from it a thin piece of metal. -It was a surgical knife. He looked at the dead woman. “From your -hospital equipment, Dr. Hall. And Edith Baker is a nurse. And Edith -Baker had ‘a girlish passion’ for you. I wonder.” - -Some one was trying the door. He unlocked it, to find an inspector of -police. “I am Reginald Fortune,” he explained. “Here’s your case.” - -“I’ve heard of you, sir,” said the inspector reverently. “Bad -business, isn’t it? I’m sure it’s very lucky you were here.” - -“I wonder,” Reggie murmured. - -“Could it be suicide, sir?” - -Reggie shook his head. “I wish it could. Not a nice murder. Not at -all a nice murder. By the way, there’s the knife. I picked it out of -the fire.” - -“Doctor’s tool, isn’t it, sir? Have you got any theory about it?” -Reggie shook his head. “There’s the girl who gave the alarm: she’s a -nurse in the hospital, I’m told.” - -“I don’t know the girl,” said Reggie. “You’d better see what you make -of the room. I shall be downstairs.” - -In the big hall the decorations and the Christmas tree with its -ungiven presents glowed to emptiness and silence. Joan Amber came -forward to meet him. He did not speak to her. He continued to stare -at the ungiven presents on the Christmas tree. “What do you want to -do?” she said at last. - -“This is the end of a perfect day,” said Mr. Fortune. “Poor kiddies.” - -“The matron packed them all off to their dormitories.” - -Mr. Fortune laughed. “Just as well to rub it in, isn’t it?” - -Miss Amber did not answer him for a moment. “Do you know, you look -rather terrible?” she said, and indeed his normally plump, -fresh-coloured, cheery face had a certain ferocity. - -“I feel like a fool, Joan. Where is everybody?” - -“She sent everybody away too.” - -“She would. Great organizer. No brain. My only aunt! A woman’s -murdered and every stranger who was in the place is hustled off -before the police get to work. This isn’t a crime, it’s a nightmare.” - -“Well, of course they were anxious to go.” - -“They would be.” - -“Reggie, who are you thinking of?” - -“I can’t think. There are no facts. Where’s this matron now?” - -The inspector came upon them as they were going to her room. “I’ve -finished upstairs, sir. Not much for me, is there? Plenty downstairs, -though. I reckon I’ll hear some queer stories before I’ve done. These -homes are always full of gossip. People living too close together, -wonderful what bad blood it makes. I----” He broke off and stared at -Reggie. From the matron’s room came the sound of sobbing. He opened -the door without a knock. - -The matron sat at her writing-table, coldly judicial. A girl in -nurse’s uniform was crying on the bosom of Lady Chantry, who caressed -her and murmured in her ear. - -“Sorry to interrupt, ma’am,” the inspector said, staring hard. - -“You don’t interrupt. This girl is Edith Baker, who seems to have -been the last person who saw Dr. Hall alive and was certainly the -first person who saw her dead.” - -“And who was very, very fond of her,” Lady Chantry said gently. -“Weren’t you, dear?” - -“I’ll have to take her statement,” said the inspector. But the girl -was torn with sobbing. - -“Come, dear, come.” Lady Chantry strove with her. “The Inspector only -wants you to say how you left her and how you found her.” - -“Edith, you must control yourself.” The matron lifted her voice. - -“I hate you,” the girl cried, and tore herself away and rushed out of -the room. - -“She’ll have to speak, you know, ma’am,” the inspector said. - -“I am very sorry to say she has always had a passionate temperament,” -said the matron. - -“Poor child!” Lady Chantry rose. “She was so fond of the doctor, you -see. I’ll go to her, matron, and see what I can do.” - -“Does anyone here know what the girl was up to this afternoon, -ma’am?” said the inspector. - -“I will try to find out for you,” said the matron, and rang her bell. - -“Well, well,” said Reggie Fortune. “Every little helps. You might -find out what all the other people were doing this afternoon.” - -The matron stared at him. “Surely you’re not thinking of the -visitors, Mr. Fortune?” - -“I’m thinking of your children,” said Reggie, and she was the more -amazed. “Not a nice murder, you know, not at all a nice murder.” - -And then he took Miss Amber home. She found him taciturn, which is -his habit when he is angry. But she had never seen him angry before. -She is a wise woman. When he was leaving her: “Do you know what it is -about you, sir?” she said. “You’re always just right.” - -When the Hon. Sidney Lomas came to his room in Scotland Yard the next -morning, Reggie Fortune was waiting for him. “My dear fellow!” he -protested. “What is this? You’re not really up, are you? It’s not -eleven. You’re an hallucination.” - -“Zeal, all zeal, Lomas. The orphanage murder is my trouble.” - -“Have you come to give yourself up? I suspected you from the first, -Fortune. Where is it?” He took a copy of the “Daily Wire” from the -rack. “Yes. ‘Dr. Reginald Fortune, the eminent surgeon, was attending -the function and was able to give the police a first-hand account of -the crime. Dr. Fortune states that the weapon used was a surgical -knife.’ My dear fellow, the case looks black indeed.” - -Reggie was not amused. “Yes. I also was present. And several others,” -he said. “Do you know anything about any of us?” - -Lomas put up his eyeglass. “There’s a certain bitterness about you, -Fortune. This is unusual. What’s the matter?” - -“I don’t like this murder,” said Reggie. “It spoilt the children’s -party.” - -“That would be a by-product,” Lomas agreed. “You’re getting very -domestic in your emotions. Oh, I like it, my dear fellow. But it -makes you a little irrelevant.” - -“Domestic be damned. I’m highly relevant. It spoilt the children’s -party. Why did it happen at the children’s party? Lots of other nice -days to kill the resident medical officer.” - -“You’re suggesting it was one of the visitors?” - -“No, no. It isn’t the only day visitors visit. I’m suggesting life is -real, life is earnest--and rather diabolical sometimes.” - -“I’ll call for the reports,” Lomas said, and did so. “Good Gad! -Reams! Barton’s put in some heavy work.” - -“I thought he would,” said Reggie, and went to read over Lomas’s -shoulder. - -At the end Lomas lay back and looked up at him. “Well? Barton’s put -his money on this young nurse, Edith Baker.” - -“Yes. That’s the matron’s tip. I saw the matron. One of the world’s -organizers, Lomas. A place for everything and everything in its -place. And if you don’t fit, God help you. Edith Baker didn’t fit. -Edith Baker has emotions. Therefore she does murders. Q.E.D.” - -“Well, the matron ought to know the girl.” - -“She ought,” Reggie agreed. “And our case is, gentlemen, that the -matron who ought to know girls says Edith Baker isn’t a nice young -person. Lomas dear, why do policemen always believe what they’re -told? What the matron don’t like isn’t evidence.” - -“There is some evidence. The girl had one of these hysterical -affections for the dead woman, passionately devoted and passionately -jealous and so forth. The girl had access to the hospital -instruments. All her time in the afternoon can’t be accounted for, -and she was the first to know of the murder.” - -“It’s not good enough, Lomas. Why did she give the alarm?” - -Lomas shrugged. “A murderer does now and then. Cunning or fright.” - -“And why did she wait for the children’s party to do the murder?” - -“Something may have happened there to rouse her jealousy.” - -“Something with one of the visitors?” Reggie suggested. “I wonder.” -And then he laughed. “A party of the visitors went round the -hospital, Lomas. They had access to the surgical instruments.” - -“And were suddenly seized with a desire for homicide? They also went -to the gymnasium and the kitchen. Did any of them start boiling -potatoes? My dear Fortune, you are not as plausible as usual.” - -“It isn’t plausible,” Reggie said. “I know that. It’s too dam’ -wicked.” - -“Abnormal,” Lomas nodded. “Of course the essence of the thing is that -it’s abnormal. Every once in a while we have these murders in an -orphanage or school or some place where women and children are herded -together. Nine times out of ten they are cases of hysteria. Your -young friend Miss Baker seems to be a highly hysterical subject.” - -“You know more than I do.” - -“Why, that’s in the evidence. And you saw her yourself half crazy -with emotion after the murder.” - -“Good Lord!” said Reggie. “Lomas, old thing, you do run on. Pantin’ -time toils after you in vain. That girl wasn’t crazy. She was the -most natural of us all. You send a girl in her teens into the room -where the woman she is keen on is sitting with her throat cut. She -won’t talk to you like a little lady. The evidence! Why do you -believe what people tell you about people? They’re always lying--by -accident if not on purpose. This matron don’t like the girl because -she worshipped the lady doctor. Therefore the girl is called abnormal -and jealous. Did you never hear of a girl in her teens worshipping a -teacher? It’s common form. Did you never hear of another teacher -being vicious about it? That’s just as common.” - -“Do you mean the matron was jealous of them both?” - -Reggie shrugged. “It hits you in the eye.” - -“Good Gad!” said Lomas. “Do you suspect the matron?” - -“I suspect the devil,” said Reggie gravely. “Lomas, my child, whoever -did that murder cut the woman’s throat and then sat down in her easy -chair and watched her die. I call that devilish.” And he told of the -blood-stains and the turned cushions. - -“Good Gad,” said Lomas once more, “there’s some hate in that.” - -“Not a nice murder. Also it stopped the children’s party.” - -“You harp on that.” Lomas looked at him curiously. “Are you thinking -of the visitors?” - -“I wonder,” Reggie murmured. “I wonder.” - -“Here’s the list,” Lomas said, and Reggie came slowly to look. “Sir -George and Lady Bean, Lady Chantry, Mrs. Carroway,”--he ran his -pencil down--“all well-known, blameless busybodies, full of good -works. Nothing doing.” - -“Crab Warnham,” said Reggie. - -“Oh, Warnham: his wife took him, I suppose. She’s a saint, and he -eats out of her hand, they say. Well, he was a loose fish, of course, -but murder! I don’t see Warnham at that.” - -“He has an eye for a woman.” - -“Still? I dare say. But good Gad, he can’t have known this lady -doctor. Was she pretty?” Reggie nodded. “Well, we might look for a -link between them. Not likely, is it?” - -“We’re catching at straws,” said Reggie sombrely. - -Lomas pushed the papers away. “Confound it, it’s another case without -evidence. I suppose it can’t be suicide like that Bigod affair?” - -Reggie, who was lighting a cigar, looked up and let the match burn -his fingers. “Not suicide. No,” he said. “Was Bigod’s?” - -“Well, it was a deuced queer death by misadventure.” - -“As you say.” Reggie nodded and wandered dreamily out. - -This seems to have been the first time that anyone thought of -comparing the Bigod case to the orphanage murder. When the inquest on -the lady doctor was held the police had no more evidence to produce -than you have heard, and the jury returned a verdict of murder by -some person or persons unknown. Newspapers strove to enliven the dull -calm of the holiday season by declaiming against the inefficiency of -a police force which allowed murderers to remain anonymous, and -hashed up the Bigod case again to prove that the fall of Sir Humphrey -Bigod into his chalkpit, though called accidental, was just as -mysterious as the cut throat of Dr. Hall. And the Hon. Sidney Lomas -cursed the man who invented printing. - -These assaults certainly did not disturb Reggie Fortune, who has -never cared what people say of him. With the help of Joan Amber he -found a quiet remote place for the unhappy girl suspected of the -murder (Lady Chantry was prettily angry with Miss Amber about that, -protesting that she wanted to look after Edith herself), and said he -was only in the case as a philanthropist. After which he gave all his -time to preparing his house and Miss Amber for married life. But the -lady found him dreamy. - -It was in fact while he was showing her how the new colours in the -drawing-room looked under the new lighting that Dr. Eden called him -up. Dr. Eden has a general practice in Kensington. Dr. Eden wanted to -consult him about a case: most urgent: 3 King William’s Walk. - -“May I take the car?” said Reggie to Joan. “He sounds rattled. You -can go on home afterwards. It’s not far from you either. I wonder who -lives at 3 King William’s Walk.” - -“But it’s Mrs. Warnham!” she cried. - -“Oh, my aunt!” said Reggie Fortune; and said no more. - -And Joan Amber could not call him out of his thoughts. She was as -grave as he. Only when he was getting out of the car, “Be good to -her, dear,” she said gently. He kissed the hand on his arm. - -The door was opened by a woman in evening-dress. “It is Mr. Fortune, -isn’t it? Please come in. It’s so kind of you to come.” She turned to -the maid in the background. “Tell Dr. Eden, Maggie. It’s my little -boy--and we are so anxious.” - -“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Warnham.” Reggie took her hand and found it -cold. The face he remembered for its gentle calm was sternly set. -“What is the trouble?” - -“Gerald went to a party this afternoon. He came home gloriously happy -and went to bed. He didn’t go to sleep at once, he was rather -excited, but he was quite well. Then he woke up crying with pain and -was very sick. I sent for Dr. Eden. It isn’t like Gerald to cry, Mr. -Fortune. And----” - -A hoarse voice said “Catherine, you oughtn’t to be out there in the -cold.” Reggie saw the gaunt face of Captain Warnham looking round a -door at them. - -“What does it matter?” she cried. “Dr. Eden doesn’t want me to be -with him, Mr. Fortune. He is still in pain. And I don’t think Dr. -Eden knows.” - -Dr. Eden came down in time to hear that. A large young man, he stood -over them looking very awkward and uncomfortable. - -“I’m sure Dr. Eden has done everything that can be done,” said Reggie -gently. “I’ll go up, please.” And they left the mother to her -husband, that flushed, gaunt face peering round the corner as they -kept step on the stairs. - -“The child’s seven years old,” said Eden. “There’s no history of any -gastric trouble. Rather a good digestion. And then this--out of the -blue!” Reggie went into a nursery where a small boy lay huddled and -restless with all the apparatus of sickness by his bed. He raised a -pale face on which beads of sweat stood. - -“Hallo, Gerald,” Reggie said quietly. “Mother sent me up to make you -all right again.” He took the child’s hand and felt for the pulse. -“I’m Mr. Fortune, your fortune, good fortune.” The child tried to -smile and Reggie’s hands moved over the uneasy body and all the while -he murmured softly nonsense talk. . . . - -The child did not want him to go, but at last he went off with Eden -into a corner of the room. “Quite right to send for me,” he said -gravely, and Eden put his hand to his head. “I know. I know. It’s -horrible when it’s a child. One of the irritant poisons. Probably -arsenic. Have you given an emetic?” - -“He’s been very sick. And he’s so weak.” - -“I know. Have you got anything with you?” - -“I sent home. But I didn’t care to----” - -“I’ll do it. Sulphate of zinc. You go and send for a nurse. And find -some safe milk. I wouldn’t use the household stuff.” - -“My God, Fortune! Surely it was at the party?” - -“Not the household stuff,” Reggie repeated, and he went back to the -child. . . . - -It was many hours afterwards that he came softly downstairs. In the -hall husband and wife met him. It seemed to him that it was the man -who had been crying. “Are you going away?” Mrs. Warnham said. - -“There’s no more pain. He is asleep.” - -Her eyes darkened. “You mean he’s--dead?” the man gasped. - -“I hope he’ll live longer than any of us, Captain Warnham. But no one -must disturb him. The nurse will be watching, you know. And I’m sure -we all want to sleep sound--don’t we?” He was gone. But he stayed a -moment on the doorstep. He heard emotions within. - -On the next afternoon Dr. Eden came into his laboratory at St. -Saviour’s. “One moment. One moment.” Reggie was bent over a notebook. -“When I go to hell they’ll set me doing sums.” He frowned at his -figures. “The third time is lucky. That’s plausible if it isn’t -right. Well, how’s our large patient?” - -“He’s doing well. Quite easy and cheerful.” - -Reggie stood up. “I think we might say, thank God.” - -“Yes, rather. I thought he was gone last night, Fortune. He would -have been without you. It was wonderful how he bucked up in your -hands. You ought to have been a children’s specialist.” - -“My dear chap! Oh, my dear chap! I’m the kind of fellow who would -always ought to have been something else. And so I’m doing sums in a -laboratory which God knows I’m not fit for.” - -“Have you found out what it was?” - -“Oh, arsenic, of course. Quite a fair dose he must have had. It’s -queer how they always will use arsenic.” - -Eden stared at him. “What are we to do?” he said in a low voice. -“Fortune, I suppose it couldn’t have been accidental?” - -“What is a child likely to eat in which he would find grains of -accidental arsenic?” - -“Yes, but then---- I mean, who could want to kill that child?” - -“That is the unknown quantity in the equation. But people do want to -murder children, quite nice children.” - -Eden grew pale. “What do you mean? You know he’s not Warnham’s child. -Warnham’s his step-father.” - -“Yes. Yes. Have you ever seen the two together?” - -Eden hesitated. “He--well, he didn’t seem to take to Warnham. But I’d -have sworn Warnham was fond of him.” - -“And that’s all quite natural, isn’t it? Well, well. I hope he’s in.” - -“What do you mean to do?” - -“Tell Mrs. Warnham--with her husband listening.” - -Dr. Eden followed him out like a man going to be hanged. - -Mrs. Warnham indeed met them in her hall. “Mr. Fortune,”--she took -his hand, she had won back her old calm, but her eyes grew dark as -she looked at him--“Gerald has been asking for you. And I want to -speak to you.” - -“I shall be glad to talk over the case with you and Captain Warnham,” -said Reggie gravely. “I’ll see the small boy first, if you don’t -mind.” And the small boy kept his Mr. Fortune a long time. - -Mrs. Warnham had her husband with her when the doctors came down. “I -say, Fortune,” Captain Warnham started up, “awfully good of you to -take so much trouble. I mean to say,”--he cleared his throat--“I feel -it, you know. How is the little beggar?” - -“There’s no reason why he shouldn’t do well,” Reggie said slowly. -“But it’s a strange case. Captain Warnham. Yes, a strange case. You -may take it, there is no doubt the child was poisoned.” - -“Poisoned!” Warnham cried out in that queer hoarse voice. - -“You mean it was something Gerald shouldn’t have eaten?” Mrs. Warnham -said gently. - -“It was arsenic, Captain Warnham. Not much more than an hour before -the time he felt ill, perhaps less, he had swallowed enough arsenic -to kill him.” - -“I say, are you certain of all that? I mean to say, no doubt about -anything?” Warnham was flushed. “Arsenic--and the time--and the dose? -It’s pretty thick, you know.” - -“There is no doubt. I have found arsenic. I can estimate the dose. -And arsenic acts within that time.” - -“But I can’t believe it,” Mrs. Warnham said. “It would be too -horribly cruel. Mr. Fortune, couldn’t it have been accident? -Something in his food?” - -“It was certainly in his food or drink. But not accident, Mrs. -Warnham. That is not possible.” - -“I say, let’s have it all out, Fortune,” Warnham growled. “Do you -suspect anyone?” - -“That’s rather for you, isn’t it?” said Reggie. - -“Who could want to poison Gerald?” Mrs. Warnham cried. - -“He says some one did,” Warnham growled. - -“When do you suppose he took the stuff, Fortune? At the party or -after he came home?” - -“What did he have when he came home?” - -Warnham looked at his wife. “Only a little milk. He wouldn’t eat -anything,” she said. “And I tasted his milk, I remember. It was quite -nice.” - -“That points to the party,” Eden said. - -“But I can’t believe it. Who could want to poison Gerald?” - -“I’ve seen some of the people who were there,” Eden frowned. “I don’t -believe there’s another child ill. Only this one of the whole party.” - -“Yes. Yes. A strange case,” said Reggie. “Was there anyone there with -a grudge against you, Mrs. Warnham?” - -“I don’t think there’s anyone with a grudge against me in the world.” - -“I don’t believe there is, Catherine,” her husband looked at her. -“But damn it. Fortune found the stuff in the child. I say, Fortune, -what do you advise?” - -“You’re sure of your own household? There’s nobody here jealous of -the child?” - -Mrs. Warnham looked her distress. “I couldn’t, I couldn’t doubt -anybody. There isn’t any reason. You know, it doesn’t seem real.” - -“And there it is,” Warnham growled. - -“Yes. Well, I shouldn’t talk about it, you know. When he’s up again -take him right away, somewhere quiet. You’ll live with him yourself, -of course. That’s all safe. And I--well, I shan’t forget the case. -Good-bye.” - -“Oh, Mr. Fortune----” she started up and caught his hands. - -“Yes, yes, good-bye,” said Reggie, and got away. But as Warnham let -them out he felt Warnham’s lean hand grip into his arm. - -“A little homely comfort would be grateful,” Reggie murmured. “Come -and have tea at the Academies, Eden. They keep a pleasing muffin.” He -sank down in his car at Eden’s side with a happy sigh. - -But Eden’s brow was troubled. “Do you think the child will be safe -now, Fortune?” he said. - -“Oh, I think so. If it was Warnham or Mrs. Warnham who poisoned -him----” - -“Good Lord! You don’t think that?” - -“They are frightened,” said Reggie placidly, “I frightened ’em quite -a lot. And if it was somebody else--the child is going away and Mrs. -Warnham will be eating and drinking everything he eats and drinks. -The small Gerald will be all right. There remains only the little -problem, who was it?” - -“It’s a diabolical affair. Who could want to kill that child?” - -“Diabolical is the word,” Reggie agreed. “And a little simple food is -what we need,” and they went into the club and through a long tea he -talked to Eden of rock gardens and Chinese nursery rhymes. - -But when Eden, somewhat dazed by his appetite and the variety of his -conversation, was gone, he made for that corner of the club where -Lomas sat drinking tea made in the Russian manner. He pointed a -finger at the clear weak fluid. “It was sad and bad and mad and it -was not even sweet,” he complained. “Take care, Lomas. Think what’s -happened to Russia. You would never be happy as a Bolshevik.” - -“I understand that the detective police force is the one institution -which has survived in Russia.” - -“Put down that repulsive concoction and come and take the air.” - -Lomas stared at him in horror. “Where’s your young lady? I thought -you were walking out. You’re a faithless fellow, Fortune. Go and walk -like a little gentleman.” But there was that in Reggie’s eye which -made him get up with a groan. “You’re the most ruthless man I know.” - -The car moved away from the club and Reggie shrank under his rug as -the January east wind met them. “I hope you are cold,” said Lomas. -“What is it now?” - -“It was nearly another anonymous murder,” and Reggie told him the -story. - -“Diabolical,” said Lomas. - -“Yes, I believe in the devil,” Reggie nodded. - -“Who stood to gain by the child’s death? It’s clear enough. There’s -only Warnham. Mrs. Warnham was left a rich woman when her first -husband died, old Staveleigh. Every one knew that was why Warnham was -after her. But the bulk of the fortune would go to the child. So he -took the necessary action. Good Gad! We all knew Crab Warnham didn’t -stick at a trifle. But this----! Cold-blooded scoundrel. Can you make -a case of it?” - -“I like you, Lomas. You’re so natural,” Reggie said. “That’s all -quite clear. And it’s all wrong. This case isn’t natural, you see. It -hath a devil.” - -“Do you mean to say it wasn’t Warnham?” - -“It wasn’t Warnham. I tried to frighten him. He was frightened. But -not for himself. Because the child has an enemy and he doesn’t know -who it is.” - -“Oh, my dear fellow! He’s not a murderer because you like his face.” - -“Who could like his face? No. The poison was given at the party where -Warnham wasn’t.” - -“But why? What possible motive? Some homicidal lunatic goes to a -Kensington children’s party and picks out this one child to poison. -Not very credible, is it?” - -“No, it’s diabolical. I didn’t say a lunatic. When you tell me what -lunacy is, we’ll discuss whether the poisoner was sane. But the -diabolical is getting a little too common, Lomas. There was Bigod: -young, healthy, well off, just engaged to a jolly girl. He falls into -a chalkpit and the jury says it was misadventure. There was the lady -doctor: young, clean living, not a ghost of a past, everybody liking -her. She is murdered and a girl who was very fond of her nearly goes -mad over it. Now there’s the small Gerald: a dear kid, his mother -worships him, his step-father’s mighty keen on him, everybody likes -him. Somebody tries to poison him and nearly brings it off.” - -“What are you arguing, Fortune? It’s odd the cases should follow one -another. It’s deuced awkward we can’t clean them up. But what then? -They’re not really related. The people are unconnected. There’s a -different method of murder--if the Bigod case was murder. The only -common feature is that the man who attempted murder is not known.” - -“You think so? Well, well. What I want to know is, was there any one -at Mrs. Lawley’s party in Kensington who was also at the Home of Help -party and also staying somewhere near the chalkpit when Bigod fell -into it. Put your men on to that.” - -“Good Gad!” said Lomas. “But the cases are not comparable--not in the -same class. Different method--different kind of victim. What motive -could any creature have for picking out just these three to kill?” - -Reggie looked at him. “Not nice murders, are they?” he said. “I could -guess--and I dare say we’ll only guess in the end.” - -That night he was taking Miss Amber, poor girl, to a state dinner of -his relations. They had ten minutes together before the horrors of -the ceremony began and she was benign to him about the recovery of -the small Gerald. “It was dear of you to ring up and tell me. I love -Gerry. Poor Mrs. Warnham! I just had to go round to her and she was -sweet. But she has been frightened. You’re rather a wonderful person, -sir. I didn’t know you were a children’s doctor--as well as a million -other things. What was the matter? Mrs. Warnham didn’t tell us. It -must----” - -“Who are ‘us,’ Joan?” - -“Why, Lady Chantry was with her. She didn’t tell us what it really -was. After we came away Lady Chantry asked me if I knew.” - -“But I’m afraid you don’t,” Reggie said. “Joan, I don’t want you to -talk about the small Gerry? Do you mind?” - -“My dear, of course not.” Her eyes grew bigger. “But Reggie--the -boy’s going to be all right.” - -“Yes. Yes. You’re rather a dear, you know.” - -And at the dinner-table which then received them his family found him -of an unwonted solemnity. It was agreed, with surprise and -reluctance, that engagement had improved him: that there might be -some merit in Miss Amber after all. - -A week went by. He had been separated from Miss Amber for one long -afternoon to give evidence in the case of the illegitimate Pekinese -when she rang him up on the telephone. Lady Chantry, she said, had -asked her to choose a day and bring Mr. Fortune to dine. Lady Chantry -did so want to know him. - -“Does she, though?” said Mr. Fortune. - -“She was so nice about it,” said the telephone. “And she really is a -good sort, Reggie. She’s always doing something kind.” - -“Joan,” said Mr. Fortune, “you’re not to go into her house.” - -“Reggie!” said the telephone. - -“That’s that,” said Mr. Fortune. “I’ll speak to Lady Chantry.” - -Lady Chantry was at home. She sat in her austerely pleasant -drawing-room, toasting a foot at the fire, a small foot which brought -out a pretty leg. Of course she was in black with some white about -her neck, but the loose gown had grace. She smiled at him and tossed -back her hair. Not a thread of white showed in its crisp brown and it -occurred to Reggie that he had never seen a woman of her age carry -off bobbed hair so well. What was her age? Her eyes were as bright as -a bird’s and her clear pallor was unfurrowed. - -“So good of you, Mr. Fortune----” - -“Miss Amber has just told me----” - -They spoke together. She got the lead then. “It was kind of her to -let you know at once. But she’s always kind, isn’t she? I did so want -you to come, and make friends with me before you’re married, and it -will be very soon now, won’t it? Oh, but do let me give you some tea.” - -“No tea, thank you.” - -“Won’t you? Well, please ring the bell. I don’t know how men can -exist without tea. But most of them don’t now, do they? You’re almost -unique, you know. I suppose it’s the penalty of greatness.” - -“I came round to say that Miss Amber won’t be able to dine with you, -Lady Chantry.” - -It was a moment before she answered. “But that is too bad. She told -me she was sure you could find a day.” - -“She can’t come,” said Reggie sharply. - -“The man has spoken,” she laughed. “Oh, of course, she mustn’t go -behind that.” He was given a keen mocking glance. “And can’t you come -either, Mr. Fortune?” - -“I have a great deal of work. Lady Chantry. It’s come rather -unexpectedly.” - -“Indeed, you do look worried. I’m so sorry. I’m sure you ought to -take a rest, a long rest.” A servant came in. “Won’t you really have -some tea?” - -“No, thank you. Goodbye, Lady Chantry.” - -He went home and rang up Lomas. Lomas, like the father of Baby -Bunting, had gone a-hunting. Lomas was in Leicestershire. -Superintendent Bell replied: Did Bell know if they had anything new -about the unknown murderer? - -“Inquiries are proceeding, sir,” said Superintendent Bell. - -“Damn it, Bell, I’m not the House of Commons. Have you got anything?” - -“Not what you’d call definite, sir, no.” - -“You’ll say that on the Day of Judgment,” said Reggie. - -It was on the next day that he found a telegram waiting for him when -he came home to dress for dinner: - - -Gerald ill again very anxious beg you will come sending car to meet -evening trains. - - Warnham - - Fernhurst - - Blackover. - - -He scrambled into the last carriage of the half-past six as it drew -out of Waterloo. - -Mrs. Warnham had faithfully obeyed his orders to take Gerald to a -quiet place. Blackover stands an equally uncomfortable distance from -two main lines, one of which throws out towards it a feeble and -spasmodic branch. After two changes Reggie arrived, cold and with a -railway sandwich rattling in his emptiness, on the dimly-lit platform -of Blackover. The porter of all work who took his ticket thought -there was a car outside. - -In the dark station yard Reggie found only one: “Do you come from -Fernhurst?” he called, and the small chauffeur who was half inside -the bonnet shut it up and touched his cap and ran round to his seat. - -They dashed off into the night, climbing up by narrow winding roads -through woodland. Nothing passed them, no house gave a gleam of -light. The car stopped on the crest of a hill and Reggie looked out. -He could see nothing but white frost and pines. The chauffeur was -getting down. - -“What’s the trouble?” said Reggie, with his head out of window: and -slipped the catch and came out in a bundle. - -The chauffeur’s face was the face of Lady Chantry. He saw it in the -flash of a pistol overhead as he closed with her. “I will, I will,” -she muttered, and fought him fiercely. Another shot went into the -pines. He wrenched her hand round. The third was fired into her face. -The struggling body fell away from him, limp. - -He carried it into the rays of the headlights and looked close. -“That’s that,” he said with a shrug, and put it into the car. - -He lit a cigar and listened. There was no sound anywhere but the -sough of the wind in the pines. He climbed into the chauffeur’s place -and drove away. At the next crossroads he took that which led north -and west, and so in a while came out on the Portsmouth road. - -That night the frost gathered on a motor-car in a lane between -Hindhead and Shottermill. Mr. Fortune unobtrusively caught the last -train from Haslemere. - -When he came out from a matinee with Joan Amber next day, the -newsboys were shouting “Motor Car Mystery.” Mr. Fortune did not buy a -paper. - -It was on the morning of the second day that Scotland Yard sent for -him. Lomas was with Superintendent Bell. The two of them received him -with solemnity and curious eyes. Mr. Fortune was not pleased. “Dear -me, Lomas, can’t you keep the peace for a week at a time?” he -protested. “What is the reason for your existence?” - -“I had all that for breakfast,” said Lomas. “Don’t talk like the -newspapers. Be original.” - -“‘Another Mysterious Murder,’” Reggie murmured, quoting headlines. -“‘Scotland Yard Baffled Again,’ ‘Police Mandarins.’ No, you haven’t a -‘good Press,’ Lomas old thing.” - -Lomas said something about the Press. “Do you know who that woman -chauffeur was, Fortune?” - -“That wasn’t in the papers, was it?” - -“You haven’t guessed?” - -Again Reggie Fortune was aware of the grave curiosity in their eyes. -“Another of our mysterious murders,” he said dreamily. “I wonder. Are -you working out the series at last? I told you to look for some one -who was always present.” - -Lomas looked at Superintendent Bell. “Lady Chantry was present at -this one, Fortune,” he said. “Lady Chantry took out her car the day -before yesterday. Yesterday morning the car was found in a lane above -Haslemere. Lady Chantry was inside. She wore chauffeur’s uniform. She -was shot through the head.” - -“Well, well,” said Reggie Fortune. - -“I want you to come down and look at the body.” - -“Is the body the only evidence?” - -“We know where she bought the coat and cap. Her own coat and hat were -under the front seat. She told her servants she might not be back at -night. No one knows what she went out for or where she went.” - -“Yes. Yes. When a person is shot, it’s generally with a gun. Have you -found it?” - -“She had an automatic pistol in her hand.” - -Reggie Fortune rose. “I had better see her,” he said sadly. “A -wearing world, Lomas. Come on. My car’s outside.” - -Two hours later he stood looking down at the slight body and the -scorched wound in that pale face while a police surgeon demonstrated -to him how the shot was fired. The pistol was gripped with the rigour -of death in the woman’s right hand, the bullet that was taken from -the base of the skull fitted it, the muzzle--remark the stained, -scorched flesh--must have been held close to her face when the shot -was fired. And Reggie listened and nodded. “Yes, yes. All very clear, -isn’t it? A straight case.” He drew the sheet over the body and paid -compliments to the doctor as they went out. - -Lomas was in a hurry to meet them. Reggie shook his head. “There’s -nothing for me, Lomas. And nothing for you. The medical evidence is -suicide. Scotland Yard is acquitted without a stain on its character.” - -“No sort of doubt?” said Lomas. - -“You can bring all the College of Surgeons to see her. You’ll get -nothing else.” - -And so they climbed into the car again. “Finis, thank God!” said Mr. -Fortune as the little town ran by. - -Lomas looked at him curiously. “Why did she commit suicide, Fortune?” -he said. - -“There are also other little questions,” Reggie murmured. “Why did -she murder Bigod? Why did she murder the lady doctor? Why did she try -to murder the child?” - -Lomas continued to stare at him. “How do you know she did?” he said -in a low voice. “You’re making very sure.” - -“Great heavens! You might do some of the work. I know Scotland Yard -isn’t brilliant, but it might take pains. Who was present at all the -murders? Who was the constant force? Haven’t you found that out yet?” - -“She was staying near Bigod’s place. She was at the orphanage. She -was at the child’s party. And only she was at all three. It staggered -me when I got the evidence complete. But what in heaven makes you -think she is the murderer?” - -Reggie moved uneasily. “There was something malign about her.” - -“Malign! But she was always doing philanthropic work.” - -“Yes. It may be a saint who does that--or the other thing. Haven’t -you ever noticed--some of the people who are always busy about -distress--they rather like watching distress?” - -“Why, yes. But murder! And what possible motive is there for killing -these different people? She might have hated one or another. But not -all three.” - -“Oh, there is a common factor. Don’t you see? Each one had somebody -to feel the death like torture--the girl Bigod was engaged to, the -girl who was devoted to the lady doctor, the small Gerald’s mother. -There was always somebody to suffer horribly--and the person to be -killed was always somebody who had a young good life to lose. Not at -all nice murders, Lomas. Genus diabolical, species feminine. Say that -Lady Chantry had a devilish passion for cruelty--and it ended that -night in the motor-car.” - -“But why commit suicide? Do you mean she was mad?” - -“I wouldn’t say that. That’s for the Day of Judgment. When is cruelty -madness? I don’t know. Why did she--give herself away--in the end? -Perhaps she found she had gone a little too far. Perhaps she knew you -and I had begun to look after her. She never liked me much, I fancy. -She was a little--odd--with me.” - -“You’re an uncanny fellow, Fortune.” - -“My dear chap! Oh, my dear chap! I’m wholly normal. I’m the natural -man,” said Reggie Fortune. - - - - - Printed in Great Britain by - - Butler & Tanner Ltd., - - Frome and London - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Fortune's Practice, by H. C. Bailey - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 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C. Bailey - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Mr. Fortune's Practice - -Author: H. C. Bailey - -Release Date: August 13, 2019 [EBook #60096] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. FORTUNE'S PRACTICE *** - - - - -Produced by Stephen Lins - - - - - -</pre> - - -<p id="cover"></p> - - <div class="calibre2"> - <img alt="cover" src="images/cover.jpg"><br> - </div> - -<hr id="First"> - -<p style="text-align: center; font-size: 150%; margin-top:5em; margin-bottom:5em">MR. FORTUNE’S PRACTICE</p> - -<hr id="TitlePage"> - -<h1 class="calibre1">MR. FORTUNE’S<br>PRACTICE</h1> - -<p style="text-align: center;font-weight: normal; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 0; font-size:90%">BY</p> - -<p style="text-align: center; font-size: 150%; font-weight: normal; margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.25em">H. C. BAILEY</p> - -<p style="text-align: center;font-weight: normal; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 10em; font-size:90%">AUTHOR OF “CALL MR. FORTUNE”</p> - - <div class="calibre2"> - <img alt="pubmark" src="images/methuen.jpg"> - </div> - -<p style="text-align: center;font-weight: normal; margin-top: 0; font-size: 125%">METHUEN & CO. LTD.</p> - -<p style="text-align: center;font-weight: normal; margin-top: 0; font-size: 125%">26 ESSEX STREET W.C.</p> - -<p style="text-align: center;font-weight: normal; margin-top: 0; font-size: 125%">LONDON</p> - -<hr id="Verso"> - -<table class="tg"> - <tr> - <td class="tg-zv4m" >First Published (Crown 8vo)</td> - <td class="tg-baqh"> . </td> - <td class="tg-baqh"> . </td> - <td class="tg-baqh"> . </td> - <td class="tg-zv4m">May 17th</td> - <td class="tg-zv4m">1923</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tg-zv4m">Second Edition (Cheap Form)</td> - <td class="tg-baqh"> . </td> - <td class="tg-baqh"> . </td> - <td class="tg-baqh"> . </td> - <td class="tg-zv4m">July</td> - <td class="tg-zv4m">1924</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tg-zv4m">Third Edition (Cheap Form)</td> - <td class="tg-baqh"> . </td> - <td class="tg-baqh"> . </td> - <td class="tg-baqh"> . </td> - <td class="tg-zv4m">June</td> - <td class="tg-zv4m">1927</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tg-zv4m">Fourth Edition (F'cap 8vo, Cheap Form)</td> -<td class="tg-baqh"> . </td> - <td class="tg-baqh"> . </td> - <td class="tg-baqh"> . </td> - <td class="tg-zv4m"> 1934</td> - <td class="tg-zv4m"></td> - </tr> - -</table> - - -<p style="margin-top: 10em; text-align:center; font-size:90%">PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN</p> - -<hr id="Contents"> - -<h2 class="calibre12" style="margin-bottom: 1em">CONTENTS</h2> - - - -<table class="calibre4"> - -<tr> -<td style="text-align:right"> CASE</td> -<td style="text-align:left"> </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> </td> -<td style="text-align:right"> PAGE</td> -</tr> - - -<tr> -<td style="text-align:right">I</td> -<td style="text-align:left"> <a href="#toc1">The Ascot Tragedy</a></td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:right"> 1</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td style="text-align:right">II</td> -<td style="text-align:left"> <a href="#toc2">The President of San Jacinto</a></td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:right"> 33</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td style="text-align:right">III</td> -<td style="text-align:left"> <a href="#toc3">The Young Doctor</a></td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:right"> 64</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td style="text-align:right">IV</td> -<td style="text-align:left"> <a href="#toc4">The Magic Stone</a></td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:right"> 98</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td style="text-align:right">V</td> -<td style="text-align:left"> <a href="#toc5">The Snowball Burglary</a></td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:right"> 126</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td style="text-align:right">VI</td> -<td style="text-align:left"> <a href="#toc6">The Leading Lady</a></td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:right"> 153</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td style="text-align:right">VII</td> -<td style="text-align:left"> <a href="#toc7">The Unknown Murderer</a><td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:center"> . </td> -<td style="text-align:right"> 185</td> -</tr> - -</table> - -<hr id="Ch1"> - -<p class="calibre5" id="toc1">CASE I</p> - -<h2 class="calibre6">THE ASCOT TRAGEDY</h2> - -<p class="first"><span class="dropcaps">T</span>HAT is what it would have been called in the evening papers if they -had known all about it. They did not. They made the most of the -mystery, you remember; it was not good for them or you to know that -the sequel was a sequel. But there is no reason why the flats should -not be joined now.</p> - -<p>So let us begin at Ascot on the morning of that Cup Day. One of our -fine summers, the course rather yellow, the lawns rather brown, a -haze of heat over the distant woodland, and sunshine flaming about -the flounces and silk hats. There were already many of both in the -Royal Enclosure (it was a year of flounces), and among them, dapper, -debonair, everybody’s friend, the youngest middle-aged man in Europe. -He, of course, is the Hon. Sidney Lomas, the Chief of the Criminal -Investigation Department, though mistaken by some outsiders for a -comic actor of fame. Tripping back from a joke with the stewards, he -discovered, sprawling solitary on the end of one of the seats, Mr. -Fortune, the adviser of him and all other official and important -people when surgery, medicine or kindred sciences can elucidate what -is or is not crime. No one looks more prosperous than Reginald -Fortune. He is plump and pinkly healthy, he and his tailor treat each -other with respect, his countenance has the amiability of a nice boy.</p> - -<p>But on this occasion Lomas found fault with him. “Why, Fortune, -you’re very pensive. Have you lost the lady of your present -affections? Or backed a wrong ’un?”</p> - -<p>“Go away. No fellow has a right to be as cool as you look. Go quite -away. I feel like the three fellows in the Bible who sang in the -furnace. How can you jest, Lomas? I have no affections. I cannot -love, to bet I am ashamed. I always win. Half-crowns. Why is the -world thus, Lomas?”</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow, you’re not yourself. You look quite professional.”</p> - -<p>Reggie Fortune groaned. “I am. This place worries me. I am -anatomical, ethnological, anthropological.”</p> - -<p>“Good Gad,” said Lomas.</p> - -<p>“Yes. A distressing place, look at it”; he waved a stick.</p> - -<p>The people in the Royal Enclosure were as pleasant to behold as -usual. Comely girls and women who had been comely passed in frocks of -which many were pretty and few garish; their men were of a blameless, -inconspicuous uniformity.</p> - -<p>“What is he?” said Reggie Fortune. “I ask you. Look at his feet.”</p> - -<p>What Lomas saw was a man dressed like all the rest of them and as -well set up, but of a darker complexion. He did not see anything -remarkable. “The big fellow?” he said. “He is a little weak at the -knee. But what’s the matter with him?”</p> - -<p>“Who is he?” said Reggie Fortune.</p> - -<p>Lomas shrugged. “Not English, of course. Rather a half-caste colour, -isn’t he? From one of the smaller legations, I suppose, Balkan or -South American.” He waved a hand to some elegant aliens who were at -that moment kissing ladies’ hands with florid grace. “They all come -here, you know.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” said Reggie Fortune peevishly. “Half-caste? Half what -caste? Look at his feet.” Now the man’s feet, well displayed beneath -white spats, were large and flat but distinguished by their heels, -which stuck out behind extravagantly. “That is the negro heel.”</p> - -<p>“My dear Fortune! The fellow is no more a negro than I am,” Lomas -protested: and indeed the man’s hair was straight and sleek and he -had a good enough nose, and he was far from black.</p> - -<p>“The negro or Hamitic heel,” Reggie Fortune drowsily persisted. “I -suspect the Hamitic or negro leg. And otherwise up above. And it’s -all very distressing, Lomas.”</p> - -<p>“An Egyptian or perhaps an Arab: probably a Foreign Office pet,” -Lomas consoled him. “That would get him into the Royal Enclosure.”</p> - -<p>Lomas was then removed by a duchess and Reggie Fortune tilted his hat -still farther over his eyes and pondered whether it would be wise to -drink before lunch and was dreamily aware of other people on his -seat, an old man darkly tanned and soldierly in the custody of a -little woman brilliantly dressed and terribly vivacious. She -chattered without a pause, she made eyes, she made affectionate -movements and little caresses. The old man though helpless seemed to -be thinking of something else. And Reggie Fortune sketched lower and -still lower estimates of human nature.</p> - -<p>They went away at last when everybody went away to gather in a crowd -at the gates and along the railings for the coming of the King. You -will please to observe that the time must have been about one o’clock.</p> - -<p>Reggie Fortune, one of the few, remained on his seat. He heard the -cheering down the course and had sufficient presence of mind to stand -up and take off his hat as the distant band began to play. Over the -heads of the crowd he saw the red coats of the postilions and a gleam -of the grey of the team as the King’s carriage swept round into the -enclosure. The rest of the procession passed and the crowd melted -away. But one man remained by the railings alone. He was tall and -thin and he leaned limply against the railings, one arm hanging over -them. After a little while he turned on his heel and fell in a heap.</p> - -<p>Two of the green-coated wardens of the gate ran up to him. “Oh, -Lord,” Reggie Fortune groaned, “why did I be a doctor?” But before he -could get through the flurry of people the man was being carried away.</p> - -<p>The gift of Lomas for arriving where he wants to be displayed itself. -Lomas slid through the crowd and took his arm, “Stout fellow! Come -along. It’s Sir Arthur Dean. Touch of sun, what?”</p> - -<p>“Arthur Dean? That’s the Persia man, pundit on the Middle East?”</p> - -<p>“That’s the fellow. Getting old, you know. One of the best.”</p> - -<p>Into the room where the old man lay came the shouting over the first -race. By the door Lomas and an inspector of police talked in low -tones, glancing now and then at Reggie, who was busy.</p> - -<p>“Merry Man! Merry Man! Merry Man!” the crowd roared outside.</p> - -<p>Reggie straightened his bent back and stood looking down at his -patient. Lomas came forward. “Anything we can get you, Fortune? Would -you like some assistance?”</p> - -<p>“You can’t assist him,” said Reggie. “He’s dead.”</p> - -<p>“Merry Man!” the crowd triumphed. “Merry Man!”</p> - -<p>“Good Gad!” said Lomas. “Poor fellow. One of the best. Well, well, -what is it? Heart failure?”</p> - -<p>“The heart generally fails when you die,” Reggie mumbled: he still -stared down at the body and the wonted benignity of his face was lost -in expressionless reserve. “Do you know if he has any people down -here?”</p> - -<p>“It’s possible. There is a married son. I’ll have him looked for.” -Lomas sent his inspector off.</p> - -<p>“I saw the old man with a woman just before he died,” Reggie -murmured, and Lomas put up his eyeglass.</p> - -<p>“Did you though? Very sudden, wasn’t it? And he was all alone when he -died.”</p> - -<p>“When he fell,” Reggie mumbled the correction. “Yes, highly sudden.”</p> - -<p>“What was the cause of death, Fortune?”</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” Reggie muttered. He went down on his knees by the body, -he looked long and closely into the eyes, he opened the clothes . . . -and to the eyes he came back again. Then there was a tap at the door -and Lomas having conferred there came back and said, “The son and his -wife. I’ll tell them. I suppose they can see the body?”</p> - -<p>“They’d better see the body,” said Reggie, and as Lomas went out he -began to cover and arrange it. He was laying the right arm by the -side when he checked and held it up to the light. On the back of the -hand was a tiny drop of blood and a red smear. He looked close and -found such a hole as a pin might make.</p> - -<p>From the room outside came a woman’s cry, then a deep man’s voice in -some agitation, and Lomas opened the door. “This is Mr. Fortune, the -surgeon who was with your father at once. Major Dean and Mrs. Dean, -Fortune.”</p> - -<p>Reggie bowed and studied them. The man was a soldierly fellow, with -his father’s keen, wary face. But it was the woman Reggie watched, -the woman who was saying, “I was with him only half an hour ago,” and -twisting her hands nervously.</p> - -<p>“Most of that half-hour he has been dead. Where did you leave him, -madam?” Reggie said.</p> - -<p>Husband and wife stared at him. “Why, in the Royal Enclosure, of -course. In the crowd when the King came. I—I lost him. Somebody -spoke to me. Yes, it was Sybil. And I never saw him again.”</p> - -<p>Reggie stepped aside from the body. She shuddered and hid her face in -her hands. “His eyes—his eyes,” she murmured.</p> - -<p>Major Dean blew his nose. “This rather knocks one over,” he said. -“What’s the cause of death, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Can you help me?” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>“I? What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing wrong with his heart, was there?”</p> - -<p>“Never heard of it. He didn’t use doctors. Never was ill.”</p> - -<p>Reggie stroked his chin. “I suppose he hadn’t been to an oculist -lately?”</p> - -<p>“Not he. His eyes were as good as mine. Wonderful good. He used to -brag of it. He was rising seventy and no glasses. Good Lord, what’s -that got to do with it? I want to know why he died.”</p> - -<p>“So do I. And I can’t tell you,” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>“What? I say—what? You mean a post-mortem. That’s horrible.”</p> - -<p>“My dear Major, it is most distressing,” Lomas purred. “I assure you -anything in our power—sympathize with your feelings, quite, quite. -But the Coroner would insist, you know; we have no choice.”</p> - -<p>“As you were saying,” Reggie chimed in, “we want to know why he died.”</p> - -<p>Major Dean drew a long breath. “That’s all right, that’s all right,” -he said. “The old dad!” and he came to his father’s side and knelt -down, and his wife stood by him, her hand on his shoulder. He looked -a moment into the dead face, and closed the eyes and looked long.</p> - -<p>From this scene Reggie and Lomas drew back. In the silence they heard -the man and woman breathing unsteadily. Lomas sighed his sympathy. -Mrs. Dean whispered, “His mouth! Oh, Claude, his mouth!” and with a -sudden darting movement wiped away some froth from the pale lips. -Then she too knelt and she kissed the brow. Her husband lifted the -dead right hand to hold it for a while. And then he reached across to -the key chain, took off the keys, slipped them into his pocket and -helped his wife to her feet.</p> - -<p>Reggie turned a still expressionless face on Lomas. Lomas still -exhibited grave official sorrow.</p> - -<p>“Well—er—thanks very much for all you’ve done,” Major Dean -addressed them both. “You’ve been very kind. We feel that. And if you -will let me know as soon as you know anything—rather a relief.”</p> - -<p>“Quite, quite.” Lomas held out his hand; Major Dean took it. “Yes, -I’m so sorry, but you see we must take charge of everything for the -present.” He let the Major’s hand go and still held out his own.</p> - -<p>Dean flushed. “What, his keys?”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” said Lomas, and at last received them.</p> - -<p>“I was thinking about his papers, you know.”</p> - -<p>“I can promise you they’ll be safe.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, that settles it!” Dean laughed. “You know where to find -me,” and he took his wife, who was plainly eager to speak to him, -away.</p> - -<p>Lomas dandled the keys in his hand. “I wonder what’s in their minds? -And what’s in yours, Fortune?”</p> - -<p>“Man was murdered,” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>Lomas groaned, “I was afraid you had that for me. But surely it’s not -possible?”</p> - -<p>“It ought not to be,” Reggie admitted. “At a quarter to one he was -quite alive, rather bored perhaps, but as fit as me. At a quarter -past he was dead. What happened in between?”</p> - -<p>“Why, he was in sight the whole time——”</p> - -<p>“All among the most respectable people in England. Yet he dies -suddenly of asphyxia and heart failure. Why?”</p> - -<p>“Well, some obscure heart trouble——” Lomas protested.</p> - -<p>“He was in the pink. He never used doctors. You heard them say so. He -hadn’t even been to an oculist.”</p> - -<p>“A fellow doesn’t always know,” Lomas urged. “There are all sorts of -heart weakness.”</p> - -<p>“Not this sort.” Reggie shook his head. “And the eyes. Did you see -how those two were afraid of his eyes? Your eyes won’t look like that -when you die of heart failure. They might if an oculist had put -belladonna in ’em to examine you. But there was no oculist. Dilated -pupils, foam at the mouth, cold flesh. He was poisoned. It might have -been aconitine. But aconitine don’t kill so quick or quite so quiet.”</p> - -<p>“What is aconitine?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, wolf-bane. Blue-rocket. You can get it from other plants. Only -this is too quick. It slew him like prussic acid and much more -peacefully. Some alkaloid poison of the aconite family, possibly -unclassified. Probably it was put into him by that fresh puncture in -his hand while he was packed in the crowd, just a scratch, just a jab -with a hollow needle. An easy murder if you could trust your stuff. -And when we do the post-mortem we’ll find that everything points to -death by a poison we can’t trace.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks, so much,” said Lomas. “It is for this we employ experts.”</p> - -<p>“Well, the police also must earn their bread. Who is he?”</p> - -<p>“He was the great authority on the Middle East. Old Indian civilian -long retired. Lately political adviser to the Government of Media. -You know all that.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Who wanted him dead?” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear fellow!” Lomas spread out his hands. “The world is wide.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. The world also is very evil. The time also is waxing late. Same -like the hymn says. What about those papers son and co. were so keen -on?”</p> - -<p>Lomas laughed. “If you could believe I have a little intelligence, it -would so soothe me. Our people have been warned to take charge of his -flat.”</p> - -<p>“Active fellow. Let’s go and see what they found.”</p> - -<p>It was not much more than an hour before a policeman was letting them -into Sir Arthur Dean’s flat in Westminster. An inspector of police -led the way to the study. “Anything of interest, Morton?” Lomas said.</p> - -<p>“Well, sir, nothing you could call out of the way. When we came, the -servants had heard of the death and they were upset. Sir Arthur’s -man, he opened the door to me fairly crying. Been with him thirty -years, fine old-fashioned fellow, would be talking about his master.”</p> - -<p>Lomas and Reggie looked at each other, but the inspector swept on.</p> - -<p>“Then in this room, sir, there was Sir Arthur’s executor, Colonel -Osbert, getting out papers. I had to tell him that wouldn’t do. -Rather stiff he was. He is a military man. Well, sir, I put it to -him, orders are orders, and he took it very well. But he let me see -pretty plain he didn’t like it. He was quite the gentleman, but he -put it to me we had no business in Sir Arthur’s affairs unless we -thought there was foul play. Well, of course, I couldn’t answer that. -He talked a good deal, fishing, you might say. All he got out of me -was that I couldn’t allow anything to be touched. So he said he would -take it up with the Commissioner and went off. That’s all, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Who is he?” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>“His card, sir. Colonel Osbert, late Indian Army.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know if he was who he said he was?” Lomas asked.</p> - -<p>The inspector was startled. “Well, sir, the servants knew him. Sir -Arthur’s man, he let him in, says he’s Sir Arthur’s oldest friend. I -had no reason to detain him.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right, Morton,” said Lomas. “Well, what time did you get -here?”</p> - -<p>“Your message came two o’clock, sir. I should say we were here by a -quarter past.”</p> - -<p>Lomas nodded and dismissed him. “Quick work,” he said with a cock of -his eye at Reggie.</p> - -<p>“We can time it all by the King. He drove up the course at ten past -one. Till the procession came Sir Arthur was alive. We didn’t pick -him up till five minutes after, at the least. No one knew he was dead -till you had examined him. No one knew then but me and my men. And -yet Colonel Osbert in London knows of the death in time to get round -here and get to work on the dead man’s papers before two-fifteen. He -knew the man was dead as soon as we did who were looking at the body. -Damme, he has very early information.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. One to you, Lomas. And a nasty one for Colonel Osbert. Our -active and intelligent police force. If you hadn’t been up and doing -and sent your bright boys round, Colonel Osbert might have got away -with what he wanted. And he wouldn’t have had to explain how he knew -too much.”</p> - -<p>“When was the poison given? Say between five to one and ten past. At -that time the murderer was in the Royal Enclosure. If he had his car -waiting handy, could he get here before two-fifteen?”</p> - -<p>“Well—if his car was a flier, and there were no flies on his -chauffeur and he had luck all the way, I suppose it’s possible. But I -don’t believe in it. I should say Osbert didn’t do the job.”</p> - -<p>Lomas sprang up and called the inspector. He wanted to know what -Colonel Osbert was wearing. Colonel Osbert was in a lounge suit of -grey flannel. Lomas sat down again and lit a cigarette. “I’m afraid -that will do for an alibi, Fortune,” he sighed. “Your hypothetical -murderer was in the Royal Enclosure. Therefore——”</p> - -<p>“He was in topper and tails, same like us. The uniform of -respectability. Of course, he could have done a change in his car. -But I don’t think it. No. Osbert won’t do. But what was he after?”</p> - -<p>Lomas stood up and looked round the room. It had the ordinary -furniture of an old-fashioned study and in addition several modern -steel chests of drawers for filing documents. “Well, he set some -value on his papers,” Lomas said.</p> - -<p>“Lots of honest toil before you, Lomas, old thing.” Reggie smiled, -and while Lomas fell to work with the keys he wandered about picking -up a bowl here, a brass tray there. “He kept to his own line,” he -remarked. “Everything is Asiatic.”</p> - -<p>“You may well say so,” Lomas groaned, frowning over a mass of papers.</p> - -<p>But Reggie’s attention was diverted. Somebody had rung the bell and -there was talk in the hall. He made out a woman’s voice. “I fancy -this is our young friend the daughter-in-law,” he murmured.</p> - -<p>Lomas looked up at him. “I had a notion you didn’t take to her, -Fortune. Do you want to see her?”</p> - -<p>“God forbid,” said Reggie. “She’s thin, Lomas, she’s too thin.”</p> - -<p>In a moment or two a discreet tap introduced Inspector Morton. “Mrs. -Dean, deceased’s daughter-in-law, sir,” he reported. “Asked to see -the man-servant. I saw no objection, me being present. They were both -much distressed, sir. She asked him if Colonel Osbert had been here. -Seemed upset when she heard he was here before us. Asked if he had -taken anything away. The servant told her we weren’t letting anything -be touched. That didn’t seem to satisfy her. She said something nasty -about the police being always too late. Meant for me, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>“I rather fancy it was meant for me,” said Reggie. “It’s a bad -business.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think the Colonel got away with anything, sir. He was -sitting down to the diary on the table there when we came in.”</p> - -<p>“All right.” Lomas waved him away. “Damme, it is a bad business. What -am I to do with this, Fortune?” He held up papers in a strange -script, papers of all sorts and sizes, some torn and discoloured, -some fresh.</p> - -<p>Reggie went to look. “Arabic,” he said. “And this is Persian.” He -studied them for a while. “A sort of dossier, a lot of evidence about -some case or person. Lomas old thing, you’ll have to call in the -Foreign Office.”</p> - -<p>“Lord, we can translate them ourselves. It’s the mass of it!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, lot of light reading. I think I should have a talk to the -Foreign Office. Well, that’s your show. Me for the body.”</p> - -<p>Lomas lay back in his chair. “What’s in your head?”</p> - -<p>“I won’t let anything into my head. There is no evidence. But I’m -wondering if we’ll ever get any. It’s a beautiful crime—as a crime. -A wicked world, Lomas old thing.”</p> - -<p>On the day after, Reggie Fortune came into Lomas’s room at Scotland -Yard and shook his head and lit one of Lomas’s largest cigars and -fell into a chair. “Unsatisfactory, highly unsatisfactory,” he -announced. “I took Harvey down with me. You couldn’t have a better -opinion except mine, and he agrees with me.”</p> - -<p>“And what do you say?”</p> - -<p>“I say, nothing doing. He had no medical history. There was nothing -the matter with the man, yet he died of heart failure and -suffocation. That means poisoning by aconitine or a similar alkaloid. -But there is no poison in the price list which would in a quarter of -an hour kill quietly and without fuss a man in perfect health. I have -no doubt a poison was injected into him by that puncture on the hand, -but I don’t know what it was. We’ll have some analysis done, of -course, but I expect nothing of that. There’ll be no trace.”</p> - -<p>“Unique case.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t say that. You remember I thought General Blaker was -poisoned. He was mixed up with Asiatics too. There were queer -circumstances about the death of that Greek millionaire in Rome two -years ago. The world’s old and men have been poisoning each other for -five thousand years and science only began to look into it yesterday. -There’s a lot of drugs in the world that you can’t buy at the -chemist’s.”</p> - -<p>“Good Gad,” Lomas protested, “we’re in Scotland Yard, not the Arabian -Nights. What you mean is you can’t do anything?”</p> - -<p>“Even so. Can you? Who wanted him dead?”</p> - -<p>“Nobody but a lunatic. He had no money to leave. He was on the best -terms with his son. He was a popular old boy, never had an enemy. He -had no secrets—most respectable—lived all his life in public.”</p> - -<p>“And yet his son snatched at his keys before he was cold. And his -dear old friend Osbert knew of his death before he was dead and made -a bee-line for his papers. By the way, what was in his papers?”</p> - -<p>Lomas shrugged. “Our fellows are working at ’em.”</p> - -<p>“And who is Osbert?”</p> - -<p>“Well, you know, he’s coming to see me. He put in his protest to the -Commissioner, and they were going to turn him down, of course. But I -thought I’d like to listen to Colonel Osbert.”</p> - -<p>“Me too,” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>“By all means, my dear fellow. But he seems quite genuine. He is the -executor. He is an old friend, about the oldest living. Not a spot on -his record. Long Indian service.”</p> - -<p>“Only son and daughter don’t seem to trust him. Only he also is a bit -Asiatic.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear Fortune——” Lomas was protesting when Colonel Osbert -came.</p> - -<p>You will find a hundred men like him on any day in the service clubs. -He was small and brown and neat, even dapper, but a trifle stiff in -the joints. His manner of speech was a drawl concluding with a bark.</p> - -<p>Reggie lay back in his chair and admired the bland fluency with which -Lomas said nothing in reply to the parade-ground demands of Colonel -Osbert. Colonel Osbert wanted to know (if we may reduce many -sentences to one) what Lomas meant by refusing him possession of Sir -Arthur Dean’s papers. And Lomas continued to reply that he meant -nothing in particular.</p> - -<p>“Sudden death at Ascot—in the Royal Enclosure too,” he explained. -“That’s very startling and conspicuous. The poor fellow hadn’t been -ill, as far as we can learn. Naturally we have to seek for any -explanation.”</p> - -<p>So at last Osbert came out with: “What, sir, you don’t mean to say, -sir—suspect foul play?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear Colonel, you wouldn’t suggest that?”</p> - -<p>“I, sir? Never entered my head. Poor dear Arthur! A shock, sir. A -blow! Getting old, of course, like the rest of us.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, had he been failing?” said Reggie sympathetically.</p> - -<p>“Well, well, well. We none of us grow younger, sir.” Colonel Osbert -shook his head. “But upon my soul, Mr. Lomas, I don’t understand the -action of your department.”</p> - -<p>“I’m so sorry you should say that,” Lomas sighed. “Now I wonder if -you have particular reason for wanting Sir Arthur’s papers at once?”</p> - -<p>“My good sir, I am his executor. It’s my duty to take charge of his -papers.”</p> - -<p>“Quite, quite. Well, they’re all safe, you know. His death must have -been a great shock to you, Colonel.”</p> - -<p>“Shock, sir? A blow, a blow. Poor dear Arthur!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, too bad,” Lomas mourned: and voice and face were all kindly -innocence as he babbled on: “I suppose you heard about it from his -son?”</p> - -<p>Colonel Osbert paused to clear his throat. Colonel Osbert stopped -that one. “Major Dean? No, sir. No. Point of fact, I don’t know who -the fellow was. Some fellow called me up on the ’phone and told me -poor dear Arthur had fallen down dead on the course. Upon my soul, I -was knocked over, absolutely knocked over. When I came to myself I -rushed round to secure his papers.”</p> - -<p>“Why, did you think somebody would be after them?”</p> - -<p>“My dear sir!” Colonel Osbert protested. “Really, now really. It was -my duty. Arthur was always very strict with his papers. I thought of -his wishes.”</p> - -<p>“Quite, quite,” Lomas purred, and artless as ever he went on: “Mrs. -Dean was round at the flat too.”</p> - -<p>“God bless my soul!” said Colonel Osbert.</p> - -<p>“I wonder if you could tell me: is there anyone who would have an -interest in getting hold of his papers?”</p> - -<p>Colonel Osbert again cleared his throat. “I can tell you this, sir. I -don’t understand the position of Mrs. Dean and her husband. And I -shall be glad, I don’t mind owning, I shall be very glad to have poor -dear Arthur’s papers in my hands.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, thank you so much,” said Lomas, and with bland adroitness got -Colonel Osbert outside the door.</p> - -<p>“He’s not such a fool as he looks,” Reggie murmured. “But there’s -better brains in it than his, Lomas old thing. A bad business, quite -a bad business.”</p> - -<p>And then a clerk came in. Lomas read the letter he brought and said: -“Good Gad! You’re an offensive person, Fortune. Why did you tell me -to go to the Foreign Office? Here is the Foreign Office. Now we shall -be in the affair for life. The Foreign Office wants me to see His -Excellency Mustapha Firouz.”</p> - -<p>“Accompanied by Sindbad the Sailor and Chu Chin Chow?” said Reggie. -“Who is he?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he’s quite real. He’s the Median Minister. He—Why what is it -now?” The question was to the clerk, who had come back with a card.</p> - -<p>“Says he’s anxious to see you immediately, sir. It’s very urgent, and -he won’t keep you long.”</p> - -<p>“Major Dean,” Lomas read, and lifted an eyebrow.</p> - -<p>“Oh rather. Let ’em all come,” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>It was Major Dean, and Major Dean ill at ease. He had a difficulty in -beginning. He discovered Reggie. “Hallo! I say, can you tell me -anything?” he blurted out.</p> - -<p>“I can’t,” said Reggie sharply. “I don’t know why your father died,” -and Major Dean winced.</p> - -<p>“I thought you had something to tell us, Major,” Lomas said.</p> - -<p>“Do you believe he was murdered? I’ve a right to ask that.”</p> - -<p>“But it’s a very grave suggestion,” Lomas purred. “Do you know of -anyone who had a motive for killing your father?”</p> - -<p>“It’s this filthy mystery,” the Major cried. “If he was murdered, I -suppose he was poisoned. But how?”</p> - -<p>“Or why?” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>The Major fidgeted. “I dare say he knew too much,” he said. “You know -he was the adviser to the Median Government. He had some pretty -serious stuff through his hands. I don’t know what. He was always -great on official secrecy. But I know he thought it was pretty -damning for some one.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, thanks very much,” Lomas said.</p> - -<p>But the Major seemed unable to go.</p> - -<p>“I mean to say, make sure you have all his papers and stick to ’em.”</p> - -<p>Lomas and Reggie studied him. “I wonder why you say that?” Lomas -asked. “The papers would naturally pass to Colonel Osbert.”</p> - -<p>“I know. Osbert was the guv’nor’s best pal, worse luck. I wouldn’t -trust him round the corner. That’s what I mean. Now I’ve done it, I -suppose”; he gave a grim chuckle. “It is done, anyway”; and he was in -a hurry to go.</p> - -<p>Reggie stood up and stretched himself. “This is pretty thick,” said -he, “and we’ve got His Excellency the Pasha of Nine Tales on the -doorstep.”</p> - -<p>Into the room was brought a man who made them feel short, a towering -man draped in folds of white. Above that flowing raiment rose a -majestic head, a head finely proportioned, framed in hair and beard -of black strewn with grey. The face was aquiline and bold, but of a -singular calm, and the dark eyes were veiled in thought. He bowed to -each man twice, sat down and composed his robe about him, and it was -long before he spoke. “I thank you for your great courtesy”: each -word came alone as if it was hard to him. “I have this to say. He who -is gone he was the friend of my people. To him we turned always and -he did not fail. In him we had our trust. Now, sir, I must tell you -we have our enemies, who are also, as it seems to us, your enemies. -Those whom you call the Turks, they would do evil to us which would -be evil to you. Of this we had writings in their hands and the hands -of those they use. These I gave to him who is gone that he should -tell us what we should do. For your ways are not our ways nor your -law our law. Now he is gone, and I am troubled lest those papers fall -again into the hands of the Turks.”</p> - -<p>“Who is it that Your Excellency fears? Can you tell me of any man?” -Lomas said.</p> - -<p>“I know of none here. For the Turks are not here in the open and this -is a great land of many people. Yet in all lands all things can be -bought at a price. Even life and death. This only I say. If our -papers go to your King and the Ministers of your King it is well and -very well. If they are rendered to me that also may be well. But if -they go I know not where, I say this is not just.”</p> - -<p>“I can promise Your Excellency they will go before the Foreign -Office.”</p> - -<p>The Median stood up and bowed. “In England I never seek justice in -vain,” he said.</p> - -<p>And when he was gone, “Good Gad, how little he knows,” said Lomas. -“Well, Fortune?” but Reggie only lit a cigar and curled himself up on -the sofa. “What I like about you is that you never say I told you so. -But you did. It is a Foreign Office touch,” and still Reggie silently -smoked. “Why, the thing’s clear enough, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Clear?” said Reggie. “Oh Peter! Clear?”</p> - -<p>“Well, Sir Arthur had in his hands papers damaging to these -blood-and-thunder Young Turks. It occurred to them that if he could -die suddenly they might arrange to get the papers into their hands. -So Sir Arthur is murdered, and either Osbert the executor or Major -Dean the son is bribed to hand over the papers.”</p> - -<p>“In the words of the late Tennyson,” said Reggie,</p> - -<p style="font-size:92%; margin-bottom:0.25em; margin-top:1em;"> “And if it is so, so it is, you know;</p> - -<p style="font-size:92%; margin-bottom:1em; margin-top:0.25em;"> And if it be so, so be it.</p> - -<p> -But it’s not interesting, Lomas old thing.”</p> - -<p>“It would be interesting to hear you find a flaw in it,” said Lomas.</p> - -<p>Reggie shook his head. “Nary flaw.”</p> - -<p>“For my part,” said Lomas with some heat, “I prefer to understand why -a crime was committed. I find it useful. But I am only a policeman.”</p> - -<p>“And so say all of us.” Reggie sat up. “Then why talk like a -politician? Who did it and how are we going to do him in? That’s our -little job.”</p> - -<p>“Whoever it was, we’ve bilked him,” said Lomas. “He has got nothing -for his pains. The papers will go before the Foreign Office and then -back to the Median Legation. A futile crime. I find a good deal of -satisfaction in that.”</p> - -<p>“You’re easy pleased then.” Reggie’s amiability was passing away. “A -futile crime: thanks to the active and intelligent police force. But -damn it, the man was murdered.”</p> - -<p>“My dear Fortune, can I help it? It’s not the first and it won’t be -the last murder in which there is no evidence. You’re pleased to be -bitter about it. But you can’t even tell me how the man was murdered. -A poison unknown to the twentieth-century expert. No doubt that -annoys you. But you needn’t turn and rend me. There is also one more -murderer unknown to the twentieth-century policeman. But I can’t make -evidence any more than you. We suspect either Osbert or Major Dean -had a hand in it. But we don’t know which and we don’t know that -either was the murderer. If we could prove that they were mixed up -with the Young Turks, if we knew the man they dealt with we should -have no case against them. Why, if we could find some Young Turk -hireling was in the Royal Enclosure we should have no proof he was -the murderer. We couldn’t have,” Lomas shrugged. “Humanly speaking, -it’s a case in which there can be no conviction.”</p> - -<p>“My only aunt, don’t I know that?” Reggie cried. “And do you remember -what the old Caliph said, ‘In England I never seek justice in vain’? -Well, that stings, Lomas—humanly speaking.”</p> - -<p>“Great heavens, what am I to do? What do you want to do?”</p> - -<p>Reggie Fortune looked at him. The benign face of Reggie Fortune was -set in hard lines. “There’s something about the voice of a brother’s -blood crying from the ground,” he said slowly.</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow! Oh, my dear fellow, if you are going to preach,” -Lomas protested.</p> - -<p>“I’m not. I’m going to tea,” said Reggie Fortune. “Elise has got the -trick of some new cakes. They’re somewhat genial.”</p> - -<p>They did not meet again till the inquest.</p> - -<p>It was horribly hot in court. The newspaper reporters of themselves -would have filled, if given adequate space, a larger room. They sat -in each other’s pockets and thus yielded places to the general -public, represented by a motley collection of those whom the -coroner’s officer permitted himself to call Nosey Parkers: frocks -which might have come out of a revue chorus beside frocks which would -well become a charwoman. And the Hon. Sidney Lomas murmured in the -ear of his henchman Superintendent Bell, “I see several people who -ought to be hanged, Bell, but no one who will give us the chance.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Reginald Fortune, that eminent surgeon, pathologist and what not, -called to the witness-box, was languid and visibly bored with the -whole affair. He surveyed the court in one weary, dreamy glance and -gazed at the coroner as if seeking, but without hope, some reason for -his unpleasant existence. Yes, he had seen Sir Arthur immediately -after death. He had formed the opinion that Sir Arthur died of -asphyxia and heart failure. Yes, heart failure and asphyxia. He was, -however, surprised.</p> - -<p>From the reporters’ table there was a general look of hungry -interest. But one young gentleman who had grown fat in the service of -crime breathed heavily in his neighbour’s ear: “Nothing doing: I know -old Fortune. This is a wash-out.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune had lost interest in his own evidence. He was looking -sleepily round the court. The coroner had to recall his wandering -mind. “You were surprised, Mr. Fortune?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, ah. Well, I couldn’t explain the suddenness of the attack, the -symptoms and so forth. So with the assistance of Dr. Harvey I made a -further examination. We went into the matter with care and used every -known test. There is no evidence to be found that any other factor -was present than the natural causes of death.”</p> - -<p>“But that does not explain the sudden failure of the heart.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t explain it,” said Reggie. “I can’t.”</p> - -<p>“Medicine,” said the coroner sagely, “still has its mysteries. We -must remember, gentlemen, that Sir Arthur had already completed our -allotted span, the Psalmist’s threescore years and ten. I am much -obliged to you, Mr. Fortune.”</p> - -<p>And after that, as the fat young gentleman complained, there was -nothing in it. The jury found that Sir Arthur’s death was from -natural causes and that they sympathized with the family. So much for -the Ascot mystery. There remains the sequel.</p> - -<p>When the court broke up and sought, panting, the open air, “He is -neat, sir, isn’t he?” said Lomas’s henchman, Superintendent Bell. -“Very adroit, is Mr. Fortune. That couldn’t have been much better -done.” And Lomas smiled. It was in each man’s simple heart that the -Criminal Investigation Department was well rid of a bad business. -They sought Reggie to give him lunch.</p> - -<p>But Reggie was already outside; Reggie was strolling, as one for whom -time has no meaning, towards the station. He was caught up by the -plump young reporter, who would like you to call him a crime -specialist. “Well, Mr. Fortune,” he said in his ingratiating way, -“good morning. How are you, sir? I say, you have put it across us in -the Dean case.”</p> - -<p>The crime specialist then had opportunities for psychological study -as Mr. Fortune’s expression performed a series of quick changes. But -it settled down into bland and amiable surprise. “My dear fellow,” -said Mr. Fortune, “how are you? But what’s the trouble? There’s -nothing in the Dean case, never was.”</p> - -<p>“No, that’s just it. And we were all out for a first-class crime -story. After all the talk there’s been, natural causes is pretty -paltry.”</p> - -<p>Reggie laughed. “Sorry, sorry. We can’t make crimes for you. But why -did you talk? There was nothing to talk about.”</p> - -<p>“I say, you know, that’s a bit thick,” the crime specialist protested.</p> - -<p>“My dear chap,” said Reggie modestly, “if the doctor on the spot -hadn’t happened to be me, you would never have thought of the case. -Nothing else in it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, come now, Mr. Fortune! I mean to say—what about the -C.I.D. holding up all the old man’s papers and turning down his -executor?”</p> - -<p>Reggie was not surprised, he was bewildered. “Say it again slowly and -distinctly,” he entreated, and when that was done he was as one who -tries not to laugh. “And very nice too. My dear fellow, what more do -you want? There’s a story for you.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s never been officially denied,” said the young man.</p> - -<p>“Fancy that!” Reggie chuckled.</p> - -<p>“But between ourselves, Mr. Fortune——”</p> - -<p>“It’s a great story,” Reggie chuckled. “But really—Well, I ask you!” -and he slid away.</p> - -<p>In the hotel lounge he found Bell and Lomas and cocktails. “Pleasure -before business, as ever,” he reproached them, and ordered one for -himself.</p> - -<p>“And what have you been doing, then?” Lomas asked.</p> - -<p>“I have been consoling the Fourth Estate. That great institution the -Press, Mr. Lomas, sir. Through one of Gilligan’s young lions. Out of -the mouths of babes and sucklings——”</p> - -<p>“I wish you wouldn’t talk to reporters,” Lomas complained.</p> - -<p>“You’re so haughty. By the way, what was Ludlow Blenkinhorn doing -here?” He referred to a solicitor of more ability than standing. -“Osbert was here and his solicitor, the young Deans and their -solicitor. Who was old Blenkinhorn representing?”</p> - -<p>Bell and Lomas looked at each other. “Didn’t see the fellow,” said -Lomas.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Fortune’s quite right, sir. Blenkinhorn was standing with the -public. And that’s odd, too.”</p> - -<p>“Highly odd. Lomas, my dear old thing, I wish you’d watch -Blenkinhorn’s office and Osbert’s flat for any chaps who look a bit -exotic, a bit foreign—and follow him up if you find one.”</p> - -<p>Lomas groaned. “Surely we’ve done with the case.”</p> - -<p>“Ye-es. But there’s some fellow who hasn’t. And he has a pretty taste -in poisons. And he’s still wanting papers.”</p> - -<p>“We’ve nothing to act on, you know,” Lomas protested.</p> - -<p>“Oh, not a thing, not a thing. But he might have.” Lomas nodded and -Superintendent Bell went to the telephone.</p> - -<p>When Mr. Fortune read “The Daily Post” in the morning he smiled upon -his devilled kidneys. Its report of the inquest was begun with a -little pompous descriptive work. “The mystery of the Ascot Tragedy -was solved yesterday. In the cold sanity of the coroner’s court the -excitement of the last few days received its quietus. Two minutes of -scientific evidence from Mr. Fortune—” and so on until young -omniscience worked up to its private little scoop. “The melodramatic -rumours of sensational developments in the case have thus only -availed to expose the fatuity of their inventors.” (This was meant -for some rival papers.) “It may now be stated bluntly that nothing in -the case ever gave rise to speculation among well-informed people, -and that the stories of impounding documents and so forth have no -foundation in fact.”</p> - -<p>But about lunch time Mr. Fortune received a curt summons from the -Hon. Sidney Lomas and instantly obeyed it. “Well, you know, I thought -I should be hearing from you,” he smiled. “I felt, as it were, you -couldn’t live without me long.”</p> - -<p>“Did you, by Jove!” said Lomas bitterly. “I’ve been wishing all the -morning you had been dead some time. Look at that!” He tossed across -the table a marked copy of “The Daily Post.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I was enjoying that at breakfast. A noble institution, the -British Press, Lomas. A great power. If you know how to use it.”</p> - -<p>“I wish to God you wouldn’t spoof reporters. It’s a low taste. And -it’s a damned nuisance. I can’t contradict the rag and——”</p> - -<p>“No, you can’t contradict it. I banked on that,” Reggie chuckled.</p> - -<p>“Did you indeed? And pray what the devil are you at? I have had -Osbert here raving mad——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I thought it would stir up Osbert. What’s his line?”</p> - -<p>“Wants the papers, of course. And as you very well know, confound -you, they’re all at the Foreign Office, the cream of them, and likely -to be. He says we’ve no right to keep them after this. Nonsense, of -course, but devilish inconvenient to answer. And at last the old man -was quite pathetic, says it isn’t fair to him to give out we haven’t -touched the papers. No more it is. He was begging me to contradict it -officially. I could hardly get rid of him.”</p> - -<p>“Busy times for Lomas.”</p> - -<p>“Damme, I have been at it all the morning. Old Ludlow Blenkinhorn -turned up, too.”</p> - -<p>“I have clicked, haven’t I?” Reggie chuckled.</p> - -<p>“Confound you. He says he has a client with claims on the estate and -is informed by the executor that all papers have been taken by us. -Now he has read your damned article and he wants to know if the -executor is lying.”</p> - -<p>“That is a conundrum, isn’t it? And who is Mr. Ludlow Blenkinhorn’s -client?”</p> - -<p>“He didn’t say, of course.”</p> - -<p>“What a surprise. And your fellows watching his office, do they say?”</p> - -<p>Lomas took up a scrap of paper. “They have sent us something. A man -of foreign or mulatto appearance called on him first thing this -morning. Was followed to a Bayswater lodging-house. Is known there as -Sherif. Mr. A. Sherif. Thought to be an Egyptian.”</p> - -<p>“The negro or Hamitic heel!” Reggie murmured. “Do you remember, Lomas -old thing?”</p> - -<p>“Good Gad!” Lomas dropped his eyeglass. “But what the devil can we -do?”</p> - -<p>“Watch and pray,” said Reggie. “Your fellows watch Sherif and -Blenkinhorn and Osbert and you pray. Do you pray much, Lomas?”</p> - -<p>They went in fact to lunch. They were not long back when a detective -speaking over the telephone reported that a man of mulatto appearance -had called on Colonel Osbert. Reggie sprang up. “Come on, Lomas. -We’ll have them in the act and bluff the whole thing out of them.”</p> - -<p>“What act?”</p> - -<p>“Collusion. This Egyptian-Syrian-negroid-Young Turk and the -respectable executor. Come on, man.”</p> - -<p>In five minutes they were mounting to Colonel Osbert’s flat. His -servant could not say whether Colonel Osbert was at home. Lomas -produced his card. “Colonel Osbert will see me,” he announced, and -fixed the man with a glassy stare.</p> - -<p>“Well, sir, I beg pardon, sir. There’s a gentleman with him.”</p> - -<p>“At once,” said Lomas and walked into the hall.</p> - -<p>The man still hesitated. From one of the rooms could be heard voices -in some excitement. Lomas and Reggie made for that door. But as they -approached there was a cry, a horrible shrill cry, and the sound of a -scuffle. Reggie sprang forward. Some one rushed out of the room and -Reggie, the smaller man, went down before him. Lomas clutched at him -and was kicked in the stomach. The fellow was off. Reggie picked -himself out of the hatstand and ran after him. Lomas, in a heap, -gasping and hiccoughing, fumbled in his pocket. “B-b-blow,” he -stammered to the stupefied servant, and held out a whistle. “Like -hell. Blow!”</p> - -<p>A long peal sounded through the block of flats.</p> - -<p>Down below a solid man strolled out of the porter’s lodge just as a -gentleman of dark complexion and large feet was hurrying through the -door. The solid man put out a leg. Another solid man outside received -the gentleman on his bosom. They had then some strenuous moments. By -the time Reggie reached them three hats were on the ground, but a -pair of handcuffs clasped the coffee-coloured wrists.</p> - -<p>“His pockets,” Reggie panted, “his waistcoat pockets.”</p> - -<p>The captive said something which no one understood, and struggled. -One of the detectives held out a small white-metal case. Reggie took -from it a hypodermic syringe. “I didn’t think you were so -up-to-date,” said Reggie. “What did you put in it? Well, well, I -suppose you won’t tell me. Take him away.”</p> - -<p>He went back to find Lomas and the servant looking at Colonel Osbert. -Colonel Osbert lay on the floor. There was froth at his lips and on -his wrist a spot of blood. Reggie knelt down beside him. . . .</p> - -<p>“Too late?” Lomas said hoarsely.</p> - -<p>Reggie rose. “Well, you can put it that way,” he said. “It’s the end.”</p> - -<p>In Lomas’s room Reggie spread himself on a sofa and watched Lomas -drink whisky and soda. “A ghastly business,” Lomas said: he was still -pale and unsteady. “That creature is a wild beast.”</p> - -<p>“He’ll go where he belongs,” said Reggie, who was eating bread and -butter. “All according to plan.”</p> - -<p>“Plan? My God, the man runs amuck!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, no, no. He wanted those papers for his employers. He -contracted with Osbert to hand them over when Dean was dead. He -murdered Dean and Osbert couldn’t deliver the goods. So I told him -through the papers that Osbert had them. He thought Osbert was -bilking him and went to have it out with him. Osbert didn’t satisfy -him, he was sure he had been done and he made Osbert pay for it. All -according to plan.”</p> - -<p>Lomas set down his glass. “Fortune,” he said nervously, “Fortune—do -you mean—when you put that in the paper—you meant the thing to end -like this?”</p> - -<p>“Well, what are we here for?” said Reggie. “But you know you’re -forgetting the real interest of the case.”</p> - -<p>“Am I?” said Lomas weakly.</p> - -<p>“Yes. What is his poison?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, good Gad,” said Lomas.</p> - -<hr id="Ch2"> - -<p class="calibre5" id="toc2">CASE II</p> - -<h2 class="calibre6">THE PRESIDENT OF SAN JACINTO</h2> - -<p class="first"><span class="dropcaps">M</span>R. REGINALD FORTUNE lay in a long chair. On his right hand a -precipice fell to still black water. On his left the mountains rose -into a tiara of snow. Far away in front sunlight found the green -flood of a glacier. But Mr. Fortune saw none of these things. He was -eating strawberries and cream.</p> - -<p>The Hon. Sidney Lomas, Chief of the Criminal Investigation -Department, disguised as a bloodthirsty fisherman, arrived stiffly -but happy, and behind him a large Norwegian bore the corpses of two -salmon into the farm-house. “The lord high detective,” Reggie -murmured. “An allegorical picture, by the late Mr. Watts.”</p> - -<p>“Great days,” Lomas said, and let himself down gingerly into a chair. -“Hallo, has there been a post?” He reached for one of the papers at -Reggie’s feet. “My country, what of thee?”</p> - -<p>“They’re at it again, Lomas. They’ve murdered a real live lord.”</p> - -<p>“Thank heaven I’m not there. Who is it?”</p> - -<p>“One Carwell. In the wilds of the Midlands.”</p> - -<p>“Young Carwell? He’s a blameless youth to slay. What happened?”</p> - -<p>“They found him in his library with his head smashed. Queer case.”</p> - -<p>Lomas read the report, which had nothing more to tell. “Burglary, I -suppose,” he pronounced.</p> - -<p>“Well, I have an alibi,” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>Neither the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department nor his -scientific adviser saw any reason to end a good holiday for the sake -of avenging Lord Carwell. The policemen who dealt with the affair did -not call for help. Mr. Fortune and Mr. Lomas continued to catch the -salmon and eat the strawberries of Norway and let the world go by and -became happily out of date. It was not till they were on the North -Sea that they met the Carwell case again.</p> - -<p>The Newcastle packet was rolling in a slow, heavy rhythm. Most of the -passengers had succumbed. Lomas and Reggie fitted themselves and two -chairs into a corner of the upper deck with all the London newspapers -that were waiting for them at Bergen. Lomas, a methodical man, began -at the beginning. Reggie worked back from the end. And in a moment, -“My only aunt!” he said softly. “Lomas, old thing, they’re doing -themselves proud. Who do you think they’ve taken for that Carwell -murder? The cousin, the heir, one Mark Carwell. This is highly -intriguing.”</p> - -<p>“Good Gad!”</p> - -<p>“As you say,” Reggie agreed. “Yes. Public Prosecutor on it. Old -Brunker leading for the Crown. Riding pretty hard, too. The man Mark -is for it, I fear, Lomas. They do these things quite neatly without -us. It’s all very disheartening.”</p> - -<p>“Mark Carwell? A harum-scarum young ruffian he always was.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Have you noticed these little things mean much? I haven’t.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the case?”</p> - -<p>“The second housemaid found Lord Carwell sitting in the library with -his head smashed. He was dead. The doctor came up in half an hour, -found him cold, and swears he had been dead five or six hours. Cause -of death—brain injury from the blow given by some heavy, blunt -instrument. No one in the house had heard a sound. No sign of -burglary, no weapon. There was a small house-party, the man Mark, the -girl Carwell was engaged to, Lady Violet Barclay and her papa and -mamma, and Sir Brian Carwell—that’s the contractor, some sort of -distant cousin. Mark was left with Lord Carwell when the rest of them -went to bed. Lady Violet and papa and mamma say they heard a noisy -quarrel. Violet says Carwell had told her before that Mark was -writing to him for money to get married on, and Carwell didn’t -approve of the girl.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t fancy Carwell would approve of the kind of girl Mark would -want to marry.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s what the fair Violet implies. She seems to be a good -hater. She did her little best to hang Mark.”</p> - -<p>“Why, if he killed her man, can you wonder?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t wonder. But I wouldn’t like to get in her way myself. -Not really a nice girl. She swore Mark had been threatening Carwell, -and Carwell was afraid of him. The prosecution put in a letter of -Mark’s which talked wild about doing something vague and desperate if -Carwell didn’t stump up.”</p> - -<p>“Did Mark go into the box?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. That was his error. I’m afraid he isn’t respectable, Lomas. He -showed no seemly grief. He made it quite clear that he had no use for -Hugo, Lord Carwell. He rather suggested that Hugo had lived to spite -him, and got killed to spite him. He admitted all Lady Violet’s -evidence and underlined it. He said Hugo had been more against him -than ever since she came into the family. He owned to the quarrel of -Hugo’s last night. Only he swore that he left the man alive.”</p> - -<p>“Well, he did his best to hang himself.”</p> - -<p>“As you say. A bold, bad fellow. That’s all, except that cousin Mark -had a big stick, a loaded stick with a knob head, and he took it down -to Carwell Hall.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the verdict?”</p> - -<p>“To be continued in our next. The judge was going to sum up in the -morning. In the paper we haven’t got.”</p> - -<p>Lomas lay back and watched the grey sea rise into sight as the boat -rolled to starboard. “What do you make of it, Fortune?”</p> - -<p>“There’s the rudiments of a case,” said Reggie. “The Carwell estate -is entailed. Mark is the heir. He didn’t love the man. The man was -going to marry and that would wash out Mark. Mark was the last man -with him, unless there is some hard lying. They had a row about money -and girls, which are always infuriating, and Mark had a weapon handy -which might have killed him. And nobody else had any motive, there’s -no evidence of anybody else in the business. Yes, the rudiments of a -case.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see the rudiments of a defence.”</p> - -<p>“The defence is that Mark says that he didn’t.”</p> - -<p>“Quite, quite,” Lomas nodded. “It’s not the strongest case in the -world, but I have had convictions on worse. The jury will go by what -they made of Mark in the box.”</p> - -<p>“And hang him for his face.” Reggie turned over a paper and held out -the portrait of a bull-necked, square-headed young man.</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t say they’d be wrong,” Lomas said. “Who’s the judge? -Maine? He’ll keep ’em straight.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder. What is straight, Lomas?”</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow, it all turns on the way this lad gave his evidence, -and that you can’t tell from a report.”</p> - -<p>“He don’t conciliate me,” Reggie murmured. “Yet I like evidence, -Lomas.”</p> - -<p>“Why, this is adequate, if it’s true. And Mark didn’t challenge it.”</p> - -<p>“I know. Adequate is the word. Just enough and nothing more. That’s -unusual, Lomas. Well, well. What about tea?”</p> - -<p>They picked their way over some prostrate bodies to the saloon and -again gave up the Carwell case.</p> - -<p>But when the boat had made her slow way through the clatter of the -Tyne, Reggie was quick to intercept the first customs officer on -board. “I say, what was the result of that murder trial?”</p> - -<p>The man laughed. “Thought you wanted the 3.30 winner, you were so -keen, sir. Oh, Mark Carwell’s guilty, of course. His mother’s -white-haired boy, he is. Not ’alf.”</p> - -<p>“The voice of the people,” said Lomas, in Reggie’s ear.</p> - -<p>On the way to London they read the judge’s summing up, an oration -lucid and fair but relentless.</p> - -<p>“He had no doubt,” Reggie said.</p> - -<p>“And a good judge too,” Lomas tossed the paper aside. “Thank heaven -they got it out of the way without bothering me.”</p> - -<p>“You are an almost perfect official,” said Reggie with reverence.</p> - -<p>In the morning when Reggie came down to his breakfast in London he -was told that some one had rung up to know if he was back in England -yet. He was only half-way through his omelet when the name of Miss -Joan Amber was brought to him.</p> - -<p>Every one who likes to see a beautiful actress act, and many who -don’t care whether she can act or not, know what Miss Amber looks -like, that large young woman with the golden eyes whom Reggie hurried -to welcome. He held her hand rather a long while. “The world is very -good to-day,” he said, and inspected her. “You don’t need a holiday, -Miss Amber.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve had too much, Mr. Fortune.”</p> - -<p>“Have you been kind enough to want me?”</p> - -<p>“I really meant that you looked——” she made a large gesture.</p> - -<p>“No, no—not fat,” Reggie protested. “Only genial. I expand in your -presence.”</p> - -<p>“Well—round,” said Miss Amber. “And my presence must be very bad for -you.”</p> - -<p>“No, not bad for me—only crushing.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I did sometimes notice you were away. And I want you now. For -a friend of mine. Will you help her?”</p> - -<p>“When did I ever say No to you?”</p> - -<p>“Bless you,” said Miss Amber. “It’s the Carwell case.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my prophetic soul,” Reggie groaned. “But what in wonder have you -to do with the Carwell case?”</p> - -<p>“I know Nan Nest. She’s the girl Mark Carwell is going to marry.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mind if you sit down?” said Reggie, and wandered away to the -window. “You’re disturbing to the intellect, Miss Amber. Let us be -calm. You shouldn’t talk about people marrying people and look like -that.” Miss Amber smiled at his back. She has confessed to moments in -which she would like to be Reggie Fortune’s mother. “Yes. Well now, -does Miss Amber happen to know the man Mark?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve met him. He’s not a bad fellow. A first-class -fighting-subaltern. That sort of thing.”</p> - -<p>Reggie nodded. “That’s his public form too.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Fortune, he’s absolutely straight. Not a very wise youth, of -course. You know, I could imagine him killing his cousin, but what I -can’t imagine is that he would ever say he didn’t if he did.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. There weren’t any women on the jury?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t sneer.”</p> - -<p>“I never do when you’re listening. That was a scientific statement. -Now, what’s Miss Nest like?”</p> - -<p>“Like a jolly schoolboy. Or she was, poor child. Oh, they would have -been splendidly happy, if that tiresome man had set Mark up somewhere -in the country instead of getting himself murdered.”</p> - -<p>Reggie smiled sadly. “Don’t say that to anyone but me. Or let her say -it. Why did the tiresome man object to her? I suppose it’s true that -he did?”</p> - -<p>“Oh heavens, yes. Because she’s on the stage. She plays little parts, -you know, flappers and such. She’s quite good as herself. She can’t -act.”</p> - -<p>“What was the late Carwell? What sort of fellow? That didn’t come out -at the trial.”</p> - -<p>“A priceless prig, Mark says. I suppose he was the last survivor of -our ancient aristocracy. Poor Mark!”</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” Reggie murmured.</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“Well”—he spread out his hands—“everything. You haven’t exactly -cleared it up, have you?”</p> - -<p>“Mark told Nan he didn’t do it,” she said quietly, and Reggie looked -into her eyes. “Oh, can’t you see? That’s to trust to. That’s sure.” -Reggie turned away. “You will help her?” the low voice came again.</p> - -<p>And at last, “My dear, I daren’t say so,” Reggie said. “You mustn’t -tell her to hope anything. I’ll go over all the case. But the man is -condemned.”</p> - -<p>“Why, but there’s a court of appeal.”</p> - -<p>“Only for something new. And I don’t see it.”</p> - -<p>“Mark didn’t kill him!” she cried.</p> - -<p>Reggie spread out his hands. “That’s faith.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Fortune! When I said I had come about the Carwell case, you -said, ‘Oh, my prophetic soul!’ You don’t believe the evidence, then. -You never did. You always thought there was something they didn’t -find out.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. I don’t know,” Reggie said slowly. “That’s the last -word now. And it may be the last word in the end.”</p> - -<p>“You!” she said, and held out her hand.</p> - -<p>When she was gone, Reggie stood looking at the place where she had -sat. “God help us,” he said, rare words on his lips. And the place he -went to was Scotland Yard.</p> - -<p>Lomas was occupied with other sublime officials. So Superintendent -Bell reported. He had also been telephoning for Mr. Fortune. Mr. -Fortune was admitted and found himself before a large red truculent -man who glared. “Hallo, Finch. Is this a council of war?” said Mr. -Fortune; for at that date Mr. Montague Finchampstead was the Public -Prosecutor.</p> - -<p>“Lomas tells me”—Finchampstead has a bullying manner—“you’ve formed -an opinion on the evidence in the Carwell case.”</p> - -<p>“Then he knows more than I do. The evidence was all right—what there -was of it.”</p> - -<p>“The chain is complete,” Finchampstead announced.</p> - -<p>“Yes. Yes. If you don’t pull it hard.”</p> - -<p>“Well, no one did pull it.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I’m pointing out, Finch,” said Reggie sweetly. “Why are -you so cross?”</p> - -<p>“The trouble is, Fortune, the Carwell butler’s bolted,” Lomas said.</p> - -<p>Reggie walked across the room and took one of Lomas’s cigars and lit -it, and made himself comfortable in his chair. “That’s a new fact,” -he said softly.</p> - -<p>“Nonsense,” Finchampstead cried. “It’s irrelevant. It doesn’t affect -the issue. The verdict stands.”</p> - -<p>“I noticed you didn’t call the butler at the trial,” Reggie murmured.</p> - -<p>“Why the devil should we? He knew nothing.”</p> - -<p>“Yet he bolts.”</p> - -<p>Lomas smiled. “The unfortunate thing is, Fortune, he bolted before -the trial was over. At the end of the second day the local police -were told that he had vanished. The news was passed on to -Finchampstead. But the defence was not informed. And it didn’t come -out at the trial.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well. I thought you were riding rather hard, Finch. You were.”</p> - -<p>“Rubbish. The case was perfectly clear. The disappearance of the -butler doesn’t affect it—if he has disappeared. The fellow may very -well have gone off on some affair of his own, and turn up again in a -day or two. And if he doesn’t, it’s nothing to the purpose. The -butler was known to have a kindness for Mark Carwell. If we never -hear of him again I shall conclude that he had a hand in the murder, -and when he saw the case was going against Mark thought he had better -vanish.”</p> - -<p>“Theory number two,” Reggie murmured.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Your first was that the butler knew nothing. Your second is that he -knows too much. Better choose which leg you’ll stand on in the Court -of Appeal.”</p> - -<p>Finchampstead glared.</p> - -<p>“In the meantime, Finch, we’ll try to find the butler for you,” said -Lomas cheerfully.</p> - -<p>“And I think I’ll have a look at the evidence,” Reggie murmured.</p> - -<p>“There is no flaw in the evidence,” Finchampstead boomed.</p> - -<p>“Well, not till you look at it.”</p> - -<p>Finchampstead with some explosions of disgust removed himself.</p> - -<p>“Zeal, all zeal,” said Reggie sadly. “Well-meaning man. Only one idea -at a time. And sometimes a wrong un.”</p> - -<p>“He’s a lawyer by nature,” Lomas apologized. “You always rub him up -the wrong way. He don’t like the scientific mind. What?” Bell had -come in to give him a visiting card. He read out, “Sir Brian -Carwell.” He looked at Reggie. “Now which side is he on?”</p> - -<p>“One moment. Who exactly is he? Some sort of remote cousin?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. He comes of a younger branch. People say the brains of the -Carwell’s went to them. His father was the engineer, old Ralph -Carwell. This man’s an engineering contractor. He made his pile over -South American railways.”</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t say he was passionately interested in the late Lord -Carwell or Cousin Mark.”</p> - -<p>There came in a lean man with an air of decision and authority, but -older than his resilient vigour suggested, for his hair was much -sprinkled with grey, and in his brown face, about the eyes and mouth, -the wrinkles were many. He was exact with the formalities of -introduction and greeting, but much at his ease, and then, “I had -better explain who I am, Mr. Lomas.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, we’ve heard of Sir Brian Carwell.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks. But I dare say you don’t know my private affairs. I’m some -sort of fifteenth cousin of these two unfortunate young fellows. And -just now I happen to be the acting head of the family. I’m not the -next heir, of course. That’s old Canon Carwell. But I was on the spot -when this thing happened. After his arrest Mark asked me to take -charge for him, and the Canon wished me to act. That’s my position. -Well, I carried on to keep things as they were at the Hall and on the -estate. Several of the servants want to quit, of course, but they -haven’t gone yet. The butler was a special case. He told me he had -given Hugo notice some time before. I could find no record, but it -was possible enough, and as he only wanted to retire and settle down -in the neighbourhood, I made no difficulty. So he set himself up in -lodgings in the village. He was looking about for a house, he told -me. I suppose he had done pretty well. He had been in service at the -Hall thirty or forty years, poor devil. What a life! He knew Hugo and -Mark much better than I do, had known ’em all their young lives. He -knew all the family affairs inside and out. One night the people -where he was lodging went round to the police to say he’d gone out -and not come back. He hasn’t come back yet.”</p> - -<p>“And what do you conclude, Sir Brian?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be damned if I know what I conclude. That’s your business, -isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Not without some facts,” said Lomas. “When did he leave the Hall?”</p> - -<p>“After Mark was arrested. May 13. And he disappeared on the evening -of the second day of the trial.”</p> - -<p>“That would be when it looked certain that Mark would be found -guilty. Why did he wait till then?”</p> - -<p>Sir Brian laughed. “If I knew that, I suppose I shouldn’t be here. -I’m asking you to find him.”</p> - -<p>“Quite, quite,” Lomas agreed. “The local police knew of his -disappearance at once?”</p> - -<p>“I said so. I wish I had known as soon. The police didn’t bother to -mention it at the trial. It might have made some difference to the -verdict, Mr. Lomas.”</p> - -<p>“That’s matter of opinion, of course,” said Lomas. “I wasn’t in -England myself. I needn’t tell you that it’s open to the defence to -appeal against the conviction.”</p> - -<p>“Is it?” Sir Brian’s shadowed eyes grew smaller. “You don’t know -Mark, Mr. Lomas. If I were to tell you Mark refuses to make an appeal -on this ground because it would be putting the murder on the butler, -what would you say?”</p> - -<p>“Good Gad!” was what Lomas did say. He lay back and put up his -eyeglass and looked from Sir Brian to Reggie and back again. “You -mean Mark admits he is guilty?”</p> - -<p>“Guilty be damned,” said Sir Brian. “No, sir, I mean Mark liked the -wretched fellow and won’t hear of anything against him. Mark’s a -fool. But that’s not a reason for hanging him. I say you got your -conviction by suppressing evidence. It’s up to you to review the -case.”</p> - -<p>“Still, Lord Carwell was killed,” said Lomas gently, “and somebody -killed him. Who was it?”</p> - -<p>“Not Mark. He hasn’t got it in him, I suppose he never hit a fellow -who couldn’t hit back in his life.”</p> - -<p>“But surely,” Lomas purred, “if there was a quarrel, Lord Carwell -might——”</p> - -<p>“Hugo was a weed,” Sir Brian pronounced. “Mark never touched him, my -friend.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, very natural you should think so,” Lomas shifted his -papers. “Of course you won’t expect me to say anything, Sir Brian. -And what exactly is it you want me to do?”</p> - -<p>Sir Brian laughed. “My dear sir, it’s not for me to tell you your -duty. I put it to you that a man has disappeared, and that his -disappearance makes hay of the case on which the Crown convicted a -cousin of mine of murder. What you do about it is your affair.”</p> - -<p>“You may rely upon it, Sir Brian,” said Lomas in his most official -manner, “the affair will be thoroughly investigated.”</p> - -<p>“I expected no less, Mr. Lomas.” And Sir Brian ceremoniously but -briskly took his leave.</p> - -<p>After which, “Good Gad!” said Lomas again, and stared at Reggie -Fortune.</p> - -<p>“Nice restful companion, isn’t he? Yes. The sort of fellow that has -made Old England great.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t mind him. He could be dealt with. But he’s right, -confound him. The case is a most unholy mess.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” said Reggie placidly. “You must rub it out, dear, and -do it again.”</p> - -<p>“If everybody had tried to muddle it they couldn’t have done worse.”</p> - -<p>Reggie stared at him. “Yes. Yes, you have your moments, Lomas,” he -said.</p> - -<p>“Suppose the butler did the murder. Why in the world should he wait -to run away till Mark was certain to be found guilty?”</p> - -<p>“And suppose he didn’t, why did he run away at all? You can make up -quite a lot of riddles in this business. Why should anyone but Mark -do it? Why is Mark so mighty tender of the butler’s reputation? Why -is anything?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it’s all crazy—except Sir Brian. He’s reasonable enough, -confound him.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Yes, these rational men are a nuisance to the police. Well, -well, begin again at the beginning.”</p> - -<p>“I wish I knew where it did begin.”</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow! Are we down-hearted? I’ll have a look at the medical -evidence. You go over Carwell Hall and the butler’s digs with a small -tooth comb.”</p> - -<p>But the first thing which Mr. Fortune did was to send a note to Miss -Amber.</p> - -<p style="font-variant:small-caps; margin-top:1.5em;">My dear Child,—</p> - -<p>Mark can appeal. The ground for it is the disappearance of the -Carwell butler—and a good ground.</p> - -<p>But he must appeal. Tell Miss Nest.</p> - -<p style="text-align:center; margin-bottom:1.5em">R. F.</p> - -<p>Two days afterwards he went again to Scotland Yard summoned to a -conference of the powers. The public prosecutor’s large and florid -face had no welcome for him. “Any more new facts, Finch?” he said -cheerfully.</p> - -<p>“Mark Carwell has entered an appeal,” Mr. Finchampstead boomed. “On -the ground of the butler’s disappearance.”</p> - -<p>“Fancy that!” Reggie murmured, and lit a cigar. “Sir Brian doesn’t -seem to have been very well informed, Lomas.”</p> - -<p>“The boy’s come to his senses, I suppose. But we haven’t found the -butler. He left no papers behind him. All he did leave was his -clothes and about a hundred pounds in small notes.”</p> - -<p>“So he didn’t take his ready money. That’s interesting.”</p> - -<p>“Well, not all of it. He left another hundred or so in the savings -bank, and some small investments in building societies and so -forth—a matter of five hundred. Either he didn’t mean to vanish, or -he was in the deuce of a hurry to go.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Yes, there’s another little point. Five or six hundred isn’t -much to retire on. Why was he in such a hurry to retire?”</p> - -<p>“He may have had more than we can trace, of course. He may have gone -off with some Carwell property. But there is no evidence of anything -being stolen.”</p> - -<p>“The plain fact is,” Finchampstead boomed, “you have found out -nothing but that he’s gone. We knew that before.”</p> - -<p>“And it’s a pity you kept it dark,” said Lomas acidly. “You wouldn’t -have had an appeal to fight.”</p> - -<p>“The case against Mark Carwell is intrinsically as strong as ever,” -Finchampstead pronounced. “There is no reason whatever to suspect the -butler, he had no motive for murder, he gained nothing by it, his -disappearance is most naturally accounted for by an accident.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you’ll have to say all that in the Court of Appeal. I don’t -think it will cut much ice.”</p> - -<p>“I am free to admit that his disappearance is an awkward complication -in the case,” Finchampstead’s oratory rolled on. “But surely, Lomas, -you have formed some theory in explanation?”</p> - -<p>Lomas shook his head.</p> - -<p>“We’ve had too much theory, Finch,” said Reggie cheerfully. “Let’s -try some facts. I want the body exhumed.”</p> - -<p>The eyes of Mr. Finchampstead goggled. His large jaw fell.</p> - -<p>“Good Gad, you don’t doubt he’s dead?” Lomas cried.</p> - -<p>“Oh, he’ll be dead all right. I want to know how he died.”</p> - -<p>“Are you serious?” Finchampstead mourned. “Really, Fortune, this is -not a matter for frivolity. The poor fellow was found dead with one -side of his head beaten in. There can be no dispute how he died. I -presume you have taken the trouble to read the medical evidence.”</p> - -<p>“I have. That’s what worries me. I’ve seen the doctors you called. -Dear old things.”</p> - -<p>“Very sound men. And of the highest standing,” Finchampstead rebuked -him.</p> - -<p>“As you say. They know a fractured skull when they see it. They would -see everything they looked for. But they didn’t look for what they -didn’t see.”</p> - -<p>“May I ask what you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Any other cause of death.”</p> - -<p>“The cause was perfectly plain. There was nothing else to look for.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Yes,” Reggie lay back and blew smoke. “That’s the sort of -reasoning that got you this verdict. Look here, Finch. That smashed -head would have killed him all right, but it shouldn’t have killed -him so quick. He ought to have lingered unconscious a long while. And -he had been dead hours when they found him. We have to begin again -from the beginning. I want an order for exhumation.”</p> - -<p>“Better ask for a subpoena for his soul.”</p> - -<p>“That’s rather good, Finch,” Reggie smiled. “You’re beginning to take -an interest in the case.”</p> - -<p>“If you could take the evidence of the murdered,” said Lomas, “a good -many convictions for murder would look rather queer.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Finchampstead was horrified. “I conceive,” he announced with -dignity, “that a trial in an English court is a practically perfect -means of discovering the truth.”</p> - -<p>Reverently then they watched him go. And when he was gone, “He’s a -wonderful man,” said Reggie. “He really believes that.”</p> - -<p>The next morning saw Mr. Fortune, escorted by Superintendent Bell, -arrive at Carwell Hall. It stands in what Mr. Fortune called a -sluggish country, a country of large rolling fields and slow rivers. -The air was heavy and blurred all colour and form. Mr. Fortune -arrived at Carwell Hall feeling as if he had eaten too much, a -sensation rare in him, which he resented. He was hardly propitiated -by the house, though others have rejoiced in it. It was built under -the Tudors out of the spoils and, they say, with the stones of an -abbey. Though some eighteenth-century ruffian played tricks with it, -its mellow walls still speak of an older, more venturous world. It is -a place of studied charm, gracious and smiling, but in its -elaboration of form and ornament offering a thousand things to look -at, denies itself as a whole, evasive and strange.</p> - -<p>Reggie got out of the car and stood back to survey it. “Something of -everything, isn’t it, Bell? Like a Shakespeare play. Just the place -to have a murder in one room with a children’s party in the next, and -a nice girl making love on the stairs, and father going mad in the -attics.”</p> - -<p>“I rather like Shakespeare myself, sir,” said Superintendent Bell,</p> - -<p>“You’re so tolerant,” said Reggie, and went in.</p> - -<p>A new butler said that Sir Brian was expecting them. Sir Brian was -brusquely civil. He was very glad to find that the case was being -reopened. The whole place was at their orders. Anything he could -do——</p> - -<p>“I thought I might just look round,” Reggie said. “We are rather -after the fair, though.” He did not think it necessary to tell Sir -Brian that Lord Carwell’s body would be dug up that night.</p> - -<p>They were taken across a hall with a noble roof of hammer beams to -the place of the murder. The library was panelled in oak, which at a -man’s height from the ground flowered into carving. The ceiling was -moulded into a hundred coats of arms, each blazoned with its right -device, and the glow and colour of them, scarlet and bright blue and -gold, filled the room. Black presses with vast locks stood here and -there. A stool was on either side the great open hearth. By the -massive table a stern fifteenth-century chair was set.</p> - -<p>Bell gazed about him and breathed heavily. “Splendid room, sir,” he -said. “Quite palatial.”</p> - -<p>“But it’s not what I’d want after dinner myself,” Reggie murmured.</p> - -<p>“I’ve no use for the place,” said Sir Brian. “But it suited Hugo. He -would never have a thing changed. He was really a survival. Poor old -Hugo.”</p> - -<p>“He was sitting here?” Reggie touched the chair.</p> - -<p>“So they tell me. I didn’t see him till some time after the girl -found him. You’d better hear what she has to say.”</p> - -<p>A frightened and agitated housemaid testified that his lordship had -been sitting in that chair bent over the table and his head rested on -it, and the left side of his head was all smashed, and on the table -was a pool of his blood. She would never forget it, never. She became -aware of Reggie’s deepening frown. “That’s the truth, sir,” she -cried, “so help me God, it is.”</p> - -<p>“I know, I know,” said Reggie. “No blood anywhere else? No other -marks in the room?”</p> - -<p>There hadn’t been anything. She had cleaned the room herself. And it -had been awful. She hadn’t slept a night since. And so on till she -was got rid of.</p> - -<p>“Well?” said Sir Brian. “What’s the expert make of her?”</p> - -<p>Reggie was looking at the table and fingering it. He looked up -suddenly. “Oh, she’s telling the truth,” he said. “And that’s that.”</p> - -<p>The lunch bell was ringing. Sir Brian hoped they would stay at the -Hall. They did stay to lunch and talked South America, of which Sir -Brian’s knowledge was extensive and peculiar. After lunch they smoked -on the terrace and contemplated through the haze the Carwell acres. -“Yes, it’s all Carwell land as far as you see—if you could see -anything,” Sir Brian laughed. “And nothing to see at that. Flat -arable. I couldn’t live in the place. I never feel awake here. But -the family’s been on the ground four hundred years. They didn’t own -the estate. The estate owned them. Well, I suppose one life’s as good -as another if you like it. This isn’t mine. Watching Englishmen grow -wheat! My God! That just suited Hugo. Poor old Hugo!”</p> - -<p>“Had the butler anything against him, sir?” Bell ventured.</p> - -<p>“I can’t find it. The butler was just a butler. I never saw a man -more so. And Hugo, well, he didn’t know servants existed unless they -didn’t answer the bell. But he was a queer fellow. No notion of -anybody having rights against him. He wouldn’t let you get near him. -I’ve seen that make quiet men mad.”</p> - -<p>“Meaning anyone in particular, sir?” Bell said.</p> - -<p>“Oh Lord, no. Speaking generally.” He looked at Bell with a shrewd -smile. “Haven’t you found that in your job?” And Bell laughed. “Yes, -I’m afraid I don’t help you much. Are you going to help Mark? Where -is the butler?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Yes, we are rather wasting time, aren’t we?” Reggie stretched -himself. “It’s too soothing, Sir Brian. Can we walk across the park? -I hate exercise, but man must live.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think anyone would have to murder me if I stayed here long,” -Sir Brian started up. “I’ll show you the way. We can send your car -round to the village.”</p> - -<p>Over immemorial turf they went their warm way. A herd of deer looked -at them critically, and concluded they were of no importance. “Pretty -creatures,” said Superintendent Bell.</p> - -<p>“I’d as soon keep white mice,” said Sir Brian, and discoursed of the -wilder deer of other lands till he discovered that Reggie was left -behind.</p> - -<p>Reggie was wandering off towards a little building away in a hollow -among trees. It was low, it was of unhewn stone bonded with lines of -red tile or brick, only a little above the moss-grown roof rose a -thin square tower. The tiny rounded windows showed walls of great -thickness and over its one door was a mighty round arch, much wrought.</p> - -<p>“Does the old place take your fancy?” Sir Brian said.</p> - -<p>“How did that get here?” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>“Well, you’ve got me on my blind side,” Sir Brian confessed. “We call -it the old church. I dare say it’s as old as the Hall.”</p> - -<p>“The Hall’s a baby to it,” said Reggie angrily. “The porch is Norman. -There’s Saxon work in that tower. And that tile is Roman.”</p> - -<p>Sir Brian laughed. “What about the Greeks and the Hebrews? Give them -a look in.” Reggie was not pleased with him. “Sorry, afraid these -things don’t mean much to me. I don’t know how it began.”</p> - -<p>“It may have been a shrine or a chapel over some sacred place.”</p> - -<p>“Haven’t a notion. They say it used to be the village church. One of -my revered ancestors stopped the right of way—didn’t like the people -disturbing his poultry, I suppose—and built ’em a new church outside -the park.”</p> - -<p>“Priceless,” Reggie murmured.</p> - -<p>“What, the place or my ancestors?”</p> - -<p>“Well, both, don’t you think?”</p> - -<p>For the rest of the way Sir Brian told strange stories of the past of -the family of Carwell.</p> - -<p>“He’s a good talker, sir,” said Superintendent Bell, when they had -left him at the park gate and were in their car. “Very pleasant -company. But you’ve something on your mind.”</p> - -<p>“The chair,” Reggie mumbled. “Why was the man in his chair?”</p> - -<p>“Lord Carwell, sir?” Bell struggled to adjust his mind. “Well, he -was. That girl was telling the truth.”</p> - -<p>“I know, I know. That’s the difficulty. You smash the side of a man’s -head in. He won’t sit down to think about it.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he was sitting when he was hit.”</p> - -<p>“Then he’d be knocked over just the same.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose the murderer might have picked him up.”</p> - -<p>“He might. But why? Why?”</p> - -<p>Superintendent Bell sighed heavily. “I judge we’ve some way to go, -sir. And we don’t seem to get any nearer the butler.”</p> - -<p>“Your job,” said Reggie, and again the Superintendent sighed.</p> - -<p>That night through a drizzling rain, lanterns moved in the village -churchyard. The vault in which the Carwells of a hundred and fifty -years lie crumbling was opened, and out of it a coffin was borne -away. One man lingered in the vault holding a lantern high. He moved -from one coffin to another, and came up again to the clean air and -the rain. “All present and correct,” he said. “No deception, Bell.”</p> - -<p>Superintendent Bell coughed. Sometimes he thinks Mr. Fortune lacking -in reverence.</p> - -<p>“Division of labour,” Reggie sank into the cushions of the car and -lit a pipe, “the division of labour is the great principle of -civilization. Perhaps you didn’t know that? In the morning I will -look at the corpse and you will look for the butler.”</p> - -<p>“Well, sir, I don’t care for my job, but I wouldn’t have yours for a -hundred pounds.”</p> - -<p>“Yet it has a certain interest,” Reggie murmured, “for that poor -devil with the death sentence on him.”</p> - -<p>To their hotel in Southam Reggie Fortune came back on the next day -rather before lunch time.</p> - -<p>“Finished at the mortuary, sir?” said Bell. “I thought you looked -happy.”</p> - -<p>“Not happy. Only pleased with myself. A snare, Bell, a snare. Have -you found the butler?”</p> - -<p>Bell shook his head. “It’s like a fairy tale, sir. He went out on -that evening, walked down the village street, and that’s the last of -him they know. He might have gone to the station, he might have gone -on the Southam motor-bus. They can’t swear he didn’t, but nobody saw -him. They’ve searched the whole country-side and dragged the river. -If you’ll tell me what to do next, I’ll be glad.”</p> - -<p>“Sir Brian’s been asking for me, they say,” said Reggie. “I think -we’ll go and call on Sir Brian.”</p> - -<p>They took sandwiches and their motor to Carwell Hall. The new butler -told them Sir Brian had driven into Southam and was not yet back. -“Oh, we’ve crossed him, I suppose,” Reggie said. “We might stroll in -the park till he’s back. Ah, can we get into the old church?”</p> - -<p>The butler really couldn’t say, and remarked that he was new to the -place.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s no matter.” Reggie took Bell’s arm and strolled away.</p> - -<p>They wandered down to the little old church, “Makes you feel -melancholy, sir, don’t it?” Bell said. “Desolate, as you might say. -As if people had got tired of believing in God.”</p> - -<p>Reggie looked at him a moment and went into the porch and tried the -worm-eaten oak door. “We might have a look at the place,” he said, -and took out of his pocket a flat case like a housewife.</p> - -<p>“Good Lord, sir, I wouldn’t do that,” Bell recoiled. “I mean to -say—it’s a church after all.”</p> - -<p>But Reggie was already picking the old lock. The door yielded and he -went in. A dank and musty smell met them. The church was all but -empty. Dim light fell on a shattered rood screen and stalls, and a -bare stone altar. A tomb bore two cadaverous effigies. Reggie moved -hither and thither prying into every corner, and came at last to a -broken flight of stairs. “Oh, there’s a crypt, is there,” he -muttered, and went down. “Hallo! Come on, Bell.”</p> - -<p>Superintendent Bell, following reluctantly, found him struggling with -pieces of timber, relics of stall and bench, which held a door -closed. “Give me a hand, man.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t like it, sir, and that’s the truth.”</p> - -<p>“Nor do I,” Reggie panted, “not a bit,” and dragged the last piece -away and pulled the door open. He took out a torch and flashed the -light on. They looked into a place supported on low round arches. The -beam of the torch moved from coffin to mouldering coffin.</p> - -<p>“Good God,” Bell gasped, and gripped Reggie’s arm.</p> - -<p>Reggie drew him in. They came to the body of a man which had no -coffin. It lay upon its face. Reggie bent over it, touching gently -the back of the neck. “I thought so,” he muttered, and turned the -body over. Bell gave a stifled cry.</p> - -<p>“Quite so, quite——” he sprang up and made a dash for the door. It -was slammed in his face. He flung himself against it, and it yielded -a little but held. A dull creaking and groaning told that the timbers -were being set again in place. Together they charged the door and -were beaten back “And that’s that, Bell,” said Reggie. He flashed his -light round the crypt, and it fell again on the corpse. “You and me -and the butler.”</p> - -<p>Bell’s hand felt for him. “Mr. Fortune—Mr. Fortune—was he dead when -he came here?”</p> - -<p>“Oh Lord, yes. Sir Brian’s quite a humane man. But business is -business.”</p> - -<p>“Sir Brian?” Bell gasped.</p> - -<p>“My dear chap,” said Reggie irritably, “don’t make conversation.” He -turned his torch on the grey oak of the door. . . .</p> - -<p>It was late in that grim afternoon before they had cut and kicked a -hole in it, and Reggie’s hand came through and felt for the timbers -which held it closed. Twilight was falling when, dirty and reeking, -they broke out of the church and made for the Hall.</p> - -<p>Sir Brian—the new butler could not conceal his surprise at seeing -them—Sir Brian had gone out in the big car. But the butler feared -there must be some mistake. He understood that Sir Brian had seen the -gentlemen and was to take them with him. Sir Brian had sent the -gentlemen’s car back to Southam. Sir Brian——</p> - -<p>“Where’s your telephone?” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>The butler was afraid the telephone was out of order. He had been -trying to get——</p> - -<p>Reggie went to the receiver. There was no answer. Still listening, he -looked at the connexions. A couple of inches of wire were cut out. -Half an hour later two breathless men arrived at the village post -office and shut themselves into the telephone call-box.</p> - -<p>On the next day Lomas called at Mr. Fortune’s house in Wimpole Street -and was told that Mr. Fortune was in his bath. A parlourmaid with -downcast eyes announced to him a few minutes later that if he would -go up Mr. Fortune would be very glad to see him.</p> - -<p>“Pardon me,” said the pink cherubic face from the water. “I am not -clean. I think I shall never be clean again.”</p> - -<p>“You look like a prawn,” said Lomas.</p> - -<p>“That’s your unscientific mind. Have you got him?”</p> - -<p>Lomas shook his head. “He has been seen in ten places at once. They -have arrested a blameless bookmaker at Hull and an Irish -cattle-dealer at Birkenhead. As usual. But we ought to have him in -time.”</p> - -<p>“My fault entirely. He is an able fellow. I have underrated these -business men, Lomas. My error. Occasionally one has a head. He has.”</p> - -<p>“These madmen often have.”</p> - -<p>Reggie wallowed in the water. “Mad? He’s as sane as I am. He’s been -badly educated, that’s all. That’s the worst of business men. They’re -so ignorant. Just look at it. He killed Hugo by a knife thrust in the -vertebrae at the base of the skull. It’s a South American fashion, -probably indigenous. When I found that wound in the body I was sure -of the murderer. I had a notion before from the way he spoke about -Hugo and the estate. Probably Hugo was bent over the table and the -blow was struck without his knowledge. He would be dead in a moment. -But Sir Brian saw that wouldn’t do. Too uncommon a murder in England. -So he smashed in the skull to make it look like an ordinary crime of -violence. Thus ignorance is bliss. He never thought the death wasn’t -the right kind of death for that. Also it didn’t occur to him that a -man who is hit on the head hard is knocked down. He don’t lay his -head on the table to be hammered same like Hugo. I don’t fancy Brian -meant Mark to be hanged. Possibly he was going to manufacture -evidence of burglary when he was interrupted by the butler. Anyhow -the butler knew too much and had to be bought off. But I suppose the -butler wouldn’t stand Mark being hanged. When he found the trial was -going dead against Mark he threatened. So he had to be killed too. -Say by appointment in the park. Same injury in his body—a stab -through the cervical vertebrae. And the corpse was neatly disposed of -in the crypt.”</p> - -<p>“What in the world put you on to the crypt?”</p> - -<p>“Well, Sir Brian was so anxious not to be interested in the place. -And the place was so mighty convenient. And the butler had to be -somewhere. Pure reasoning, Lomas, old thing. This is a very rational -case all through.”</p> - -<p>“Rational! Will you tell me why Sir Brian came to stir us up about -the butler and insisted Mark was innocent?”</p> - -<p>“I told you he was an able man. He saw it would have looked very -fishy if he didn’t. Acting head of the family—he had to act. And -also I fancy he liked Mark. If he could get the boy off, he would -rather do it than not. And who could suspect the worthy fellow who -was so straight and decent? All very rational.”</p> - -<p>“Very,” said Lomas. “Especially the first murder. Why do you suppose -he wanted to kill Hugo?”</p> - -<p>“Well, you’d better look at his papers. He talked about Hugo as if he -had a grudge against the way Hugo ran the estate. I wonder if he -wanted to develop it—try for minerals perhaps—it’s on the edge of -the South Midland coal-field—and Hugo wouldn’t have it.”</p> - -<p>“Good Gad!” Lomas said. “You’re an ingenious fellow, Fortune. He had -proposed to Hugo to try for coal, and Hugo turned it down.”</p> - -<p>Reggie emerged from the bath. “There you have it. He knew if Hugo was -out of the way he could do what he wanted. If Mark or the old parson -had the place, he could manage them. Very rational crime.”</p> - -<p>“Rational! Murder your cousin to make a coal mine!”</p> - -<p>“Business men and business methods. Run away and catch him, Lomas, -and hang him to encourage the others.”</p> - -<p>But in fact Lomas did not catch him. Some years afterwards Mrs. -Fortune found her husband on the veranda of an hotel in Italy staring -at a Spanish paper. “Don’t dream, child,” she said. “Run and dress.”</p> - -<p>“I’m seeing ghosts, Joan,” said Mr. Fortune.</p> - -<p>She looked over his shoulder. “Who is San Jacinto?”</p> - -<p>“The last new South American republic. Here’s His Excellency the -President. <span class="calibre15">Né</span> Brian Carwell. Observe the smile.”</p> - -<hr id="Ch3"> - -<p class="calibre5" id="toc3">CASE III</p> - -<h2 class="calibre6">THE YOUNG DOCTOR</h2> - -<p class="first"><span class="dropcaps">M</span>R. REGINALD FORTUNE came into Superintendent Bell’s room at Scotland -Yard. “That was chocolate cream,” he said placidly. “You’d better -arrest the aunt.”</p> - -<p>The superintendent took up his telephone receiver and spoke into it -fervently. You remember the unpleasant affair of the aunt and her -niece’s child.</p> - -<p>“‘Oh, fat white woman that nobody loves,’” Mr. Fortune murmured. -“Well, well. She’s not wholesome, you know. Some little error in the -ductless glands.”</p> - -<p>“She’s for it,” said Superintendent Bell with grim satisfaction. -“That’s a wicked woman, Mr. Fortune, and as clever as sin.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, quite unhealthy. A dull case, Bell.” He yawned and wandered -about the room and came to a stand by the desk. “What are these -curios?” He pointed to a skeleton key and a pad of cotton-wool.</p> - -<p>“The evidence in that young doctor’s case, the Bloomsbury diamond -burglary. Not worth keeping, I suppose. That was a bad business -though. I was sorry for the lad. But it was a straight case. Did you -read it, sir? Young fellow making a start, hard fight for it, on his -beam ends, gets to know a man with a lot of valuable stuff in his -rooms—and steals it. An impudent robbery too—but that’s the usual -way when a decent fellow goes wrong, he loses his head. Lead us not -into temptation. That’s the moral of Dr. Wilton’s case. He’s only -thirty, he’s a clever fellow, he ought to have done well, he’s ruined -himself—and if he’d had a hundred pounds in the bank he’d have run -straight enough.”</p> - -<p>“A lot of crime is a natural product.” Mr. Fortune repeated a -favourite maxim of his. “I didn’t read it, Bell. How did it go?” He -sat down and lit a cigar.</p> - -<p>“The trial was in this morning’s papers, sir. Only a small affair. -Dr. Horace Wilton came out of the army with a gratuity and a little -money of his own. He set up as a specialist. You know the usual -thing. His plate up with three or four others on a Harley Street -house where he had a little consulting-room to himself. He lived in a -Bloomsbury flat. Well, the patients didn’t come. He wasn’t known, he -had no friends, and his money began to run out.”</p> - -<p>“Poor devil,” Reggie nodded.</p> - -<p>“A Dutch diamond merchant called Witt came to live in the flats. -Wilton got to know him, prescribed for a cold or something. Witt took -to the doctor, made friends, heard about his troubles, offered to get -him a berth in the Dutch colonies, gave him two or three rough -diamonds—a delicate way of giving him money, I suppose. Then one -morning the valet—service flats they are—coming into Witt’s rooms -found him heavily asleep. He’d been chloroformed. There was that pad -on his pillow.”</p> - -<p>Reggie took up the box in which the cotton-wool and the skeleton key -lay.</p> - -<p>“Don’t shake it,” said the superintendent. “Do you see those scraps -of tobacco? That’s important. The bureau in which Witt kept the -diamonds he had with him had been forced open and the diamonds were -gone. Witt sent for the police. Now you see that tobacco on the -cotton-wool. The inspector spotted that. The cotton-wool must have -been handled by a man who smoked that tobacco. Most likely carried it -in the same pocket. Unusual stuff, isn’t it? Well, the inspector -remarked on that to Witt. Witt was horrified. You see it’s South -African tobacco. And he knew Wilton used the stuff. There was some -spilt in the room, too.”</p> - -<p>“Have you got that?” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>“No. I don’t think it was produced. But our man saw it, and he’s -reliable. Then a Dutch journalist dropped in. He was just over in -England. He’d called on Witt late the night before and couldn’t make -him hear. That surprised him because as he came up he’d seen some one -coming out of Witt’s rooms, some one who went into Wilton’s. That was -enough to act on. Wilton was arrested and his flat was searched. -Tucked away in the window seat they found the diamonds and that -skeleton key. He stood his trial yesterday, he made no defence but to -swear that he knew nothing about it. The evidence was clear. Witt—he -must be a soft-hearted old fellow—Witt tried to let him down as -gently as he could and asked the judge to go easy with him. Old -Borrowdale gave him five years. A stiff sentence, but the case itself -would break the man’s career, poor chap. A bad business, sir, isn’t -it? Impudent, ungrateful piece of thieving—but he might have been -honest enough if he could have made a living at his job.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune did not answer. He was looking at the key. He set it -down, took up a magnifying glass, carried the box to the light and -frowned over the cotton-wool.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with it, sir?”</p> - -<p>“The key,” Mr. Fortune mumbled, still studying the cotton-wool. “Why -was the key made in Germany? Why does Dr. Horace Wilton of Harley -Street and Bloomsbury use a skeleton key that was made in Solingen?”</p> - -<p>“Well, sir, you can’t tell how a man comes by that sort of stuff. It -goes about from hand to hand, don’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Whose hand?” said Reggie. “And why does your local expert swear -this is South African tobacco? There is a likeness. But this is that -awful stuff they sell in Germany and call Rauch-tabak.”</p> - -<p>Bell was startled. “That’s awkward, sir. German too, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Well, you can buy Solingen goods outside Germany. And German -tobacco, too. Say in Holland.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what you’re thinking, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I think the tobacco was a little error. I think the tobacco -ought not to have been there. But it was rather unlucky for Dr. -Wilton your bright expert took it for his brand.”</p> - -<p>The superintendent looked uncomfortable. “Yes, sir, that’s the sort -of thing we don’t want to happen. But after all the case didn’t turn -on the tobacco. There was the man who swore he saw Wilton leaving -Witt’s flat and the finding of the diamonds in Wilton’s room. Without -the tobacco the evidence was clear.”</p> - -<p>“I know. I said the tobacco was superfluous. That’s why it interests -me. Superfluous, not to say awkward. We know Wilton don’t use -Rauch-tabak. Yet there is Rauch-tabak on the chloroformed pad. Which -suggests that some one else was on the job. Some fellow with a taste -for German flavours. The sort of fellow who’d use a German key.”</p> - -<p>“There’s not a sign of Wilton’s having an accomplice,” said Bell -heavily. “But of course it’s possible.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune looked at him with affection. “Dear Bell,” he said, “you -must find the world very wonderful. No, I wouldn’t look for an -accomplice. But I think you might look for the diamond merchant and -the journalist. I should like to ask them who smokes Rauch-tabak.”</p> - -<p>“There must be an investigation,” Bell sighed. “I see that, sir. But -I can’t see that it will do the poor fellow any good. And it’s bad -for the department.”</p> - -<p>Reggie smiled upon him. “Historic picture of an official struggling -with his humanity,” he said. “Poor old Bell!”</p> - -<p>At the end of that week Mr. Fortune was summoned to Scotland Yard. He -found the chief of the Criminal Investigation Department in -conference with Eddis, a man of law from the Home Office.</p> - -<p>“Hallo! Life is real, life is earnest, isn’t it, Lomas?” he smiled.</p> - -<p>The Hon. Sidney Lomas put up an eyeglass and scowled at him. “You -know, you’re not a man of science, Fortune. You’re an agitator. You -ought to be bound over to keep the peace.”</p> - -<p>“I should call him a departmental nuisance,” said Eddis gloomily.</p> - -<p>“In returnin’ thanks (one of your larger cigars would do me no harm, -Lomas) I would only ask, where does it hurt you?”</p> - -<p>“The Wilton case was a very satisfactory case till you meddled,” said -Eddis. “Also it was a <span class="calibre15">chose jugée</span>.”</p> - -<p>“And now it’s unjudged? How good for you!” Reggie chuckled. “How -stimulating!”</p> - -<p>“Now,” said Lomas severely, “it’s insane. It’s a nightmare.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Yes, I dare say that’s what Dr. Wilton thinks,” said Reggie -gravely. “Well, how far have you got?”</p> - -<p>“You were right about the tobacco, confound you. And the key. Both of -German birth. And will you kindly tell me what that means?”</p> - -<p>“My honourable friend’s question,” said Reggie, “should be addressed -to Mynheer Witt or Mynheer Gerard. You know, this is like Alice in -Wonderland. Sentence first, trial afterwards. Why didn’t you look -into the case before you tried it? Then you could have asked Witt and -Gerard these little questions when you had them in the box. And very -interesting too.”</p> - -<p>“We can’t ask them now, at any rate. They’ve vanished. Witt left his -flat on the day of the trial. Gerard left his hotel the same night. -Both said they were going back to Amsterdam. And here’s the Dutch -police information. ‘Your telegram of the 27th not understood. No men -as described known in Amsterdam. Cannot trace arrivals.’”</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” said Reggie. “Our active and intelligent police force. -The case has interest, hasn’t it, Lomas, old thing?”</p> - -<p>“What is it you want to suggest, Fortune?” Eddis looked at him keenly.</p> - -<p>“I want to point out the evanescence of the evidence—the -extraordinary evanescence of the evidence.”</p> - -<p>“That’s agreed,” Eddis nodded. “The whole thing is unsatisfactory. -The tobacco, so far as it is evidence, turns out to be in favour of -the prisoner. The only important witnesses for the prosecution -disappear after the trial leaving suspicion of their status. But -there remains the fact that the diamonds were found in the prisoner’s -room.”</p> - -<p>“Oh yes, some one put ’em there,” Reggie smiled.</p> - -<p>“Let’s have it clear, Fortune,” said the man of law. “Your suggestion -is that the whole case against Wilton was manufactured by these men -who have disappeared?”</p> - -<p>“That is the provisional hypothesis. Because nothing else covers the -facts. There were German materials used, and Wilton has nothing to do -with Germany. The diamond merchant came to the flats where Wilton was -already living and sought Wilton’s acquaintance. The diamond -merchant’s friend popped up just in the nick of time to give -indispensable evidence. And the moment Wilton is safe in penal -servitude the pair of them vanish, and the only thing we can find out -about them is that they aren’t what they pretended to be. Well, the -one hypothesis which fits all these facts is that these two fellows -wanted to put Dr. Horace Wilton away. Any objection to that, Eddis?”</p> - -<p>“There’s only one objection—why? Your theory explains everything -that happened, but leaves us without any reason why anything happened -at all. That is, it’s an explanation which makes the case more -obscure than ever. We can understand why Wilton might have stolen -diamonds. Nobody can understand why anyone should want to put him in -prison.”</p> - -<p>“Oh my dear fellow! You’re so legal. What you don’t know isn’t -knowledge. You don’t know why Wilton had to be put out of the way. No -more do I. But——”</p> - -<p>“No more did Wilton,” said Eddis sharply. “He didn’t suspect these -fellows. His defence didn’t suggest that he had any enemies. He only -denied all knowledge of the theft, and his counsel argued that the -real thief had used his rooms to hide the diamonds in because he was -surprised and scared.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. That was pretty feeble, wasn’t it? These lawyers, Eddis, these -lawyers! A stodgy tribe.”</p> - -<p>“We do like evidence.”</p> - -<p>“Then why not use it? The man Witt was very interesting in the box. -He said that in the kindness of his heart he had offered this -ungrateful young doctor a job in the Dutch colonies. Quite a nice -long way from England, Eddis. Wilton wouldn’t take it. So Wilton had -to be provided for otherwise.”</p> - -<p>Eddis looked at him thoughtfully. “I agree there’s something in that. -But why? We know all about Wilton. He’s run quite straight till -now—hospital career, military service, this private practice all -straightforward and creditable. How should he have enemies who stick -at nothing to get him out of the way? A man in a gang of criminals or -revolutionaries is sometimes involved in a sham crime by the others -to punish him, or for fear he should betray them. But that can’t be -Wilton’s case. His life’s all open and ordinary. I suppose a man -might have private enemies who would use such a trick, though I don’t -know another case.”</p> - -<p>“Oh Lord, yes,” said Lomas, “there was the Buckler affair. I always -thought that was the motive in the Brendon murder.”</p> - -<p>Eddis frowned. “Well—as you say. But Wilton has no suspicion of a -trumped-up case. He doesn’t know he has enemies.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Reggie. “I rather think Wilton don’t know what it is he -knows. Suppose he blundered on some piece of awkward evidence about -Mr. Witt or some of Mr. Witt’s friends. He don’t know it’s -dangerous—but they do.”</p> - -<p>“Men have been murdered in a case like that and never knew why they -were killed,” said Lomas.</p> - -<p>“I dare say,” Eddis cried. “It’s all quite possible. But it’s all in -the air. I have nothing that I can act upon.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” said Reggie. “You’re so modest.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps I am,” Eddis shrugged. “But I can’t recommend Wilton’s -sentence for revision on a provisional hypothesis.”</p> - -<p>“Revision be damned,” Reggie cried. “I want him free.”</p> - -<p>Eddis stared at him. “But this is fantastic,” he protested.</p> - -<p>“Free and cleared. My God, think of the poor beggar in a convict gang -because these rascals found him inconvenient. To reduce his sentence -is only another wrong. He wants you to give him his life back.”</p> - -<p>“It is a hard case,” Eddis sighed. “But what can I do? I can’t clear -the man’s character. If we let him out now, he’s a broken man.”</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow, I’m saying so,” said Reggie mildly. “There’s also -another point. What is it Mr. Witt’s up to that’s so important? I -could bear to know that.”</p> - -<p>“That’s not my job,” said Eddis with relief. “But you’re still in the -air, Fortune. What do you want to do? I must take some action.”</p> - -<p>“And that’s very painful to any good official. I sympathize with you. -Lomas sympathizes with you more, don’t you, Lomas, old thing? And I’m -not sure that you can do any good.” Mr. Fortune relapsed into cigar -smoke and meditation.</p> - -<p>“You’re very helpful,” said Eddis.</p> - -<p>“The fact is, all the evidence against the man has gone phut,” said -Lomas. “It’s deuced awkward, but we have to face it. Better let him -out, Eddis.”</p> - -<p>Eddis gasped. “My dear Lomas! I really can’t follow you. The only -evidence which is proved false is the tobacco, which wasn’t crucial. -The rest is open to suspicion, but we can’t say it’s false, and it -satisfied the judge and jury. It’s unprecedented to reduce the -sentence to nothing in such a case.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not thinking of your troubles,” said Lomas. “I want to know what -Mr. Witt has up his sleeve.”</p> - -<p>Reggie came out of his smoke. “Let Wilton out—have him watched—and -see what Witt and Co. get up to. Well, that’s one way. But it’s a -gamble.”</p> - -<p>“It’s also out of the question,” Eddis announced.</p> - -<p>Reggie turned on him. “What exactly are you for, Eddis?” he said. -“What is the object of your blessed existence?”</p> - -<p>Eddis remarked coldly that it was not necessary to lose one’s temper.</p> - -<p>“No. No, I’m not cross with you, but you puzzle my simple mind. I -thought your job was to see justice done. Well, get on with it.”</p> - -<p>“If you’ll be so very good as to say what you suggest,” said Eddis, -flushing.</p> - -<p>“You’ll say it’s unprecedented. Well, well. This is my little notion. -Tell the defence about the tobacco and say that that offers a ground -for carrying the case to the Court of Appeal. Then let it get into -the papers that there’s a doubt about the conviction, probability of -the Wilton case being tried again, and so on. Something rather -pompous and mysterious to set the papers going strong about Wilton.” -He smiled at Lomas. “I think we could wangle that?”</p> - -<p>“I have known it done,” said Lomas.</p> - -<p>“Good heavens, I couldn’t have any dealings with the press,” Eddis -cried.</p> - -<p>“Bless your sweet innocence. We’ll manage it. It don’t matter what -the papers say so long as they say a lot. That’ll wake up Witt and -Co., and we’ll see what happens.”</p> - -<p>Eddis looked horrified and bewildered. “I think it is clear the -defence should be advised of the flaw discovered in the evidence in -order that the conviction may be reviewed by the Court of Appeal,” he -said solemnly. “But of course I—I couldn’t sanction anything more.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right, my dear fellow,” Lomas smiled “Nobody sanctions -these things. Nobody does them. They only happen.” And Eddis was got -rid of.</p> - -<p>“My country, oh my country!” Reggie groaned. “That’s the kind of man -that governs England.”</p> - -<p>A day or two later saw Mr. Fortune shivering on an April morning -outside Princetown prison. He announced to the governor that he -wanted to get to know Dr. Wilton.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think you’ll make much of him,” the governor shook his head. -“The man seems stupefied. Of course a fellow who has been in a good -position often is so when he comes here. Wilton’s taking it very -hard. When we told him there was a flaw in the evidence and he could -appeal against his sentence, he showed no interest. He was sullen and -sour as he has been all the time. All he would say was ‘What’s the -good? You’ve done for me.’”</p> - -<p>“Poor devil,” Reggie sighed.</p> - -<p>“It may be.” The governor looked dubious. “No one can judge a man’s -character on his first days in prison. But I’ve known men who gave me -a good deal more reason to believe them innocent.”</p> - -<p>Dr. Wilton was brought in, a shred of a man in his prison clothes. A -haggard face glowered at Reggie. “My name’s Fortune, Dr. Wilton,” -Reggie held out his hand. It was ignored. “I come from Scotland Yard. -I found the mistake which had been made about the tobacco. It made me -very interested in your case. I feel sure we don’t know the truth of -it. If you can help me to that it’s going to help you.” He waited.</p> - -<p>“The police can’t help me,” said Wilton. “I’m not going to say -anything.”</p> - -<p>“My dear chap, I know that was a bad blunder. But there’s more than -that wants looking into. If you’ll give us a chance we might be able -to clear up the whole case and set you on your feet again. That’s -what I’m here for.”</p> - -<p>And Wilton laughed. “No thanks,” he said unpleasantly.</p> - -<p>“Just think of it. I can’t do you any harm. I’m looking for the -truth. I’m on your side. What I want to know is, have you got any -enemies? Anyone who might like to damage you? Anybody who wanted to -put you out of the way?”</p> - -<p>“Only the police,” said Wilton.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear chap!” Reggie brushed that away. “Did anything strange -ever happen to you before this charge?”</p> - -<p>“What?” Wilton flushed. “Oh, I see. I’m an old criminal, am I? Better -look for my previous convictions. Or you can invent ’em. Quite easy.”</p> - -<p>“My dear chap, what good can this do you?” said Reggie sadly. “The -police didn’t invent this charge. Your friend Mr. Witt made it. Do -you know anything about Mr. Witt? Did it ever occur to you he wanted -you off the scene—in the Dutch colonies—or in prison?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve nothing against Witt,” said Wilton.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear fellow! How did the diamonds get in your room?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, how did they?” said Wilton savagely. “Ask your police -inspector. The man who said that was my tobacco. You’re a policeman. -You know how these jobs are done.”</p> - -<p>“I wish I did,” Reggie sighed. “If I did I dare say you wouldn’t be -here.”</p> - -<p>But he could get no more out of Dr. Wilton. He went away sorrowful. -He had not recovered his spirits when he sought Lomas next morning. -Lomas was brisk. “You’re the man I want. What’s the convict’s theory -of it?”</p> - -<p>Reggie shook his head. “Lomas, old thing, do I ever seem a little -vain of my personal charm? The sort of fellow who thinks fellows -can’t resist him?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing offensive, Fortune. A little childlike, perhaps. You do -admire yourself, don’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Quoth the raven ‘Nevermore.’ When you find me feeling fascinating -again, kindly murmur the name Wilton. I didn’t fascinate him. Not one -little damn. He was impossible.”</p> - -<p>“You surprise me,” said Lomas gravely. “Nothing out of him at all?”</p> - -<p>“Too much, too much,” Reggie sighed. “Sullen, insolent, stupid—that -was our young doctor, poor devil. It was the wicked police that did -him in, a put-up job by the force, the inspector hid the diamonds in -his room to spite him. Such was Dr. Horace Wilton, the common, silly -criminal to the life. It means nothing, of course. The poor beggar’s -dazed. Like a child kicking the naughty chair that he fell over.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not so sure,” said Lomas. “The inspector has shot himself, -Fortune. We had him up here, you know, to inquire into the case. He -was nervous and confused. He went back home and committed suicide.” -Reggie Fortune huddled himself together in his chair. “Nothing -against the man before. There’s only this question of the tobacco -against him now. But it looks ugly, doesn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“We know he said the tobacco was what it isn’t. If that made him kill -himself he was too conscientious for a policeman, poor beggar. Why -does it look ugly, Lomas? I think it’s pitiful. My God, if we all -shot ourselves when we made mistakes, there would be vacancies in the -force. Poor Wilton said the inspector put the diamonds in his room. -But that’s crazy.”</p> - -<p>“It’s all crazy. You are a little confused yourself, Fortune. You say -it’s preposterous for the man to shoot himself merely because he made -a mistake, and equally preposterous to suppose he had any other -reason.”</p> - -<p>“Poor beggar, poor beggar,” Reggie murmured. “No, Lomas, I’m not -confused. I’m only angry. Wilton’s not guilty and your inspector’s -not guilty. And one’s in prison and one’s dead, and we call ourselves -policemen. Shutting the stable door after the horse’s stolen, that’s -a policeman’s job. But great heavens, we don’t even shut the door.”</p> - -<p>Lomas shook his head. “Not only angry, I fear, but rattled. My dear -Fortune, what can we do?”</p> - -<p>“Witt hasn’t shown his hand?”</p> - -<p>“Not unless he had a hand in the inspector’s suicide.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose it was suicide?”</p> - -<p>“Well, you’d better look at the body. The evidence is good enough.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing in the papers?”</p> - -<p>Lomas stared at him. “Columns of course. All quite futile. You didn’t -expect evidence in the papers, did you?”</p> - -<p>“You never know, you know. You don’t put a proper value on the Press, -Lomas.”</p> - -<p>It has been remarked of Mr. Fortune that when he is interested he -will do everything himself. This is considered by professional -critics a weakness. Yet in this case of the young doctor, where he -was continually occupied with details, he seems to have kept a clear -head for strategy.</p> - -<p>He went to see the inspector’s body in the mortuary. He came out in -gloomy thought.</p> - -<p>“Satisfied, sir?” said Superintendent Bell, who escorted him.</p> - -<p>Reggie stopped and stared at him. “Oh, Peter, what a word!” he -muttered. “Satisfied! No, Bell, not satisfied. Only infuriated. He -killed himself all right, poor beggar. One more victim for Witt and -Company.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the next move, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Goodbye,” said Mr. Fortune. “I’m going home to read the papers.”</p> - -<p>With all the London papers which had appeared since the news that -there was a doubt about the justice of Wilton’s conviction had been -given them, he shut himself into his study. Most of them had taken -the hint that there was a mystery in the case and made a lot of it. -The more rational were content to tell the story in detail, pointing -out the incongruity of such a man as Wilton and the crime. The more -fatuous put out wild inventions as to the theories held by the -police. But there was general sympathy with Dr. Wilton, a general -readiness to expect that he would be cleared. He had a good -press—except for the “Daily Watchman.”</p> - -<p>The “Daily Watchman” began in the same strain as the rest of the -sillier papers, taking Wilton’s innocence for granted, and devising -crazy explanations of the burglary. But on the third day it burst -into a different tune. Under a full-page headline “The Wilton -Scandal,” its readers were warned against the manufactured agitation -to release the man Wilton. It was a trick of politicians and civil -servants and intellectuals to prevent the punishment of a rascally -criminal. It was another case of one law for the rich and another for -the poor. It was a corrupt job to save a scoundrel who had friends in -high places. It was, in fine, all sorts of iniquity, and the British -people must rise in their might and keep the wicked Wilton in gaol if -they did not want burglars calling every night.</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune went to sup at that one of his clubs used by certain -journalists. There he sought and at last found Simon Winterbottom, -the queerest mixture of scholarship, slang, and backstairs gossip to -be found in London. “Winter,” said he, having stayed the man with -flagons, “who runs the ‘Daily Watchman’?”</p> - -<p>“My God!” Winterbottom was much affected. “Are you well, Reginald? -Are you quite well? It’s the wonkiest print on the market. All -newspapers are run by madmen, but the ‘Watchman’ merely dithers.”</p> - -<p>“You said ‘on the market,’” Reggie repeated. “Corrupt?”</p> - -<p>“Well, naturally. Too balmy to live honest. Why this moral fervour, -Reginald? I know you’re officially a guardian of virtue, but you -mustn’t let it weigh on your mind.”</p> - -<p>“I want to know why the ‘Watchman’ changed sides on the Wilton case.”</p> - -<p>Winterbottom grinned. “That was a giddy stunt, wasn’t it? The -complete Gadarene. I don’t know, Reginald. Why ask for reasons? Let -twenty pass and stone the twenty-first, loving not, hating not, just -choosing so.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” Reggie murmured. “It’s the change of mind. The sudden -change of mind. This is rather a bad business, Winter.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, simian,” Winterbottom agreed. His comical face was working. “You -are taking it hard, Reginald.”</p> - -<p>“I’m thinking of that poor devil Wilton. Who got at the Watchman, old -thing? I could bear to know.”</p> - -<p>On the next day but one Mr. Fortune received a letter.</p> - -<p style="font-variant:small-caps; margin-top:1.5em;">Dear R.,—</p> - -<p>The greaser Kemp who owns the “Watchman” came in one bright day, -cancelled all instructions on the Wilton case and dictated the new -line. No known cause for the rash act. It leaks from his wretched -intimates that Kemp has a new pal, one Kuyper, a ruffian said by some -to be a Hun, certainly a City mushroom. This seems highly irrelevant. -You must not expect Kemp to be rational even in his vices. Sorry.</p> - -<p style="text-align:right; margin-bottom:1.5em">S. W. </p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune went into the city and consumed turtle soup and oyster -patties with Tommy Owen, the young son of an ancient firm of -stockbrokers. When they were back again in the dungeon which is -Tommy’s office, “Thomas, do you know anything of one Kuyper?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Wrong number, old bean,” Tommy Owen shook his round head. “Not in my -department. International finance is Mr. Julius Kuyper’s line.”</p> - -<p>Reggie smiled. It is the foible of Tommy Owen to profess ignorance. -“Big business?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Not so much big business as queer business. Mr. Julius Kuyper blew -into London some months ago. Yes, January. He is said to be -negotiating deals in Russian mining properties.”</p> - -<p>“Sounds like selling gold bricks.”</p> - -<p>“Well, not in my department,” said Tommy Owen again. “There’s some -money somewhere. Mr. Kuyper does the thing in style. He’s thick with -some fellows who don’t go where money isn’t. In point of fact, old -dear, I’ve rather wondered about Mr. Kuyper. Do you know anything?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing that fits, Tommy. What does he want in London?”</p> - -<p>“Search me,” said Tommy Owen. “I say, Fortune, when Russia went pop -some blokes must have laid their hands on a lot of good stuff. I -suppose you fellows at Scotland Yard know where it’s gone?”</p> - -<p>“I wonder if your friend Kuyper’s been dealing in jewels.”</p> - -<p>Tommy Owen looked wary. “Don’t that fit, old bean? There’s a blighter -that’s been busy with brother Kuyper blossomed out with a rare old -black pearl in his tiepin. They used to tell me the good black pearls -went to Russia.”</p> - -<p>“What is Kuyper? A Hun?”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t bet on it. He might be anything. Lean beggar, oldish, -trim little beard, very well groomed, talks English well, says he’s a -Dutchman. You could see him yourself. He has offices in that ghastly -new block in Mawdleyn Lane.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks very much, Thomas,” said Mr. Fortune.</p> - -<p>“Oh, not a bit. Sorry I don’t know anything about the blighter,” said -Tommy Owen, and Mr. Fortune laughed.</p> - -<p>As a taxi took him home to Wimpole Street he considered his evidence. -The mysterious Kuyper said he was Dutch. The vanished Witt also said -he was Dutch. Kuyper said he was selling Russian jewels. Witt also -dealt in jewels. Mr. Fortune went home and telephoned to Lomas that -Julius Kuyper of Mawdleyn Lane should be watched, and by men of -experience.</p> - -<p>Even over the telephone the voice of Lomas expressed surprise. -“Kuyper?” it repeated. “What is the reference, Fortune? The Wilton -case. Quite so. You did say Julius Kuyper? But he’s political. He’s a -Bolshevik.”</p> - -<p>Reggie also felt some surprise but he did not show it.</p> - -<p>“Some of your men who’ve moved in good criminal society,” he said -firmly. “Rush it, old thing.”</p> - -<p>After breakfast on the next day but one he was going to the telephone -to talk to Lomas when the thing rang at him. “Is that Fortune?” said -Lomas’s voice. “Speaking? The great Mr. Fortune! I looks towards you, -Reginald. I likewise bows. Come right on.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune found Lomas with Superintendent Bell. They lay back in -their chairs and looked at him. Lomas started up, came to him and -walked round him, eyeglass up.</p> - -<p>“What is this?” said Mr. Fortune. “Dumb crambo?”</p> - -<p>“Admiration,” Lomas sighed. “Reverence. Awe. How do you do these -things, Fortune? You look only human, not to say childlike. Yet you -have us all beat. You arrive while we’re still looking for the way.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t have said it was a case for Mr. Fortune, either,” said -Bell.</p> - -<p>“No flowers, by request. Don’t be an owl, Lomas. Who is Kuyper?”</p> - -<p>Lomas sat down again. “I hoped you were going to tell us that,” he -said. “What in the world made you go for Kuyper?”</p> - -<p>“He calls himself Dutch and so did Witt. He deals in jewels and so -did Witt. And I fancy he set the ‘Daily Watchman’ howling that Wilton -must stay in prison.”</p> - -<p>“And if you will kindly make sense of that for me I shall be -obliged,” said Lomas.</p> - -<p>“It doesn’t make sense. I know that. Hang it all, you must do -something for yourselves. Justify your existence, Lomas. Who is -Kuyper?”</p> - -<p>“The political branch have had their eye on him for some time. He’s -been selling off Russian jewels. They believe he’s a Bolshevik.”</p> - -<p>“That don’t help us,” Reggie murmured.</p> - -<p>“No. The connexion of Wilton with Bolshevism isn’t what you’d call -obvious. I did think you were hunting the wild, wild goose, Reginald. -All my apologies. None of our men recognized Kuyper. But one of them -did recognize Mr. Witt. Mr. Witt is now something in Kuyper’s office. -Marvellous, Reginald. How do you do it?”</p> - -<p>“My head,” said Reggie Fortune. “Oh, my head! Kuyper’s a Bolshevik -agent and Kuyper employs a man to put Wilton out of the way. It’s a -bad dream.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it’s not plausible. Not one of your more lucid cases, Fortune.”</p> - -<p>“I had thought,” said Bell diffidently, “if Dr. Wilton happened to -get to know of some Bolshevik plot, Mr. Fortune, they would be -wanting to put him out.”</p> - -<p>“They would—in a novel,” Reggie shook his head. “But hang it all, -Wilton don’t know that he ever knew anything.”</p> - -<p>“P’r’aps he’s a bit of a Bolshevik himself, sir,” said Bell.</p> - -<p>Lomas laughed. “Bell has a turn for melodrama.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Yes, there is a lot of melodrama in the world. But somehow I -don’t fancy Kuyper, Witt and Co. play it. I think I’ll go and have a -little talk with the firm.”</p> - -<p>“You?” Lomas stared at him.</p> - -<p>“Not alone, I reckon, sir.” Bell stood up.</p> - -<p>“Well, you come and chaperon me. Yes, I want to look at ’em, Lomas. -Wilton’s a medical man, you know. I want to see the patients, too.”</p> - -<p>“You can try it,” Lomas said dubiously. “You realize we have nothing -definite against Witt, and nothing at all against Kuyper. And I’m not -sure that Kuyper hasn’t smelt a rat. He’s been staying at the -Olympian. He was there on Tuesday night, but last night our men lost -him.”</p> - -<p>“Come on, Bell,” said Mr. Fortune.</p> - -<p>Outside the big new block in Mawdleyn Lane Superintendent Bell -stopped a moment and looked round. A man crossed the road and made a -sign as he vanished into a doorway</p> - -<p>“He’s in, sir,” Bell said, and they went up to the offices of Mr. -Julius Kuyper.</p> - -<p>A pert young woman received them. They wanted to see Mr. Kuyper? By -appointment? Oh, Mr. Kuyper never saw anyone except by appointment.</p> - -<p>“He’ll see me,” said Bell, and gave her a card. She looked him over -impudently and vanished. Another young woman peered round the glass -screen at them.</p> - -<p>“Sorry.” The first young woman came briskly back. “Mr. Kuyper’s not -in. Better write and ask for an appointment.”</p> - -<p>“That won’t do. Who is in?” said Bell heavily.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you bully me!” she cried.</p> - -<p>“You don’t want to get into trouble, do you?” Bell frowned down at -her. “You go in there and say Superintendent Bell is waiting to see -Mr. Witt.”</p> - -<p>“We haven’t got any Mr. Witt.”</p> - -<p>“You do as you’re told.”</p> - -<p>She went. She was gone a long time. A murmur of voices was audible. -She came out again, looking flustered. “Well, what about it?” said -Bell.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know anything about it,” she said. A door slammed, a bell -rang. She made a nervous exclamation and turned to answer it. Bell -went first and Reggie on his heels.</p> - -<p>In the inner room an oldish man stood smoothing his hair. He was -flushed and at the sight of Bell he cried out: “But you intrude, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, here’s our old friend, Mr. Witt,” Bell smiled. “I should——”</p> - -<p>“There is some mistake. You are wrong, sir. What is your name? Mr. -Superintendent—my name is Siegel.”</p> - -<p>“I dare say it is. Then why did you call yourself Witt?”</p> - -<p>“I do not know what you mean.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t forget faces. I should know you anywhere. You’re the Mr. -Witt who prosecuted Dr. Horace Wilton. Come, come, the game’s up now.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean by that, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Time to tell the truth,” said Reggie sweetly, “time you began to -think of yourself, isn’t it? We know all about the evidence in the -Wilton burglary. Why did you do it, Mr. Witt? It wasn’t safe, you -know.”</p> - -<p>“What do you want?”</p> - -<p>“Well, where’s your friend Mr. Kuyper? We had better have him in.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Kuyper has gone out, sir.”</p> - -<p>Reggie laughed. “Oh, I don’t think so. You’re not doing yourself -justice. I don’t suppose you wanted to trap Dr. Wilton. You’d better -consider your position. What is Mr. Kuyper’s little game with you?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Witt looked nervously round the room. “You—you mustn’t—I mean -we can’t talk here,” he said. “The girls will be listening.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, send the girls out to tea,” said Bell.</p> - -<p>“No. I can’t do that. I had rather come with you, Mr. Superintendent. -I would rather indeed.”</p> - -<p>“Come on then.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Witt, who was shaking with nervous fear, caught up his hat and -coat. The farther door of the room was flung open. Two pistol shots -were fired. As Reggie sprang at the door it was slammed in his face -and locked. Mr. Witt went down in a heap. Bell dashed through the -outer office into the corridor. Reggie knelt by Mr. Witt.</p> - -<p>“Kuyper,” Mr. Witt gasped. “Kuyper.”</p> - -<p>“I know. I know. We’ll get him yet. Where’s he gone?”</p> - -<p>“His yacht,” Mr. Witt gasped. “Yacht at Gravesend. He had it ready.” -He groaned and writhed. He was hit in the shoulder and stomach.</p> - -<p>Reggie did what he could for the man, and went to the telephone. He -had finished demanding an ambulance when Bell came back breathless, -with policemen in uniform at his heels.</p> - -<p>“The swine,” Bell gasped. “He’s off, sir. Must have gone down the -other staircase into Bull Court. We had a man there but he wouldn’t -know there was anything up, he’d only follow. Pray God he don’t lose -him. They lost him last night.”</p> - -<p>“Send these girls away,” said Mr. Fortune. “Let the constables keep -the door. I want to use the telephone.” And when the ambulance had -come and taken Mr. Witt, happily unconscious at last, to hospital, he -was still talking into the telephone. “Is that clear?” he concluded. -“All right. Goodbye.” He hung up the receiver. “Come on, Bell. It’s -Gravesend now. This is our busy day.”</p> - -<p>“Gravesend?” The superintendent stared.</p> - -<p>But it was into a teashop that Reggie plunged when they reached the -street. He came out with large paper bags just as a big car turned -painfully into Mawdleyn Lane. “Good man,” he smiled upon the -chauffeur. “Gravesend police station. And let her out when you can.” -With his mouth full he expounded to Superintendent Bell his theory of -the evasion of Mr. Kuyper.</p> - -<p>As the car drew up in Gravesend a man in plain clothes came out of -the police station. “Scotland Yard, sir?” Bell pulled a card out. -“Inspector’s down on the beach now. I was to take you to him.”</p> - -<p>By the pier the inspector was waiting. He hurried up to their car. -“Got him?” said Bell.</p> - -<p>“He’s off. You didn’t give us much time. But he’s been here. A man -answering to your description hired a motor yacht—cutter with -auxiliary engine—six weeks ago. It was rather noticed, being an -unusual time of year to start yachting. He’s been down odd times and -slept aboard. He seems to have slept aboard last night. I can’t find -anyone who’s seen him here to-day. But there’s a longshoreman swears -he saw a Tilbury boat go alongside the <span class="calibre15">Cyrilla</span>—that’s his yacht—a -while since, and the <span class="calibre15">Cyrilla’s</span> away.”</p> - -<p>“Have you got a fast boat ready for us?”</p> - -<p>“At the pier head, sir. Motor launch.”</p> - -<p>“Good work,” Reggie smiled. And they hurried on board.</p> - -<p>“What’s the job, sir?” The captain of the launch touched his cap.</p> - -<p>“Dig out after the <span class="calibre15">Cyrilla</span>. You know her, don’t you?”</p> - -<p>“I do so. But I reckon she ain’t in sight. What’s the course?”</p> - -<p>“Down stream. She’ll be making for the Dutch coast. Are you good for -a long run?”</p> - -<p>“Surely. And I reckon it will be a long run. She’s fast, is -<span class="calibre15">Cyrilla</span>. Wind her up, Jim,” and the launch began to throb through -the water.</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune retired under the hood and lit his pipe, and Bell -followed him. “He’s smart, isn’t he, sir, our Mr. Kuyper? His yacht -at Gravesend and he comes down by Tilbury. That’s neat work.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t rub it in, Bell. I know I ought to have thought of Tilbury.”</p> - -<p>Bell stared at him. “Good Lord, Mr. Fortune, I’m not blaming you, -sir.”</p> - -<p>“I am,” said Reggie. “It’s an untidy case, Bell. Well, well. I wonder -if I’ve missed anything more?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what you’ve missed, sir. I know I wouldn’t like to be -on the run if you were after me.”</p> - -<p>Reggie looked at the large, man with a gleam of amusement. “It would -be rather joyful, Bell,” he chuckled, and was solemn again. “No. I am -not happy. <span class="calibre15">Je n’ai pas de courage</span>. I want Mr. Kuyper.”</p> - -<p>It was a grey day. The Essex flats lay dim and sombre. The heights on -the southern shore were blurred. Yet they could see far out to the -Nore. An east wind was whipping the flood tide into tiny waves, -through which the launch clove, making, after the manner of her kind, -a great show of speed, leaving the tramps that chunked outward bound -as though they lay at anchor.</p> - -<p>“Do you see her yet?” Reggie asked the captain.</p> - -<p>“Maybe that’s her,” he pointed to a dim line on the horizon beyond -the lightship, a sailless mast, if it was anything. “Maybe not.” He -spat over the side.</p> - -<p>“Are you gaining on her?”</p> - -<p>“I reckon we’re coming up, sir.”</p> - -<p>“What’s that thing doing?” Reggie pointed to a long low black craft -near the Nore.</p> - -<p>“Destroyer, sir. Engines stopped.”</p> - -<p>“Run down to her, will you? How does one address the Navy, Bell? I -feel shy. Ask him if he’s the duty destroyer of the Nore Command, -will you?”</p> - -<p>“Good Lord, sir,” said Bell.</p> - -<p>The captain of the launch hailed. “Duty destroyer, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Aye, aye. Scotland Yard launch? Come alongside.”</p> - -<p>“Thank God for the Navy, as the soldier said,” Mr. Fortune murmured. -“Perhaps it will be warmer on board her.”</p> - -<p>“I say, sir, did you order a destroyer out?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I asked Lomas to turn out the Navy. I thought we might want ’em.”</p> - -<p>Superintendent Bell gazed at him. “And you say you forget things,” he -said. “Witt’s shot and all in a minute you have all this in your -head.”</p> - -<p>They climbed a most unpleasant ladder. A young lieutenant received -them. “You gentlemen got a job of work for us?”</p> - -<p>“A motor yacht, cutter rig, name <span class="calibre15">Cyrilla</span>, left Gravesend an hour or -two ago, probably making for the Dutch coast. There’s a man on board -that’s badly wanted.”</p> - -<p>“Can do,” the lieutenant smiled and ran up to the bridge. “Starboard -five. Half ahead both.” He spoke into a voice pipe. “You’d better -come up here,” he called to them. “We’ll whack her up as we go.”</p> - -<p>The destroyer began to quiver gently to the purr of the turbines. -Reggie cowered under the wind screen. The speed grew and grew and the -destroyer sat down on her stern and on either side white waves rushed -from the high sharp bow. “Who is your friend on the yacht?” the -lieutenant smiled.</p> - -<p>“His last is attempted murder. But that was only this morning.”</p> - -<p>“You fellows don’t lose much time,” said the lieutenant with more -respect. “You seem to want him bad.”</p> - -<p>“I could bear to see him,” said Reggie. “He interests me as a medical -man.”</p> - -<p>“Medical?” the lieutenant stared at him.</p> - -<p>“Quite a lot of crime is medical,” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>The lieutenant gave it up and again asked for more speed and began to -use his binoculars. “There’s a cutter rig,” he pointed at something -invisible. “Not under sail. Laying a course for Flushing. That’s good -enough, what?”</p> - -<p>The destroyer came up fast. A white hull was revealed to the naked -eye. The lieutenant spoke to his signalman and flags fluttered above -the bridge. “Not answered. D’ye think your friend’ll put up a scrap?”</p> - -<p>“I dare say he will, if his crew will stand for it.”</p> - -<p>“Praise God,” said the lieutenant. “Will they have any arms?”</p> - -<p>“Pistols, likely,” said Bell.</p> - -<p>“Well! She is <span class="calibre15">Cyrilla</span>.” He picked up a megaphone and roared through -it. “The cutter! <span class="calibre15">Cyrilla!</span> Stop your engine!”</p> - -<p>There was some movement on the yacht’s deck. She did stop her engine -or slow. A shot was heard. She started her engine again and again -stopped. A man ran aft and held up his hand. The destroyer drew abeam -and the lieutenant said what occurred to him of yachts which did not -obey Navy signals. There was no answer. A little knot of men on the -<span class="calibre15">Cyrilla</span> gazed at the destroyer.</p> - -<p>“You fellows going aboard her? Got guns? I’ll give you an armed -boat’s crew.”</p> - -<p>Behind the destroyer’s sub-lieutenant Bell and Reggie came to the -yacht’s deck. “Where’s the captain? Don’t you know enough to read -signals?” Thus the sub-lieutenant began.</p> - -<p>“Where’s Mr. Kuyper?” said Bell.</p> - -<p>“We didn’t understand your signals, sir.” The captain licked his -lips. “Don’t know anything about a Mr. Kuyper. We’ve got a Mr. -Hotten, a Dutch gentleman. He’s my owner, as you might say.”</p> - -<p>“Where is he?”</p> - -<p>“Down the engine-room. It was him fired at the engineer to make him -start her up again when I ’ad stopped. I laid him out with a spanner.”</p> - -<p>“Bring him up,” Bell said.</p> - -<p>A slim spruce body was laid on the deck, precisely the Julius Kuyper -of Tommy Owen’s description. Reggie knelt down beside him.</p> - -<p>“He ain’t dead, is he?” said the yacht’s captain anxiously.</p> - -<p>But the stertorous breath of Mr. Kuyper could be heard. “My only -aunt,” Reggie muttered.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Man hasn’t got a heart. This is very unusual. Good Lord! Heart well -over on the right side. Heterotaxy very marked. Quite unusual. Ah! -That’s more to the point. He’s had an operation on the thyroid gland. -Yes. Just so.” He smiled happily.</p> - -<p>“What was that word you said, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Heterotaxy? Oh, it only means he’s got his things all over on the -wrong side.”</p> - -<p>“Then I know him!” Bell cried. “I thought I knew the look of him, as -old as he is now. It’s Lawton, sir, Lawton of the big bank frauds. He -went off with fifty thousand or more. Before your time, but you must -have heard of it. Did a clear getaway.”</p> - -<p>“And that’s that,” said Reggie. “Now we know.”</p> - -<p style="margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em; text-align:center">* * * * * * </p> - -<p>Some days afterwards the Hon. Sidney Lomas called on Mr. Fortune, who -was at the moment making a modest supper of devilled sole. “Did you -clear it up?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Try that champagne. It’s young but has distinction. Oh yes. Dr. -Wilton quite agrees with me. A faulty thyroid gland is the root of -the trouble.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to hear about Mr. Kuyper Lawton’s diseases. I——”</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow! But that is the whole case. Mr. Kuyper-Lawton is -undoubtedly a man of great ability. But there was always a cachexis -of the thyroid gland. This caused a certain mental instability. -Unsound judgment. Violence of temper. It’s quite common.”</p> - -<p>“Is it though?” said Lomas. “And why was he violent to poor Wilton?”</p> - -<p>“Well, Lawton got clean away after his bank frauds, as you know——”</p> - -<p>“I know all about Lawton. He lived on the plunder in Holland as -Adrian Hotten and flourished till the war. Then he lost most of his -money backing Germany to win. In the end of 1917 he went off to -Russia. This year he turned up in London as Julius Kuyper, talking -about Russian finance and selling Russian jewels.”</p> - -<p>“Quite so. Well, in February he was in a motor accident in Cavendish -Square. A lorry hit his car and he was thrown out and stunned. The -unfortunate Wilton was passing and gave him first-aid, and discovered -that his heart was on the wrong side. He came to under Wilton’s -hands. I suppose Wilton showed a little too much interest. Anyhow, -Mr. Kuyper saw that the malformation which would identify him with -Lawton of the bank frauds was known to the young doctor. Well, he -kept his head then. He was very grateful. He asked for Wilton’s card. -And Wilton never heard any more of him. But Wilton was interested in -this striking case of heterotaxy. He noted the number of the car, -found the garage from which it was hired and went round to ask who -the man was. They wouldn’t tell him, but the chauffeur, I suppose, -told Mr. Kuyper the doctor was asking after him. He sent Witt to take -a flat over Wilton’s and find out what Wilton was up to. I take it -Mr. Kuyper was doing mighty good business in London and didn’t want -to run away. He needn’t have bothered—but that’s the man all over, -brilliantly ingenious and no judgment. That thyroid of his! Wilton -had come to know the local detective-inspector, that poor chap who -committed suicide. I’m mighty sorry for that fellow, Lomas. He was so -keen against Wilton because he was afraid of not doing his duty when -he liked the man—and then he found he’d blundered into giving false -evidence against his friend. I don’t wonder he chose to die.”</p> - -<p>“Conscience makes fools of us all,” said Lomas.</p> - -<p>“Yes. Yes. Poor beggar. And no wonder Wilton was bitter against him. -Well, Kuyper decided that Wilton with his curiosity and his friend in -the police wasn’t safe at large. First they tried to ship him out of -the country and he wouldn’t go. So they put up the burglary. I -suppose Witt or Witt’s friend the sham Dutch journalist is a Hun. -That accounts for the Rauch-tabak and the German keys.”</p> - -<p>“Lawton-Kuyper has done a lot of business with Germany himself.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. He ought to have been on the great General Staff. The right -type of mind. One of our native Prussians. An able man—a very able -man. If his thyroid had been healthy!”</p> - -<hr id="Ch4"> - -<p class="calibre5" id="toc4">CASE IV</p> - -<h2 class="calibre6">THE MAGIC STONE</h2> - -<p class="first"><span class="dropcaps">A</span> NIGHTINGALE began to sing in the limes. Mr. Fortune smiled through -his cigar smoke at the moon and slid lower into his chair. In the -silver light his garden was a wonderland. He could see fairies -dancing on the lawn. The fine odour of the cigar was glorified by the -mingled fragrance of the night, the spicy scent of the lime flowers -borne on a wind which came from the river over meadowsweet and hay. -The music of the nightingale was heard through the soft murmur of the -weir stream.</p> - -<p>The head of the Criminal Investigation Department was arguing that -the case of the Town Clerk of Barchester offered an example of the -abuse of the simple poisons in married life.</p> - -<p>Mr. Reginald Fortune, though his chief adviser, said no word.</p> - -<p>The head of the Criminal Investigation Department came at last to an -end. “That’s the case, then.” He stood up and knocked over his coffee -cup: a tinkling clatter, a profound silence and then only the murmur -of the water. The nightingale was gone. “Well, Fortune?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune sighed and raised himself. “Dear me, Lomas,” he said -sadly, “why don’t you find something to do?”</p> - -<p>The Hon. Sidney Lomas suffered from a sense of wrong and said so. It -was a difficult and complex case and had given him much anxiety and -he wanted Fortune’s advice and——</p> - -<p>“She did him in all right,” said Reggie Fortune succinctly, “and -you’ll never find a jury to hang her. Why don’t you bring me -something interesting?”</p> - -<p>Lomas then complained of him, pointing out that a policeman’s life -was not a happy one, that he did not arrange or even choose the -crimes of his country. “Interesting? Good Gad, do you suppose I am -interested in this female Bluebeard? I know my job’s not interesting. -Work’s work.”</p> - -<p>“And eggs is eggs. You have no soul, Lomas.” Reggie Fortune stood up. -“Come and have a drink.” He led the way from the dim veranda into his -study and switched on the light. “Now that,” he pointed to a pale -purple fluid, “that is a romantic liqueur: it feels just like a ghost -story: I brought it back from the Pyrenees.”</p> - -<p>“Whisky,” said Lomas morosely.</p> - -<p>“My dear chap, are we down-hearted?”</p> - -<p>“You should go to Scotland Yard, Fortune.” Lomas clung to his -grievance. “Perhaps you would find it interesting. What do you think -they brought me this afternoon? Some poor devil had an epileptic fit -in the British Museum.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well”—Reggie Fortune sipped his purple liqueur—“the British -Museum has made me feel queer. But not epileptic. On the contrary. -Sprightly fellow. This is a nice story. Go on Lomas.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all,” Lomas snapped. “Interesting, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Then why Scotland Yard? You’re not an hospital for nervous diseases. -Or are you, Lomas?”</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” said Lomas bitterly. “Why Scotland Yard? Just so. Why? -Because they’ve lost an infernal pebble in the fray. And will I find -it for them please? Most interesting case.”</p> - -<p>Reggie Fortune took another cigar and composed himself for comfort. -“Begin at the beginning,” he advised, “and relate all facts without -passion or recrimination.”</p> - -<p>“There are no facts, confound you. It was in the Ethnological Gallery -of the British Museum—where nobody ever goes. Some fellow did go and -had a fit. He broke one of the glass cases in his convulsions. They -picked him up and he came round. He was very apologetic, left them a -fiver to pay for the glass and an address in New York. He was an -American doing Europe and just off to France with his family. When -they looked over the case afterwards they found one of the stones in -it was gone. The epilept couldn’t have taken it, poor devil. Anybody -who was in the gallery might have pocketed it in the confusion. Most -likely a child. The thing is only a pebble with some paint on it. A -pundit from the Museum came to me with his hair on end and wanted me -to sift London for it. I asked him what it was worth and he couldn’t -tell me. Only an anthropologist would want the thing, he said. It -seems an acquired taste. I haven’t acquired it. I told him this was -my busy day.”</p> - -<p>Reggie Fortune smiled benignly. “But this is art,” he said. “This is -alluring, Lomas. Have you cabled to New York?”</p> - -<p>“Have I——?” Lomas stopped his whisky on the way to his mouth. “No, -Fortune, I have not cabled New York. Nor have I sent for the -military. The British Museum is still without a garrison.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you know, this gentleman with the fit may be a collector.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Lord, no. It was a real fit. No deception. They had a doctor to -him.”</p> - -<p>Reggie Fortune was much affected. “There speaks the great heart of -the people. The doctor always knows! I love your simple faith, Lomas. -It cheers me. But I’m a doctor myself. My dear chap, has no one ever -murmured into the innocence of Scotland Yard that a fit can be faked?”</p> - -<p>“I dare say I am credulous,” said Lomas. “But I draw the line -somewhere. If you ask me to believe that a fellow shammed epilepsy, -cut himself and spent a fiver to pick up a pebble, I draw it there.”</p> - -<p>“That’s the worst of credulity. It’s always sceptical in the wrong -place. What was this pebble like?”</p> - -<p>Lomas reached for a writing-pad and drew the likeness of a fat cigar, -upon which parallel to each other were two zigzag lines. “A greenish -bit of stone, with those marks in red. That’s the Museum man’s -description. If it had been old, which it isn’t, it would have been a -<span class="calibre15">galet coloré</span>. And if it had come from Australia, which it didn’t, -it would have been a chu-chu something——”</p> - -<p>“Churinga.”</p> - -<p>“That’s the word. The pundit from the Museum says it came from -Borneo. They don’t know what the marks mean, but the thing is a sort -of mascot in Borneo: a high-class insurance policy. The fellow who -holds it can’t die. So the simple Bornese don’t part with their -pebbles easily. There isn’t another known in Europe. That’s where it -hurts the Museum pundit. He says it’s priceless. I told him marbles -were selling thirty a penny. Nice round marbles, all colours.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. You have no soul, Lomas.”</p> - -<p>“I dare say. I’m busy.”</p> - -<p>“With toxic spouses!” said Reggie reproachfully. “Green, was it? -Green quartz, I suppose, or perhaps jade with the pattern in oxide of -iron.”</p> - -<p>“And I expect some child has swopped it for a green apple.”</p> - -<p>“Lomas dear,” Mr. Fortune expostulated, “this is romance. Ten -thousand years ago the cave men in France painted these patterns on -stones. And still in Borneo there’s men making them for magic. Big -magic. A charm against death. And some bright lad comes down to -Bloomsbury and throws a fit to steal one. My hat, he’s the heir of -all the ages! I could bear to meet this epilept.”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t,” said Lomas. “I have to meet quite enough of the -weak-minded officially.”</p> - -<p>But Reggie Fortune was deaf to satire. “A magic stone,” he murmured -happily.</p> - -<p>“Oh, take the case by all means,” said Lomas. “I’m glad I’ve brought -you something that really interests you. Let me know when you find -the pebble,” and announcing that he had a day’s work to do on the -morrow, he went with an air of injury to bed.</p> - -<p>It was an enemy (a K.C. after a long and vain cross-examination) who -said that Mr. Fortune has a larger mass of useless knowledge than any -man in England. Mr. Fortune has been heard to explain his eminence in -the application of science to crime by explaining that he knows -nothing thoroughly but a little of everything, thus preserving an -open mind. This may account for his instant conviction that there was -something for him in the matter of the magic stone. Or will you -prefer to believe with Superintendent Bell that he has some singular -faculty for feeling other men’s minds at work, a sort of sixth sense? -This is mystical, and no one is less of a mystic than Reggie Fortune.</p> - -<p>To the extreme discomfort of Lomas he filled the time which their car -took in reaching London with a lecture on the case. He found that -three explanations were possible. The stone might have been stolen by -some one who believed in its magical power, or by some one who -coveted it for a collection, or by some one who meant to sell it to a -collector.</p> - -<p>“Why stop?” Lomas yawned. “It might have been snapped up by a -kleptomaniac or an ostrich or a lunatic. Or perhaps some chap wanted -to crack a nut. Or a winkle. Does one crack winkles?”</p> - -<p>Reggie went on seriously. He thought it unlikely that the thing was -stolen as a charm.</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t lose heart,” said Lomas. “Why not put it down to a brave -from Borneo? The original owner comes over in his war paint to claim -his long lost magic stone. Malay runs amuck in Museum. That would go -well in the papers. Very plausible too. Compare the mysterious -Indians who are always hunting down their temple jewels in novels.”</p> - -<p>“Lomas, you have a futile mind. Of course some fellow might want it -for an amulet. It’s not only savages who believe in charms. How many -men carried a mascot through the war? But your epileptic friend with -the New York address don’t suggest this simple faith. I suspect a -collector.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll believe anything of collectors,” Lomas admitted. “They -collect heads in Borneo, don’t they? I know a fellow who collects -shoes. Scalps or stamps or press-cuttings, it’s all very sad.”</p> - -<p>“I want you to cable to New York and verify this epilept. Which I do -not think. I’m going to look about for him here.”</p> - -<p>“My dear Fortune!” Lomas sat up and put up an eyeglass to examine -him. “Are you well? This is zeal. But what exactly are you looking -for?”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I want to find out,” said Reggie, and having left Lomas -at Scotland Yard made a round of calls.</p> - -<p>It is believed that there is no class or trade, from bargees to -bishops, in which Reggie Fortune has not friends. The first he sought -was a dealer in exotic curiosities. From him, not without diplomatic -suppression of the truth, Mr. Fortune made sure that magic stones -from Borneo were nothing accounted of in the trade, seldom seen and -never sought. It was obvious that the subject did not interest his -dealer, who could not tell where Mr. Fortune would find such a thing. -Old Demetrius Jacob was as likely a man as any.</p> - -<p>“Queer name,” said Mr. Fortune.</p> - -<p>“Queer fish,” he was informed. “Syrian, you know, with a bit of -Greek. A lot of odd small stuff goes his way.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune filed Demetrius Jacob for reference and visited another -friend, a wholesale draper, whose real interest in life was his -collection of objects of savage art. A still more diplomatic economy -of the truth brought out the fact that the draper did not possess a -magic stone of Borneo, and would do and pay a good deal to obtain -one. He was excited by the mere thought. And Reggie Fortune watching -him as he expanded on the theme of magic stones, said to himself: -“Yes, old thing, a collector is the nigger in this wood pile.” The -draper returning to the cold reality mourned that his collection -lacked this treasure, and cheered up again at the thought that nobody -else had it.</p> - -<p>“Nobody?” said Reggie Fortune. “Really?”</p> - -<p>The draper was annoyed. “Well, I know old Tetherdown hasn’t. And he -has the best collection in England. Of course with his money he can -do anything.”</p> - -<p>Reggie Fortune neatly diverting the conversation to harmless -subjects, consulted his encyclopædic memory about old Tetherdown.</p> - -<p>Lord Tetherdown was a little gentleman of middle age, reputed by -connoisseurs to be the shabbiest in London. He inherited great wealth -and used it by living like a hermit and amassing an anthropological -collection. That afternoon saw Reggie Fortune knocking at a little -house in a back street of Mayfair. The door was opened by an old -woman in an overall. Lord Tetherdown was not at home. Reggie Fortune -exhibited great surprise. “Really? But I counted on seeing him. Can -you tell me when he’ll be back?”</p> - -<p>“No, I can’t; he’s away.”</p> - -<p>It appeared to Reggie that she was ill at ease. “Away?” he repeated. -“Oh, that’s absurd. When did he go?”</p> - -<p>“He was off last night.”</p> - -<p>“Really? But didn’t he say when he’d be back?”</p> - -<p>“No, he didn’t, young man.”</p> - -<p>“It’s amazing.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what call you have to be amazed, neither,” she cried.</p> - -<p>“But I counted on seeing him to-day,” Reggie explained. “I had better -come in and write a note.”</p> - -<p>The old woman did not seem to think so, but she let him in and took -him to a little room. Reggie Fortune caught his breath. For the place -was ineffably musty. It was also very full. There was hardly space -for both him and the woman. Cabinets lined the walls; and in the -corners, in between the cabinets, on top, on the mantel and the -window sill were multitudes of queer things. A large and diabolical -mask of red feathers towered above him, and he turned from it to see -a row of glittering little skulls made of rock crystal and lapis -lazuli and carved with hideous realism. On the door hung a cloak made -of many coloured bird skins and a necklace of human teeth with the -green image of a demon as pendant. A golden dragon with crystal eyes -gaped on the sideboard over the whisky decanter.</p> - -<p>Reggie showed no surprise. He slid into a chair by the table and -looked at the old woman. “I don’t know what you want that you can’t -say,” she grumbled, unlocked a desk and put before him one sheet of -paper, one envelope, pen and ink.</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s about a curio,” Reggie smiled upon her.</p> - -<p>“The good Lord knows we’ve enough of them,” she cried. “That’s what -took him away now.”</p> - -<p>Reggie showed no interest and naturally, while he went on writing -that Mr. Fortune was anxious to consult Lord Tetherdown on a matter -of anthropology, she went on talking. He learnt that it was a -gentleman coming about a curio who took Lord Tetherdown away the -night before, and she made it plain that she thought little of -gentlemen who came about curios.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t he say when he would be back?” Reggie asked as he stood up to -go.</p> - -<p>“Not a word, I tell you.”</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s strange.”</p> - -<p>“Strange, is it? It’s plain you don’t know the master, young man. -He’d go to the end of kingdom come for his pretties.”</p> - -<p>“I hope he hasn’t gone as far as that,” said Reggie. He saw as he -turned the corner of the street that she was still looking after him. -“She knows more than she says,” he told himself, “or she’s more -rattled than she’ll let on.” He went to Scotland Yard.</p> - -<p>Lomas was pleased to see him. “And how do you like marbles, Fortune?” -he said genially. “An intellectual game, I’m told. The glass ones are -the trumps now, Bell says. I’m afraid you’re old-fashioned. Stone -isn’t used by the best people.”</p> - -<p>“Breakin’ upon this merry persiflage,” said Reggie, “have you heard -from New York?”</p> - -<p>“New York is silent. Probably stunned by your searching question. But -the American Embassy speaks. Where’s that report, Bell?”</p> - -<p>Superintendent Bell, with an apologetic smile, for he always liked -Mr. Fortune, read out: “James L. Beeton is a well-known and opulent -citizen now travelling in Europe for his health. Present address not -known.”</p> - -<p>“For his health, mark you,” Lomas added.</p> - -<p>“Yes. There is some good intelligence work in this business. But not -at Scotland Yard.”</p> - -<p>“He is very harsh with us, Bell. I fear he has had a bad day. The -marbles ran badly for him. My dear Fortune, I always told you there -was nothing in it.”</p> - -<p>“You did,” said Reggie grimly. “I’ll forgive you, but I won’t promise -to forget. Do you know Lord Tetherdown?”</p> - -<p>“The little rag bag who collects rags and bones? He has been a joke -this ten years.”</p> - -<p>“Lord Tetherdown is a very wealthy man,” said Superintendent Bell -with respect.</p> - -<p>“Yes. He’s gone. Now Lomas, stemming your cheery wit, apply your mind -to this. Yesterday morning a rare specimen was stolen from the -British Museum. Yesterday evening Lord Tetherdown, who collects such -things, who hasn’t got that particular thing and would pay through -the nose to get it, was called on by a man about a curio. Lord -Tetherdown went out and vanished.”</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow!” Lomas put up his eyeglass. “I admire your -imagination. But what is it you want me to believe? That Tetherdown -arranged for this accursed stone to be stolen?”</p> - -<p>“I doubt that,” said Reggie thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“So do I. He’s a meek shy little man. Well then, did the thief try to -sell it to Tetherdown? Why should that make Tetherdown run away?”</p> - -<p>“It might decoy him away.”</p> - -<p>Lomas stared at him, apparently trying to believe that he was real. -“My dear fellow!” he protested. “Oh, my dear fellow! This is -fantastic. Why should anyone suddenly decoy little Tetherdown? He -never made an enemy. He would have nothing on him to steal. It’s an -old joke that he don’t carry the worth of a shilling. He has lived in -that hovel with his two old fogeys of servants for years and -sometimes he goes off mysteriously and the fellows in his club only -notice he has been away when he blows in again.”</p> - -<p>“You’re a born policeman, Lomas,” Reggie sighed. “You’re so -commonplace.”</p> - -<p>“Quite, quite,” said Lomas heartily. “Now tell me. You’ve been to -Tetherdown’s place. Did his servants say they were surprised he had -gone off?”</p> - -<p>“The old dame said he often went off on a sudden,” Reggie admitted, -and Lomas laughed. “Well, what about it? You won’t do anything?”</p> - -<p>“My dear Fortune, I’m only a policeman, as you say. I can’t act -without some reason.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my aunt!” said Reggie. “Reasons! Good night. Sleep sound.”</p> - -<p>In comfortable moments since he has been heard to confess that Lomas -was perfectly right, that there was nothing which the police could -have done, but he is apt to diverge into an argument that policemen -are creatures whose function in the world is to shut the stable door -after the horse is stolen. A pet theory of his.</p> - -<p>He went to the most solemn of his clubs and having soothed his -feelings with muffins, turned up Lord Tetherdown in the peerage. The -house of Tetherdown took little space. John William Bishop Coppett -was the seventh baron, but his ancestors were not distinguished and -the family was dwindling. John William Lord Tetherdown had no male -kin alive but his heir, who was his half-brother, the Hon. George -Bishop Coppett. The Hon. George seemed from his clubs to be a -sportsman. Mr. Fortune meditated.</p> - -<p>On his way home he called upon the Hon. George, whose taste in -dwellings and servants was different from his half-brother’s. Mr. -Coppett had a flat in a vast, new and gorgeous block. His door was -opened by a young man who used a good tailor and was very wide awake. -But Mr. Coppett, like Lord Tetherdown, was not at home. His man, -looking more knowing than ever, did not think it would be of any use -to call again. Oh, no, sir, Mr. Coppett was not out of town: he would -certainly be back that night: but (something like a wink flickered on -the young man’s face) too late to see anyone. If the gentleman would -ring up in the morning—not too early—Reggie Fortune said that it -didn’t much matter.</p> - -<p>He went off to dine with her whom he describes as his friskier -sister: the one who married a bishop. It made him sleep sound.</p> - -<p>Thus the case of the magic stone was left to ferment for some fifteen -hours. For which Mr. Fortune has been heard to blame himself and the -conjugal bliss of bishops.</p> - -<p>Over a devilled sole at breakfast—nature demanded piquant food—his -mind again became active. He rang for his car. Sam, his admirable -chauffeur, was told that he preferred to drive himself, which is -always in him a sign of mental excitement. “Country work, sir?” Sam -asked anxiously, for he holds that only on Salisbury Plain should Mr. -Fortune be allowed to drive. Mr. Fortune shook his head, and Sam -swallowed and they came down upon Oxford Street like the wolf on the -fold. The big car was inserted, a camel into the eye of a needle, -into the alleyway where Lord Tetherdown’s house lurks.</p> - -<p>Again the old woman in the overall was brought to the door. She -recognized Reggie Fortune and liked him less than ever. “There’s no -answer,” she cried. “The master’s not back.”</p> - -<p>“Really?”</p> - -<p>“You heard what I said.”</p> - -<p>“He’s not let you know when he’s coming back?”</p> - -<p>“No, he hasn’t, nor I’ve no call to tell you if he had. You and your -curios!” The door slammed.</p> - -<p>Reggie went back to his car. When it stopped again in a shabby street -by Covent Garden, Sam allowed himself to cough, his one protest from -first to last: a devoted fellow. Reggie Fortune surveyed the shop of -Demetrius Jacob, which displayed in its dirty window shelves sparsely -covered with bad imitations of old pewter. Reggie frowned at it, -looked at the name again and went in. The place was like a lumber -room. He saw nothing but damaged furniture which had never been good -and little of that until he found out that the dusty thing on which -he was standing was an exquisite Chinese carpet. Nobody was in the -shop, nobody came, though the opening door had rung a bell. He made -it ring again and still had to wait. Then there swept through the -place a woman, a big woman and handsome in her dark oriental way. She -did not see Reggie, she was too hurried or too angry, if her flush -and her frown were anger. She banged the door and was gone.</p> - -<p>Reggie rapped on a rickety desk. After a moment an old man shuffled -into the shop, made something like a salaam and said: “You want, -Yes?” Not so old after all, Reggie decided on a second glance. He -shuffled because his slippers were falling off, he was bent because -he cringed, his yellow face was keen and healthy and his eyes bright -under black brows, but certainly a queer figure in that tight frock -coat which came nearly to his heels, and his stiff green skull cap.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Jacob?” Reggie said.</p> - -<p>“I am Demetrius Jacob,” he pronounced it in the Greek way.</p> - -<p>“Well, I am interested in savage religions and cults you know, and -I’m told you are the man for me.” Mr. Jacob again made salaam. “What -I’m after just now is charms and amulets.” He paused and suddenly -rapped out: “Have you got anything from Borneo?”</p> - -<p>Demetrius Jacob showed no surprise or any other emotion. “Borneo? Oh, -yes, I t’ink,” he smiled. “Beautiful t’ings.” He shuffled to a -cupboard and brought out a tray which contained two skulls and a -necklace of human teeth.</p> - -<p>Reggie Fortune was supercilious. He demanded amulets, stone amulets -and in particular a stone amulet like a cigar with zigzag painting.</p> - -<p>Demetrius Jacob shook his head. “I not ’ave ’im,” he said sadly. “Not -from Borneo. I ’ave beautiful <span class="calibre15">galets colorés</span> from France, yes, and -Russia. But not the east. I never see ’im from the east but in the -Museum.”</p> - -<p>Reggie Fortune went away thinking that it took a clever fellow to be -as guileless as that.</p> - -<p>The car plunged through Piccadilly again to the flat of the Hon. -George Coppett. Mr. Coppett’s man received him with a smile which was -almost a leer. “I’ll see, sir,” he took Reggie’s card. “I’m afraid -Mr. Coppett’s partic’larly busy.” As Reggie was ushered in he heard a -bell ring and a woman’s voice high and angry, “Oh, yes, I will go. -But I do not believe you, not one word.” A door was flung open and -across the hall swept the big woman of Demetrius Jacob’s shop. Reggie -looked into the crown of his hat. She stopped short and stared hard -at him. Either she did not recognize him or did not care who he was. -She hurried on and the door banged behind her.</p> - -<p>The Hon. George Coppett was a little man who walked like a bird. -“Damn it, damn it,” he piped, jumping about, “what the devil are you -at, Brown?” He stared at Mr. Fortune, and Brown gave him Mr. -Fortune’s card. “Hallo, don’t know you, do I? I’m in the devil of a -hurry.”</p> - -<p>“I think you had better see me, Mr. Coppett,” said Reggie. Mr. -Coppett swore again and bade him come in.</p> - -<p>Mr. Coppett gave himself some whisky. “I say, women are the devil,” -he said as he wiped his mouth. “Have one?” he nodded to the decanter. -“No? Well, what’s your trouble, Mr.—Mr. Fortune?”</p> - -<p>“I am anxious to have some news of Lord Tetherdown.”</p> - -<p>“Well, why don’t you ask him?” Mr. Coppett laughed.</p> - -<p>“He’s not to be found.”</p> - -<p>“What, gone off again, has he? Lord, he’s always at it. My dear chap, -he’s simply potty about his curios. I don’t know the first thing -about them, but it beats me how a fellow can fall for that old junk. -One of the best and all that don’t you know, but it’s a mania with -him. He’s always running off after some queer bit of tripe.”</p> - -<p>“When do you expect him back?”</p> - -<p>“Search me,” Mr. Coppett laughed. “My dear chap, he don’t tell me his -little game. Old Martha might know.”</p> - -<p>“She doesn’t.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Coppett laughed again. “He always was a close old thing. He just -pushes off, don’t you know, on any old scent. And after a bit he -blows in again.”</p> - -<p>“Then—you don’t know—when you’ll see him again?” Reggie said slowly.</p> - -<p>“Give you my word I don’t,” Mr. Coppett cried. “Sorry, sorry.”</p> - -<p>“So am I,” said Reggie. “Good morning, Mr. Coppett.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Coppett did not try to keep him. But he was hardly beyond the -outer door of the flat when he heard Mr. Coppett say, “Hallo, hallo!” -He turned. The door was still shut. Mr. Coppett was using the -telephone. He heard “Millfield, double three” something and could not -hear anything more. Millfield, as you know, is a quiet middle-class -suburb. Mr. Fortune went down stairs pensively.</p> - -<p>Pensive he was still when he entered Scotland Yard and sought Lomas’s -room. “Well, how goes the quest for the holy stone?” Lomas put up his -eyeglass. “My dear Fortune, you’re the knight of the rueful -countenance.”</p> - -<p>“You’re confused, Lomas. Don’t do it,” Reggie complained. “You’re not -subtle at Scotland Yard, but hang it, you might be clear.”</p> - -<p>“What can we do for you?”</p> - -<p>“One of your largest cigars,” Reggie mumbled and took it. “Yes. What -can you do? I wonder.” He looked at Lomas with a baleful eye. “Who -lives at Millfield? Speaking more precisely who lives at Millfield -double three something?” Lomas suggested that it was a large order. -“It is,” Reggie agreed gloomily, “it’s a nasty large order.” And he -described his morning’s work. “There you are. The further you go the -queerer.”</p> - -<p>“Quite, quite,” Lomas nodded. “But what’s your theory, Fortune?”</p> - -<p>“The workin’ hypothesis is that there’s dirty work doin’ when a magic -stone gets stolen and the man who wants the magic stone vanishes on -the same day: which is confirmed when a female connected with a chap -who knows all about magic stones is found colloguin’ with the -vanished man’s heir: and further supported when that heir being -rattled runs to telephone to the chaste shades of Millfield—the last -place for a sporting blood like him to keep his pals. I ask you, who -lives at Millfield double three something?”</p> - -<p>Lomas shifted his papers. “George Coppett stands to gain by -Tetherdown’s death, of course,” he said. “And the only man so far as -we know. But he’s not badly off, he’s well known, there’s never been -anything against him. Why should he suddenly plan to do away with his -brother? All your story might be explained in a dozen ways. There’s -not an ounce of evidence, Fortune.”</p> - -<p>“You like your evidence after the murder. I know that. My God, Lomas, -I’m afraid.”</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow!” Lomas was startled. “This isn’t like you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, many thanks. I don’t like men dying, that’s all. Professional -prejudice. I’m a doctor, you see. What the devil are we talking for? -Who lives at Millfield double three something?”</p> - -<p>“We might get at it,” Lomas said doubtfully and rang for -Superintendent Bell. “But it’s a needle in a bundle of hay. And if -Tetherdown was to be murdered, it’s done by now.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s comforting,” said Mr. Fortune.</p> - -<p>Superintendent Bell brought a list of the subscribers to the -Millfield exchange and they looked over the names of those in the -thirty-fourth hundred. Most were shopkeepers and ruled out. “George -Coppett don’t buy his fish in Millfield,” said Reggie Fortune. Over -the doctors he hesitated.</p> - -<p>“You think it’s some fellow in your own trade?” Lomas smiled. “Well, -there’s nothing like leather.”</p> - -<p>“Brownrigg,” Reggie Fortune muttered. “I know him. 3358 Dr. Jerdan, -The Ferns, Chatham Park Road. Where’s a medical directory? 3358 Dr. -Jerdan is not in the medical directory. Ring up the divisional -inspector and ask him what he knows about Dr. Jerdan.”</p> - -<p>There was nothing, Superintendent Bell announced, known against Dr. -Jerdan. He had been at the Ferns some time. He didn’t practise. He -was said to take in private patients.</p> - -<p>“Come on,” said Reggie Fortune, and took the Superintendent’s arm.</p> - -<p>“My dear Fortune,” Lomas protested. “This is a bow at a venture. We -can’t act, you know. Bell can’t appear.”</p> - -<p>“Bell’s coming to be a policeman and appear when it’s all over. I’m -going in to Dr. Jerdan who isn’t on the register. And I don’t like -it, Lomas. Bell shall stay outside. And if I don’t come out -again—well, then you’ll have evidence, Lomas.”</p> - -<p>Neither Reggie Fortune nor his chauffeur knew the way about in -Millfield. They sat together and Mr. Fortune with a map of London -exhorted Sam at the wheel and behind them Superintendent Bell held -tight and thought of his sins.</p> - -<p>The car came by many streets of little drab houses to a road in which -the houses were large and detached, houses which had been rural -villas when Victoria was queen. “Now go easy,” Reggie Fortune said. -“Chatham Park Road, Bell. Quiet and respectable as the silent tomb. -My God, look at that! Stop, Sam.”</p> - -<p>What startled him was a hospital nurse on a doorstep.</p> - -<p>“Who is she, sir?” Bell asked.</p> - -<p>“She’s Demetrius Jacob’s friend and George Coppett’s friend—and now -she’s Dr. Jerdan’s friend and in nurse’s rig. Keep the car back here. -Don’t frighten them.”</p> - -<p>He jumped out and hurried on to the Ferns. “I don’t like it, young -fellow, and that’s a fact,” said Bell, and Sam nodded.</p> - -<p>The woman had been let in. Mr. Fortune stood a moment surveying the -house which was as closely curtained as all the rest and like them -stood back with a curving drive to the door. He rang the bell, had no -answer, rang again, knocked and knocked more loudly. It sounded -thunderous in the heavy quiet of the Chatham Park Road.</p> - -<p>At last the door was opened by a man, a lanky powerful fellow who -scowled at Mr. Fortune and said, “We ain’t deaf.”</p> - -<p>“I have been kept waiting,” said Reggie. “Dr. Jerdan, please.”</p> - -<p>“Not at home.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I think so. Dr. Jerdan will see me.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t see anyone but by appointment.”</p> - -<p>“Dr. Jerdan will see me. Go and tell him so.” The door was shut in -his face. After a moment or two he began knocking again. It was made -plain to all the Chatham Park Road that something was happening at -the Ferns and here and there a curtain fluttered.</p> - -<p>Superintendent Bell got out of the car. “You stay here, son,” he -said. “Don’t stop the engine.”</p> - -<p>But before he reached the house, the door was opened and Reggie -Fortune saw a sleek man who smiled with all his teeth. “So sorry you -have been waiting,” he purred. “I am Dr. Jerdan’s secretary. What can -I do for you?”</p> - -<p>“Dr. Jerdan will see me.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, I’m afraid not. Dr. Jerdan’s not at home.”</p> - -<p>“Why say so?” said Reggie wearily. “Dr. Jerdan, please.”</p> - -<p>“You had better tell me your business, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Haven’t you guessed? Lord Tetherdown.”</p> - -<p>“Lord who?” said the sleek man without a check. “I don’t know -anything about Lord Tetherdown.”</p> - -<p>“But then you’re only Dr. Jerdan’s secretary,” Reggie murmured.</p> - -<p>Something of respect was to be seen in the pale eyes that studied -him, and, after a long stare, “I’ll see what I can do. Come in, sir. -What’s your name?” He thrust his head forward like an animal -snapping, but still he smiled.</p> - -<p>“Fortune. Reginald Fortune.”</p> - -<p>“This way.” The sleek man led him down a bare hall and showed him -into a room at the back. “Do sit down, Mr. Fortune. But I’m afraid -you won’t see Dr. Jerdan.” He slid out. Reggie heard the key turn in -the lock. He glanced at the window. That was barred.</p> - -<p>“Quite so,” said Reggie. “Now how long will Bell wait?”</p> - -<p>He took his stand so that he would be behind the door if it were -opened, and listened. There was a scurry of feet and some other -sound. The feet fell silent, the other sound became a steady tapping. -“Good God, are they nailing him down?” he muttered, took up a chair -and dashed it at the lock again and again. As he broke out he heard -the beat of a motor engine.</p> - -<p>Superintendent Bell drawing near saw a car with two men up come out -of the coach-house of the Ferns. He ran into the road and stood in -its way. It drove straight at him, gathering speed. He made a jump -for the footboard, and being a heavy man missed. The car shot by.</p> - -<p>The respectability of Chatham Park Road then heard such a stream of -swearing as never had flowed that way. For Sam has a mother’s love of -his best car. But he was heroic. He swung its long body out across -the road, swearing, but nevertheless. The fugitives from the Ferns -took a chance which was no chance. Their car mounted the pavement, -hit a gate-post and crashed.</p> - -<p>Superintendent Bell arrived to find Sam backing his own car to the -kerb while he looked complacently at its shining sides. “Not a -scratch, praise God,” he said.</p> - -<p>Superintendent Bell pulled up. “You’re a wonder, you are,” he said, -and gazed at the ruins. The smashed car was on its side in a jumble -of twisted iron and bricks. The driver was underneath. They could not -move him. There were reasons why that did not matter to him. “He’s -got his,” said Sam. “Where’s the other? There were two of them.”</p> - -<p>The other lay half hidden in a laurel hedge. He had been flung out, -he had broken the railings with his head, he had broken the stone -below, but his head was a gruesome shape.</p> - -<p>In the hall of the Ferns Reggie Fortune stood still to listen. That -muffled tapping was the only sound in the house. It came from below. -He went down dark stairs into the kitchen. No one was there. The -sound came from behind a doorway in the corner. He flung it open and -looked down into the blackness of a cellar. He struck a light and saw -a bundle lying on the ground, a bundle from which stuck out two feet -that tapped at the cellar steps. He brought it up to the kitchen. It -was a woman with her head and body in a sack. When he had cut her -loose he saw the dark face of the woman of the shop and the flat. She -sprang at him and grasped his arms.</p> - -<p>“Who are you?” she cried. “Where is Lord Tetherdown?”</p> - -<p>“My name is Fortune, madame. And yours?”</p> - -<p>“I am Melitta Jacob. What is that to you? Where have you put Lord -Tetherdown?”</p> - -<p>“I am looking for him.”</p> - -<p>“You! Is he not here? Oh, you shall pay for it, you and those others.”</p> - -<p>But Reggie was already running upstairs. One room and another he -tried in vain and at last at the top of the house found a locked -door. The key was in the lock. Inside on a pallet bed, but clothed, -lay a little man with some days’ beard. The woman thrust Reggie away -and flung herself down by the bedside and gathered the man to her -bosom moaning over him. “My lord, my lord.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my aunt!” said Reggie Fortune. “Now, Miss Jacob, please,” he put -his hand on her shoulder.</p> - -<p>“He is mine,” she said fiercely.</p> - -<p>“Well, just now he’s mine. I’m a doctor.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, is he not dead?” she cried.</p> - -<p>“Not exactly,” said Reggie Fortune. “Not yet.” He took the body from -quivering arms.</p> - -<p>“What is it, then?”</p> - -<p>“He is drugged, and I should say starved. If you——” a heavy -footstep drew near. She sprang up ready for battle, and in the -doorway fell upon Superintendent Bell.</p> - -<p>“Easy, easy,” he received her on his large chest and made sure of her -wrists. “Mr. Fortune—just got in by the window—what about this?”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right,” Reggie mumbled from the bed. “Send me Sam.”</p> - -<p>“Coming, sir.” Sam ran in. “Those fellows didn’t do a getaway. -They’re outed. Car smash. Both killed. Some smash.”</p> - -<p>“Brandy, meat juice, ammonia,” murmured Mr. Fortune, who was writing, -“and that. Hurry.”</p> - -<p>“Beg pardon, ma’am,” Bell detached himself from Melitta Jacob. He -took off his hat and tiptoed to the bed. “Have they done for him, -sir,” he muttered.</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune was again busy over the senseless body. One of its hands -was clenched. He opened the fingers gently, and drew out a greenish -lump painted with a zigzag pattern in red. “The magic stone,” he -said. “A charm against death. Well, well.”</p> - -<p style="margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em; text-align:center">* * * * * * </p> - -<p>On his lawn which slopes to the weir stream Reggie Fortune lay in a -deck chair, and a syringa, waxen white, shed its fragrance about him. -He opened his eyes to see the jaunty form of the Hon. Sidney Lomas -tripping towards him. “Stout fellow,” he murmured. “That’s cider cup. -There was ice in it once,” and he shut his eyes again.</p> - -<p>“I infer that the patient is out of your hands.”</p> - -<p>“They’re going for their honeymoon to Nigeria.”</p> - -<p>“Good Gad,” said Lomas.</p> - -<p>“Collecting, you see. The objects of art of the noble savage. She’s -rather a dear.”</p> - -<p>“I should have thought he’d done enough collecting. Does he -understand yet what happened?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he’s quite lucid. Seems to think it’s all very natural.”</p> - -<p>“Does he though?”</p> - -<p>“Only he’s rather annoyed with brother George. He thinks brother -George had no right to object to his marrying. That’s what started -it, you see. Brother George came round to borrow his usual hundred or -so and found him with the magnificent Melitta. It occurred to brother -George that if Tetherdown was going to marry, something had to be -done about it. And then I suppose brother George consulted the late -Jerdan.” Mr. Fortune opened his eyes, and raised himself. “By the -way, who was Jerdan? I saw you hushed up the inquest as a motor -smash.”</p> - -<p>“Bell thinks he was the doctor who bolted out of the Antony case.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, ah. Yes, there was some brains in that. I rather thought the -late Jerdan had experience. I wonder what happened to his private -patients at the Ferns. Creepy house. I say, was it Jerdan or his man -who threw the fit at the Museum?”</p> - -<p>“Jerdan himself, by the description.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Useful thing, medical training. Well, Jerdan saw he could get -at Tetherdown through his hobby. He came with tales of -anthropological treasures for sale. The old boy didn’t bite at first. -Jerdan couldn’t hit on anything he wanted. But he found out at last -what he did want. Hence the fit in the Museum. That night Jerdan -turned up with the Borneo stone and told Tetherdown a friend of his -had some more of the kind. Tetherdown fell for that. He went off to -the Ferns with Jerdan. The last thing he remembers is sitting down in -the back room to look at the stone. They chloroformed him, I think, -there was lots of stuff in the place. Then they kept him under -morphia and starved him. I suppose the notion was to dump his dead -body somewhere so that the fact of his death could be established and -George inherit. There could be no clear evidence of murder. -Tetherdown is eccentric. It would look as if he had gone off his head -and wandered about till he died of exhaustion. That was the late -Jerdan’s idea. Melitta always thought George was a bad egg. He didn’t -like her, you see, and he showed it. When Tetherdown vanished she -went off to George one time. He laughed at her, which was his error. -She put on that nurse’s rig for a disguise and watched his rooms. -When I rattled him and he rang up Jerdan, Jerdan came to the flat and -she followed him back to the Ferns and asked for Tetherdown. Jolly -awkward for Jerdan with me knocking at the door. He was crude with -her, but I don’t know that I blame him. An able fellow. Pity, pity. -Yes. What happened to brother George?”</p> - -<p>“Bolted. We haven’t a trace of him. Which is just as well, for -there’s no evidence. Jerdan left no papers. George could have laughed -at us if he had the nerve.”</p> - -<p>Reggie Fortune chuckled. “I never liked George. I rang him up that -night: ‘Mr. George Coppett? The Ferns speaking. It’s all out’ and I -rang off. I thought George would quit. George will be worrying quite -a lot. So that’s that.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you have your uses, Fortune,” said Lomas. “I’ve noticed it -before.”</p> - -<p>Reggie Fortune fumbled in his pocket and drew out the magic stone. -“Tetherdown said he would like me to have it. Cut him to the heart to -give it up, poor old boy. Told me it saved his life.” He smiled. “I -don’t care for its methods, myself. Better put it back in a glass -case, Lomas.”</p> - -<p>“What did Melitta give you?”</p> - -<p>“Melitta is rather a dear,” said Mr. Fortune.</p> - -<hr id="Ch5"> - -<p class="calibre5" id="toc5">CASE V</p> - -<h2 class="calibre6">THE SNOWBALL BURGLARY</h2> - -<p class="first"><span class="dropcaps">A</span> TELEGRAM was brought to Mr. Fortune. It announced that the woman -whom his ingenuity convicted of the Winstanton murder had confessed -it in prison just after the Home Secretary decided not to hang her. -Mr. Fortune sighed satisfaction and took his hostess in to dinner.</p> - -<p>He was staying in a Devonshire country house for mental repairs. This -is not much like him, for save on visits of duty country houses -seldom receive him. The conversation of the county, he complains, is -too great a strain upon his intellect. Also, he has no interest in -killing creatures, except professionally. But the output of crime had -been large that winter and the task of keeping Scotland Yard -straight, laborious; and he sought relief with Colonel Beach at -Cranston Regis. For Tom Beach, once in the first flight of hunting -men, having married a young wife, put central heat and electric light -into a remote Tudor manor house, and retired there to grow iris and -poultry. Neither poultry nor young wives allured Reggie Fortune, but -gardens he loves, and his own iris were not satisfying him.</p> - -<p>So he sat by Alice Beach at her table, and while her talk flowed on -like the brook in the poem, while he wondered why men marry, since -their bachelor dinners are better eating, surveyed with mild eyes her -and her guests. Tom Beach had probably been unable to help marrying -her, she was so pink and white and round, her eyes so shy and -innocent. She was one of those women who make it instantly clear to -men that they exist to be married, and Tom Beach has always done his -duty. “But she’s not such a fool as she looks,” Reggie had pronounced.</p> - -<p>With pity if not sympathy he glanced down the table at Tom Beach, -that large, red, honest man who sat doing his best between dignity -and impudence, dignity in the awful person of Mrs. Faulks and the -mighty pretty impudence of his wife’s sister, Sally Winslow. Mrs. -Faulks has been described as one who could never be caught bending, -or a model of the art of the corset. She is spare, she is straight; -and few have seen her exhibit interest in anything but other people’s -incomes, which she always distrusts. A correct woman, but for a habit -of wearing too many jewels.</p> - -<p>What she was doing in Tom Beach’s genial house was plain enough. Her -son had brought her to inspect Sally Winslow, as a man brings a vet -to the horse he fancies. But it was not plain why Alexander Faulks -fancied Sally Winslow. Imagine a bulldog after a butterfly. But -bulldogs have a sense of humour. Sally Winslow is a wisp of a -creature who has no respect for anyone, even herself. Under her -bright bobbed hair, indeed, is the daintiest colour; but when some -fellow said she had the face of a fairy, a woman suggested the face -of a fairy’s maid. She listened to Alexander’s heavy talk and watched -him in a fearful fascination, but sometimes she shot a glance across -the table where a little man with a curly head and a roguish eye was -eating his dinner demurely. His worst enemies never said that Captain -Bunny Cosdon’s manners were bad.</p> - -<p>Now you know them all. When they made up a four for bridge, upon -which Mrs. Faulks always insists, it was inevitable that Reggie -Fortune should stand out, for his simple mind declines to grasp the -principles of cards. Alexander Faulks in his masterful way directed -Sally to the table; and scared, but submissive, she sat down and -giggled nervously. Reggie found himself left to his hostess and -Captain Cosdon. They seemed determined to entertain him and he sighed -and listened.</p> - -<p>So he says. He is emphatic that he did not go to sleep. But the study -of the events of that evening which afterwards became necessary, -makes it clear that a long time passed before Alice Beach was saying -the first thing that he remembers. “Did you ever know a perfect -crime, Mr. Fortune?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune then sat up, as he records, and took notice.</p> - -<p>Captain Cosdon burst out laughing, and departed, humming a stave of -“Meet me to-night in Dreamland.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune gazed at his hostess. He had not supposed that she could -say anything so sensible. “Most crimes are perfect,” he said.</p> - -<p>“But how horrible! I should hate to be murdered and know there wasn’t -a clue who did it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, there’ll be a clue all right,” Reggie assured her.</p> - -<p>“Are you sure? And will you promise to catch my murderer, Mr. -Fortune?”</p> - -<p>“Well, you know,” he considered her round amiable face, “if you were -murdered it would be a case of art for art’s sake. That’s very rare. -I was speakin’ scientifically. A perfect crime is a complete series -of cause and effect. Where you have that, there’s always a clue, -there is always evidence, and when you get to work on it the unknown -quantities come out. Yes. Most crimes are perfect. But you must allow -for chance. Sometimes the criminal is an idiot. That’s a nuisance. -Sometimes he has a streak of luck and the crime is damaged before we -find it, something has been washed out, a bit of it has been lost. -It’s the imperfect crimes that give trouble.”</p> - -<p>“But how fascinating!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Lord, no,” said Mr. Fortune.</p> - -<p>The bridge-players were getting up. Sally Winslow was announcing that -she had lost all but honour. Mrs. Faulks wore a ruthless smile. Sally -went off to bed.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mrs. Faulks,” her sister cried, “do come! Mr. Fortune is -lecturing on crime.”</p> - -<p>“Really. How very interesting,” said Mrs. Faulks, and transfixed -Reggie with an icy stare.</p> - -<p>“The perfect criminal in one lesson,” Alice Beach laughed. “I feel a -frightful character already. All you want is luck, you know. Or else -Mr. Fortune catches you every time.”</p> - -<p>“I say, you know, Alice,” her husband protested.</p> - -<p>A scream rang out. Alice stopped laughing. The little company looked -at each other. “Where was that?” Tom Beach muttered.</p> - -<p>“Not in the house, Colonel,” Faulks said. “Certainly not in the -house.”</p> - -<p>Tom Beach was making for the window when all the lights went out.</p> - -<p>Alice gave a cry. The shrill voice of Mrs. Faulks arose to say, -“Really!” Colonel Beach could be heard swearing. “Don’t let us get -excited,” said Faulks. Reggie Fortune struck a match.</p> - -<p>“Excited be damned,” said Tom Beach, and rang the bell.</p> - -<p>Reggie Fortune, holding his match aloft, made for the door and opened -it. The hall was dark, too.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Lord, it’s the main fuse blown out!” Tom Beach groaned.</p> - -<p>“Or something has happened in your little power station,” said Reggie -Fortune cheerfully, and his host snorted. For the electricity at -Cranston Regis comes from turbines on the stream which used to fill -the Tudor fish-ponds, and Colonel Beach loves his machinery like a -mother.</p> - -<p>He shouted to the butler to bring candles, and out of the dark the -voice of the butler was heard apologizing. He roared to the -chauffeur, who was his engineer, to put in a new fuse. “It’s not the -fuse, Colonel,” came a startled voice, “there’s no juice.”</p> - -<p>Colonel Beach swore the more. “Run down to the powerhouse, confound -you. Where the devil are those candles?”</p> - -<p>The butler was very sorry, sir, the butler was coming, sir.</p> - -<p>“Really!” said Mrs. Faulks in the dark, for Reggie had grown tired of -striking matches. “Most inconvenient.” So in the dark they waited. . .</p> - -<p>And again they heard a scream. It was certainly in the house this -time, it came from upstairs, it was in the voice of Sally Winslow. -Reggie Fortune felt some one bump against him, and knew by the weight -it was Faulks. Reggie struck another match, and saw him vanish into -the darkness above as he called, “Miss Winslow, Miss Winslow!”</p> - -<p>There was the sound of a scuffle and a thud. Colonel Beach stormed -upstairs. A placid voice spoke out of the dark at Reggie’s ear, “I -say, what’s up with the jolly old house?” The butler arrived -quivering with a candle in each hand and a bodyguard of -candle-bearing satellites, and showed him the smiling face of Captain -Cosdon.</p> - -<p>From above Colonel Beach roared for lights. “The C.O. sounds peeved,” -said Captain Cosdon. “Someone’s for it, what?”</p> - -<p>They took the butler’s candles and ran up, discovering with the light -Mr. Faulks holding his face together. “Hallo, hallo! Dirty work at -the crossroads, what? Why—— Sally! Good God!”</p> - -<p>On the floor of the passage Sally Winslow lay like a child asleep, -one frail bare arm flung up above her head.</p> - -<p>“Look at that. Fortune,” Tom Beach cried. “Damned scoundrels!”</p> - -<p>“Hold the candle,” said Reggie Fortune; but as he knelt beside her -the electric light came on again.</p> - -<p>“Great Jimmy!” Captain Cosdon exclaimed. “Who did that?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t play the fool, Bunny,” Tom Beach growled. “What have they done -to her, Fortune?”</p> - -<p>Reggie’s plump, capable hands were moving upon the girl delicately. -“Knocked her out,” he said, and stared down at her, and rubbed his -chin.</p> - -<p>“Who? What? How?” Cosdon cried. “Hallo, Faulks, what’s your trouble? -Who hit you?”</p> - -<p>“How on earth should I know,” Faulks mumbled, still feeling his face -as he peered at the girl. “When Miss Winslow screamed, I ran up. It -was dark, of course. Some men caught hold of me. I struck out and -they set on me. I was knocked down. I wish you would look at my eye, -Fortune.”</p> - -<p>Reggie was looking at Sally, whose face had begun to twitch.</p> - -<p>“Your eye will be a merry colour to-morrow,” Cosdon assured him. “But -who hit Sally?”</p> - -<p>“It was the fellows who set upon me, I suppose, of course; they were -attacking her when I rescued her.”</p> - -<p>“Stout fellow,” said Cosdon. “How many were there?”</p> - -<p>“Quite a number. Quite. How can I possibly tell? It was dark. Quite a -number.”</p> - -<p>Sally tried to sneeze and failed, opened her eyes and murmured, “The -light, the light.” She saw the men about her and began to laugh -hysterically.</p> - -<p>“Good God, the scoundrels may be in the house still,” cried Tom -Beach. “Come on, Cosdon.”</p> - -<p>“I should say so,” said Captain Cosdon, but he lingered over Sally. -“All right now?” he asked anxiously.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Bunny,” she choked in her laughter. “Yes, yes, I’m all right. -Oh, Mr. Fortune, what is it? Oh, poor Mr. Faulks, what has happened?”</p> - -<p>“Just so,” said Reggie. He picked her up and walked off with her to -her bedroom.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you are strong,” she said, not coquetting, but in honest -surprise, like a child.</p> - -<p>Reggie laughed. “There’s nothing of you,” and he laid her down on her -bed. “Well, what about it?”</p> - -<p>“I feel all muzzy.”</p> - -<p>“That’ll pass off,” said Reggie cheerfully. “Do you know what hit -you?”</p> - -<p>“No. Isn’t it horrid? It was all dark, you know. There’s no end of a -bruise,” she felt behind her ear and made a face.</p> - -<p>“I know, I know,” Reggie murmured sympathetically. “And how did it -all begin?”</p> - -<p>“Why, I came up to bed, Mr. Fortune—heavens, there may be a man in -here now!” she raised herself.</p> - -<p>“Yes, we’d better clear that up,” said Reggie, and looked under the -bed and opened the wardrobe and thrust into her dresses and turned -back to her. “No luck, Miss Winslow.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, thank goodness,” she sank down again. “You see, I came up and -put the light on, of course, and there was a man at the window there. -Then I screamed.”</p> - -<p>“The first scream,” Reggie murmured.</p> - -<p>“And then the lights went out. I ran away and tumbled over that chair -and then out into the passage. I kept bumping into things and it was -horrid. And then—oh, somebody caught hold of me and I screamed——”</p> - -<p>“The second scream,” Reggie murmured.</p> - -<p>“I was sort of flung about. There were men there fighting in the -dark. Horrid. Hitting all round me, you know. And then—oh, well, I -suppose I stopped one, didn’t I?”</p> - -<p>There was a tap at the door. “May I come in, doctor?” said Alice -Beach.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Alice, have they caught anyone?”</p> - -<p>“Not a creature. Isn’t it awful? Oh, Sally, you poor darling,” her -sister embraced her. “What a shame! Is it bad?”</p> - -<p>“I’m all muddled. And jolly sore.”</p> - -<p>“My dear! It is too bad it should be you. Oh, Mr. Fortune, what did -happen?”</p> - -<p>“Some fellow knocked her out. She’ll be all right in the morning. But -keep her quiet and get her off to sleep.” He went to the window. It -was open and the curtains blowing in the wind. He looked out. A -ladder stood against the wall. “And that’s that. Yes. Put her to bed, -Mrs. Beach.”</p> - -<p>Outside in the passage he found Captain Cosdon waiting. “I say, -Fortune, is she much hurt?”</p> - -<p>“She’s taken a good hard knock. She’s not made for it. But she’ll be -all right.”</p> - -<p>“Sally! Oh damn,” said Cosdon.</p> - -<p>“Did you catch anybody?”</p> - -<p>“Napoo. All clear. The Colonel’s going round to see if they got away -with anything. And Faulks wants you to look at his poor eye.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing of yours gone?”</p> - -<p>Cosdon laughed. “No. But I’m not exactly the burglar’s friend, don’t -you know? My family jewels wouldn’t please the haughty crook. I say, -it’s a queer stunt. Ever been in one like it?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think it went according to plan,” said Reggie Fortune.</p> - -<p>He came down and found Faulks with an eye dwindling behind a bruise -of many colours, arguing with an agitated butler that the house must -contain arnica. Before he could give the attention which Mr. Faulks -imperiously demanded, the parade voice of the Colonel rang through -the house. “Fortune, come up here!”</p> - -<p>Tom Beach stood in the study where he writes the biographies of his -poultry and his iris. There also are kept the cups, medals and other -silver with which shows reward their beauty. “Look at that!” he -cried, with a tragic gesture. The black pedestals of the cups, the -velvet cases of the medals stood empty.</p> - -<p>“Great Jimmy!” said Captain Cosdon in awe.</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s very thorough,” said Reggie. “And the next thing, -please.”</p> - -<p>Colonel Beach said it was a damned outrage. He also supposed that the -fellows had stripped the whole place. And he bounced out.</p> - -<p>Reggie went to his own room. He had nothing which could be stolen but -his brushes, and they were not gone. He looked out of the window. In -the cold March moonlight he saw two men moving hither and thither, -and recognized one for his chauffeur and factotum Sam, and shouted.</p> - -<p>“Nothing doing, sir,” Sam called back. “Clean getaway.”</p> - -<p>Reggie went downstairs to the smoking-room. He was stretched in a -chair consuming soda-water and a large cigar when there broke upon -him in a wave of chattering Tom Beach and Alice and Captain Cosdon.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Fortune, is this a perfect crime?” Alice laughed.</p> - -<p>Reggie shook his head. “I’m afraid it had an accident in its youth. -The crime that took the wrong turning.”</p> - -<p>“How do you mean, Fortune?” Tom Beach frowned. “It’s deuced awkward.”</p> - -<p>“Awkward is the word,” Reggie agreed. “What’s gone, Colonel?”</p> - -<p>“Well, there’s my pots, you know. And Alice has lost a set of cameos -she had in her dressing-room.”</p> - -<p>“Pigs!” said Alice with conviction.</p> - -<p>“And Mrs. Faulks says they’ve taken that big ruby brooch she was -wearing before dinner. You know it.”</p> - -<p>“It’s one of the things I could bear not to know,” Reggie murmured. -“Nothing else?”</p> - -<p>“She says she doesn’t know, she’s too upset to be sure. I say, -Fortune, this is a jolly business for me.”</p> - -<p>“My dear chap!”</p> - -<p>“She’s gone to bed fuming. Faulks is in a sweet state too.”</p> - -<p>“What’s he lost?”</p> - -<p>“Only his eye,” Cosdon chuckled.</p> - -<p>“That’s the lot, then? Nice little bag, but rather on the small side. -Yes, it didn’t go according to plan.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Fortune, what are you going to do?”</p> - -<p>“Do?” said Reggie reproachfully. “I? Where’s the nearest policeman?”</p> - -<p>“Why, here,” Alice pointed at him.</p> - -<p>“Cranston Abbas,” said Tom Beach, “and he’s only a yokel. Village -constable, don’t you know.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you are rather remote, Colonel. What is there about you that -brings the wily cracksman down here?”</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Faulks!” Alice cried. “That woman must travel with a jeweller’s -shop. There’s a chance for you, Mr. Fortune. Get her rubies back and -you’ll win her heart.”</p> - -<p>“Jewelled in fifteen holes. I’d be afraid of burglars. Mrs. Beach, -you’re frivolous, and the Colonel’s going to burst into tears. Will -anyone tell me what did happen? We were all in the drawing-room—no. -Where were you, Cosdon?”</p> - -<p>“Writing letters here, old thing.”</p> - -<p>“Quite so. And the servants?”</p> - -<p>“All in the servants’ hall at supper!” Colonel Beach said. “They are -all right.”</p> - -<p>“Quite. Miss Winslow went upstairs and saw a man at her window. -There’s a ladder at it. She screamed and the lights went out. Why?”</p> - -<p>“The rascals got at the powerhouse. Baker found the main switch off.”</p> - -<p>“Then they knew their way about here. Have you sacked any servant -lately? Had any strange workman in the place? No? Yet the -intelligence work was very sound. Well, in the darkness Miss Winslow -tumbled out into the passage and was grabbed and screamed, and the -brave Faulks ran upstairs and took a black eye, and Miss Winslow took -the count, and when we arrived there wasn’t a burglar in sight. Yes, -there was some luck about.”</p> - -<p>“Not for Sally,” said her sister.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Reggie thoughtfully. “No, but there was a lot of luck -going.” He surveyed them through his cigar smoke with a bland smile.</p> - -<p>“What do you think I ought to do, Fortune?” said Tom Beach.</p> - -<p>“Go to bed,” said Reggie. “What’s the time? Time runs on, doesn’t it? -Yes, go to bed.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but, Mr. Fortune, you are disappointing,” Alice Beach cried.</p> - -<p>“I am. I notice it every day. It’s my only vice.”</p> - -<p>“I do think you might be interested!”</p> - -<p>“A poor crime, but her own,” Captain Cosdon chuckled. “It’s no good, -Mrs. Beach. It don’t appeal to the master mind.”</p> - -<p>“You know, Fortune, it’s devilish awkward,” the Colonel protested.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry. But what can we do? You might call up your village -policeman. He’s four miles off, and I dare say he needs exercise. You -might telephone to Thorton and say you have been burgled, and will -they please watch some road or other for some one or other with a bag -of silver and a set of cameos and a ruby brooch. It doesn’t sound -helpful, does it?”</p> - -<p>“It sounds damned silly.”</p> - -<p>“But I thought you’d find clues, Mr. Fortune,” Alice Beach cried, -“all sorts of clues, finger-prints and foot-prints and——”</p> - -<p>“And tell us the crime was done by a retired sergeant-cook with pink -hair and a cast in the eye,” Cosdon grinned.</p> - -<p>“You see, I’ve no imagination,” said Reggie, sadly.</p> - -<p>“Confound you, Cosdon, it isn’t a joke,” Colonel Beach cried.</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t think it’s a joke,” Reggie agreed.</p> - -<p>“One of your perfect crimes, Mr. Fortune?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I was sayin’—you have to allow for chance. There was a lot of -luck about.”</p> - -<p>“What are you thinking of?”</p> - -<p>“The time, Mrs. Beach. Yes, the flight of time. We’d better go to -bed.”</p> - -<p>But he did not go to bed. He stirred the fire in his bedroom and -composed himself by it. The affair annoyed him. He did not want to be -bothered by work and his mind insisted on working. Something like -this. “Philosophically time is an illusion. ‘Time travels in divers -paces with divers persons.’ Highly divers, yes. Time is the trouble, -Colonel. Why was there such a long time between the first scream and -the second scream? Sally tumbled down. Sally was fumbling in the -dark: but it don’t take many minutes to get from her room to the -stairs. She took as long as it took the chauffeur to run to the -powerhouse. He started some while after the first scream, he had -found what was wrong and put the light on again within a minute of -the second. Too much time for Sally—and too little. How did Sally’s -burglars get off so quick? Faulks ran up at the second scream. The -rest of us were there next minute. They were there to hit Faulks. -When we came, we saw no one, heard no one and found no one.” He shook -his head at the firelight. “And yet Sally’s rather a dear. I wonder. -No, it didn’t go according to plan. But I don’t like it, my child. It -don’t look pretty.”</p> - -<p>He sat up. Somebody was moving in the corridor. He went to his table -for an electric torch, slid silently across the room, flung open the -door and flashed on the light. He caught a glimpse of legs vanishing -round a corner, legs which were crawling, a man’s legs. A door was -closed stealthily.</p> - -<p>Reggie swept the light along the floor. It fell at last on some spots -of candle grease dropped where the fallen Sally was examined. -Thereabouts the legs had been. He moved the light to and fro. Close -by stood an old oak settle. He swept the light about it, saw -something beneath it flash and picked up Mrs. Faulks’s big ruby -brooch.</p> - -<p>The early morning, which he does not love, found him in the garden. -There under Sally’s window the ladder still stood. “That came from -the potting sheds, sir,” his factotum Sam told him. “Matter of a -hundred yards.” Together they went over the path and away to the -little powerhouse by the stream. The ground was still hard from the -night frost.</p> - -<p>“Not a trace,” Reggie murmured. “Well, well. Seen anybody about this -morning, Sam?”</p> - -<p>“This morning, sir?” Sam stared. “Not a soul.”</p> - -<p>“Have a look,” said Reggie and went in shivering.</p> - -<p>He was met by the butler who said nervously that Colonel Beach had -been asking for him and would like to see him in the study. There he -found not only Colonel Beach but Mrs. Beach and Sally and Captain -Cosdon, a distressful company. It was plain that Mrs. Beach had been -crying. Sally was on the brink. Cosdon looked like a naughty boy -uncertain of his doom. But the Colonel was tragic, the Colonel was -taking things very hard.</p> - -<p>Reggie Fortune beamed upon them. “Morning, morning. Up already, Miss -Winslow? How’s the head?”</p> - -<p>Sally tried to say something and gulped. Tom Beach broke out: “Sorry -to trouble you, Fortune. It’s an infernal shame dragging you into -this business.” He glared at his wife, and she wilted.</p> - -<p>“My dear Colonel, it’s my job,” Reggie protested cheerfully, and -edged towards the fire which the Colonel screened.</p> - -<p>“I’m awfully sorry, Colonel. I’m the one to blame,” Cosdon said. -“It’s all my fault, don’t you know.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know whose fault it isn’t. I know it’s a most ghastly mess.”</p> - -<p>“It’s just like a snowball,” Alice laughed hysterically. “Our -snowball burglary.”</p> - -<p>“Snowball?” the Colonel roared at her.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Tom, you know. When you want subscriptions and have a snowball -where every one has to get some one else to subscribe. I thought of -it and I brought in Sally and Sally brought in Bunny and then Mr. -Faulks came in—poor Mr. Faulks—and then Mrs. Faulks got into it and -her rubies.”</p> - -<p>“And now we’re all in it, up to the neck.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Yes, that’s very lucid,” said Reggie. “But a little confusing -to an outsider. My brain’s rather torpid, you know. I only want to -get on the fire.” He obtained the central position and sighed -happily. “Well now, the workin’ hypothesis is that there were no -burglars. Somebody thought it would be interesting to put up a -perfect crime. For the benefit of the guileless expert.”</p> - -<p>They were stricken by a new spasm of dismay. They stared at him. -“Yes, you always knew it was a fake,” Cosdon cried. “I guessed that -last night when you kept talking about the time.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I thought a little anxiety would be good for you. Even the -expert has his feelings.”</p> - -<p>“It was horrid of us, Mr. Fortune,” Sally cried. “But it wasn’t only -meant for you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t discourage me.”</p> - -<p>“It was all my fault, Mr. Fortune.” Alice put in her claim and looked -at him ruefully and then began to laugh. “But you did seem so -bored——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, no, no. Only my placid nature. Well now, to begin at the -beginning. Somebody thought it would be a merry jest to have me on. -That was you, Mrs. Beach. For your kindly interest, I thank you.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Beach again showed signs of weeping.</p> - -<p>“Please don’t be horrid, Mr. Fortune,” said Sally, fervently.</p> - -<p>“I’m trying to be fascinating. But you see I’m so respectable. You -unnerve me.”</p> - -<p>“I thought of a burglary,” said Mrs. Beach, choking sobs. “And I -asked Sally to do it.”</p> - -<p>“And she did—all for my sake. Well, one never knows,” Reggie sighed, -and looked sentimental.</p> - -<p>“It wasn’t you,” said Sally. “I wanted to shock Mr. Faulks.”</p> - -<p>“Dear, dear. I shouldn’t wonder if you have.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” Sally shuddered. “That man is on my nerves. He simply follows -me about. He scares me. When I found he’d got Tom to ask him here -I——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, of course, it’s my fault,” Tom Beach cried. “I knew it would -come round to that.”</p> - -<p>“You didn’t know, dear, how could you?” Sally soothed him. “He -doesn’t make love to you. Well, he was here and his mamma and—oh, -Mr. Fortune, you’ve seen them. They want shocking. So I talked to -Bunny and——”</p> - -<p>“And I came in with both feet,” said Captain Cosdon. “My scheme -really, Fortune, all my scheme.”</p> - -<p>“All?” Reggie asked with some emphasis.</p> - -<p>“Good Lord, not what’s happened.”</p> - -<p>“I thought we should come to that some day. What did happen?”</p> - -<p>And they all began to talk at once. From which tumult emerged the -clear little voice of Sally. “Bunny slipped out early and put a -garden ladder up at my window and then went off to the powerhouse. -When I went to bed, I collected Tom’s pots from the study—that was -because he is so vain of them—and Alice’s cameos—that’s because -they’re so dowdy—and locked them in my trunk. Then I screamed at the -window. That was the signal for Bunny and he switched the lights out -and came back. All that was what we planned.” She looked pathetically -at Reggie. “It was a good crime, wasn’t it, Mr. Fortune?”</p> - -<p>“You have a turn for the profession, Miss Winslow. You will try to be -too clever. It’s the mark of the criminal mind.”</p> - -<p>“I say, hang it all, Fortune——” Cosdon flushed.</p> - -<p>“I know I spoilt it,” said Sally meekly. “I just stood there, you -know, hearing Tom roar downstairs and you all fussing——”</p> - -<p>“And you underrate the policeman. Do I fuss?” Reggie was annoyed.</p> - -<p>“You’re fussing over my morals now. Well, I stood there and it came -over me the burglars just had to have something of Mrs. Faulks’s.” -She gurgled. “That would make it quite perfect. So I ran into her -room and struck a match and there was her awful old ruby brooch. I -took that and went out into the passage and screamed again. That was -the plan. Then I bumped into somebody——”</p> - -<p>“That was me,” said Captain Cosdon. “She was such a jolly long time -with the second scream I went up to see if anything was wrong——”</p> - -<p>“Yes. The criminal will do too much,” Reggie sighed.</p> - -<p>“Then Faulks came. He tumbled into us and hit out, silly ass. I heard -Sally go down and I let him have it. Confound him.”</p> - -<p>Sally smiled at him affectionately.</p> - -<p>“Oh yes, it’s devilish funny, isn’t it?” cried Tom Beach. “Good God, -Cosdon, you’re not fit to be at large. A nice thing you’ve let me in -for.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you’ve all been very ingenious,” said Reggie. “Thanks for a -very jolly evening. May I have some breakfast?” There was a silence -which could be felt.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Fortune,” said Sally, “that awful brooch is gone.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s where we slipped up,” said Cosdon. “Sally must have -dropped it when that fool knocked her out. I went out last night to -hunt for it and it wasn’t there.”</p> - -<p>“Really?”</p> - -<p>Reggie’s tone was sardonic and Cosdon flushed at it. “What do you -mean?”</p> - -<p>“Well, somebody found it, I suppose. That’s the working hypothesis.”</p> - -<p>He reduced them to the dismal condition in which he found them. -“There you are!” Colonel Beach cried. “Some one of the servants saw -the beastly thing and thought there was a chance to steal it. It’s a -ghastly business. I’ll have to go through them for it and catch some -poor devil who would have gone straight enough if you hadn’t played -the fool. It’s not fair, confound it.”</p> - -<p>There was a tap at the door. Mrs. Faulks was asking if the Colonel -would speak to her. The Colonel groaned and went out.</p> - -<p>“Do you mind if I have some breakfast, Mrs. Beach?” said Reggie -plaintively.</p> - -<p>They seemed to think him heartless but offered no impediment. A -dejected company slunk downstairs. It occurred to Reggie, always a -just man, that Sam also might be hungry and he ran out to take him -off guard.</p> - -<p>When he came back to the breakfast-room, he found that Faulks had -joined the party. It was clear that no one had dared to tell him the -truth. They were gazing in fascinated horror at the many colours -which swelled about his right eye, and his scowl was terrible.</p> - -<p>“Hallo, Faulks! Stout fellow,” said Reggie, brightly. “How’s the -head?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Faulks turned the scowl on him. Mr. Faulks found his head very -painful. He had had practically no sleep. He feared some serious -injury to the nerves. He must see a doctor. And his tone implied that -as a doctor and a man Reggie was contemptible.</p> - -<p>Reggie served himself generously with bacon and mushrooms and began -to eat. No one else was eating but Mr. Faulks. He, in a domineering -manner, smote boiled eggs. The others played with food like -passengers in a rolling ship.</p> - -<p>The door was opened. The austere shape of Mrs. Faulks stalked in and -behind her Tom Beach slunk to his place. Mrs. Faulks’s compressed -face wore a look of triumph.</p> - -<p>Sally half rose from her chair. “Oh, Mrs. Faulks,” she cried, “have -you found your rubies?”</p> - -<p>“Really!” said Mrs. Faulks with a freezing smile. “No, Miss Winslow, -I have not found my rubies.”</p> - -<p>“What are you going to do about it?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Faulks stared at her. “I imagine there is only one thing to be -done. I have desired Colonel Beach to send for the police. I should -have thought that was obvious.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Tom, you mustn’t!” Sally cried.</p> - -<p>“Really! My dear, you don’t realize what you’re saying.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I do. You don’t understand, Mrs. Faulks; you see it was like -this——” and out it all came with the Colonel trying to stop it in -confused exclamations, and Mrs. Faulks and her heavy son sinking -deeper and deeper into stupefaction.</p> - -<p>“The whole affair was a practical joke?” said Faulks thickly.</p> - -<p>“That’s the idea, old thing,” Cosdon assured him.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, don’t you see it?” Sally giggled.</p> - -<p>“I never heard anything so disgraceful,” Faulks pronounced.</p> - -<p>“I say, go easy,” Cosdon cried.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Faulks had become pale. “Am I expected to believe this?” she -looked from Tom to Alice.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mrs. Faulks, I am so sorry,” Alice Beach said. “It was too bad. -And it’s really all my fault.”</p> - -<p>“I—I—you say you stole my rubies?” Mrs. Faulks turned upon Sally.</p> - -<p>“Come, come, the child took them for a joke,” Colonel Beach protested.</p> - -<p>“I took them, yes—and then I lost them. I’m most awfully sorry about -that.”</p> - -<p>“Are you indeed. Am I to believe this tale, Colonel Beach? Then pray -who stole my diamond necklace?”</p> - -<p>She produced an awful silence. She seemed proud of it, and in a -fascination of horror the conspirators stared at her.</p> - -<p>“Diamond necklace!” Sally cried. “I never saw it.”</p> - -<p>“My necklace is gone. I don’t profess to understand the ideas of -joking in this house. But my necklace is gone.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my lord,” said Cosdon. “That’s torn it.”</p> - -<p>“The snowball!” Alice gasped. “It is a snowball. Everything gets in -something else.”</p> - -<p>“Really!” said Mrs. Faulks (her one expletive). “I do not understand -you.”</p> - -<p>Reggie arose and cut himself a large portion of cold beef.</p> - -<p>“If this was a practical joke,” said the solemn voice of Faulks, “who -struck me?”</p> - -<p>“That was me, old thing,” Cosdon smiled upon him.</p> - -<p>“But strictly speakin’,” said Reggie as he came back and took more -toast, “that’s irrelevant.”</p> - -<p>“Colonel Beach!” Mrs. Faulks commanded the wretched man’s attention, -“what do you propose to do?”</p> - -<p>“We shall have to have the police,” he groaned.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, it’s a case for the police,” said Reggie cheerfully. “Have -you a telegraph form, Colonel?”</p> - -<p>“It’s all right, Fortune, thanks. I’ll telephone.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, encourage local talent. But I would like to send a wire to -Scotland Yard.”</p> - -<p>“Scotland Yard!” Mrs. Faulks was impressed. Mrs. Faulks smiled on him.</p> - -<p>“Well, you know, there are points about your case, Mrs. Faulks. I -think they would be interested.”</p> - -<p>Like one handing his own death warrant, Colonel Beach put down some -telegraph forms. Reggie pulled out his pencil, laid it down again and -took some marmalade. “Valuable necklace, of course, Mrs. Faulks?” he -said blandly. “Quite so. The one you wore the night before last? I -remember. I remember.” He described it. Mrs. Faulks approved and -elaborated his description. “That’s very clear. Are your jewels -insured? Yes, well that is a certain consolation.” He adjusted his -pencil and wrote. “I think this will meet the case.” He gave the -telegram to Mrs. Faulks.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Faulks read it, Mrs. Faulks seemed unable to understand. She -continued to gaze at it, and the wondering company saw her grow red -to the frozen coils of her hair.</p> - -<p>Reggie was making notes on another telegraph form. He read out slowly -a precise description of the lost necklace. “That’s it, then,” he -said. “By the way, who are you insured with?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Faulks glared at him. “I suppose this is another joke.”</p> - -<p>“No,” Reggie shook his head. “This has gone beyond a joke.”</p> - -<p>“Where is my brooch, then? Who has my brooch?”</p> - -<p>“I have,” said Reggie. He pulled it out of his pocket and laid it on -her plate. “I found the brooch in the passage. I didn’t find the -necklace, Mrs. Faulks. So I should like to send that telegram.”</p> - -<p>“You will do nothing of the kind. I won’t have anything done. The -whole affair is disgraceful, perfectly disgraceful. I forbid you to -interfere. Do you understand, I forbid it? Colonel Beach! It is -impossible for me to stay in your house after the way in which you -have allowed me to be treated. Please order the car.”</p> - -<p>She stalked out of the room.</p> - -<p>“Fortune!” said Faulks thunderously. “Will you kindly explain -yourself?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think I need explaining. But you might ask your mother. She -kept the telegram.” And to his mother Mr. Faulks fled.</p> - -<p>“Good God, Fortune, what have you done?” Tom Beach groaned.</p> - -<p>“Not a nice woman,” said Reggie sadly. “Not really a nice woman.” He -stood up and sought the fire and lit a cigar and sighed relief.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Fortune, what was in that telegram?” Sally cried.</p> - -<p>Reggie sat down on the cushioned fender. “I don’t think you’re really -a good little girl, you know,” he shook his head at her and surveyed -the company. “Broadly speakin’ you ought all to be ashamed of -yourselves. Except the Colonel.”</p> - -<p>“Please, Mr. Fortune, I’ll never do it again,” said Alice -plaintively. “Tom——” she sat on the arm of her husband’s chair and -caressed him.</p> - -<p>“All right, all right,” he submitted. “But I say, Fortune, what am I -to do about Mrs. Faulks?”</p> - -<p>“She’s done all there is to do. No, not a nice woman.”</p> - -<p>Sally held out her small hands. “Please! What did you say in that -telegram?”</p> - -<p>“‘Lomas, Scotland Yard. Jewel robbery Colonel Beach’s house curious -features tell post office stop delivery registered packet posted -Cranston this morning nine examine contents Reginald Fortune Cranston -Regis.’”</p> - -<p>“I don’t understand.”</p> - -<p>“She did. Sorry to meddle with anyone in your house. Colonel, but she -would have it. You won’t have any trouble.”</p> - -<p>“But what’s the woman done?” the Colonel cried.</p> - -<p>“Well, you know, she’s been led into temptation. When she thought -burglars had taken her brooch it seemed to her that she might as well -recover from the insurance people for something else too. That’s the -worst of playing at crime, Mrs. Beach. You never know who won’t take -it seriously. What made me cast an eye at Mrs. Faulks was her saying -last night that she wasn’t sure whether she had lost anything else. I -can’t imagine Mrs. Faulks not sure about anything. She’s sure she’s -an injured woman now. And I’ll swear she always has an inventory of -all her jeweller’s shop in her head.”</p> - -<p>“She has,” said Alice Beach pathetically. “You should hear her talk -of her jewels.”</p> - -<p>“Heaven forbid. But you see, Miss Winslow, it’s the old story, you -criminals always try to be too clever. She thought it wouldn’t be -enough to say she’d lost her diamonds. She wanted them well out of -the way so that the police could search and not find them. So she -scurried off to the post office and sent them away in a registered -packet. Thus, as you criminals will, underratin’ the intelligence of -the simple policeman. My man Sam was looking out to see if anyone did -anything unusual this morning and he observed Mrs. Faulks’s manœuvres -at the post office——”</p> - -<p>“And you had her cold!” Cosdon cried.</p> - -<p>“Yes. Yes, a sad story.”</p> - -<p>“She didn’t really mean any harm,” said Sally. “Did she, Mr. Fortune?”</p> - -<p>Reggie looked at her sadly. “You’re not a moral little girl, you -know,” he said.</p> - -<hr id="Ch6"> - -<p class="calibre5" id="toc6">CASE VI</p> - -<h2 class="calibre6">THE LEADING LADY</h2> - -<p class="first"><span class="dropcaps">M</span>R. REGINALD FORTUNE sent his punt along at the rate of knots. From -the cushions the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department -protested. “Why this wanton display of skill? Why so strenuous?”</p> - -<p>“It’s good for the figure, Lomas.”</p> - -<p>“Have you a figure?” said Lomas bitterly. It is to be confessed that -a certain solidity distinguishes Reggie Fortune. Years of service as -the scientific adviser of Scotland Yard have not marred the pink and -white of his cherubic face, but they have brought weight to a body -never svelte.</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune let the punt drift. “That’s vulgar abuse. What’s the -matter, old thing?”</p> - -<p>“I dislike your horrible competence. Is there anything you can’t do?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think so,” said Mr. Fortune modestly. “Jack of all trades -and master of none. That is why I am a specialist.”</p> - -<p>The Hon. Sidney Lomas sat up. “Secondly, I resent your hurry to get -rid of me. Thirdly, as I am going up to London to work and you are -going back in this punt to do nothing, I should like to annoy you. -Fourthly and lastly I know that I shan’t, and that embitters me. Does -anything ever annoy you, Fortune?”</p> - -<p>“Only work. Only the perverse criminal.”</p> - -<p>Lomas groaned. “All criminals are perverse.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Most crime is a natural product.”</p> - -<p>“Of course fools are natural,” said Lomas irritably. “The most -natural of all animals. And if there were no fools—I shouldn’t spend -the summer at Scotland Yard.”</p> - -<p>“Well, many criminals are weak in the head.”</p> - -<p>“That’s why a policeman’s life is not a happy one.”</p> - -<p>“But most of ’em are a natural product. Opportunity makes the thief -or what not—and there but for the grace of God go I. Circumstances -lead a fellow into temptation.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. I’ve wanted to do murder myself. But even with you I have -hitherto refrained. There’s always a kink in the criminal’s mind -before he goes wrong. Good Gad!” He dropped his voice. “Did you see -her?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune reproved him. “You’re so susceptible, Lomas. Control -yourself. Think of my reputation. I am known in these parts.”</p> - -<p>“Who is she? Lady Macbeth?”</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow! Oh, my dear fellow! I thought you were a student of -the drama. She’s not tragic. She’s comedy and domestic pathos. Tea -and tears. It was Rose Darcourt.”</p> - -<p>“Good Gad!” said Lomas once more. “She looked like Lady Macbeth after -the murder.”</p> - -<p>Reggie glanced over his shoulder. From the shade of the veranda of -the boat-house a white face stared at him. It seemed to become aware -of him and fled. “Indigestion perhaps,” he said. “It does feel like -remorse. Or have you been trifling with her affections, Lomas?”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t dare. Do you know her? She looks a nice young woman for a -quiet tea-party. Passion and poison for two.”</p> - -<p>“It’s the physique, you know,” said Mr. Fortune sadly. “When they’re -long and sinuous and dark they will be intense. That’s the etiquette -of the profession. But it’s spoiling her comedy. She takes everything -in spasms now and she used to be quite restful.”</p> - -<p>“Some silly fool probably told her she was a great actress,” Lomas -suggested.</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune did not answer. He was steering the punt to the bank. As -it slid by the rushes he stooped and picked out of the water a large -silk bag. This he put down at Lomas’s feet, and saying, “Who’s the -owner of this pretty thing?” once more drove the punt on at the rate -of knots.</p> - -<p>Lomas produced from the bag a powder-puff, three gold hair-pins and -two handkerchiefs. “The police have evidence of great importance,” he -announced, “and immediate developments are expected. S. Sheridan is -the culprit, Fortune.”</p> - -<p>“Sylvia Sheridan?” Reggie laughed. “You know we’re out of a paragraph -in a picture paper. ‘On the river this week-end all the stars of the -stage were shining. Miss Rose Darcourt was looking like Juliet on the -balcony of her charming boat-house and I saw Miss Sylvia Sheridan’s -bag floating sweetly down stream. Bags are worn bigger than ever this -year. Miss Sheridan has always been famous for her bags. But this was -really dinky!’”</p> - -<p>At the bridge he put Lomas into his car and strolled up to leave Miss -Sheridan’s bag at the police-station.</p> - -<p>The sergeant was respectfully affable (Mr. Fortune is much petted by -subordinates) and it took some time to reach the bag. When Ascot and -the early peas and the sergeant’s daughter’s young man had been -critically estimated, Mr. Fortune said that he was only calling on -the lost property department to leave a lady’s bag. “I just picked it -out of the river,” Reggie explained. “No value to anybody but the -owner. Seems to belong to Miss Sylvia Sheridan. She’s a house down -here, hasn’t she? You might let her know.”</p> - -<p>The sergeant stared at Mr. Fortune and breathed hard. “What makes you -say that, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Say what?”</p> - -<p>“Beg pardon, sir. You’d better see the inspector.” And the sergeant -tumbled out of the room.</p> - -<p>The inspector was flurried. “Mr. Fortune? Very glad to see you, sir. -Sort of providential your coming in like this. Won’t you sit down, -sir? This is a queer start. Where might you have found her bag, Mr. -Fortune?”</p> - -<p>“About a mile above the bridge,” Reggie opened his eyes. “Against the -reed bank below Miss Darcourt’s boat-house.”</p> - -<p>Inspector Oxtoby whistled. “That’s above Miss Sheridan’s cottage.” He -looked knowing. “Things don’t float upstream, Mr. Fortune.”</p> - -<p>“It’s not usual. Why does that worry you?”</p> - -<p>“Miss Sheridan’s missing, Mr. Fortune. I’ve just had her housekeeper -in giving information. Miss Sheridan went out last night and hasn’t -been seen since. Now you’ve picked up her bag in the river above her -house. It’s a queer start, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“But only a start,” said Reggie gently. “We’re not even sure the bag -is hers. The handkerchiefs in it are marked S. Sheridan. But some -women have a way of gleaning other women’s handkerchiefs. Her -housekeeper ought to know her bag. Did her housekeeper know why she -went out?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir. That’s one of the things that rattled her. Miss Sheridan -went out after dinner alone, walking. They thought she was in the -garden and went to bed. In the morning she wasn’t in the house. She -wasn’t in the garden either.”</p> - -<p>“And that’s that,” said Reggie. “Better let them know at Scotland -Yard. They like work.” And he rose to go. It was plain that he had -disappointed Inspector Oxtoby, who asked rather plaintively if there -was anything Mr. Fortune could suggest. “I should ask her friends, -you know,” said Mr. Fortune, wandering dreamily to the door. “I -should have a look at her house. There may be something in it,” and -he left the inspector gaping.</p> - -<p>Reggie Fortune is one of the few people in England who like going to -the theatre. The others, as you must have noticed, like this kind of -play or that. Mr. Fortune has an impartial and curious mind and tries -everything. He had therefore formed opinions of Sylvia Sheridan and -Rose Darcourt which are not commonly held. For he was unable to take -either of them seriously. This hampered him, and he calls the case -one of his failures.</p> - -<p>On the next morning he came back from bathing at the lasher to hear -that the telephone had called him. He took his car to Scotland Yard -and was received by Superintendent Bell. That massive man was even -heavier than usual. “You’ll not be pleased with me, Mr. Fortune——” -he began.</p> - -<p>“If you look at me like that I shall cry. Two hours ago I was in nice -deep bubbly water. And you bring me up to this oven of a town and -make me think you’re a headmaster with the gout and I’ve been a rude -little boy.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Lomas said not to trouble you,” the Superintendent mourned. “But -I put it to him you’d not wish to be out of it, Mr. Fortune.”</p> - -<p>“Damn it, Bell, don’t appeal to my better nature. That’s infuriating.”</p> - -<p>“It’s this Sheridan case, sir. Miss Sheridan’s vanished.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I haven’t run away with her. She smiles too much. I couldn’t -bear it.”</p> - -<p>“She’s gone, sir,” Bell said heavily. “She was to have signed her -contract as leading lady in Mr. Mark Woodcote’s new play. That was -yesterday. She didn’t come. They had no word from her. And yesterday -her servants gave information she had disappeared——”</p> - -<p>“I know. I was there. So she hasn’t turned up yet?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir. And Mr. Lomas and you, you found her bag in the river. That -was her bag.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well.” said Reggie. “And what’s the Criminal Investigation -Department going to do about it?”</p> - -<p>“Where’s she gone, Mr. Fortune? She didn’t take her car. She’s not -been seen at Stanton station. She’s not at her flat in town. She’s -not with any of her friends.”</p> - -<p>“The world is wide,” Reggie murmured.</p> - -<p>“And the river’s pretty deep, Mr. Fortune.”</p> - -<p>At this point Lomas came in. He beamed upon them both, he patted -Bell’s large shoulder, he came to Reggie Fortune. “My dear fellow! -Here already! ‘Duty, stern daughter of the voice of God,’ what? How -noble—and how good for you!”</p> - -<p>Reggie looked from his jauntiness to the gloom of Bell. “Tragedy and -comedy, aren’t you?” he said. “And very well done, too. But it’s a -little confusing to the scientific mind.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what do you make of it?” Lomas dropped into a chair and lit a -cigarette. “Bell’s out for blood. An Actress’s Tragedy. Mystery of -the Thames. Murder or Suicide? That sort of thing. But it seems to me -it has all the engaging air of an advertisement.”</p> - -<p>“Only it isn’t advertised, sir,” said Bell. “Twenty-four hours and -more since she was reported missing, and not a word in the papers -yet. That don’t look like a stunt. It looks more like somebody was -keeping things quiet.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Yes, you take that trick, Bell,” Reggie nodded. “Who is this -remarkable manager that don’t tell all the newspapers when his -leading lady’s missing?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Montgomery Eagle, sir.”</p> - -<p>“But he runs straight,” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>“Oh Lord, yes,” Lomas laughed. “Quite a good fellow. Bell is so -melodramatic in the hot weather. I don’t think Eagle is pulling my -leg. I suspect it’s the lady who is out for a little free -advertisement. To be reported missing—that is a sure card. On the -placards, in the headlines, unlimited space in all the papers. Wait -and see, Bell. The delay means nothing. She couldn’t tell her Press -agent to send in news of her disappearance. It wouldn’t be artistic.”</p> - -<p>Superintendent Bell looked at him compassionately. “And I’m sure I -hope you’re right, sir,” he said. “But it don’t look that way to me. -If she wanted to disappear for a joke why did she go and do it like -this? These young ladies on the stage, they value their comforts. She -goes off walking at night with nothing but what she stood up in. If -you ask me to believe she meant to do the vanishing act when she went -out of her house, I can’t see how it’s likely.”</p> - -<p>“Strictly speakin’,” said Reggie, “nothing’s likely. Why did she go -out, Bell? To keep an appointment with her murderer?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see my way, sir. I own it. But there’s her garden goes down -to the river—suppose she just tumbled into the water—she might be -there now.”</p> - -<p>“The bag,” said Reggie dreamily. “The bag, Bell. It didn’t float -upstream, and yet we found it above her garden. She couldn’t have -been walking along the bank. The towpath is the other side. The bag -came into the river from a boat—or from the grounds of another -house.”</p> - -<p>Lomas laughed. “My dear Fortune, I like your earnest simplicity. It’s -a new side to your character and full of charm. I quite agree the bag -is interesting. I think it’s conclusive. A neat and pretty touch. The -little lady threw it into the river to give her disappearance -glamour.”</p> - -<p>“Rather well thrown,” said Reggie. “Say a quarter of a mile. Hefty -damsel.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear fellow, she may have taken a boat, she may have crossed -and walked up the towpath.”</p> - -<p>“Just to get her bag into the river above her house? Why would she -want to put it in above her house? She couldn’t be sure that it would -stay there. It might have sunk. It might have drifted a mile farther.”</p> - -<p>Lomas shrugged. “Well, as you say. But we don’t know that the bag was -lost that night at all. She may have dropped it out of a boat any -time and anywhere.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but plenty of boats go up and down that reach. And we found it -bright and early the morning after she vanished. Why didn’t anybody -else find it before? I rather fancy it wasn’t there, Lomas.”</p> - -<p>“What’s your theory, Mr. Fortune?” said Bell eagerly.</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow! Oh, my dear fellow! I don’t know the lady.”</p> - -<p>“They say she’s a sportive maiden,” Lomas smiled. “I’ll wager you’ll -have a run for your money, Bell.”</p> - -<p>Reggie Fortune considered him severely. “I don’t think it’s a race to -bet on, Lomas, old thing.”</p> - -<p>It was about this time that Mr. Montgomery Eagle’s name was brought -in. “Will you see him, Mr. Lomas?” Bell said anxiously.</p> - -<p>“Oh Lord, no. I have something else to do. Make him talk, that’s all -you want.”</p> - -<p>The Superintendent turned a bovine but pathetic gaze on Reggie. “I -think so,” said Mr. Fortune. “There are points, Bell.”</p> - -<p>Superintendent Bell arranged himself at the table, a large solemn -creature, born to inspire confidence. Mr. Fortune dragged an easy -chair to the window and sat on the small of his back and thus -disposed might have been taken for an undergraduate weary of the -world.</p> - -<p>Mr. Montgomery Eagle brought another man with him. They both -exhibited signs of uneasiness. Mr. Eagle, whose physical charms, -manner and dress suggest a butler off duty, wrung his hands and asked -if the Superintendent had any news. The Superintendent asked Mr. -Eagle to sit down. “Er, thank you. Er—you’re very good. May I—this -is Mr. Woodcote—the—er—author of the play Miss Sheridan was -to—the—play I—er—hope to—very anxious to know if you——”</p> - -<p>“Naturally,” said the Superintendent. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. -Woodcote.” The dramatist smiled nervously. He was still young enough -to show an awkward simplicity of manner, but his pleasant dark face -had signs of energy and some ability. “We’re rather interested in -your case. Now what have you got to tell us?”</p> - -<p>“I?” said Woodcote. “Well, I hoped you were going to tell us -something.”</p> - -<p>“We’ve heard nothing at all,” said Eagle. “Absolutely nothing. -Er—it’s—er—very distressing—er—serious matter for us—er—whole -production held up—er—this poor lady—most distressing.”</p> - -<p>“Quite, quite,” Reggie murmured from his chair, and the two stared at -him.</p> - -<p>“The fact is,” said Superintendent Bell heavily, “we can find no one -who has seen Miss Sheridan since she left her house. We’re where we -were yesterday, gentlemen. Are you?”</p> - -<p>“Absolutely,” said Eagle.</p> - -<p>“First question—did she leave her house?” Reggie murmured. “Second -question—why did she leave her house?” He sat up with a jerk. “I -wonder. Do you know anything about that?”</p> - -<p>Eagle gaped at him. “Did she leave her house?” Woodcote cried. -“That’s not doubtful, is it? She’s not there.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I like to begin at the beginning,” said Reggie gently.</p> - -<p>“The local men have been over the house, Mr. Fortune,” Bell stared at -him.</p> - -<p>“I suppose they wouldn’t overlook her,” Woodcote laughed.</p> - -<p>“Second question—why did she leave it? You see, we don’t know the -lady and I suppose you do. Had she any friends who were—intimate?”</p> - -<p>“What are you suggesting?” Woodcote cried.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. Do you? Is there anyone she liked—or anyone she -didn’t like?”</p> - -<p>“I must say,”—Eagle was emphatic in jerks—“never heard a word -said—er—against Miss Sheridan—er—very highest reputation.”</p> - -<p>“If you have any suspicions let’s have it out, sir,” Woodcote cried.</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow! Oh, my dear fellow!” Reggie protested. “It’s the -case is suspicious, not me. The primary hypothesis is that something -made Miss Sheridan vanish. I’m askin’ you what it was.”</p> - -<p>The manager looked at the dramatist. The dramatist looked at Mr. -Fortune. “What is it you suspect, then?” he said.</p> - -<p>“What does take a lady out alone after dinner?” said Reggie. “I -wonder.”</p> - -<p>“We don’t know that she went out of the garden, sir,” Bell admonished -him.</p> - -<p>Reggie lit a cigar. “Think there was a murderer waiting in the -garden?” he said as he puffed. “Think she was feeling suicidal? Well, -it’s always possible.”</p> - -<p>“Good God!” said Eagle.</p> - -<p>“You’re rather brutal, sir,” Woodcote grew pale.</p> - -<p>“You don’t like those ideas? Well, what’s yours?” They were silent. -“Has it ever occurred to you somebody might have annoyed Miss -Sheridan?” Mr. Montgomery Eagle became of a crimson colour. “Yes, -think it over,” said Reggie cheerfully. “If there was somebody she -wanted to take it out of——” he smiled and blew smoke rings.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what you mean,” Woodcote stared at him.</p> - -<p>“Really? It’s quite simple. Had anything happened lately to make Miss -Sheridan annoyed with anybody?”</p> - -<p>“I’m bound to say, sir,” Eagle broke out, “there was a—a question -about her part. She was to play lead in Mr. Woodcote’s new comedy. -Well—er—I can’t deny—er—Miss Darcourt’s been with me before. Miss -Darcourt—she was—well, I had—er—representations from her the part -ought to be hers. I—er—I’m afraid Miss Sheridan did come to hear of -this.”</p> - -<p>“Rose Darcourt couldn’t play it,” said the author fiercely. “She -couldn’t touch it.”</p> - -<p>“No, no. I don’t suggest she could—er—not at all—but it was an -unpleasant situation. Miss Sheridan was annoyed——”</p> - -<p>“Miss Sheridan was annoyed with Miss Darcourt and Miss Darcourt was -annoyed with Miss Sheridan. And Miss Sheridan goes out alone at night -by the river and in the river we find her bag. That’s the case, then. -Well, well.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean that Rose Darcourt murdered her?” Woodcote frowned at -him.</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow, you are in such a hurry. I mean that I could bear to -know a little more about Miss Darcourt’s emotions. Do you think you -could find out if she still wants to play this great part?”</p> - -<p>“She may want,” said Woodcote bitterly. “She can go on wanting.”</p> - -<p>“In point of fact,” said Eagle. “I—er—I had a letter this morning. -She tells me—er—she wouldn’t consider acting in—er—in Mr. -Woodcote’s play. She—er—says I misunderstood her. She never thought -of it—er—doesn’t care for Mr. Woodcote’s work.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Woodcote flushed. “That does worry me,” said he.</p> - -<p>“And that’s that.” Reggie stood up.</p> - -<p>Whereon Superintendent Bell with careful official assurances got rid -of them. They seemed surprised.</p> - -<p>“That’s done it, sir,” said Bell. Reggie did not answer. He was -cooing to a pigeon on the window-sill. “You’ve got it out of them. -We’ll be looking after this Rose Darcourt.”</p> - -<p>“They don’t like her, do they?” Reggie murmured. “Well, well. They do -enjoy their little emotions.” He laughed suddenly. “Let’s tell Lomas.”</p> - -<p>That sprightly man was reading an evening paper. He flung it at -Bell’s head. “There you are. Six-inch headlines. ‘Famous Actress -Vanishes.’ And now I do hope we shan’t be long. I wonder how she’ll -manage her resurrection. Was she kidnapped by a Bolshevik submarine? -U-boat in Boulter’s Lock. That would be a good stunt. And rescued by -an aeroplane. She might come down on the course at Ascot.”</p> - -<p>“He can’t take her seriously, Bell,” said Reggie. “It’s the other one -who has his heart. Who ever loved that loved not at first sight? She -captured him at a glance.”</p> - -<p>Bell was shocked and bewildered. “What the deuce do you mean?” said -Lomas.</p> - -<p>“Lady Macbeth by the river. You know how she fascinated you.”</p> - -<p>“Rose Darcourt?” Lomas cried. “Good Gad!”</p> - -<p>“The morning after Sylvia Sheridan vanished, Rose Darcourt was -looking unwell by the river and Sylvia Sheridan’s bag was found in -the river just below Rose Darcourt’s house. Now the manager and the -playwright tell us Rose has been trying to get the part which was -earmarked for Sylvia, and Sylvia was cross about it. Since Sylvia -vanished Rose has pitched in a letter to say she wouldn’t look at the -part or the play. Consider your verdict.”</p> - -<p>“There it is, sir, and an ugly business,” said Bell with a certain -satisfaction. “These stage folk, they’re not wholesome.”</p> - -<p>“My dear old Bell,” Reggie chuckled.</p> - -<p>“Good Gad!” said Lomas, and burst out laughing. “But it’s -preposterous. It’s a novelette. The two leading ladies quarrel—and -they meet by moonlight alone on the banks of the murmuring -stream—and pull caps—and what happened next? Did Rose pitch Sylvia -into the dark and deadly water or Sylvia commit suicide in her -anguish? Damme, Bell, you’d better make a film of it.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what you make of it, sir,” said Bell with stolid -indignation. “But I’ve advised the local people to drag the river. -And I suggest it’s time we had a man or two looking after this Miss -Darcourt.”</p> - -<p>“Good Gad!” said Lomas again. “And what do you suggest, Fortune? Do -you want to arrest her and put her on the rack? Or will it be enough -to examine her body for Sylvia’s finger-prints? If we are to make -fools of ourselves, let’s do it handsomely.”</p> - -<p>“It seems to me we look fools enough as it is,” Bell growled.</p> - -<p>“This is a very painful scene,” Reggie said gently. “Your little -hands were never made to scratch each other’s eyes.”</p> - -<p>“What do you want to do?” Lomas turned on him.</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s not much in my way. I like a corpse and you haven’t a -corpse for me. And I don’t feel that I know these good people. They -seem muddled to me. It’s all muddled. I fancy they don’t know where -they are. And there’s something we haven’t got, Lomas old thing. I -should look about.”</p> - -<p>“I’m going to look about,” said Lomas with decision. “But I’m going -to look for Sylvia Sheridan’s friends—not her wicked rivals. I -resent being used as an actress’s advertisement.”</p> - -<p>Reggie shook his head. “You will be so respectable, Lomas my child. -It hampers you.”</p> - -<p>“Well, go and drag the river,” said Lomas with a shrug, “and see who -finds her first.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune, who has a gentle nature, does not like people to be -cross to him. This was his defence when Lomas subsequently complained -of his independent action. He went to lunch and afterwards returned -to his house by the river.</p> - -<p>Swaying in a hammock under the syringa he considered the Sheridan -case without prejudice, and drowsily came to the conclusion that he -believed in nothing and nobody. He was not satisfied with the bag, he -was not satisfied with the pallid woe of Rose Darcourt, he was not -satisfied with the manager and the playwright, he was by no means -satisfied with the flippancy of Lomas and the grim zeal of Bell. It -appeared to him that all were unreasonable. He worked upon his -memories of Rose Darcourt and Sylvia Sheridan and found no help -therein. The two ladies, though competent upon the stage and at times -agreeable, were to him commonplace. And whatever the case was, it was -not that. He could not relate them to the floating bag, and the story -of jealousy and the disappearance. “This thing’s all out of joint,” -he sighed, “and I don’t think the airy Lomas or the gloomy Bell is -the man to put it right. Why will people have theories? And at their -time of life too! It’s not decent.” He rang (in his immoral garden -you can ring from the pergola and ring from the hammocks and the -lawn) for his chauffeur and factotum, Sam.</p> - -<p>Mr. Samuel Smith was born a small and perky Cockney. He is, according -to Reggie, a middle-class chauffeur but otherwise a lad of parts, -having a peculiarly neat hand with photography and wine. But a -capacity for being all things to all men was what first recommended -him. “Sam,” said Mr. Fortune, “do you go much into society?”</p> - -<p>“Meaning the locals, sir?”</p> - -<p>“That was the idea.”</p> - -<p>“Well, sir, they’re not brainy. Too much o’ the <span class="calibre15">nouveau riche</span>.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a hard world, Sam. I want to know about Miss Darcourt’s -servants. I wouldn’t mind knowing about Miss Sheridan’s servants. -They ought to be talking things over. Somebody may be saying -something interesting—or doing something.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve got it, sir. Can do.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune sighed happily and went to sleep.</p> - -<p>For the next few days he was occupied with a number of new roses -which chose to come into flower together. It was reported among his -servants that Mr. Fortune sat by these bushes and held their hands. -And meanwhile the papers gave much space to Miss Sylvia Sheridan, -describing in vivid detail how the river was being dragged for her, -and how her corpse had been discovered at Bradford and how she had -been arrested while bathing (mixed) at Ilfracombe and seen on a -flapper’s bracket in Hampstead.</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune, engaged upon a minute comparison of the shades of tawny -red in five different but exquisite roses, was disturbed by -Superintendent Bell. He looked up at that square and gloomy visage -and shook his head. “You disturb me. I have my own troubles, Bell. -Darlings, aren’t they?” He made a caressing gesture over his roses. -“But I can’t make up my mind which is the one I really love. Go away, -Bell. Your complexion annoys them.”</p> - -<p>“We haven’t found her, sir,” said Bell heavily. “She’s not in the -river.” Reggie dropped into a long chair and, watching him with -dreamy eyes, filled a pipe. Bell glowered. “I thought you were going -to say, ‘I told you so.’”</p> - -<p>Reggie smiled. “I don’t remember that I told you anything.”</p> - -<p>“That was about the size of it, sir,” Bell reproached him.</p> - -<p>“Well, I thought it was possible the body was in the river. But not -probable.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing’s probable that I can see. Roses are a bit simpler, aren’t -they, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Simpler!” Reggie cried. “You’re no gardener. You should take it up, -Bell. It develops the finer feelings. Now, don’t be cross again. I -can’t bear it. I haven’t forgotten your horrible case. Nothing’s -probable, as you say. But one or two things are certain all the same. -Sylvia Sheridan’s servants have nothing up their sleeves. They’re as -lost as you are. They are being quite natural. But Rose Darcourt has -a chauffeur who interests me. He is a convivial animal and his pub is -the ‘Dog and Duck.’ But he hasn’t been at the ‘Dog and Duck’ since -Sylvia vanished. The ‘Dog and Duck’ is surprised at him. Also he has -been hanging about Sylvia’s house. He has suddenly begun an affair -with her parlourmaid. He seems to have a deuce of a lot of time on -his hands. Rose Darcourt don’t show. She’s reported ill. And the -reputation of the chauffeur is that he’s always been very free and -easy with his mistress.”</p> - -<p>Bell grunted and meditated and Reggie pushed a cigar-case across to -help his meditations. “Well, sir, it sounds queer as you put it. But -it might be explained easy. And that’s what Mr. Lomas says about the -whole case. Maybe he’s right.” The thought plunged the Superintendent -into deeper gloom.</p> - -<p>“What a horrible idea,” said Reggie. “My dear fellow, don’t be so -despondent. I’ve been waiting for you to take me to the parlourmaid. -I want a chaperon.”</p> - -<p>Inspector Oxtoby in plain clothes, Superintendent Bell in clothes -still plainer and Mr. Fortune in flannels conducted an examination of -that frightened damsel, who was by turns impudent and plaintive, till -soothed by Mr. Fortune’s benignity. It then emerged that she was not -walking out with Mr. Loveday the chauffeur: nothing of the kind: only -Mr. Loveday had been attentive.</p> - -<p>“And very natural, too,” Reggie murmured. “But why has he only just -begun?”</p> - -<p>The parlourmaid was startled. They had had a many fellows round the -house since mistress went off. She smiled. It was implied that others -beside the chauffeur had remarked her charms.</p> - -<p>“And Mr. Loveday never came before? Does he ask after your mistress?”</p> - -<p>“Well, of course he always wants to know if she’s been heard of. It’s -only civil, sir.” She stopped and stared at Reggie. “I suppose he -does talk a deal about the mistress,” she said slowly.</p> - -<p>“When he ought to be talking about you,” Reggie murmured.</p> - -<p>The parlourmaid looked frightened. “But it’s as if he was always -expecting some news of her,” she protested.</p> - -<p>“Oh, is it!” said Inspector Oxtoby, and Reggie frowned at him.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it is!” she cried. “And I don’t care what you say. And a good -mistress she was”—she began to weep again, and was incoherent.</p> - -<p>“I’m sure she was,” Reggie said, “and you’re fond of her. That’s why -we’re here, you know. You want to help her, don’t you? When was Mr. -Loveday going to meet you again?”</p> - -<p>Through sobs it was stated that Mr. Loveday had said he would be by -the little gate at his usual time that night.</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t want you to see him, Gladys,” said Reggie gently. -“You’re to stay indoors like a good girl. Don’t say anything to -anybody and you’ll be all right.”</p> - -<p>On that they left her, and Reggie, taking Bell’s arm as they crossed -the garden, murmured, “I like Gladys. She’s a pleasant shape. This -job’s opening out, Bell, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“It beats me,” said Bell. “What’s the fellow after?”</p> - -<p>“He knows something,” said Oxtoby.</p> - -<p>“And he’s not quite sure what he knows,” said Reggie. “Well, well. An -early dinner is indicated. It’s a hard world. Come and dine with me.”</p> - -<p>That night as it grew dark the chauffeur stood by the little gate of -Sylvia Sheridan’s garden, an object of interest to three men behind a -laurel hedge. He waited some time in vain. He lit a cigarette and -exhibited for a moment a large flat face. He waited longer, opened -the gate and approached the back of the house.</p> - -<p>“Better take him now,” said Reggie. “Loitering with intent. I’ll go -down to the station.”</p> - -<p>Inspector Oxtoby, with Bell in support, closed upon the man in the -kitchen garden.</p> - -<p>In the little office at Stanton police-station Albert Edward Loveday -was charged with loitering about Miss Sheridan’s house with intent to -commit a felony. He was loudly indignant, protesting that he had only -gone to see his girl. He was told that he could say all that to the -magistrates, and was removed still noisy.</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune came out of the shadow. “I don’t take to Albert Edward,” -he said. “I fear he’s a bit of a bully.”</p> - -<p>Bell nodded. “That’s his measure, sir. A chap generally shows what -he’s made of when you get him in the charge room. I never could -understand that. You’d think any fellow with a head on him would take -care to hide what sort he is here. But they don’t seem as if they -could help themselves.”</p> - -<p>“Most of the fellows you get in the charge room haven’t heads. I -doubt if Albert Edward has. He looks as if he hadn’t thought things -out.”</p> - -<p>Inspector Oxtoby came back in a hurry. “My oath, Mr. Fortune, you’ve -put us on the right man,” he said. “Look what the beggar had on him.” -It was a small gold cigarette-case. It bore the monogram S.S., and -inside was engraved “Sylvia from Bingo.”</p> - -<p>“That’s done him in,” said Bell. “Any explanation?”</p> - -<p>“He wouldn’t say a word. Barring that he cursed freely. No, Mr. -Albert Edward Loveday wants to see his solicitor. He knows something.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Yes, I wonder what it is?” Reggie murmured.</p> - -<p>“He had some pawn-tickets for jewellery too. Pretty heavy stuff. -We’ll have to follow that up. And a hundred and fifty quid—some -clean notes, some deuced dirty.”</p> - -<p>Bell laughed grimly. “He’s done himself proud, hasn’t he?”</p> - -<p>“Some clean, some dirty,” Reggie repeated. “He got the dirty ones -from the pawnbroker. Where did he get the clean ones? Still several -unknown quantities in the equation.”</p> - -<p>“How’s that, sir?” said Inspector Oxtoby.</p> - -<p>“Well, there’s the body, for instance,” said Reggie mildly. “We lack -the body. You know, I think we might ask Miss Darcourt to say a few -words. Send a man up in a car to tell her she’s wanted at the -police-station, because her chauffeur has been arrested. I should -think she’ll come.”</p> - -<p>“That’s the stuff!” Inspector Oxtoby chuckled and set about it.</p> - -<p>“You always had a notion she knew something, sir,” said Bell -reverently.</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” Reggie murmured.</p> - -<p>She did come. The little room seemed suddenly crowded, so large was -the gold pattern on her black cloak, so complex her sinuous -movements, as she glided in and sat down. She smiled at them, and -certainly she had been handsome. From a white face dark eyes -glittered, very big eyes, all pupil. “Oh, my aunt,” said Reggie to -himself, “drugged.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Rose Darcourt?” Inspector Oxtoby’s pen scratched. “Thank you, -madam. Your chauffeur Albert Edward Loveday (that’s right?) has been -arrested loitering about Miss Sheridan’s house. He was found in -possession of Miss Sheridan’s gold cigarette-case. Can you explain -that?”</p> - -<p>“I? Why should I explain it? I know nothing about it.”</p> - -<p>“The man is in your service, madam.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and he is a very good chauffeur. What then? Why should you -arrest him?” She talked very fast. “I don’t understand it at all. I -don’t understand what you want me to say.”</p> - -<p>“Only the truth,” said Reggie gently out of the shadow.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean by the truth? I know nothing about what he had. I -can’t imagine, I can’t conceive”—her voice went up high—“how he -could have Miss Sheridan’s cigarette-case. If he really had.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he had it all right,” said Inspector Oxtoby.</p> - -<p>“Why, then perhaps she gave it him.” She laughed so suddenly that the -men looked at each other. “Have you asked him? What did he say? I -know nothing about Miss Sheridan.”</p> - -<p>“You can tell us nothing?” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>“What should I tell you?” she cried.</p> - -<p>There was silence but for the scratching of the Inspector’s pen. -“Very good, madam,” he said. “You have no explanation. I had better -tell you the case will go into court. Thank you for coming. Would you -like to have the car back?”</p> - -<p>“What has Loveday said?” She leaned forward.</p> - -<p>“He’s asked for his solicitor, madam. That’s all.”</p> - -<p>“What is this charge, then?”</p> - -<p>The Inspector smiled. “That’s as may be, madam.”</p> - -<p>“Can I see him?”</p> - -<p>“Not alone, I’m afraid, ma’am,” said Bell.</p> - -<p>“What?” she cried. “What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“The car’ll take you back, ma’am.”</p> - -<p>She stared at him a long minute. “The car?” she started up. “I don’t -need your car. I’ll not have it. I can go, can I?” she laughed.</p> - -<p>Bell opened the door. “Phew!” he puffed as he closed it. “She looked -murder, didn’t she?”</p> - -<p>“Nice young woman for a quiet tea-party,” Reggie murmured. “I wonder. -I wonder. I think I’ll use that car.”</p> - -<p>As it drew out upon the bridge he saw the tall shape of Miss Darcourt -ahead. She was going slowly. She stopped. She glanced behind her at -the lights of the car. She climbed the parapet and was gone.</p> - -<p>“Oh, damn!” said Mr. Fortune. “Stop the bus.” He sprang out, looked -down for a moment at the foam and the eddies and dived after her.</p> - -<p>Some minutes afterwards he arrived at the bank with Miss Darcourt in -tow and waddled out, dragging her after him without delicacy and -swearing in gasps. She was in no case to protest. She did not hear. -Mr. Fortune rolled her over and knelt beside her.</p> - -<p>“What’ll I do, sir? Can’t I do something?” cried the chauffeur.</p> - -<p>“Police-station,” Reggie panted. “Bring down the Inspector or the -Superintendent. Quick! Damn quick!” And he wrought with Miss -Darcourt’s body. . . .</p> - -<p>He looked up at the large shape of Superintendent Bell. “Suicide, -sir?”</p> - -<p>“Attempted suicide. She’ll do, I think. Wrap her in every dam’ thing -you’ve got and take her to hospital quick.”</p> - -<p>“I know this game, sir,” Bell said, and stooped and gathered the -woman up: “you run along home.”</p> - -<p>“Run!” said Reggie. “My only aunt.”</p> - -<p>In the morning when he rang for his letters, “Superintendent Bell -called, sir,” said the maid. “About eight it was. He said I wasn’t to -waken you. He only wanted to tell you she was going on all right. And -there’s a message by telephone from Mr. Lomas. He says you should be -at Paddington by twelve, car will meet you, very urgent. And to tell -you he has the body.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my Lord!” said Reggie. He sprang out of bed. Superintendent Bell -was rung up and told to commit himself to nothing over Albert Edward -Loveday and his mistress.</p> - -<p>“Remanded for inquiries—that’ll do for him, sir,” said Bell’s voice. -“And she can wait. Hope you’re all right, Mr. Fortune.”</p> - -<p>“I’m suffering from shock, Bell. Mr. Lomas is shocking me. He’s begun -to sit up and take notice.”</p> - -<p>Inadequately fed and melancholy, Mr. Fortune was borne into -Paddington by a quarter-past twelve. He there beheld Lomas sitting in -Lomas’s car and regarding him with a satirical eye. Mr. Fortune -entered the car in dignity and silence.</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow, I hate to disappoint you,” Lomas smiled. “You’ve -done wonderfully well. Arrested a chauffeur, driven a lady to -suicide—admirable. It is really your masterpiece. Art for art’s sake -in the grand style. You must find it horribly disappointing to act -with a dull fellow like me.”</p> - -<p>“I do,” said Mr. Fortune.</p> - -<p>Lomas chuckled. “I know, I know. I can’t help seeing it. And really I -hate to spoil your work. But the plain fact is I’ve got the body.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” said Mr. Fortune.</p> - -<p>“And unfortunately—I really do sympathize with you—it isn’t dead.”</p> - -<p>“When did I say it was?” said Mr. Fortune. “I said you hadn’t a -corpse for me—and you haven’t got one now. I said it was all -muddled—and so it is, a dam’ muddle.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you want to know why the fair Sylvia left home?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Do you know, Lomas?”</p> - -<p>“She’s gone off with a man, my dear fellow,” Lomas laughed.</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” said Reggie mildly. “And that’s why the Darcourt’s -chauffeur had her cigarette-case in his pocket! And that’s why the -Darcourt jumped into the river when we asked her to explain! You make -it all so clear, Lomas.”</p> - -<p>“Theft, I suppose, and fright.” Lomas shrugged. “But we’ll ask -Sylvia.”</p> - -<p>“Where is she?”</p> - -<p>“I had information of some one like her from a little place in the -wilds of Suffolk. I sent a fellow down and he has no doubt it’s the -lady. She’s been living there since she vanished, with a man.”</p> - -<p>“What man?”</p> - -<p>“Not identified. Smith by name,” said Lomas curtly. “You’d better ask -her yourself, Fortune.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. There’s quite a lot of things I’d like to ask her,” said -Reggie, and conversation languished. Even the elaborate lunch which -Reggie insisted on eating in Colchester did not revive it, for Lomas -was fretful at the delay. So at last, with Reggie somnolent and Lomas -feverish, the car drew up at the ancient inn of the village of Baldon.</p> - -<p>A young fellow who was drinking ginger-beer in the porch looked up -and came to meet them. “She’s done a bunk, sir,” he said in a low -voice. “She and her Mr. Smith went off half an hour ago. Some luggage -in the car. Took the London road.”</p> - -<p>“My poor Lomas!” Reggie chuckled.</p> - -<p>“Damme, we must have passed them on the road,” Lomas cried. “Any idea -why she went, Blakiston?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir. The man went into Ipswich in their car this morning. Soon -after he came back, they bolted together. I couldn’t do anything, you -know, sir.”</p> - -<p>“You’re sure Mrs. Smith is Miss Sheridan?”</p> - -<p>“I’d swear to her, sir.”</p> - -<p>“It’s damned awkward,” Lomas frowned. “Sorry, Fortune. We’d better be -off back.”</p> - -<p>“I want my tea,” said Reggie firmly, and got out: and vainly Lomas -followed to protest that after the Colchester lunch he could want no -more to eat for twenty-four hours. He was already negotiating for -cream. “If it hadn’t been for your confounded lunch we should have -caught her,” Lomas grumbled. “Now she’s off into the blue again.”</p> - -<p>Reggie fell into the window seat and took up the local paper. “And -where is he that knows?” he murmured. “From the great deep to the -great deep she goes. But why? Assumin’ for the sake of argument that -she is our leading lady, why does she make this hurried exit?”</p> - -<p>“How the devil should I know?”</p> - -<p>Reggie smiled at him over the top of the papers. “This is a very -interestin’ journal,” he remarked. “Do you know what it is, Lomas? -It’s the Ipswich evening paper with the 2.30 winner. Were you backing -anything? No? Well, well. Not a race for a careful man. I read also -that Miss Darcourt’s chauffeur was brought up before the Stanton -magistrates this morning and Miss Darcourt jumped into the river last -night. It makes quite a lot of headlines. The Press is a great power, -Lomas.”</p> - -<p>Lomas damned the Press.</p> - -<p>“You’re so old-fashioned,” Reggie said sadly. “My child, don’t you -see? Mr. Smith went to Ipswich, Mr. Smith read the early evening -paper and hustled back to tell Mrs. Smith, and Mrs. Smith felt that -duty called her. Assuming that Mrs. Smith is our Sylvia, where would -it call her? Back to Stanton, to clear up the mess.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose so,” said Lomas drearily. “She can go to the devil for me.”</p> - -<p>“My dear chap, you do want your tea,” said Reggie. Then Lomas swore.</p> - -<p>It was late that night when a dusty car driven by Mr. Fortune -approached the lights of Stanton. Mr. Fortune turned away from the -bridge down a leafy byway and drew up with a jerk. Another car was -standing by Miss Sheridan’s gate. The man in it turned to stare. -Reggie was already at his side. “Mr. Smith, I presume?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Who the devil are you?” said a voice that seemed to him familiar.</p> - -<p>The night was then rent by a scream, which resolved itself into a cry -of “Thieves! Help, help! Police!” It came from the house.</p> - -<p>Reggie made for the door and banged upon it. It was opened by an -oldish woman in disarray. “We’ve got burglars,” she cried. “Come in, -sir, come in.”</p> - -<p>“Rather,” said Mr. Fortune. “Where are they?”</p> - -<p>“On the stair, sir. I hit him. I know I hit one. It give me such a -turn.”</p> - -<p>Reggie ran upstairs. The light was on in the hall, but on the -landing, in the shadow, he stumbled over something soft. He ran his -hand along the wall for a switch and found it. What he saw was Sylvia -Sheridan lying with blood upon her face.</p> - -<p>“It’s all right. You’ve only knocked out your mistress,” he called -over the stairs.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my God!” the housekeeper gasped. “The poker on her poor head! -Oh, sir, she’s not dead, is she?”</p> - -<p>“Not a bit. Come along, where’s her room?” Reggie picked her up.</p> - -<p>The man from the car was at his elbow. “Thank you, I’ll do that,” he -said.</p> - -<p>“Why, it’s Mr. Woodcote. Fancy that!” Reggie smiled. “But why should -the dramatist carry the leading lady?”</p> - -<p>“I’m her husband,” said Woodcote fiercely. “Any objection, Mr. -Fortune?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, Mr. Smith. I beg pardon, Mr. Woodcote. But you’ll want me, -you know. If it’s only to sew her up.”</p> - -<p>He bore the lady off to her bedroom.</p> - -<p style="margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em; text-align:center">* * * * * * </p> - -<p>The case ended as it began, with a morning voyage in a punt. Lomas -brought that craft in to the landing-stage and embarked Reggie, who -laid himself down on the cushions elaborately and sighed. “My dear -fellow, I know you were always a lady’s man,” Lomas remonstrated. -“But you’re overdoing it. You’re enfeebled. You wilt.”</p> - -<p>Reggie moaned gently. “I know it. I feel like a curate, Lomas. They -coo over me. It’s weakening to the intellect. Rose holds my hand and -tells me she’s sorry she was so naughty, and Sylvia looks tenderly -from her unbandaged eye and says she’ll never do it again.”</p> - -<p>“Have you got anything rational out of them?”</p> - -<p>“I have it all. It’s quite simple. Sylvia heard that Rose was trying -to do her out of the part. She was pained. She went round in a hurry -to talk to Rose. In the garden she saw Albert Edward, the chauffeur, -who told her that Rose was on the boat-house balcony, her favourite -place on a fine evening. Sylvia went there straight. Hence none of -the servants but Albert Edward knew that Sylvia had called that -night. Sylvia and Rose had words. Sylvia says she offered Rose quite -a good minor part. Rose says Sylvia insulted her. I fear that Rose -tried to slap her face. Anyway, Sylvia tumbled down the boat-house -steps and there was a splash. Rose heard it and thought Sylvia had -gone in and was delighted. Albert Edward heard it as he had heard the -row, and thought something could be done about it. But he saw Sylvia -rush off rather draggled round the skirts, and knew she wasn’t -drowned. Rose didn’t take the trouble to see Sylvia scramble out. She -was too happy. Sylvia was annoyed, but she has an ingenious mind. It -occurred to her that if she did a disappearance Rose would get the -wind up badly and it would be a howling advertisement for Miss Sylvia -Sheridan and Woodcote’s new play. Yes, Lomas dear, you were quite -right. Only Bell was too. Sylvia scurried off to London and let -herself into her flat and telephoned to Woodcote and told him all -about it. He was badly gone on Sylvia before. He gave way to his -emotions and those two geese arranged their elopement that night. She -went off at break of day and he got a special licence. Meanwhile -Albert Edward was getting busy. He collected the cigarette-case from -the boat-house first thing in the morning, he found out Sylvia hadn’t -gone home and he started blackmailing Rose. That was why we saw her -looking desperate. She got more and more funky, she paid that bright -lad all the money she could spare (the clean notes) and most of her -jewellery (the pawn-tickets). The only thing that worried Albert -Edward was when Sylvia would turn up again. Hence that interest in -the parlourmaid which gave him away. Poor Rose tried to drown her -sorrows in morphia, and when she found Albert Edward was in the -cells, she wanted to go under quiet and quick.”</p> - -<p>“I have a mild, manly longing to smack Sylvia,” said Lomas.</p> - -<p>“Well, well. The housekeeper did that. With a poker,” Reggie -murmured. “Life is quite just to the wicked. But wearing to the -virtuous. I am much worn, Lomas. I want my lunch.”</p> - -<hr id="Ch7"> - -<p class="calibre5" id="toc7">CASE VII</p> - -<h2 class="calibre6">THE UNKNOWN MURDERER</h2> - -<p class="first"><span class="dropcaps">O</span>NCE upon a time a number of men in a club discussed how Mr. Reginald -Fortune came to be the expert adviser of the Home Office upon crime. -The doctors admitted that though he is a competent surgeon, -pathologist and what not, he never showed international form. There -was a Fellow of the Royal Society who urged that Fortune knew more -about natural science than most schoolboys, politicians and civil -servants. An artist said he had been told Fortune understood -business, and his banker believed Fortune was a judge of old -furniture. But they all agreed that he is a jolly good fellow. Which -means, being interpreted, he can be all things to all men.</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune himself is convinced that he was meant by Providence to -be a general practitioner: to attend to my lumbago and your -daughter’s measles. He has been heard to complain of the chance that -has made him, knowing something of everything, nothing completely, -into a specialist. His only qualification, he will tell you, is that -he doesn’t get muddled.</p> - -<p>There you have it, then. He is singularly sensitive to people. “Very -odd how he knows men,” said Superintendent Bell reverently. “As if he -had an extra sense to tell him of people’s souls, like smells or -colours.” And he has a clear head. He is never confused about what is -important and what isn’t, and he has never been known to hesitate in -doing what is necessary.</p> - -<p>Consider his dealing with the affair of the unknown murderer.</p> - -<p>There was not much interesting crime that Christmas. The singular -case of Sir Humphrey Bigod, who was found dead in a chalkpit on the -eve of his marriage, therefore obtained a lot of space in the papers, -which kept it up, even after the coroner’s jury had declared for -death by misadventure, with irrelevant inventions and bloodthirsty -hints of murder and tales of clues. This did not disturb the peace of -the scientific adviser to the Criminal Investigation Department, who -knew that the lad was killed by a fall and that there was no means of -knowing any more. Mr. Fortune was much occupied in being happy, for -after long endeavour he had engaged Joan Amber to marry him. The lady -has said the endeavour was hers, but I am not now telling that story. -Just after Christmas she took him to the children’s party at the Home -of Help.</p> - -<p>It is an old-fashioned orphanage, a huge barrack of a building, but -homely and kind. Time out of mind people of all sorts, with old -titles and new, with money and with brains, have been the friends of -its children. When Miss Amber brought Reggie Fortune under the flags -and the strings of paper roses into its hall, which was as noisy as -the parrot house, he gasped slightly. “Be brave, child,” she said. -“This is quiet to what it will be after tea. And cool. You will be -much hotter. You don’t know how hot you’ll be.”</p> - -<p>“Woman, you have deceived me,” said Mr. Fortune bitterly. “I thought -philanthropists were respectable.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, dear. Don’t be frightened. You’re only a philanthropist for the -afternoon.”</p> - -<p>“I ask you. Is that Crab Warnham?”</p> - -<p>“Of course it’s Captain Warnham.” Miss Amber smiled beautifully at a -gaunt man with a face like an old jockey. He flushed as he leered -back. “Do you know his wife? She’s rather precious.”</p> - -<p>“Poor woman. He doesn’t look comfortable here, does he? The last time -I saw Crab Warnham was in a place that’s several kinds of hell in -Berlin. He was quite at home there.”</p> - -<p>“Forget it,” said Miss Amber gently. “You will when you meet his -wife. And their boy’s a darling.”</p> - -<p>“His boy?” Reggie was startled.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no. She was a widow. He worships her and the child.”</p> - -<p>Reggie said nothing. It appeared to him that Captain Warnham, for a -man who worshipped his wife, had a hungry eye on women. And the next -moment Captain Warnham was called to attention. A small woman, still -pretty though earnest, talked to him like a mother or a commanding -officer. He was embarrassed, and when she had done with him he fled.</p> - -<p>The small woman, who was austerely but daintily clad in black with -some white at the neck, continued to flit among the company, finding -everyone a job of work. “She says to one, Go, and he goeth, and to -another, Come, and he cometh. And who is she, Joan?”</p> - -<p>“Lady Chantry,” said Miss Amber. “She’s providence here, you know.”</p> - -<p>And Lady Chantry was upon them. Reggie found himself looking down -into a pair of uncommonly bright eyes and wondering what it felt like -to be as strenuous as the little woman who was congratulating him on -Joan, thanking him for being there and arranging his afternoon for -him all in one breath. He had never heard anyone talk so fast. In a -condition of stupor he saw Joan reft from him to tell the story of -Cinderella to magic lantern pictures in one dormitory, while he was -led to another to help in a scratch concert. And as the door closed -on him he heard the swift clear voice of Lady Chantry exhorting staff -and visitors to play round games.</p> - -<p>He suffered. People who had no voices sang showy songs, people who -had too much voice sang ragtime to those solemn, respectful children. -In pity for the children and himself he set up as a conjurer, and the -dormitory was growing merry when a shriek cut into his patter. -“That’s only my bones creaking,” he went on quickly, for the children -were frightened; “they always do that when I put the knife in at the -ear and take it out of my hind leg. So. But it doesn’t hurt. As the -motor-car said when it ran over the policeman’s feet. All done by -kindness. Come here, Jenny Wren. You mustn’t use your nose as a -money-box.” A small person submitted to have pennies taken out of her -face.</p> - -<p>The door opened and a pallid nurse said faintly: “The doctor. Are you -the doctor?”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” said Reggie. “One moment, people. Mr. Punch has fallen -over the baby. It always hurts him. In the hump. Are we down-hearted? -No. Pack up your troubles in the old kit bag——” He went out to a -joyful roar of that lyric. “What’s the trouble?” The nurse was -shaking.</p> - -<p>“In there, sir—she’s up there.”</p> - -<p>Reggie went up the stairs in quick time. The door of a little -sitting-room stood open. Inside it people were staring at a woman who -sat at her desk. Her dress was dark and wet. Her head lolled forward. -A deep gash ran across her throat.</p> - -<p>“Yes. There’s too many of us here,” he said, and waved the spectators -away. One lingered, an old woman, large and imposing, and announced -that she was the matron. Reggie shut the door and came back to the -body in the chair. He held the limp hands a moment, he lifted the -head and looked close into the flaccid face. “When was she found? -When I heard that scream? Yes.” He examined the floor. “Quite so.” He -turned to the matron. “Well, well. Who is she?”</p> - -<p>“It’s our resident medical officer, Dr. Emily Hall. But Dr. Fortune, -can’t you do anything?”</p> - -<p>“She’s gone,” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>“But this is terrible, doctor. What does it mean?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t know what it means. Her throat was cut by a highly -efficient knife, probably from behind. She lingered a little while -quite helpless, and died. Not so very long ago. Who screamed?”</p> - -<p>“The nurse who found her. One of our own girls, Dr. Fortune, Edith -Baker. She was always a favourite of poor Dr. Hall’s. She has been -kept on here at Dr. Hall’s wish to train as a nurse. She was devoted -to Dr. Hall. One of these girlish passions.”</p> - -<p>“And she came into the room and found—this—and screamed?”</p> - -<p>“So she tells me,” said the matron.</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” Reggie sighed. “Poor kiddies! And now you must send for -the police.”</p> - -<p>“I have given instructions, Dr. Fortune,” said the matron with -dignity.</p> - -<p>“And I think you ought to keep Edith Baker from talking about it.” -Reggie opened the door.</p> - -<p>“Edith will not talk,” said the matron coldly. “She is a very -reserved creature.”</p> - -<p>“Poor thing. But I’m afraid some of our visitors will. And they had -better not, you know.” At last he got rid of the lady and turned the -key in the lock and stood looking at it. “Yes, quite natural, but -very convenient,” said he, and turned away from it and contemplated a -big easy chair. The loose cushion on the seat showed that somebody -had been sitting in it, a fact not in itself remarkable. But there -was a tiny smear of blood on the arm still wet. He picked up the -cushion. On the under side was a larger smear of blood. Mr. Fortune’s -brow contracted. “The unknown murderer cuts her throat—comes over -here—makes a mess on the chair—turns the cushion over—and sits -down—to watch the woman die. This is rather diabolical.” He began to -wander round the room. It offered him no other signs but some drops -of blood on the hearthrug and the hearth. He knelt down and peered -into the fire, and with the tongs drew from it a thin piece of metal. -It was a surgical knife. He looked at the dead woman. “From your -hospital equipment, Dr. Hall. And Edith Baker is a nurse. And Edith -Baker had ‘a girlish passion’ for you. I wonder.”</p> - -<p>Some one was trying the door. He unlocked it, to find an inspector of -police. “I am Reginald Fortune,” he explained. “Here’s your case.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve heard of you, sir,” said the inspector reverently. “Bad -business, isn’t it? I’m sure it’s very lucky you were here.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” Reggie murmured.</p> - -<p>“Could it be suicide, sir?”</p> - -<p>Reggie shook his head. “I wish it could. Not a nice murder. Not at -all a nice murder. By the way, there’s the knife. I picked it out of -the fire.”</p> - -<p>“Doctor’s tool, isn’t it, sir? Have you got any theory about it?” -Reggie shook his head. “There’s the girl who gave the alarm: she’s a -nurse in the hospital, I’m told.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know the girl,” said Reggie. “You’d better see what you make -of the room. I shall be downstairs.”</p> - -<p>In the big hall the decorations and the Christmas tree with its -ungiven presents glowed to emptiness and silence. Joan Amber came -forward to meet him. He did not speak to her. He continued to stare -at the ungiven presents on the Christmas tree. “What do you want to -do?” she said at last.</p> - -<p>“This is the end of a perfect day,” said Mr. Fortune. “Poor kiddies.”</p> - -<p>“The matron packed them all off to their dormitories.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Fortune laughed. “Just as well to rub it in, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>Miss Amber did not answer him for a moment. “Do you know, you look -rather terrible?” she said, and indeed his normally plump, -fresh-coloured, cheery face had a certain ferocity.</p> - -<p>“I feel like a fool, Joan. Where is everybody?”</p> - -<p>“She sent everybody away too.”</p> - -<p>“She would. Great organizer. No brain. My only aunt! A woman’s -murdered and every stranger who was in the place is hustled off -before the police get to work. This isn’t a crime, it’s a nightmare.”</p> - -<p>“Well, of course they were anxious to go.”</p> - -<p>“They would be.”</p> - -<p>“Reggie, who are you thinking of?”</p> - -<p>“I can’t think. There are no facts. Where’s this matron now?”</p> - -<p>The inspector came upon them as they were going to her room. “I’ve -finished upstairs, sir. Not much for me, is there? Plenty downstairs, -though. I reckon I’ll hear some queer stories before I’ve done. These -homes are always full of gossip. People living too close together, -wonderful what bad blood it makes. I——” He broke off and stared at -Reggie. From the matron’s room came the sound of sobbing. He opened -the door without a knock.</p> - -<p>The matron sat at her writing-table, coldly judicial. A girl in -nurse’s uniform was crying on the bosom of Lady Chantry, who caressed -her and murmured in her ear.</p> - -<p>“Sorry to interrupt, ma’am,” the inspector said, staring hard.</p> - -<p>“You don’t interrupt. This girl is Edith Baker, who seems to have -been the last person who saw Dr. Hall alive and was certainly the -first person who saw her dead.”</p> - -<p>“And who was very, very fond of her,” Lady Chantry said gently. -“Weren’t you, dear?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll have to take her statement,” said the inspector. But the girl -was torn with sobbing.</p> - -<p>“Come, dear, come.” Lady Chantry strove with her. “The Inspector only -wants you to say how you left her and how you found her.”</p> - -<p>“Edith, you must control yourself.” The matron lifted her voice.</p> - -<p>“I hate you,” the girl cried, and tore herself away and rushed out of -the room.</p> - -<p>“She’ll have to speak, you know, ma’am,” the inspector said.</p> - -<p>“I am very sorry to say she has always had a passionate temperament,” -said the matron.</p> - -<p>“Poor child!” Lady Chantry rose. “She was so fond of the doctor, you -see. I’ll go to her, matron, and see what I can do.”</p> - -<p>“Does anyone here know what the girl was up to this afternoon, -ma’am?” said the inspector.</p> - -<p>“I will try to find out for you,” said the matron, and rang her bell.</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” said Reggie Fortune. “Every little helps. You might -find out what all the other people were doing this afternoon.”</p> - -<p>The matron stared at him. “Surely you’re not thinking of the -visitors, Mr. Fortune?”</p> - -<p>“I’m thinking of your children,” said Reggie, and she was the more -amazed. “Not a nice murder, you know, not at all a nice murder.”</p> - -<p>And then he took Miss Amber home. She found him taciturn, which is -his habit when he is angry. But she had never seen him angry before. -She is a wise woman. When he was leaving her: “Do you know what it is -about you, sir?” she said. “You’re always just right.”</p> - -<p>When the Hon. Sidney Lomas came to his room in Scotland Yard the next -morning, Reggie Fortune was waiting for him. “My dear fellow!” he -protested. “What is this? You’re not really up, are you? It’s not -eleven. You’re an hallucination.”</p> - -<p>“Zeal, all zeal, Lomas. The orphanage murder is my trouble.”</p> - -<p>“Have you come to give yourself up? I suspected you from the first, -Fortune. Where is it?” He took a copy of the “Daily Wire” from the -rack. “Yes. ‘Dr. Reginald Fortune, the eminent surgeon, was attending -the function and was able to give the police a first-hand account of -the crime. Dr. Fortune states that the weapon used was a surgical -knife.’ My dear fellow, the case looks black indeed.”</p> - -<p>Reggie was not amused. “Yes. I also was present. And several others,” -he said. “Do you know anything about any of us?”</p> - -<p>Lomas put up his eyeglass. “There’s a certain bitterness about you, -Fortune. This is unusual. What’s the matter?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t like this murder,” said Reggie. “It spoilt the children’s -party.”</p> - -<p>“That would be a by-product,” Lomas agreed. “You’re getting very -domestic in your emotions. Oh, I like it, my dear fellow. But it -makes you a little irrelevant.”</p> - -<p>“Domestic be damned. I’m highly relevant. It spoilt the children’s -party. Why did it happen at the children’s party? Lots of other nice -days to kill the resident medical officer.”</p> - -<p>“You’re suggesting it was one of the visitors?”</p> - -<p>“No, no. It isn’t the only day visitors visit. I’m suggesting life is -real, life is earnest—and rather diabolical sometimes.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll call for the reports,” Lomas said, and did so. “Good Gad! -Reams! Barton’s put in some heavy work.”</p> - -<p>“I thought he would,” said Reggie, and went to read over Lomas’s -shoulder.</p> - -<p>At the end Lomas lay back and looked up at him. “Well? Barton’s put -his money on this young nurse, Edith Baker.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. That’s the matron’s tip. I saw the matron. One of the world’s -organizers, Lomas. A place for everything and everything in its -place. And if you don’t fit, God help you. Edith Baker didn’t fit. -Edith Baker has emotions. Therefore she does murders. Q.E.D.”</p> - -<p>“Well, the matron ought to know the girl.”</p> - -<p>“She ought,” Reggie agreed. “And our case is, gentlemen, that the -matron who ought to know girls says Edith Baker isn’t a nice young -person. Lomas dear, why do policemen always believe what they’re -told? What the matron don’t like isn’t evidence.”</p> - -<p>“There is some evidence. The girl had one of these hysterical -affections for the dead woman, passionately devoted and passionately -jealous and so forth. The girl had access to the hospital -instruments. All her time in the afternoon can’t be accounted for, -and she was the first to know of the murder.”</p> - -<p>“It’s not good enough, Lomas. Why did she give the alarm?”</p> - -<p>Lomas shrugged. “A murderer does now and then. Cunning or fright.”</p> - -<p>“And why did she wait for the children’s party to do the murder?”</p> - -<p>“Something may have happened there to rouse her jealousy.”</p> - -<p>“Something with one of the visitors?” Reggie suggested. “I wonder.” -And then he laughed. “A party of the visitors went round the -hospital, Lomas. They had access to the surgical instruments.”</p> - -<p>“And were suddenly seized with a desire for homicide? They also went -to the gymnasium and the kitchen. Did any of them start boiling -potatoes? My dear Fortune, you are not as plausible as usual.”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t plausible,” Reggie said. “I know that. It’s too dam’ -wicked.”</p> - -<p>“Abnormal,” Lomas nodded. “Of course the essence of the thing is that -it’s abnormal. Every once in a while we have these murders in an -orphanage or school or some place where women and children are herded -together. Nine times out of ten they are cases of hysteria. Your -young friend Miss Baker seems to be a highly hysterical subject.”</p> - -<p>“You know more than I do.”</p> - -<p>“Why, that’s in the evidence. And you saw her yourself half crazy -with emotion after the murder.”</p> - -<p>“Good Lord!” said Reggie. “Lomas, old thing, you do run on. Pantin’ -time toils after you in vain. That girl wasn’t crazy. She was the -most natural of us all. You send a girl in her teens into the room -where the woman she is keen on is sitting with her throat cut. She -won’t talk to you like a little lady. The evidence! Why do you -believe what people tell you about people? They’re always lying—by -accident if not on purpose. This matron don’t like the girl because -she worshipped the lady doctor. Therefore the girl is called abnormal -and jealous. Did you never hear of a girl in her teens worshipping a -teacher? It’s common form. Did you never hear of another teacher -being vicious about it? That’s just as common.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean the matron was jealous of them both?”</p> - -<p>Reggie shrugged. “It hits you in the eye.”</p> - -<p>“Good Gad!” said Lomas. “Do you suspect the matron?”</p> - -<p>“I suspect the devil,” said Reggie gravely. “Lomas, my child, whoever -did that murder cut the woman’s throat and then sat down in her easy -chair and watched her die. I call that devilish.” And he told of the -blood-stains and the turned cushions.</p> - -<p>“Good Gad,” said Lomas once more, “there’s some hate in that.”</p> - -<p>“Not a nice murder. Also it stopped the children’s party.”</p> - -<p>“You harp on that.” Lomas looked at him curiously. “Are you thinking -of the visitors?”</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” Reggie murmured. “I wonder.”</p> - -<p>“Here’s the list,” Lomas said, and Reggie came slowly to look. “Sir -George and Lady Bean, Lady Chantry, Mrs. Carroway,”—he ran his -pencil down—“all well-known, blameless busybodies, full of good -works. Nothing doing.”</p> - -<p>“Crab Warnham,” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Warnham: his wife took him, I suppose. She’s a saint, and he -eats out of her hand, they say. Well, he was a loose fish, of course, -but murder! I don’t see Warnham at that.”</p> - -<p>“He has an eye for a woman.”</p> - -<p>“Still? I dare say. But good Gad, he can’t have known this lady -doctor. Was she pretty?” Reggie nodded. “Well, we might look for a -link between them. Not likely, is it?”</p> - -<p>“We’re catching at straws,” said Reggie sombrely.</p> - -<p>Lomas pushed the papers away. “Confound it, it’s another case without -evidence. I suppose it can’t be suicide like that Bigod affair?”</p> - -<p>Reggie, who was lighting a cigar, looked up and let the match burn -his fingers. “Not suicide. No,” he said. “Was Bigod’s?”</p> - -<p>“Well, it was a deuced queer death by misadventure.”</p> - -<p>“As you say.” Reggie nodded and wandered dreamily out.</p> - -<p>This seems to have been the first time that anyone thought of -comparing the Bigod case to the orphanage murder. When the inquest on -the lady doctor was held the police had no more evidence to produce -than you have heard, and the jury returned a verdict of murder by -some person or persons unknown. Newspapers strove to enliven the dull -calm of the holiday season by declaiming against the inefficiency of -a police force which allowed murderers to remain anonymous, and -hashed up the Bigod case again to prove that the fall of Sir Humphrey -Bigod into his chalkpit, though called accidental, was just as -mysterious as the cut throat of Dr. Hall. And the Hon. Sidney Lomas -cursed the man who invented printing.</p> - -<p>These assaults certainly did not disturb Reggie Fortune, who has -never cared what people say of him. With the help of Joan Amber he -found a quiet remote place for the unhappy girl suspected of the -murder (Lady Chantry was prettily angry with Miss Amber about that, -protesting that she wanted to look after Edith herself), and said he -was only in the case as a philanthropist. After which he gave all his -time to preparing his house and Miss Amber for married life. But the -lady found him dreamy.</p> - -<p>It was in fact while he was showing her how the new colours in the -drawing-room looked under the new lighting that Dr. Eden called him -up. Dr. Eden has a general practice in Kensington. Dr. Eden wanted to -consult him about a case: most urgent: 3 King William’s Walk.</p> - -<p>“May I take the car?” said Reggie to Joan. “He sounds rattled. You -can go on home afterwards. It’s not far from you either. I wonder who -lives at 3 King William’s Walk.”</p> - -<p>“But it’s Mrs. Warnham!” she cried.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my aunt!” said Reggie Fortune; and said no more.</p> - -<p>And Joan Amber could not call him out of his thoughts. She was as -grave as he. Only when he was getting out of the car, “Be good to -her, dear,” she said gently. He kissed the hand on his arm.</p> - -<p>The door was opened by a woman in evening-dress. “It is Mr. Fortune, -isn’t it? Please come in. It’s so kind of you to come.” She turned to -the maid in the background. “Tell Dr. Eden, Maggie. It’s my little -boy—and we are so anxious.”</p> - -<p>“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Warnham.” Reggie took her hand and found it -cold. The face he remembered for its gentle calm was sternly set. -“What is the trouble?”</p> - -<p>“Gerald went to a party this afternoon. He came home gloriously happy -and went to bed. He didn’t go to sleep at once, he was rather -excited, but he was quite well. Then he woke up crying with pain and -was very sick. I sent for Dr. Eden. It isn’t like Gerald to cry, Mr. -Fortune. And——”</p> - -<p>A hoarse voice said “Catherine, you oughtn’t to be out there in the -cold.” Reggie saw the gaunt face of Captain Warnham looking round a -door at them.</p> - -<p>“What does it matter?” she cried. “Dr. Eden doesn’t want me to be -with him, Mr. Fortune. He is still in pain. And I don’t think Dr. -Eden knows.”</p> - -<p>Dr. Eden came down in time to hear that. A large young man, he stood -over them looking very awkward and uncomfortable.</p> - -<p>“I’m sure Dr. Eden has done everything that can be done,” said Reggie -gently. “I’ll go up, please.” And they left the mother to her -husband, that flushed, gaunt face peering round the corner as they -kept step on the stairs.</p> - -<p>“The child’s seven years old,” said Eden. “There’s no history of any -gastric trouble. Rather a good digestion. And then this—out of the -blue!” Reggie went into a nursery where a small boy lay huddled and -restless with all the apparatus of sickness by his bed. He raised a -pale face on which beads of sweat stood.</p> - -<p>“Hallo, Gerald,” Reggie said quietly. “Mother sent me up to make you -all right again.” He took the child’s hand and felt for the pulse. -“I’m Mr. Fortune, your fortune, good fortune.” The child tried to -smile and Reggie’s hands moved over the uneasy body and all the while -he murmured softly nonsense talk. . . .</p> - -<p>The child did not want him to go, but at last he went off with Eden -into a corner of the room. “Quite right to send for me,” he said -gravely, and Eden put his hand to his head. “I know. I know. It’s -horrible when it’s a child. One of the irritant poisons. Probably -arsenic. Have you given an emetic?”</p> - -<p>“He’s been very sick. And he’s so weak.”</p> - -<p>“I know. Have you got anything with you?”</p> - -<p>“I sent home. But I didn’t care to——”</p> - -<p>“I’ll do it. Sulphate of zinc. You go and send for a nurse. And find -some safe milk. I wouldn’t use the household stuff.”</p> - -<p>“My God, Fortune! Surely it was at the party?”</p> - -<p>“Not the household stuff,” Reggie repeated, and he went back to the -child. . . .</p> - -<p>It was many hours afterwards that he came softly downstairs. In the -hall husband and wife met him. It seemed to him that it was the man -who had been crying. “Are you going away?” Mrs. Warnham said.</p> - -<p>“There’s no more pain. He is asleep.”</p> - -<p>Her eyes darkened. “You mean he’s—dead?” the man gasped.</p> - -<p>“I hope he’ll live longer than any of us, Captain Warnham. But no one -must disturb him. The nurse will be watching, you know. And I’m sure -we all want to sleep sound—don’t we?” He was gone. But he stayed a -moment on the doorstep. He heard emotions within.</p> - -<p>On the next afternoon Dr. Eden came into his laboratory at St. -Saviour’s. “One moment. One moment.” Reggie was bent over a notebook. -“When I go to hell they’ll set me doing sums.” He frowned at his -figures. “The third time is lucky. That’s plausible if it isn’t -right. Well, how’s our large patient?”</p> - -<p>“He’s doing well. Quite easy and cheerful.”</p> - -<p>Reggie stood up. “I think we might say, thank God.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, rather. I thought he was gone last night, Fortune. He would -have been without you. It was wonderful how he bucked up in your -hands. You ought to have been a children’s specialist.”</p> - -<p>“My dear chap! Oh, my dear chap! I’m the kind of fellow who would -always ought to have been something else. And so I’m doing sums in a -laboratory which God knows I’m not fit for.”</p> - -<p>“Have you found out what it was?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, arsenic, of course. Quite a fair dose he must have had. It’s -queer how they always will use arsenic.”</p> - -<p>Eden stared at him. “What are we to do?” he said in a low voice. -“Fortune, I suppose it couldn’t have been accidental?”</p> - -<p>“What is a child likely to eat in which he would find grains of -accidental arsenic?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but then—— I mean, who could want to kill that child?”</p> - -<p>“That is the unknown quantity in the equation. But people do want to -murder children, quite nice children.”</p> - -<p>Eden grew pale. “What do you mean? You know he’s not Warnham’s child. -Warnham’s his step-father.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Yes. Have you ever seen the two together?”</p> - -<p>Eden hesitated. “He—well, he didn’t seem to take to Warnham. But I’d -have sworn Warnham was fond of him.”</p> - -<p>“And that’s all quite natural, isn’t it? Well, well. I hope he’s in.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean to do?”</p> - -<p>“Tell Mrs. Warnham—with her husband listening.”</p> - -<p>Dr. Eden followed him out like a man going to be hanged.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Warnham indeed met them in her hall. “Mr. Fortune,”—she took -his hand, she had won back her old calm, but her eyes grew dark as -she looked at him—“Gerald has been asking for you. And I want to -speak to you.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be glad to talk over the case with you and Captain Warnham,” -said Reggie gravely. “I’ll see the small boy first, if you don’t -mind.” And the small boy kept his Mr. Fortune a long time.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Warnham had her husband with her when the doctors came down. “I -say, Fortune,” Captain Warnham started up, “awfully good of you to -take so much trouble. I mean to say,”—he cleared his throat—“I feel -it, you know. How is the little beggar?”</p> - -<p>“There’s no reason why he shouldn’t do well,” Reggie said slowly. -“But it’s a strange case. Captain Warnham. Yes, a strange case. You -may take it, there is no doubt the child was poisoned.”</p> - -<p>“Poisoned!” Warnham cried out in that queer hoarse voice.</p> - -<p>“You mean it was something Gerald shouldn’t have eaten?” Mrs. Warnham -said gently.</p> - -<p>“It was arsenic, Captain Warnham. Not much more than an hour before -the time he felt ill, perhaps less, he had swallowed enough arsenic -to kill him.”</p> - -<p>“I say, are you certain of all that? I mean to say, no doubt about -anything?” Warnham was flushed. “Arsenic—and the time—and the dose? -It’s pretty thick, you know.”</p> - -<p>“There is no doubt. I have found arsenic. I can estimate the dose. -And arsenic acts within that time.”</p> - -<p>“But I can’t believe it,” Mrs. Warnham said. “It would be too -horribly cruel. Mr. Fortune, couldn’t it have been accident? -Something in his food?”</p> - -<p>“It was certainly in his food or drink. But not accident, Mrs. -Warnham. That is not possible.”</p> - -<p>“I say, let’s have it all out, Fortune,” Warnham growled. “Do you -suspect anyone?”</p> - -<p>“That’s rather for you, isn’t it?” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>“Who could want to poison Gerald?” Mrs. Warnham cried.</p> - -<p>“He says some one did,” Warnham growled.</p> - -<p>“When do you suppose he took the stuff, Fortune? At the party or -after he came home?”</p> - -<p>“What did he have when he came home?”</p> - -<p>Warnham looked at his wife. “Only a little milk. He wouldn’t eat -anything,” she said. “And I tasted his milk, I remember. It was quite -nice.”</p> - -<p>“That points to the party,” Eden said.</p> - -<p>“But I can’t believe it. Who could want to poison Gerald?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve seen some of the people who were there,” Eden frowned. “I don’t -believe there’s another child ill. Only this one of the whole party.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Yes. A strange case,” said Reggie. “Was there anyone there with -a grudge against you, Mrs. Warnham?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think there’s anyone with a grudge against me in the world.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe there is, Catherine,” her husband looked at her. -“But damn it. Fortune found the stuff in the child. I say, Fortune, -what do you advise?”</p> - -<p>“You’re sure of your own household? There’s nobody here jealous of -the child?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Warnham looked her distress. “I couldn’t, I couldn’t doubt -anybody. There isn’t any reason. You know, it doesn’t seem real.”</p> - -<p>“And there it is,” Warnham growled.</p> - -<p>“Yes. Well, I shouldn’t talk about it, you know. When he’s up again -take him right away, somewhere quiet. You’ll live with him yourself, -of course. That’s all safe. And I—well, I shan’t forget the case. -Good-bye.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Fortune——” she started up and caught his hands.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, good-bye,” said Reggie, and got away. But as Warnham let -them out he felt Warnham’s lean hand grip into his arm.</p> - -<p>“A little homely comfort would be grateful,” Reggie murmured. “Come -and have tea at the Academies, Eden. They keep a pleasing muffin.” He -sank down in his car at Eden’s side with a happy sigh.</p> - -<p>But Eden’s brow was troubled. “Do you think the child will be safe -now, Fortune?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I think so. If it was Warnham or Mrs. Warnham who poisoned -him——”</p> - -<p>“Good Lord! You don’t think that?”</p> - -<p>“They are frightened,” said Reggie placidly, “I frightened ’em quite -a lot. And if it was somebody else—the child is going away and Mrs. -Warnham will be eating and drinking everything he eats and drinks. -The small Gerald will be all right. There remains only the little -problem, who was it?”</p> - -<p>“It’s a diabolical affair. Who could want to kill that child?”</p> - -<p>“Diabolical is the word,” Reggie agreed. “And a little simple food is -what we need,” and they went into the club and through a long tea he -talked to Eden of rock gardens and Chinese nursery rhymes.</p> - -<p>But when Eden, somewhat dazed by his appetite and the variety of his -conversation, was gone, he made for that corner of the club where -Lomas sat drinking tea made in the Russian manner. He pointed a -finger at the clear weak fluid. “It was sad and bad and mad and it -was not even sweet,” he complained. “Take care, Lomas. Think what’s -happened to Russia. You would never be happy as a Bolshevik.”</p> - -<p>“I understand that the detective police force is the one institution -which has survived in Russia.”</p> - -<p>“Put down that repulsive concoction and come and take the air.”</p> - -<p>Lomas stared at him in horror. “Where’s your young lady? I thought -you were walking out. You’re a faithless fellow, Fortune. Go and walk -like a little gentleman.” But there was that in Reggie’s eye which -made him get up with a groan. “You’re the most ruthless man I know.”</p> - -<p>The car moved away from the club and Reggie shrank under his rug as -the January east wind met them. “I hope you are cold,” said Lomas. -“What is it now?”</p> - -<p>“It was nearly another anonymous murder,” and Reggie told him the -story.</p> - -<p>“Diabolical,” said Lomas.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I believe in the devil,” Reggie nodded.</p> - -<p>“Who stood to gain by the child’s death? It’s clear enough. There’s -only Warnham. Mrs. Warnham was left a rich woman when her first -husband died, old Staveleigh. Every one knew that was why Warnham was -after her. But the bulk of the fortune would go to the child. So he -took the necessary action. Good Gad! We all knew Crab Warnham didn’t -stick at a trifle. But this——! Cold-blooded scoundrel. Can you make -a case of it?”</p> - -<p>“I like you, Lomas. You’re so natural,” Reggie said. “That’s all -quite clear. And it’s all wrong. This case isn’t natural, you see. It -hath a devil.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean to say it wasn’t Warnham?”</p> - -<p>“It wasn’t Warnham. I tried to frighten him. He was frightened. But -not for himself. Because the child has an enemy and he doesn’t know -who it is.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, my dear fellow! He’s not a murderer because you like his face.”</p> - -<p>“Who could like his face? No. The poison was given at the party where -Warnham wasn’t.”</p> - -<p>“But why? What possible motive? Some homicidal lunatic goes to a -Kensington children’s party and picks out this one child to poison. -Not very credible, is it?”</p> - -<p>“No, it’s diabolical. I didn’t say a lunatic. When you tell me what -lunacy is, we’ll discuss whether the poisoner was sane. But the -diabolical is getting a little too common, Lomas. There was Bigod: -young, healthy, well off, just engaged to a jolly girl. He falls into -a chalkpit and the jury says it was misadventure. There was the lady -doctor: young, clean living, not a ghost of a past, everybody liking -her. She is murdered and a girl who was very fond of her nearly goes -mad over it. Now there’s the small Gerald: a dear kid, his mother -worships him, his step-father’s mighty keen on him, everybody likes -him. Somebody tries to poison him and nearly brings it off.”</p> - -<p>“What are you arguing, Fortune? It’s odd the cases should follow one -another. It’s deuced awkward we can’t clean them up. But what then? -They’re not really related. The people are unconnected. There’s a -different method of murder—if the Bigod case was murder. The only -common feature is that the man who attempted murder is not known.”</p> - -<p>“You think so? Well, well. What I want to know is, was there any one -at Mrs. Lawley’s party in Kensington who was also at the Home of Help -party and also staying somewhere near the chalkpit when Bigod fell -into it. Put your men on to that.”</p> - -<p>“Good Gad!” said Lomas. “But the cases are not comparable—not in the -same class. Different method—different kind of victim. What motive -could any creature have for picking out just these three to kill?”</p> - -<p>Reggie looked at him. “Not nice murders, are they?” he said. “I could -guess—and I dare say we’ll only guess in the end.”</p> - -<p>That night he was taking Miss Amber, poor girl, to a state dinner of -his relations. They had ten minutes together before the horrors of -the ceremony began and she was benign to him about the recovery of -the small Gerald. “It was dear of you to ring up and tell me. I love -Gerry. Poor Mrs. Warnham! I just had to go round to her and she was -sweet. But she has been frightened. You’re rather a wonderful person, -sir. I didn’t know you were a children’s doctor—as well as a million -other things. What was the matter? Mrs. Warnham didn’t tell us. It -must——”</p> - -<p>“Who are ‘us,’ Joan?”</p> - -<p>“Why, Lady Chantry was with her. She didn’t tell us what it really -was. After we came away Lady Chantry asked me if I knew.”</p> - -<p>“But I’m afraid you don’t,” Reggie said. “Joan, I don’t want you to -talk about the small Gerry? Do you mind?”</p> - -<p>“My dear, of course not.” Her eyes grew bigger. “But Reggie—the -boy’s going to be all right.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Yes. You’re rather a dear, you know.”</p> - -<p>And at the dinner-table which then received them his family found him -of an unwonted solemnity. It was agreed, with surprise and -reluctance, that engagement had improved him: that there might be -some merit in Miss Amber after all.</p> - -<p>A week went by. He had been separated from Miss Amber for one long -afternoon to give evidence in the case of the illegitimate Pekinese -when she rang him up on the telephone. Lady Chantry, she said, had -asked her to choose a day and bring Mr. Fortune to dine. Lady Chantry -did so want to know him.</p> - -<p>“Does she, though?” said Mr. Fortune.</p> - -<p>“She was so nice about it,” said the telephone. “And she really is a -good sort, Reggie. She’s always doing something kind.”</p> - -<p>“Joan,” said Mr. Fortune, “you’re not to go into her house.”</p> - -<p>“Reggie!” said the telephone.</p> - -<p>“That’s that,” said Mr. Fortune. “I’ll speak to Lady Chantry.”</p> - -<p>Lady Chantry was at home. She sat in her austerely pleasant -drawing-room, toasting a foot at the fire, a small foot which brought -out a pretty leg. Of course she was in black with some white about -her neck, but the loose gown had grace. She smiled at him and tossed -back her hair. Not a thread of white showed in its crisp brown and it -occurred to Reggie that he had never seen a woman of her age carry -off bobbed hair so well. What was her age? Her eyes were as bright as -a bird’s and her clear pallor was unfurrowed.</p> - -<p>“So good of you, Mr. Fortune——”</p> - -<p>“Miss Amber has just told me——”</p> - -<p>They spoke together. She got the lead then. “It was kind of her to -let you know at once. But she’s always kind, isn’t she? I did so want -you to come, and make friends with me before you’re married, and it -will be very soon now, won’t it? Oh, but do let me give you some tea.”</p> - -<p>“No tea, thank you.”</p> - -<p>“Won’t you? Well, please ring the bell. I don’t know how men can -exist without tea. But most of them don’t now, do they? You’re almost -unique, you know. I suppose it’s the penalty of greatness.”</p> - -<p>“I came round to say that Miss Amber won’t be able to dine with you, -Lady Chantry.”</p> - -<p>It was a moment before she answered. “But that is too bad. She told -me she was sure you could find a day.”</p> - -<p>“She can’t come,” said Reggie sharply.</p> - -<p>“The man has spoken,” she laughed. “Oh, of course, she mustn’t go -behind that.” He was given a keen mocking glance. “And can’t you come -either, Mr. Fortune?”</p> - -<p>“I have a great deal of work. Lady Chantry. It’s come rather -unexpectedly.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed, you do look worried. I’m so sorry. I’m sure you ought to -take a rest, a long rest.” A servant came in. “Won’t you really have -some tea?”</p> - -<p>“No, thank you. Goodbye, Lady Chantry.”</p> - -<p>He went home and rang up Lomas. Lomas, like the father of Baby -Bunting, had gone a-hunting. Lomas was in Leicestershire. -Superintendent Bell replied: Did Bell know if they had anything new -about the unknown murderer?</p> - -<p>“Inquiries are proceeding, sir,” said Superintendent Bell.</p> - -<p>“Damn it, Bell, I’m not the House of Commons. Have you got anything?”</p> - -<p>“Not what you’d call definite, sir, no.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll say that on the Day of Judgment,” said Reggie.</p> - -<p>It was on the next day that he found a telegram waiting for him when -he came home to dress for dinner:</p> - -<p style="margin-top:1.5em;">Gerald ill again very anxious beg you will come sending car to meet -evening trains.</p> - -<p style="text-align:center;">Warnham </p> - -<p style="text-align:center;">Fernhurst </p> - -<p style="text-align:center; margin-bottom:1.5em">Blackover.</p> - -<p>He scrambled into the last carriage of the half-past six as it drew -out of Waterloo.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Warnham had faithfully obeyed his orders to take Gerald to a -quiet place. Blackover stands an equally uncomfortable distance from -two main lines, one of which throws out towards it a feeble and -spasmodic branch. After two changes Reggie arrived, cold and with a -railway sandwich rattling in his emptiness, on the dimly-lit platform -of Blackover. The porter of all work who took his ticket thought -there was a car outside.</p> - -<p>In the dark station yard Reggie found only one: “Do you come from -Fernhurst?” he called, and the small chauffeur who was half inside -the bonnet shut it up and touched his cap and ran round to his seat.</p> - -<p>They dashed off into the night, climbing up by narrow winding roads -through woodland. Nothing passed them, no house gave a gleam of -light. The car stopped on the crest of a hill and Reggie looked out. -He could see nothing but white frost and pines. The chauffeur was -getting down.</p> - -<p>“What’s the trouble?” said Reggie, with his head out of window: and -slipped the catch and came out in a bundle.</p> - -<p>The chauffeur’s face was the face of Lady Chantry. He saw it in the -flash of a pistol overhead as he closed with her. “I will, I will,” -she muttered, and fought him fiercely. Another shot went into the -pines. He wrenched her hand round. The third was fired into her face. -The struggling body fell away from him, limp.</p> - -<p>He carried it into the rays of the headlights and looked close. -“That’s that,” he said with a shrug, and put it into the car.</p> - -<p>He lit a cigar and listened. There was no sound anywhere but the -sough of the wind in the pines. He climbed into the chauffeur’s place -and drove away. At the next crossroads he took that which led north -and west, and so in a while came out on the Portsmouth road.</p> - -<p>That night the frost gathered on a motor-car in a lane between -Hindhead and Shottermill. Mr. Fortune unobtrusively caught the last -train from Haslemere.</p> - -<p>When he came out from a matinee with Joan Amber next day, the -newsboys were shouting “Motor Car Mystery.” Mr. Fortune did not buy a -paper.</p> - -<p>It was on the morning of the second day that Scotland Yard sent for -him. Lomas was with Superintendent Bell. The two of them received him -with solemnity and curious eyes. Mr. Fortune was not pleased. “Dear -me, Lomas, can’t you keep the peace for a week at a time?” he -protested. “What is the reason for your existence?”</p> - -<p>“I had all that for breakfast,” said Lomas. “Don’t talk like the -newspapers. Be original.”</p> - -<p>“‘Another Mysterious Murder,’” Reggie murmured, quoting headlines. -“‘Scotland Yard Baffled Again,’ ‘Police Mandarins.’ No, you haven’t a -‘good Press,’ Lomas old thing.”</p> - -<p>Lomas said something about the Press. “Do you know who that woman -chauffeur was, Fortune?”</p> - -<p>“That wasn’t in the papers, was it?”</p> - -<p>“You haven’t guessed?”</p> - -<p>Again Reggie Fortune was aware of the grave curiosity in their eyes. -“Another of our mysterious murders,” he said dreamily. “I wonder. Are -you working out the series at last? I told you to look for some one -who was always present.”</p> - -<p>Lomas looked at Superintendent Bell. “Lady Chantry was present at -this one, Fortune,” he said. “Lady Chantry took out her car the day -before yesterday. Yesterday morning the car was found in a lane above -Haslemere. Lady Chantry was inside. She wore chauffeur’s uniform. She -was shot through the head.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” said Reggie Fortune.</p> - -<p>“I want you to come down and look at the body.”</p> - -<p>“Is the body the only evidence?”</p> - -<p>“We know where she bought the coat and cap. Her own coat and hat were -under the front seat. She told her servants she might not be back at -night. No one knows what she went out for or where she went.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Yes. When a person is shot, it’s generally with a gun. Have you -found it?”</p> - -<p>“She had an automatic pistol in her hand.”</p> - -<p>Reggie Fortune rose. “I had better see her,” he said sadly. “A -wearing world, Lomas. Come on. My car’s outside.”</p> - -<p>Two hours later he stood looking down at the slight body and the -scorched wound in that pale face while a police surgeon demonstrated -to him how the shot was fired. The pistol was gripped with the rigour -of death in the woman’s right hand, the bullet that was taken from -the base of the skull fitted it, the muzzle—remark the stained, -scorched flesh—must have been held close to her face when the shot -was fired. And Reggie listened and nodded. “Yes, yes. All very clear, -isn’t it? A straight case.” He drew the sheet over the body and paid -compliments to the doctor as they went out.</p> - -<p>Lomas was in a hurry to meet them. Reggie shook his head. “There’s -nothing for me, Lomas. And nothing for you. The medical evidence is -suicide. Scotland Yard is acquitted without a stain on its character.”</p> - -<p>“No sort of doubt?” said Lomas.</p> - -<p>“You can bring all the College of Surgeons to see her. You’ll get -nothing else.”</p> - -<p>And so they climbed into the car again. “Finis, thank God!” said Mr. -Fortune as the little town ran by.</p> - -<p>Lomas looked at him curiously. “Why did she commit suicide, Fortune?” -he said.</p> - -<p>“There are also other little questions,” Reggie murmured. “Why did -she murder Bigod? Why did she murder the lady doctor? Why did she try -to murder the child?”</p> - -<p>Lomas continued to stare at him. “How do you know she did?” he said -in a low voice. “You’re making very sure.”</p> - -<p>“Great heavens! You might do some of the work. I know Scotland Yard -isn’t brilliant, but it might take pains. Who was present at all the -murders? Who was the constant force? Haven’t you found that out yet?”</p> - -<p>“She was staying near Bigod’s place. She was at the orphanage. She -was at the child’s party. And only she was at all three. It staggered -me when I got the evidence complete. But what in heaven makes you -think she is the murderer?”</p> - -<p>Reggie moved uneasily. “There was something malign about her.”</p> - -<p>“Malign! But she was always doing philanthropic work.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. It may be a saint who does that—or the other thing. Haven’t -you ever noticed—some of the people who are always busy about -distress—they rather like watching distress?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes. But murder! And what possible motive is there for killing -these different people? She might have hated one or another. But not -all three.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, there is a common factor. Don’t you see? Each one had somebody -to feel the death like torture—the girl Bigod was engaged to, the -girl who was devoted to the lady doctor, the small Gerald’s mother. -There was always somebody to suffer horribly—and the person to be -killed was always somebody who had a young good life to lose. Not at -all nice murders, Lomas. Genus diabolical, species feminine. Say that -Lady Chantry had a devilish passion for cruelty—and it ended that -night in the motor-car.”</p> - -<p>“But why commit suicide? Do you mean she was mad?”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t say that. That’s for the Day of Judgment. When is cruelty -madness? I don’t know. Why did she—give herself away—in the end? -Perhaps she found she had gone a little too far. Perhaps she knew you -and I had begun to look after her. She never liked me much, I fancy. -She was a little—odd—with me.”</p> - -<p>“You’re an uncanny fellow, Fortune.”</p> - -<p>“My dear chap! Oh, my dear chap! I’m wholly normal. I’m the natural -man,” said Reggie Fortune.</p> - -<hr id="printedin"> - -<p style="text-align:center; font-size:90%; margin-bottom:0;">Printed in Great Britain by</p> - -<p style="text-align:center; font-size:90%; margin-bottom:0; margin-top:0.5em;">Tanner Ltd.,</p> - -<p style="text-align:center; font-size:90%; margin-bottom:2em; margin-top:0.5em;">Frome and London</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. Fortune's Practice, by H. C. Bailey - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 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